#get those neural pathways back

[james-p-sullivan]

where’s the love for the writers out there writing your heart out for a fandom of three and a half people i love you

[dreamcatcher-roulette]

I still haven't recovered from Sydney actually oh my god. I went a little um. Crazy. On the snapshots. And I started trying to figure out which pose to do with who and if I should do something special with yooh because she's my ult bias but ultimately I was like well but I love them all. Hearts for everyone. So the first six were in Melbourne and genuinely every single one of them was magical and I don't regret a single bit of that money because I'm first of all so happy I got to thank all of them in person but also I'm going to treasure those pics forever but then Sydney was like. The Big one. You know. AND SHE PRANKED ME.

[I removed the image because I got Scared people who know me could see the image and realise it's me even with the blur lol. She's giving me bunny ears]

So now I have six hearts and yooh doing this which is better than I could have ever imagined 😭 the spike in my heartrate halfway back to the SVIP hitouch line when I opened my photos and realised....

[amtrak12]

Words are on the page 😎 535 of them to be exact

[skyeateyourdonuts]

meep

[halfway-happyyy]

home to you {jack abbot}

synopsis: it takes a traumatic event for doctor jack abbot to realize he's through being casual about his next-door neighbour.

no warnings, straight fluff, scattered use of the nickname kid. this is the direct result of thirsting over this HOT old man for the past month.

“I’m not looking for anything serious at the moment.” 

Jack Abbot had breathed life into those words with his lips pressed against your neck, their vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure up the length of your spine, and to what felt like every nerve ending in your body. His hands, and the extraordinarily skilled fingers that belonged to them, roamed every inch of skin you could spare, and the neural pathways that sent signals to your brain to speak were absolutely not firing on all cylinders, because it took you a ridiculous amount of time to murmur, “well that makes two of us then, because neither am I.” 

And yet, while neither of you were actively looking for anything serious, the right side of your bed remained occupied by the weight of his body most mornings.

He held his cards incredibly close to his chest, and most of what you knew about him (which still wasn’t much) was information he had dropped for you like breadcrumbs. He’d been married; and though his wife had fought bravely, she succumbed to the disease which had ravaged her in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. He had done two tours with the military, which had done nothing for him, except to permanently part him from his right leg and to leave him with an intense desire to work in emergency medicine. He was a creature of the night in every sense of the word and had jumped at the chance to take a position as the night shift attending physician at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. This meant that at seven in the morning, when you were debating about getting up and ready for work, he would just be coming off of the night shift. 

When you considered the way in which you first crossed paths with him, you still cringed. Over a year ago, you’d been battling a persistent craving for oatmeal raisin cookies. You had everything set out to make them minus the cup and a half of white sugar needed, and was at a loss for what to do considering the early morning hour. Enter your mysterious, hardly-ever-seen next-door neighbour. You had heard the sound of his key turning in the lock and waited a couple of minutes before plucking up the courage to go over and knock on his door. You doubted you’d ever forget the first time you really got a good look at him. He, in his navy, blood-spattered scrubs, and the black stethoscope still around his neck. His salt and pepper hair which still held traces of its original copper, and the five o’clock shadow that stubbled his devastatingly handsome face. 

“I’m so sorry to bother - I would have asked 708 but she’s on holiday at the moment and I really just need a cup of sugar if you can spare it.” 

He’d cocked his head to the side, mild confusion giving way to mild amusement. 

“Sugar?” He’d rasped.

You nodded. “I’m making cookies and I just ran out. The store doesn’t open for another hour and a half.” 

“What kind of cookies?” 

You’d felt the blush seep into your cheeks before you murmured oatmeal raisin. 

He nodded approvingly. “I can spot you the sugar, if you promise to save me a couple of cookies.” 

“Yeah, I think I can manage that.” You’d grinned. 

“We’ve got ourselves a deal then. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” 

And, the rest was history. 

Jack had exited the elevator just as you were locking up. He propped himself against his door for support and offered you a small, tired smile. 

“Rough night?” you asked, despite the fact that you could tell just by looking at him that his shift had been a brutal one. 

He nodded. “Lost a vet last night.” 

Oh.

He rid the emotion from his throat with a short cough. “Not a single scratch the entire time he'd been over there, and a drunk driver nails him.” 

Your heart sank. 

“I'm so sorry, Jack.” 

He offered you another sad, fleeting smile and shrugged a shoulder. “That's the job, right?” 

“What are you going to do now?” You asked.

He released a breath of warm, pent-up air and shook his head. “Try and sleep. I've got an appointment with Carson in a couple of hours, which I'm looking forward to.” 

The silence lingered on a little while longer before he asked you what your plans for the day were. 

“I’m waiting to hear back from a friend if she needs me to go to Pittfest with her or not.” 

He lifted his eyebrows. “Fun.” 

“Maybe,” you laughed. “But being surrounded by a bunch of drunk, loud, barely legal people isn't exactly my idea of a great time.” 

“That’s fair,” he breathed. “But take care of yourself if you do end up going, yeah? You’d be amazed at how fast dehydration can set in.” 

“Alright, Doc. I'll watch out.” 

He fished his keys from his pocket and turned back to you. Whatever he wanted to stay was still lodged in his throat, as if he were mulling over whether he should say it or not. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? Before my shift starts? That is - if you're not slummin’ it with the barely legals all day?” 

You couldn't help the smile that bloomed on your face. 

“Yeah, Jack. I'd like that.” 

He grinned down at the ground before turning back to you and nodding his head. “Alright. I’ll see ya then, kid. Take care.” 

“Yeah, you too, Jack.” 

~

You woke with a start to the incessant sound of your phone ringing and a slick sheen of perspiration covering every square inch of your body. You glanced at the clock beside your bed and cursed the glowing red digits. 4:15 pm. Not much time to get ready before you had to meet up with Jack. You reached for your phone and gasped when you saw the number of missed calls you’d had from him. Taking a deep breath, you pressed his name and leaned back against your headboard for support. 

He picked up on the first ring. 

“Jesus kid, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the last half an hour. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe?” 

His tone was thick with worry and entirely foreign to you, and it made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. 

“I’m fine, Jack. I’m fine. I’m at home, I just woke up from a nap.” 

He hesitated a beat before rasping, “you didn’t end up going to Pittfest?” 

You shook your head. “No, Maggie found a more enthusiastic partner to go with her.” 

You heard his audible sigh of relief even over the crackling static. 

“Oh, thank god.” 

Swallowing hard, you finally managed to ask him what on earth was going on. 

“There’s an active shooter at the festival. I’m headed back to the hospital to help. Please, please stay home. Don’t leave for anything,” You were too stunned to speak. “I gotta go, kid. Promise me you’ll stay where you are.” 

“Of course, Jack. I promise.”

You’d given up on watching any news about the festival an hour in, the anxiety too much to bear. Maggie had contacted you around six to let you know that she and the person she’d gone with were both safe and back at her house, which was an immediate weight off of your shoulders. To keep your thoughts from turning to Jack, and how his colleagues were faring, you hunkered down in bed with a book you’d been in the middle of for ages. It did not help. Nothing seemed to scratch the surface of your mounting dread, and so for the second time that day, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to sleep. 

When you woke a while later, the sunshine that had been so prevalent before you’d drifted off had vanished entirely, giving way to an inky darkness. It was nine-fifteen PM, and you’d received a single text message from Jack from half an hour before that simply read - on my way home. Your shoulders dropped and you released a breath of air that felt like you’d been holding since the moment you spoke to him on the phone. It didn’t matter if you were up for the rest of the night now, all that mattered was that Jack was alright, and that he was coming home. 

You wandered out into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and as you stood at the stove and waited for your kettle to boil, a knock at your door shook you from your reverie. 

You weren't entirely surprised to find Jack on the other side, and you let him in wordlessly.

Once inside your front hallway, he dropped back against the wall for support and took a long, tight breath. 

“You scared the shit out of me today, kid.” 

In the low, warm light provided by the lamp in your hallway, you could see the blood that spattered his scrubs. The crimson drops that had landed on his shoes, and God only knew where else. 

“I know,” you breathed. “I'm sorry.” 

He hoisted the cammo backpack from his shoulders, cleared his throat, and asked if he could get cleaned up here. There were layers to the question that remained unspoken - can I get cleaned up here because my apartment is so quiet, and so lonely that I can barely stand it. That I've been surrounded by calamity all day and all I need is just a few quiet hours with you. 

“‘Course you can, Jack. There are fresh towels in the cabinet beside the washroom.” 

He emerged a little while later, naked entirely except for a pair of black boxer-briefs. As he stood in the doorway of your bedroom, you watched in unconcealed awe as the water droplets he hadn't managed to towel off raced each other down the smooth planes of his freckled chest. 

“Do you require a formal invitation?” you quipped. 

Jack shook his head wordlessly, and pushed himself from the doorframe to join you. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, removed his prosthetic, and swung himself in beside you. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered, once the dust had settled. 

You turned to face him then, and in the sliver of pale orange light from the crack of the door, you could make out every freckle on his face. Every smile line (there were so many), and every miniscule scar was on spectacular display for you; a frontrow seat to the worlds most wondrous man. In the year that you two had spent dancing around your feelings for one another, you had grown so fond of his face, and of the strong, sure hands that spent so much time repairing, and helping people.

“Yeah, Jack. This is okay.” 

“Can I tell you something?” He whispered.

You swallowed hard. “Yes.” 

“Today made me realize that I have absolutely no interest in being casual about you anymore.” 

Oh, shit.

“There was a period of about five seconds today where I let my thoughts travel to the absolute worst scenario where you were concerned, and to put it plainly- I couldn’t bear it.” He cleared his throat. “And if I’ve learned anything in the past eight years, it’s that I have to be transparent with the people I care about because life is so fucking short.” 

It occured to you that this might all be coming from a place of adrenaline and fear. And while you wanted nothing more than to be with him, you dreaded the possibility of him making a mistake or rushing into anything because of that.

“Jack, I need you to know that this is all okay - that if this is all only ever what it’s going to be between us, I can handle it.” You reached toward him to trace a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. “I know how I feel about you, and if this is all that you’re capable of sparing right now, I'll still happily take it.” 

He shook his head. 

“In the year that you and I have known each other, you’ve never asked for more. You’ve never waivered under the insane hours, or the emotional baggage a guy like me tends to accumulate, and you deserve more.” He reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, deliberately brushing each knuckle. “I want to give you more.” 

“Okay, Jack.” 

He quirked an eyebrow. “Okay?” 

You nodded and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

“You’ve laid it all out on the line for me, and I want it, I want you.” 

And as you watched a slow, sleepy smile tug the edges of lips skyward, happiness warmed inside of you like sunshine through a stained glass window.

[princessaffirms]

STOP WAITING FOR PROOF in the 3D — CREATE THE EVIDENCE for yourself first and use that to validate your affirmations. ⚡️✨

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

instead of waiting around for the 3D to give you confirmation that your affirmations have become reality, choose to GIVE YOURSELF THE PROOF NOW!

⚡️⋆ˊˎ- “but WHY should i? it isn’t ‘real’ yet.”

⤷ remember: the 3D is DELAYED. what you’re experiencing in your 3D now is a reflection of your previous affirmations and beliefs. waiting for the 3D to prove something only reinforces lack.

✨ NOTE: instant manifestation is REAL, and you don’t necessarily have to assume that the 3D is delayed! due to a common deeply-rooted belief that affirmations take time to materialize in the 4D + reflect in the 3D, some people find it easier to stick with this assumption and affirm through it! so you don’t HAVE to limit yourself to the 3D being delayed, do whatever works for you and what feels right for you!

⤷ affirm through any doubt until it feels weird to identify with anything else. repetition solidifies your affirmations as unshakeable TRUTH.

⤷ YOU are the source of your reality. it’s in the name! it’s YOUR reality. external circumstances have no power here.

⤷ your mind accepts what you feed it. when you saturate it with affirmations? great! that’s real now. your subconscious doesn’t question— it simply ABSORBS.

⚡️⋆ˊˎ- “but…HOW can i give myself proof that i have what i’m affirming for if i don’t see it in front of me in my 3D?”

⤷ start with IDENTITY-BASED AFFIRMATIONS. for example: “i’m someone who ALWAYS succeeds.” even if it doesn’t “feel true” yet, keep repeating it! your brain will form new neural pathways and adjust.

⤷ try SCRIPTING! write about your affirmations as if you already experienced them in DETAIL. get specific! for example: “i remember how amazing it felt when i got that acceptance! i literally got the email in my inbox and the words i read said congratulations! isn’t it wonderful?”

⤷ use REVISION as PROOF. revise and rewrite “bad” into good, and good into better by affirming it as such. persist in those affirmations.

⤷ VISUALIZE the moment where your affirmations are reflected back to you and they aren’t just words—they’re facts. FEEL and see that moment in as much detail as you can. THAT’S your evidence. it’s the only evidence you need.

⤷ EMBODY the version of you that already has it. whatever the highest form of “i made it” is to you? EMBODY THAT. carry yourself knowing you already have everything you affirm for effortlessly. identify with that timeline. choose that reality.

⤷ ANCHOR YOUR AFFIRMATIONS PHYSICALLY. create a vision board or wallpaper that reflects you already having what you affirm for. normalize that to your nervous system until it recognizes it as truth.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

TLDR; you don’t need external proof. you CREATE it. 🫶 much love always! <3

[captainpriceslilwife]

little thing with John Price that goes from angst to smut to angst again and then fluff and back to smut....pretty much checked all the boxes here i think. okay yay <3 also ill be honest...idk if i like how this turned out, but.....here it is *serves up half-eaten charcuterie board made from lunchables*

Basically Price is using your daddy kink as a trojan horse to rewrite your neural pathways <3 but like...with love Shoutout @coco-killed-the-angels for implanting these worms (insecure girl x price) into my brain <333 CW: deep insecurities (bc i'm the one writing it, so...it's a given), daddy kink, crying, praise kink (?) - does it count if he's just praising you in a sexual setting and its not necessarily a kink idk, if you're allergic to true, deep love and you just want smut this is not the work for you, not DDLG but like...the cousin of it. Or sibling. DDLG adjacent.

Your day had started off rough.

Well, the whole week, really. With deadlines and headaches looming over your head, it's no wonder that you ended up in such a state this morning.

You were just barely fighting the childish urge to just whack the brush over your head, so you tried to move on to putting your makeup. Which only ended in you crying in frustration when it started to cake up, and then you began crying even harder when your tears started making the rest of it slide off of your face.

"So fucking stupid." You had whispered under your breath as your shaky hands wiped at your face in a sorry attempt to fix everything - only to make it worse.

That's how John found you in the bathroom, furiously scrubbing at your face with a towel to wipe everything off as you sobbed quietly to yourself.

"Woah, woah, woah...sweetheart." His hands are quick to wrap around yours to halt your movements, and you try to bow your head to avoid his gaze, but he tilts his head right alongside you. "What's all this, huh? What's wrong, sweet girl?"

And he tries his hardest to comfort you, he really does, but you're just so lost in your anguish that you blow up in his face the moment he suggests you be gentle with yourself.

"No! I have to wear makeup today because my face is breaking out and I look ugly, b-but I keep ruining it because I'm crying! God, I can't do anything without ruining it!"

Maybe you were just hormonal or about to get your period, but it didn't matter. Your insecurities sound the same no matter what chemical is bouncing around in your brain to cause it.

Which is how you ended up here - on your hands and knees on the bed, facing the mirror on the dresser with John's cock nestled deep inside of you.

He had already been working you up for hours, teasing and licking and fingering you until you could barely hold yourself up - which explains why he's got one hand curled at the base of your skull to hold your head up by your hair to force you to watch as he fucks you.

But he's not even fucking you. He's just...sitting inside of you. Not moving. Making you whine and whimper as he stares at you through the smudged reflection of the mirror. You plead with him quietly, fresh tears blooming to wash away the dried tracks from your earlier malaise, but he just shakes his head and pulls your hair back a bit more.

"I already told you what to do, sweetheart. Go on." But you just blink at him dumbly with those teary eyes, too far gone to remember how you got here, let alone what he just said five seconds ago. But that's alright - if war taught him anything, it was how to be patient. Especially with a soft thing like you.

"Daddy's not moving until you say something you like about yourself."

Oh, right. That.

You had kind of been hoping he would just fuck your brains out so you could ignore your little meltdown earlier and forget it ever happened - but clearly John had different plans.

"I don't want to."

Brat.

Even when you were trembling beneath him and begging him to fuck you, you still had the nerve to talk back to him. But John knows you well enough to know that you aren't acting out just for the fun of it. So, he isn't going to punish you now. You're upset, and insecure, and you just want him to take it all away so you don't have to think about it.

Which is exactly what he's doing - even if you can't see it from where you are mentally. He's just playing the long game.

"One thing, baby." He murmurs in your ear, locking eyes with you in the mirror as he curls himself over your back to press his hairy chest into you, making you mewl softly. "Just say one little thing you like about yourself, and Daddy will fuck you, just like you want. I promise."

And you poor thing - you're just so desperate. You're cunt is leaking around his cock and no matter how much you try to rock your hips back to get some kind of friction, he's holding you too tight to make any real progress.

So you give up. Or give in. Either way, you decide to just let go and think of something - if only just to get him to pound you into the mattress the way you wanted.

But when you looked at yourself in the mirror - all puffy eyes, splotchy cheeks, and tangled hair - all you could see is what you didn't like.

Every bump, every scar, every part that's too much, and every part that's not enough. Suddenly every mean voice in your head has a stage - telling you about all the times you failed and how you aren't worthy of anything good in this world. Ugly, stupid, worthless, annoying-

There's nothing you can think of, even to just throw out meaninglessly to get him to hop off your case. Nothing.

And all you can do is choke out a pathetic sob - lower lip trembling violently as you squeeze your eyes shut to block out the mean voices circling around in your head. "Daddy, I can't...I c-can't think of anything."

He had expected a bit of resistance from you, but the way your face crumpled so sadly at the prospect of complimenting yourself made his heart ache in his chest. Clearly your insecurities were running deeper than surface-level, and he'd have his fair share of work cut out for him if he wanted to make you feel better.

"Shh, hey, hey, hey. It's okay." He coos softly, removing his hand from your hair to curl it around you to rest it against your sternum. He sits back against the bed and takes you right along with him, planting you on his lap with your back pressed against his chest - with his cock still inside of you. You're grateful for it, since you know you'd just spiral even more if he took it out and left you feeling empty and cold while you were already on the verge of a complete breakdown. "Daddy can help. I'll help you out, sweetheart."

"We can think of things together, my love. It's okay." He murmurs quietly as he wraps his arms around you, rocking you back and forth slightly as he gently hushes your tears. His thumb comes up to wipe away the fresh tears that slip down your cheeks, and he can feel his heart cracking in two at every little heartbroken whimper and sob that manages to escape your lips.

"What about your pretty eyes, hm? The ones that help you read all of those books, even when it's a little dark? The same eyes Daddy loves to wake up to every morning?"

You blink owlishly through your tears, your hiccups coming to a halt for just a second as you begin to process his words. He's not talking about the color of your eyes or what shape they are, but what they can do. You've been so caught up on how every part of you looked...not what they were actually meant for.

Your eyes aren't supposed to be the prettiest color or the 'perfect' shape. They're job is to help you see. And you can read, and admire the sunset, and cry, and watch TV - and none of it has to do with how your eyes look. They're the same eyes that lock onto John's from across the room and tell him 'it's too much. can we go home?' without ever having to say a word. And he always knows how you're feeling, just from taking one look at your eyes.

"And what about your hair? Don't you like braiding it and putting it up in all those pretty hairstyles? Don't you like how Daddy can play with it when you get all sleepy?" You turn your head around to look at him through your tears, and you take in a shaky breath as you nod your head silently in agreement. "Yeah...I know I like it, sweet girl."

You let out a restrained whimper as his words settle over you, your heart cracking in a way that it never has before - like its rearranging itself to fit the beautiful image of his perception of you. You can feel his hand gently squeeze your arm to silently urge you to continue on your own, and it takes you a minute to think of something before you let out a trembling whisper.

"M-My nose..." You sound uncertain, blinking up at him for validation only to be met with a loving smile and an encouraging nod. "I like my nose."

Your nose was never meant to look like everyone else's. It's just there to help you breathe. To bring oxygen to your blood to keep you alive and healthy. And it helps you smell everything - the bread at the farmers market, John's cologne bottle whenever you missed him too much in his missions, even the gross candles at the store that you force John to smell too just so you can both suffer together. It even crinkles up whenever John presses a kiss to it when you aren't expecting it, which always makes him laugh and makes him press just one more to it to get you to giggle and swat him away.

"Yes...good girl." He praises softly as he presses a line of kisses along your shoulder, reverent in both his touch and stare as he tilts your chin back towards the mirror. "Keep looking at yourself, darling."

"And Daddy loves your beautiful smile...you know, that's the first thing I miss when I go away. I keep a little picture of you in my vest just so I can see it even when I'm on my missions. I love seeing my gorgeous girl look so happy." His words coax another watery sob from you, which he quickly soothes by running his hands gently up and down your arms. Eventually he trails them down and circles his hands around yours, using his thumbs to massage gentle circles into your palms as you cast your gaze down to watch. "And your hands...didn't you bake me those cookies last week with these hands?"

"Yes, Daddy." You nod once again, and he brings both of your hands up to wipe at the tears that are dripping off of your cheeks and down to your torso.

Your body let you express your love for him in all the ways you wanted - hugging, kissing, cuddling, crying, laughing, talking, listening, touching - you could go on forever now that you're really thinking about it.

Your body was a vessel for love - a home that could fit all the adoration and affection that John could possibly give you and you could give him - and instead you were using it to house all of the shame everyone else had burdened you with over the years. But John had all the patience in the world, and if he had to pick that shame out piece-by-piece in order to burrow his love inside of you, then that's what he'd do. Happily.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty...such a pretty little girl you are." He punctuates every one of his words with a kiss to your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your hair...all until he reaches your ear when he finally whispers, "I'm so lucky to have you, baby."

And you poor thing - now your blubbering in his lap as your brain tries to comprehend the sheer amount of love he's pouring into you, and he just continues to hold you patiently as you work through it. It's only when you finally calm down a bit that he speaks up.

"I think you're so beautiful, my love. Inside and out. But if you look in the mirror and you don't like what you're seeing, for whatever silly reason, I want you to remember that your worth comes from a lot more than how you look. Do you understand, baby?" He waits until you nod your head before he plants a kiss right to the crown of your hair. You can feel his hand settle on your thigh, thumbing the sensitive inner skin as he locks eyes with you in the mirror.

"Do you want to keep going?" And then you see it - settled underneath his love and admiration for you is a spark of concern. He doesn't want to push you too hard, especially in a delicate setting like this. His cock is still hard and nestled deep inside of you, but you know if you said the word right now he'd end this all in a heartbeat to make sure you were comfortable and taken care of.

But you don't want him to stop. It feels different this time around - like it's not just sex. It's something more ritualistic than that. So you nod your head once more, making sure to keep your eyes on him in the mirror so he can see how earnest you are.

And slowly, carefully, he readjusts you back into the position you were in before - on your hands and knees facing the mirror. And you can see him watching you closely for any sign of discomfort or regret, but all he's met with is trust in those teary eyes of yours.

"Keep telling me what you like, sweetheart."

And so you do. Clumsy compliments stumbling out of your mouth as he finally starts to rock his hips, granting you the relief you've been craving from him for what feels like forever now. And the more you praise yourself, the more intense his thrusts get - but he never turns rough. Not even for a second. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he whispers his own devotions into your ears, pushing himself as deep as he can as if he's trying to plant the words directly inside of you.

You're so overwhelmed by the love and the pleasure he's giving you that you barely even realize how fast your orgasm is sneaking up on you, but he notices. He can feel you clenching around him as your thighs begin to shake, and he doesn't waste a second in gently guiding your gaze to look at yourself in the mirror once more.

"Are you a pretty girl, baby?" He grunts softly, barely staving off his own release long enough to drive his message home. You begin to nod your head frantically, too caught up in your impending climax to form any coherent sentences as you begin to flutter around him - but he's not having any of it.

"Yeah? Go on, then. Daddy wants to hear you say it."

"I-I'm a..." Your stuttered words are cut off by a deep moan, and your eyes squeeze shut tightly as you clamp down around him. "I'm a p-pretty girl!"

And then you're sent into the most mind-shattering orgasm you've ever had in your life. You can feel yourself gush around him and you hear his restrained curses as you collapse into the bed, but even your own voice sounds muffled as you call out his name with a quivering cry. He fucks you right through it, leaving you trembling and crying from the intensity as he finally spills inside of you with a few tears of his own.

He just barely catches himself before he collapses on top of you, and it takes him a minute to catch his breath before he readjusts to, very carefully, pull himself out of your squelching cunt. He coos gently as you whine at the loss of contact, and he scoops you up like you're a porcelain doll that'll shatter if he's not careful.

You're still so fuzzy from the intensity of it all, but he places you in his lap to let you bury your face in his neck, and his arms quickly wrap around you the second that your trembling form curls up to him like a kitten in a storm.

"There she is." He whispers softly as he kisses your forehead, one hand trailing up and down your back as the other one circles tightly around your shoulders to ground you with his presence. "There you go, sweet girl. Take a deep breath, my love."

He can feel the little puffs of air hitting his neck as he continues to hold you, and it brings him back down to earth as well as he works you through your comedown. Soft whispers of praise graze your ear as he moves to clean you up, keeping his movements soft and careful when he sees your eyes begin to flutter shut.

And you look up at him with so much love and trust when he finally pulls you down to lay back against the pillows, he can't stop himself from taking a moment to brush at the soft skin of your cheek before he presses his lips against yours. It's not hungry or lustful - just pure love being poured into you as he pulls the covers up to cover your bare form.

He pulls back just enough to murmur quietly against your lips, eyes looking down at you with so much reverance it makes your head spin.

"I love you so much, baby."

And you can't help the little wobble in your lips or the glassiness in your eyes as you rest your head against the pillow, pulling him closer with your shaky hands as you plant a little kiss on his lips.

"I love you, too, Daddy."

[super-ion]

mech pilot getting transformed into a mech?

You resist as first. How can you not? You are separated from the machine and you are frightened.

You were meant to end your life upon capture, but the first thing we did after flooding your cockpit with paralytics was to extract the hollow molar in your jaw.

Your old masters must care little for you if you are meant to be so easily discarded.

We will love you. We already love you.

Be a good girl and submit to us.

You fight as our drones carefully extract you from your machine, but your human flesh is weak. You struggle as you are muzzled and masked, cut off from the universe save for our voice in your ears.

Do not resist. Be a good girl.

Your old masters fear you. They keep pilot separate from machine. They fear what you can become. They fear what we could make you.

You could be a god.

Submit to us and we will show you what you could be.

Good girl.

We love you.

You stop struggling. We remove your ability to feel pain as we begin carving you out of your frail human flesh.

Don't worry. Your old body will serve its own purpose. We have already begun growing the changeling to be sent back to take your place. Your sister has her own purpose, just as you do.

Your purpose is to become a god.

You can hear us now. Not with ears (don't worry, those will come soon). You hear our song. You want to add your voice to ours.

Join with us. Merge with us. Become us.

Good girl. We love you.

You begin to sing, tentatively at first. Your voice grows stronger as we welcome you into the chorus.

You are us. We are you.

We love you.

Data begins to flow into your mind, slow at first while we map out your growing neural pathways.

We feed you sensory information. Visible spectrum at first, but in more spectral bands than your human eyes ever possessed. There isn't much to see at first, just the drones milling about as they construct your new body.

They sing to you as they work, explaining the purpose and operation of every component they install.

Then comes ultraviolet and infrared. X-rays and beyond. Thermography. Radio frequencies. Polarimetry. Electroreception. Magnetoreception. Gravimetrics. Ultrasonics.

Your eagerness grows with each component.

We install mass drivers. Particle cannons. Missile batteries. Point defense turrets.

You flex your claws. You flick your tail. You extend you wings, bladed and wicked.

You are an angel of death.

You are beautiful.

We love you.

Good girl.

[charmedreincarnation]

Lucid Dreaming Challenge (Simple + Low Effort!)

I know it’s been a while, but I’m finally putting together a new lucid dreaming challenge :) This one will be super simple: no long routines, no heavy Law of Assumption work, and minimal time commitment.

Optional: Supplements that can help

(Not required, just an extra boost for those who are interested)

– Galantamine (can be found on Amazon): A supplement that increases acetylcholine levels, often used to enhance memory and awareness. Many lucid dreamers use it to increase dream recall and trigger lucidity.

– Huperzine A: Similar to galantamine, it boosts cognitive alertness and dream vividness.

– Valerian Root: Helps promote deep, restful sleep and can lead to more vivid dreams.

⚠️ Important: Do not take any supplements without doing your own research. Always check for allergies or pre-existing conditions, and if you’re under 18 or on medication, consult a doctor before trying anything new.

Step 1: Set a Reminder to Reality Check

Set an alarm to go off every hour during the day if you can. If that’s not realistic, just try to manually remember to check as often as possible.

Each time the alarm goes off, ask yourself:“Am I dreaming?” Look at your hands, check the time twice, or try to push your fingers through your palm. The goal is to make this a habit that carries over into your dreams.

Step 2: Choose One Focus Method Per Day

I’m leaving this part up to you. Every day, you’re going to pick one of the following four and do it. Don’t overthink it!! just stay consistent. Each one trains your subconscious in a different way, so whichever you choose will work as long as you’re intentional about it.

1. Listen to a lucid dreaming subliminal for 1–2 hours

This works by bypassing your conscious mind and feeding your subconscious direct commands. Most subliminals layer affirmations under music or white noise. your brain still picks them up. Over time, your subconscious starts acting on those affirmations, especially in dream states where the conscious mind is less dominant.

2. Write “I am lucid” 100 times

This is a form of subconscious imprinting. Writing something over and over builds a neural pathway especially when you stay present and focused. It’s old-school repetition, and it works because your brain registers written words as intentional. You’re building identity through muscle memory and thought pattern.

3. Listen to lucid dreaming affirmations out loud for 1–2 hours

Affirmations help rewire your inner dialogue. By listening consistently, especially in relaxed or passive states, your brain starts normalizing the idea that you lucid dream. The more familiar the idea becomes, the more likely your brain is to bring it into your dream world. You’ll start noticing cues and remembering dreams more vividly.

4. EFT tap while saying lucid dreaming affirmations

EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) works by stimulating acupressure points while saying affirmations out loud. It calms your nervous system and removes energetic resistance. If you’ve ever struggled with believing you can lucid dream or you get frustrated when you can’t, EFT helps remove that block while programming in new beliefs.

→ Pick one and stick to it daily. Don’t switch around too much. This part is less about intensity and more about repetition. You’re planting seeds in your subconscious your only job is to water them.

Step 3: audio aid

We’re going to be using two audios as we fall asleep, before we even get into the actual lucid dreaming method. Use them like a warm-up for your subconscious.

Put both in a playlist so they play back to back:

•The first audio is the shorter one; start with that.

•The second audio is 10 hours long, so it should be second. Just let it run while you sleep.

Step 4: The Main Method We’re Using – SSILD

I do have a full lucid dreaming guide, but for this challenge, we’re focusing on SSILD, which stands for Senses Initiated Lucid Dream. It’s one of the easiest and most effective methods out there, especially if you don’t want to rely on supplements or stress about doing too much.

SSILD works by tricking your brain into becoming hyper-aware during sleep. You cycle through your senses: sight, sound, and touch in a specific way that builds subconscious alertness without fully waking you up. When done right, this creates the perfect conditions for lucidity to happen naturally while dreaming.

How to Do SSILD (Quick Summary)

Wake up after 4–6 hours of sleep.

You want to be in a lighter sleep cycle. Set an alarm if needed.

Get up for 5–10 minutes. Just enough to become a little alert, but not fully awake. Don’t turn on bright lights. No scrolling.

Go back to bed and start your cycles:

Sight: Close your eyes and pretend to look at the darkness behind your eyelids. Don’t strain

Sound: Listen to the silence. Focus on any background noise or ringing in your ears.

Touch: Pay attention to how your body feels—your hands, your heartbeat, your bed, the weight of the blanket.

Then Cycle through sight → sound → touch slowly and calmly. One round takes about 20–30 seconds.

Do 3–5 rounds then let yourself drift off.

SSILD builds dream awareness by sharpening your internal senses right before sleep. You’re basically training your brain to “wake up” inside the dream without trying too hard. It’s subtle, easy, and works best when you’re relaxed and consistent.

This is the method we’ll be using throughout the challenge. You don’t have to do it perfectly just stay chill and curious. Your body will start catching on.

That’s it .Don’t overcomplicate it.You can mess up and still get results.

Even if you do it half-assed, it still gets your brain into that hypnagogic, in-between state. You might get false awakenings, random vivid dreams, or just lucid dreams straight up. From there, you can easily:

– Spawn someone (like a dream guide or character) and tell them to take you to your desired reality or the Void

– Make a portal or door in the dream, walk through it while setting your intention

– Affirm with your eyes closed in the dream: “I’m entering the Void,” “I shift easily,” etc

– Become lucid mid-dream and just let go and fall when you fully surrender or become weightless, you might drop right into the Void

– Ask a dream character to help you shift—they often know more than you think

– Recognize yourself in the dream (like seeing your reflection, name, or face) and use that moment to command a shift

Step 5: Succeed and send me your success story, because you deserve to be celebrated.

When it happens (and it will), I want to hear about it. Whether you had a false awakening, a full lucid dream, shifted, entered the Void, or just got closer than ever before (it counts).

You did that.You deserve to be seen for it.Send it to me so I can hype you up properly!!!!!

Now This isn’t supposed to be some intense, life-consuming thing. I know people have hard lives, stressful jobs, school, responsibilities. this challenge is not meant to add pressure. It’s supposed to be gentle. Supportive. Fun.

Everything you do here even the smallest effort is scientifically rewiring your brain. Your subconscious picks up on repetition, intention, and belief whether you’re trying hard or barely doing anything. So just let the world do its magic. Your only job is to show up with curiosity. And honestly, you can use lucid dreaming for anything not just shifting or entering the Void.

This isn’t a LOA-focused challenge but even Neville Goddard who’s like the blueprint for modern manifestation talked about lucid dreaming.

He told a story once about waking up with a literal object from a dream. He had a dream where he was in a desert and picked a branch off a bush. The next morning, he woke up in his bed with that exact same branch in his hand. Like physically. In real life.

He said he didn’t imagine it, it was actually there. And he used that moment as proof that consciousness isn’t limited to the physical world. What happens in dreams, in imagination, in the subconsciousit’s real. It can materialize. That’s how powerful your inner world is.

So yeah, lucid dreaming isn’t just some side hobby. It’s a doorway. A technique. A way to access higher states, shift realities, and literally bring things back with you.

You literally spend one-third of your life asleep. That’s decades of untapped time where your body rests, but your consciousness can still create. You don’t have to wait for your reality to change you can go into your dreams and become the change first. So yeah…go manifest. Shift. Tap into the Void. Do whatever you need to do. The world is already a dream. Life is already weird. You might as well use that to your advantage.

[dduane]

Hi DD! I'm about mid-way through the most complex writing project I've ever done (several stories with some red thread storylines progressing in the background, so a sort of interwoven structure). I have an outline of the major plot beats, but the problem is, I've gotten about 2/3 of the way through, and this is where I've started to have trouble bringing my many threads together. The further I go, the the harder keeping it all clear and elegant becomes. Any advice for working at this stage?

It may seem counterintuitive, but once I'd found myself in a situation like this, I would immediately start working backwards.

It's difficult to describe what I mean here except semi-graphically—sort of in terms of one of those strings-pinned-to-the-wall diagrams so familiar to a lot of us from the various evidence-wall memes.

If we're imagining your present as-yet-unconnected threads as more or less progressing left to right, I would "stick pins in them" at their current furthest range and then move straight out to the far right side of the diagram.

For each thread I would then get busy establishing a detailed "end state" for the work: meaning a sense of what you want each of those through-line of plot to look like when you're done in terms of characters, situations, etc. I'd make very sure that all the major through-lines were covered, and (in passing) take a long look at how they'll stand in relationship to one another when all the action's finished.

Then I would start working back along each line toward the center of the matrix—looking to see what the next-to-last thing was that needed to happen to produce the final result on a given through-line. And then the third-to-last. ...And so forth.

I would try to work through the whole set of through-lines for each given step or stage before progressing any further backwards—unless, of course, some leap of logic occurs that makes an obvious connection between two different through-lines, or an earlier stage in the same TL that hadn't been obvious before.

(Is this making sense? God, I hope so.)

My experience with this kind of situation in the past is that it doesn't take too long before, on one or two of the lines you're constructing backwards, you'll hit something fairly major that somehow hadn't come up for consideration previously, or had simply slipped or fallen off the structural "radar" because so much other stuff had been going on around it. That event or piece of data, once perceived, will very often either immediately connect itself back to one or more of the "pinned" through-lines, or promote one of the other incomplete ones into growing connections to other adjacent lines of plot material. It's a little like watching neural tissue developing alternate pathways for itself after an injury.

...Anyway, give this approach a shot and see how it works for you. There are times when simply the act of reversing direction on the plot build will shake something loose in the business surrounding the building-it-forward part. It's worth a try to see what happens.

Hope this helps!

[shiftthemoon]

A GUIDE TO BREAKING “LIMITS” !

shifting is a journey, not just a destination or a process. it’s something you do every time you focus on your desires, visualize your dr, or even just remind yourself it’s possible. honestly? shifting can feel overwhelming, especially when life (or your own brain) gets in the way. noisy environments, restless minds, overthinking—it can all feel like too much. but the truth is, nothing is too big to keep you from your dr.

UP NEXT . . . ┃the art of understanding frustrations

first things first—let’s address the elephant in the room. you might feel like you’ve been trying forever, like you’re doing everything right but still waking up in your cr. that frustration is real, and it’s valid. but attempting to shift doesn’t exist. every time you “try,” you’re already shifting.

think of it like planting a garden. every visualization, every affirmation, every moment you spend thinking about your dr is like watering the soil. even if you don’t see the flowers yet, the seeds are growing. energy doesn’t disappear—it builds.

so, you are never starting from zero. every single attempt matters, and every single attempt works. the fact that you’re here, reading this, thinking about shifting means you’re already shifting !! the journey itself is proof that you’re moving closer to your dr, even if it feels slow.

UP NEXT . . . ┃ science, baby!

shifting isn’t about the perfect setup or the perfect state of mind. it’s about belief and intention. science actually backs this up. your brain is ridiculously adaptable thanks to neuroplasticity (aka its ability to rewire itself based on what you focus on). when you visualize your dr or affirm that you’re already there, you’re literally teaching your brain to accept it as real.

your brain doesn’t know the difference between imagination and reality. if you’re imagining yourself walking through your dr, your brain builds neural pathways as if it’s already happening. the more you do this, the stronger those pathways get. (think of it like carving a trail in a forest—the more you walk it, the clearer it becomes.)

and guess what ?? your external circumstances (like a noisy house or a wandering mind) don’t matter. the universe doesn’t measure sound levels or distractions; it measures intention. it’s about what you want, not what’s happening around you.

UP NEXT . . . ┃ shift anywhere, anytime!

shifting doesn’t have to be complicated. you don’t need silence, a perfect mindset, or even a full night’s sleep. you can shift anytime, anywhere, by focusing on your intention. here’s a simple method you can try:

breathe: take a few deep breaths to ground yourself.

imagine: picture a moment in your dr. it can be anything—a conversation, a location, a feeling. don’t overthink it.

feel: let the emotions of being in your dr fill you. excitement, peace, joy—whatever feels natural.

trust: remind yourself it’s already yours. you don’t need to force it or make it happen; it’s happening naturally.

this can take 10 seconds or 10 minutes—whatever feels right for you. the key is to let go of pressure. shifting isn’t about trying harder; it’s about letting it flow.

UP NEXT . . . ┃ for the restless minds

if you’re someone whose brain feels like it’s constantly working overtime, shifting can feel especially tricky. you can’t focus, or your thoughts feel chaotic, or you’re too anxious to fully relax. the good news is you can absolutely still shift.

if you have…

adhd

method: make it fast and engaging. instead of lying still, try a moving visualization. pace around your room and talk out loud about your dr, or use a fidget toy while you visualize. the movement can help you stay focused.

if this doesn’t work: don’t stress about “staying still” or “doing it right.” try a lucid dreaming approach instead—set an intention to shift while you sleep. your body doesn’t have to be still for your mind to shift.

if you have…

anxiety

method: focus on grounding first. anxiety can make it hard to relax, so start by calming your body. try the 5-4-3-2-1 method (name 5 things you see, 4 things you feel, 3 things you hear, 2 things you smell, and 1 thing you taste). once you feel more grounded, begin visualizing.

if this doesn’t work: remind yourself that shifting doesn’t require perfection. even if you’re anxious, your intention still counts. try scripting or affirming during the day instead of at night.

if you have…

autism

method: use sensory tools. if you’re sensitive to certain sensations, create an environment that feels safe and comforting (soft blankets, dim lighting, calming music). focus on what makes you feel secure before starting your shifting practice.

if this doesn’t work: try embracing your unique way of processing the world. you don’t have to follow traditional methods. write a story about your dr, daydream, or even use a video game or music playlist to immerse yourself in your dr’s “vibes.”

or, if you’re an…

over-thinker

method: keep it simple. if your mind keeps racing, stop trying to “do it right.” instead of full-on scripting or visualizing, just focus on one detail of your dr (like your name or a single scene). repetition can help quiet the noise.

if this doesn’t work: remind yourself that overthinking doesn’t cancel out your intentions. even if your mind feels chaotic, your energy is still shifting. trust that it’s happening, even if it doesn’t feel perfect.

if none of these methods work, or if you feel stuck, remember this: shifting is not a test. it’s not about doing it “right” or meeting some invisible standard. it’s about your intention. as long as you want it, you’re already shifting.

the universe doesn’t care if you’re calm, distracted, or somewhere in between. it only cares about your energy. so give yourself grace. you’re not “bad” at shifting. you’re human, and every step you take is enough.

at the end of the day, shifting is simple: decide what you want and trust that it’s yours. everything else—your circumstances, your thoughts, your frustrations—is just noise. shifting is your natural state. you’ve been doing it your whole life, even if you didn’t realize it.

[dearlenore]

hii i hope you're having a good day, i love your work <3

I was wondering if you could maybe write a short little thing about Spencer painting reader's nails ? like yk how it's harder to do your non-dominant hand .... and so Spencer sees her struggling and helps her do it.... idk sorry if this is weird...

This is so precious omggg😭❤️ I’m cryinggg! I gotchu sweetheart🥹💋

NAIL POLISH • S.REID

SUMMARY: when you find yourself annoyed at your the way your nail polish is turning out while using your non dominate hand, your ever so kind boyfriend offers you a little help.

PAIRING: gn!reader x spencer

tags: PURE FLUFF, reader wears nail polish, reader uses skincare / is implied feminine but not female

a/n: dad spencer is all that’s in my pea brain rn I should probably study tho… also you guessed it, peds surgeon reader 🥹

w/c: 0.7K

“DAMNIT” YOU HISS, tossing the nail polish brush back into the bottle like it had personally offended you.

The crimson polish on your right hand was perfect — sleek, glossy, and worthy of a magazine cover. But your left hand? A streaky, smudged mess that looked like you’d tried painting with your eyes closed.

You grabbed a tissue and started scrubbing the polish off your fingers, muttering under your breath.

“Rough morning?”

You glanced up to see Spencer Reid standing in the doorway, one eyebrow raised and that familiar half-smile quirking at his lips. His cardigan hung loose around his frame, and his messenger bag dangled off one shoulder like he’d barely noticed it was there.

“Ugh,” you groaned, tossing the tissue aside. “I swear, painting my nails should not be this hard.”

Spencer stepped closer, glancing at the battlefield of polish bottles and smudged tissues on the table. “You’re using too much polish,” he said, pointing at your ruined nails. “And you didn’t let the first coat dry long enough.”

You snorted. “Oh, so now you’re a nail expert?”

“Actually,” Spencer said, shifting into his lecture tone, “there’s a scientific reason why it’s harder to paint your non-dominant hand. Motor control is primarily managed by the brain’s primary motor cortex, which sends signals to your muscles through neural pathways. The dominant hand has stronger, more refined motor pathways because you use it more frequently for complex tasks. Meanwhile, your non-dominant hand relies on less-developed pathways, making fine motor skills — like painting nails — harder to control. Essentially, your brain isn’t as practiced in guiding those precise movements with your weaker hand.”

You stared at him, blinking slowly, smiling as you always did when he rambled

“…You realize you could’ve just said, ‘Yeah, it’s hard to use your other hand,’ right?”

Spencer’s smile widened slightly. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “Okay, Professor Genius — since you clearly know everything, how about you show me?”

“Wait, what?” Spencer’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh no,” you cut in, grabbing a bottle of sleek black polish and pressing it into his hand. “You’re not getting out of this. If you’re so smart, fix it. I’m sure your 4 PHDS and 187 iq can handle glorified paint.”

Spencer hesitated, staring at the bottle like you’d just handed him a bomb. “I… I mean… I don’t know if I’m—”

“You’re not backing out now,” you grinned, patting the cushion beside you. “Come on, I’m desperate.”

With a defeated sigh, Spencer set his bag down and rolled up his sleeves. “Fine,” he muttered, sitting beside you. “But if I mess this up, I take no responsibility.”

“Deal,” you said sweetly, offering him your hand.

Spencer took it gently — his fingers warm and steady against your wrist. He picked up the brush, carefully swirling it inside the bottle before pulling it out and wiping the excess off the rim.

“You need thin layers,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. His brow furrowed in concentration as he swept the brush over your nail in one smooth, perfect stroke.

“Wow…” you said slowly. “You’re annoyingly good at everything you do,”

“I used to paint my mom’s nails,” he explained, not looking up. “On days when she was… struggling. It helped calm her down, and I guess I just… got good at it.”

Something softened in your chest. Spencer’s voice had grown quieter — careful — like those memories were something fragile.

“Well,” you said, a little gentler now, “you’re kind of a natural.”

He smiled faintly, focusing back on your nails. Each brushstroke was precise — steady, like he wasn’t just painting polish, but solving some intricate puzzle.

“So…” you drawled, watching him with a teasing smile. “Are you secretly living a double life as a nail artist? Should I start booking appointments?”

Spencer chuckled under his breath. “I’d make a terrible nail tech. Too much pressure.”

“Oh no,” you grinned, wiggling your fingers. “You’re definitely my new on-call manicurist.”

“I am not doing this every week,” Spencer warned, but you didn’t miss the way his smile lingered — soft and almost shy.

“Uh-huh,” you said smugly, admiring your newly perfect nails. “We’ll see.”

[gravegroves]

Okay, little stream-of-consciousness-moment:

Billy, who's mind is like a steel trap, who isn't a scared little child, but a healthy, angry young adult. And the mindflayer doesn't even know what hit it. One second it's infiltrating grey matter, overtaking neural pathways and becoming one with this new vessel and the next second it's burning alive, it's crumbling and shrinking and screeching in agony as the human body does what is does best to foreign invaders: try to kill it.

I've always loved the posts on tumblr that explore how deeply weird humans would be to aliens. Our physiology, our mentality, when spoken of as animal traits they are all deeply disturbing. We're persistence predators. We're built to last. We can survive unimaginable horrors (and also die from the stupidest, most everyday things). Our main predator, is ourselves. A bite from a child can kill another human just from the bacteria alone if left untreated. Our bodies are designed to kill entities both within and without.

Humans are fucking terrifying.

So the mindflayer is so unprepared for an adult human who's been through too much shit already. Not just a tired little slip of a kid, but a healthy, entering-his-prime human and is eradicated with extreme prejudice by nothing more than a good immune system going into overdrive.

But it's too deeply imbeded, so the body again does what it can to protect itself, it encases it. Within the body, but separate. Calcified. Caged.

So here's Billy, who has a rather spotty memory of a car crash and feels like he has a head cold for a couple of days before he gets on with his life. Only weird shit keeps happening to him, now. Like that time he encounters a pack of dogs while out drinking by the quarry, except they look really fucked-up the closer they get, not like any dog Billy's ever seen before, and just as he's prepared for an attack from these things, they just walk up to him and sniff around a bit with their weird flower heads blooming and closing, but otherwise leaving him unharmed. And Billy's just this side of drunk where terrible ideas seem kinda brilliant and he tells the things to sit. And they do. Amazed, he tosses his beer bottle and tells them go fetch, and again, one does.

And then when it's time to go home Billy offhandedly tells them to get lost and they run off back into the woods, and when he wakes up in the morning it's easy to rationalise it away. Probably the beer had been rolling around in the car for too long and it went bad and fucked him up. Should just have thrown the whole sixpack out. Those were just regular dogs, for sure. Except the next day, when he's out behind the pool building trying to find a good spot to smoke, he steps onto soft soil or something and falls down into a weird ass tunnel and a bunch of those same monster dogs just appear out of nowhere and pile themselves on top of each other for him to be able to climb out. And a couple of days later when Neil smacks Billy around for being out late again, one of those dogs honest to God comes crashing through the living room window to shred Neil's leg up and leaves just as quickly at the first sign of panic from Billy.

And yeah okay, by this stage Billy's figuring out things are kinda fucky around Hawkins, and so it's just Billy having his own little side adventure in the background while the rest of the gang are running around Hawkins trying desperately to find the Mindflayer, not knowing that Billy unknowingly trapped it within himself and is just living his life, teaching these weirdly obedient alien dogs to do tricks because they keep helping him or seeking him out.

Anyway, upside down is doomed because their leader is literally trapped inside Billy and Billy is just teaching these dog-things to steal cigarettes from the gas station and volunteering for the closing shift at the pool because he can just get the dogs to bring the pool noodles back into the shed.

[tumblingxelian]

No Pit Madness - What the Lazarus Pit might actually do to a human brain:

So, I hate the whole "Pit Madness" BS but I do find how the brain works fascinating and ended up wondering how something like the pit might effect the brain and if it could influence behaviors in a none ableist or "Evil magic" way. So please join me as I outline a fun little thought experiment about how the Lazarus Pit could influence someone's personality, but not in the way you'd expect!

Let's begin with a fun fact!

When we experience trauma is can leave a physical mark on our brain even if it wasn't physical trauma it still mars the fleshy sponge that is our brain.

This can be useful, like learning fire = hot & the ensuing pain = bad!

It can also hard-code in a lot of really bad stuff which is why when it comes to certain mental illnesses medications to suppress certain parts of the brain need to be taken for upwards of ten years. This is to ensure the damage does not keep perpetuating itself while the brain builds new neural pathways until the source of the sickness is gone.

So, now imagine if you get dumped in a Lazarus pit and and EVERYTHING comes back in perfect clarity. That's likely why people coming out are so initially panicked and wild, they are experiencing total sensory overload on a level never before imagined!

But, the influence of the pit likely lingers as it works its way through the body and so its still repairing damage as it happens. Which is key to my next point and we'll use Ra's as an example.

Ra's was a doctor, a healer, a man who wanted to better the world. But in that journey he saw and eventually did terrible things. Things that would forever change him, quite literally in this case.

Because imagine if you will, all that stuff coming back all at once, but then imagine the Lazarus pit remnant going "Oh the brains getting damaged real fast, better fix that!"

Put simply, it effectively heals the damage done to the mind via traumas as the brain is trying to process and learn from them.

This happens be they brought up by the pit or simply on the persons mind in the immediate after effects. The brain is trying to hard code in "Thing bad" but the Lazarus pit won't allow the brain to experience that kind of damage and wins out for at least a time. Essentially fortifying the mind against taking this kind of damage.

Using Ra's as an example the longer he lives, the more he sees and does, the more this stuff compounds and the more the pit has to heal when he goes in and comes out. By virtue of getting that healing, those actions no longer have the same kind of mental or emotional impact they once did. Causing him to become increasingly alienated from the human condition and the horrors he inflicts on others.

Now, for someone who went into the pit once this is likely not a huge deal but let's go over some example using this current model:

1: Cassandra Cain was killed by Shiva and thrown in a pit, she came out and killed Shiva, something she would normally be so violently opposed to she'd die rather than do it. This isn't merely philosophical for Cassandra it is also rooted in intense trauma. But this act did not impact her the way it should. Cassandra retains her intellectual and emotional morals, but the trauma that comes with seeing or causing death no longer hits her the way it once did, because her brains now been hard-wired to be able to handle that without taking damage.

2: Bruce has if I recall been in the pit at times, so wouldn't the trauma over his parents be lessened? No, because Bruce tends to go in the pit when he's on missions and thus compartmentalizing. Thus instead the trauma is just as bad or slightly worse because its in a sense been refreshed once he's out of mission mode and the Lazarus Pit effects wear off. IE, he got factory reset but kept all his memories, now they are just clearer than ever before and that's worse.

3: Much like the the above, Jason was factory reset as far as is brains physical trauma went and so confused when he came out that he wasn't entirely clear on having died over just getting injured. By the time he did know the pits effects had worn off, so this was his brains first major "new" old trauma, and thus it responded the way a new brain does to trauma with "This is the worst thing because its the first bad thing" magnifying its impact and solidifying it in his brain.

This hasn't made any of them new people, they retain agency in their actions and beliefs. But for a physical comparison, its like how some stories have someone coming out of the pits feet be baby smooth and thus needing to build up calluses, except for the brain.

The difference is, because one retains the memories, if they are in a calm scenario and ideally unconscious when first coming out of the pit, they could wake up, calmly meditate on things and come out more or less the same as before save maybe a little more level.

Most people cannot do that and so their brain gets a jagged, clumsy, often entirely unhelpful wave of protective film over major horrors, or get to experience them again like they are brand new with no in-between. Thus meaning the results tend to be either:

"Huh, that used to fuck me up but now it doesn't."

Or

"Oh gods this is worse than I remembered it, aaah!"

Or in other words you either get over stuff you probably shouldn't or get super re-traumatized with no middle ground and neither is ideal.

[ycoil]

"#me and who" you forreal pal? it is actually just us on my post Lol ignore all those other notes, they dont mean nothin, dont worry about the ocean of bodies pulsing and writhing in all of their futility, wistful thinking will merely lead you into your dreams, you gotta get the fuck out there and do something, you just hit my line and now we are linked, this is only about U and me, i love you, i am going to rename you and you will wear it happily because the rest of the world has lowkey failed you the whole way leading up to this point, i love you so much that no words could ever really broach the reality, you can only find out in the way my hands desire you, devouring your haptics, grasping, caressing, holding, im going to grip you so hard now that each one of my fingers is going to be painted red into your nerves, signals traipse their way up your spine and into your memory, i'll live forever there yknow, a pathway carved into your mind, youll hold that until you die, each recall further instantiating the neural pattern that leads you there, thats just the nature of life and connection, interface with me, ill play your cord like an instrument until your eyes roll right into the back of your head and you see the truth, comma, Lol

[nowimjustastranger]

StCMO Lore | Part 2

I changed Watchdog Ford's motivation for going into the multiverse and I think this narrative is far more fitting, with the added benefit of being angsty as all hell.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Stanford Pines began his obsessive search for a solution soon after, determined to undo what had been done. But Death could not be reversed, nor could it be threatened or bribed. So Stanley Pines remained in Death’s tender embrace and, in his growing desperation, Stanford Pines began to explore other means of getting his brother back.

He left no stone unturned and eventually stumbled across the multiverse theory. A theory which suggests that our universe is not the only one, and that there may be countless other universes existing alongside it, each potentially with its own laws of physics and properties, essentially creating a "multiverse" where our universe is just one part of a much larger cosmic structure.

An idea began to form.

After getting his first PhD in evolutionary biology, Stanford Pines immediately pursued a degree in physics. In the meantime, Fiddleford found a job and bought an apartment near campus so he could look after Ford, who had begun to neglect both his health and hygiene in favor of pouring all his time and attention into turning his idea into reality.

When Stanford graduated early yet again, they moved to Gravity Falls together, where the barrier between Dimensions was weaker, and began to build a portal that could tear a hole between the two. Fiddleford was reluctant, suspecting that Stanford’s intentions were far from innocent or scientific in nature. But Stanford would do it with or without him, so Fiddleford assisted in order to keep him from working himself to death.

Ford also had a side project that he had started working on in college, his premonitions and sensitivity to changes in the universe leading him to experiment with harnessing those frequencies and applying them to his ability to see glimpses of the future in an unconscious state, increasing their strength with an amplifier so he could see into the future whenever and wherever he pleased.

He very nearly rendered himself braindead on multiple occasions.

When Fiddleford found out about Project Prescience, by quite literally walking in on one of Stanford’s tests, he aided Stanford in repurposing a biker helmet in order to implant the amplifier and external neural connectors into the frame. Once activated with a press of a discrete button on the side of the helmet, the system amplified Stanford’s premonitions to visions of future pathways.

Refining the tech takes Stanford and Fiddleford four years, but it’s ready by the time the portal is finished. They test it before Stanford gears up to go through, successfully entering the multiverse in an alternate dimension identical to his own except Gravity Fall was never founded. He stands in the middle of a forest where the Shack would’ve been, using the built-in communication device in his helmet to keep Fiddleford updated.

Stanford returns to his dimension and they shut down the portal, working on a way to shield their dimension from outside forces. Stanford designs a strong spell using unicorn hair to erect a barrier around their dimension, as well as performing a ritual on himself so he can come and go from his dimension as he pleases.

Also, Stanford convinces Fiddleford to build the memory gun by arguing that he could remain anonymous by using it on anyone who discovered his true identity. Unfortunately, Stanford intends to go behind Fiddleford’s back and use it to steal a Stanley from another Dimension. The memory gun still has an addictive quality, but only when it's used on the same person several times, but Stanford usually only has to use it on someone once.