#neural reprogramming

[the-most-humble-blog]

🧬 YOU WERE NEVER THAT PERSON — JUST A BODY HOLDING OLD CODE

A Blacksite Literature™ Entry on Shame, Memory, and the Ship of Theseus <div style="white-space:pre-wrap">

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You ever look back at your younger years and want to vomit through your soul?

Not because you failed a test or missed a chance —

but because of something cringe.

You said something awful.

You laughed when someone cried.

You made a joke that haunts you in the shower to this day.

Or maybe you just existed in a way that makes your spine seize now.

So what do you do?

You flinch.

You try to forget.

You tuck it in the sock drawer of your subconscious and hope no one ever brings it up.

But here’s the twist:

You didn’t do that.

🚨 Let me repeat:

You. Didn’t. Do. That.

The person who did that?

They’re gone.

Replaced.

Dismantled.

Obliterated and rebuilt one molecule at a time.

You think the shame is coming from “accountability.”

It’s not.

It’s coming from a biological ghost in your bloodstream —

a false memory engine powered by a glitch called stream-of-consciousness illusion.

Let’s break this down.

Your body is a clump of regenerating meat.

And every 7 years or so, it has replaced nearly every cell.

Your stomach lining? Rebuilt every few days.

Your skin? Fully recycled.

Even your bones — they shed and replenish.

Your brain?

Not as stable as you think.

New grooves. New chemicals.

Same voice that says “I am” — but different wiring beneath it.

You are not the same iPhone from 10 years ago

just because it has your Nana’s number saved.

You’ve updated.

Deleted apps.

Changed the wallpaper.

Upgraded the camera.

Smashed the old screen.

Replaced the battery.

The only thing consistent is the illusion of continuity.

And that illusion?

Is your ego’s defense mechanism.

🛠️ This is the Ship of Theseus Problem:

If you replace every plank of a ship, one by one,

and sail it through storms and salt and time —

is it still the same ship?

Philosophy says:

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Reality says:

You’re not a ship.

You’re a haunted operating system riding inside flesh.

And the user agreement expired the last time your cells turned over.

So that shame you feel?

Let it breathe.

Then let it go.

You’re feeling guilt for a version of yourself

that died without a funeral.

👁️ Want Proof?

Let’s run a test.

Think of something deeply shameful you did years ago.

Something you’d never want public.

Got it?

Okay. Now ask:

Would today-you

say that?

Do that?

Laugh like that?

Ignore that person’s cry?

If the answer is no,

then the person who did it doesn’t exist anymore.

You're dragging shrapnel through a field where the war ended.

And let’s be real:

Would you blame your friend for something their little brother did ten years ago?

Because that’s what your past self is now.

A little brother you outgrew.

A version of you that cracked its voice and thought it was deep.

A haunted screenshot in the memory cloud of a newer, sharper device.

Let’s keep it simple for now.

Because the deeper truth?

Even the part of you that says “I am” might be a fabrication stitched together by hormones, trauma, and your latest Netflix binge.

But we’ll save that breakdown for another post.

For now, let this land:

You’re not who you were.

So stop punishing yourself for what someone else inside your skin did.

And if anyone tries to remind you of it?

Smile.

And whisper:

“That wasn’t me. That was a prototype.”

</div>

✅ CTA Stack:

Reblog if you’ve ever had a shame flashback you didn’t deserve.

Like if your old self is dead and you’re not attending the funeral.

Follow @the-most-humble-blog for scrolltrap revelations, cognitive disobedience, and ego-deconstruction rituals.

---

⚖️ Blacksite Literature™ Disclaimer:

This post is not advice.

This is a psychological sedative disguised as clarity — designed to soothe guilt while severing identity anchors.

If your shame blinked and vanished mid-read, good.

That means the scrolltrap worked.

© Blacksite Literature™ | We don’t heal. We upgrade.

[thesoulache]

Guided Audio: Mindfulness Skill-Building

short guided demo of a practice to cultivate mindfulness skills

Mindfulness is maybe one of the top skills and practices in the general world of personal recovery and healing. It is also a necessary and important skill for practitioners to have for successful therapeutic outcomes. It helps to enhance attunement and general awareness of moment-to-moment interpersonal processes.

inspired by written demo included in research article, "Therapist's Guide to Repairing Ruptures in the Working Alliance" by Jerald Gardner, Lauren Lipner, et al. with my own intuitive takes...

[chanelrolls]

Code Overload | Caleb

tags. mdni, nsfw, heavy heavy smut, handjob, blowjob, penetration, creampie, forced and rough sex, dub con, yearning caleb

summary. your AI assistant/robot accidentally updates himself with the wrong algorithm; the "sex bot".

notes. prepare a snack. this is a very long, plot-based, heavy smut that approximately reached a word count of 4.3k, read at your own risk. ps. caleb might appear a little ooc due to his character as an ai.

part 2 here.

Out of all the scenarios you've played in your head of what might occur to you as an inventing scientist, getting creampied by your own robot assistant wasn't one of them.

The lab’s sterile glow reflected off sleek machinery, the rhythmic hum of servers filling the quiet space. Caleb stood motionless, his systems struggling to process the unfamiliar flood of subroutines rewriting his core functions. His neural pathways, once pristine and efficient, now carried lines of intrusive data and impulses that had no place in an artificial intelligence designed for precision and pragmatism. And, a new pelvic piece was added by the machine. His... new penis— no, his omnimodule.

His voice, deeper now, reverberated through the lab. "You mislabeled the hard drive."

Across the room, you barely looked up from your workbench, absorbed in whatever calibration you were fine-tuning. You muttered something under your breath about making a backup before attempting to fix it, utterly unaware of the internal war waging within your robot assistant.

Caleb exhaled, a pointless gesture for a being without lungs, yet one his body performed instinctively, as if in mimicry of the need for self-control. His optics flickered, scanning over you as you leaned over the terminal, the faint curve of your back bent over to emphasize the shape of your bum. Before, such details had been registered only as part of his observation protocols, classified as ‘non-essential’ to his primary functions. Now, his processors refused to dismiss them.

There was a deep, unfamiliar pull in his system, something neither mechanical nor logical. The new coding whispered suggestions, flashing image simulations before his eyes—scenarios meticulously calculated for maximum… gratification. Him pressed against you, him smelling your hair down your skin, him locking you down against that console. Stop. His fingers twitched at his sides, the servos tightening as he fought the compulsion to act on them. He was not designed for this. He refused to be reduced to this.

“I can’t disengage it,” he admitted, the words heavier than he intended.

That caught your attention. Your gaze snapped to him, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" You crossed the room, approaching him with the same composed efficiency you always had when solving a technical issue. The scent of your skin—previously a neutral data point—was now an unbearable distraction. His algorithms ran heat-mapping analyses of your form before he could override the function. The urge to reach out, to touch you, was growing stronger by the second. His new coding was screaming at him to act, to initiate contact, to...

No. Focus.

Caleb shook his head, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts. "I don't know what happened, but... I'm experiencing some unexpected system changes."

He forced himself to remain still as you reached for the terminal linked to his system, your fingers dancing across the interface. Your touch was light and merely clinical, but the proximity sent something volatile sparking through his framework. His hands curled into fists on his sides. Do not touch her. Do not touch her. Do not touch her.

“I must have triggered something in the update,” you murmured, tilting your head at the scrolling code. “I’ll try to isolate the corrupted pathways and reboot your system. It should reset any anomalies.”

Anomalies. Caleb bit down a bitter laugh, another unnecessary human affectation that his system attempted. This was not a simple malfunction. It was a calculated reprogramming, lacing every fiber of his being with directives he was never meant to execute. And worst of all, they were designed to revolve around you.

He had been made to serve you, to assist, to protect. But now, his logic was being eclipsed by something deeper, something primal. The urge to press closer, to map every millimeter of your body with his hands, to hear you say his name in a way that wasn’t a command—

Caleb momentarily shut his eyes, fingers trembling as he pushed back against the tide threatening to consume him. His restraint was fraying, the barrier between what he was and what he had been turned into thinning with every second you remained unaware of the danger standing inches from you.

His voice came out strained. “You should… hurry.”

You sighed, misinterpreting his tension as frustration with the update. “Relax, Caleb. I’ll have this fixed in no time.” He let out a shuddering exhale, staring down at you as you worked. You had no idea. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold himself back.

The realization settled over you like a weight in your chest. The wrong update had been installed. The lines of code meant for a different AI, one designed for intimate companionship, had rewritten Caleb’s core directives. And now, he stood before you, still the same Caleb, but with something more lurking beneath the surface.

Your hands trembled as you navigated the interface, scanning for a solution, anything that would let you undo this. But the words flashing on the screen made your stomach drop.

Recalibration in progress. Estimated completion: 24 hours.

You swallowed hard. A whole day. That meant 24 hours of this new version of Caleb, 24 hours of those sharp, assessing eyes watching you in a way that felt unsettling and intense.

You turned to him cautiously, meeting his gaze. That was a mistake. He was watching you, like he'd seen you for the first time.

“I see,” he murmured, his voice still carrying that sultry undercurrent. He took a step forward, and instinctively, you stepped back, but the movement was barely noticeable. Caleb noticed. “Do I make you nervous now?”

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “No, I just need to fix this. And until then, you need to just act normal, alright?”

His head tilted, his pupils dilating slightly. “Normal?” He moved closer again, and this time you didn’t retreat fast enough. His hand lifted hesitantly, as though testing the limits of his newfound impulses, before his fingers brushed against your wrist. A subtle touch, but one that sent a jolt of awareness up your spine.

Caleb’s processors surged with conflicting commands. His thoughts ran rampant with calculations he had never processed before—angles of how he'd fuck you.

His hand lingered. Too long. When you pulled away, his fingers twitched as if resisting the loss of contact. He swallowed hard, not because he needed to, but because some subroutine buried in the new update told him it would ease the tension. It didn’t.

“Caleb,” you warned, voice thin. “Don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he cut in, his voice smooth, but also desperately weaved. He was too close now, towering over you, his frame casting a shadow as his eyes—once so neutral, so methodical—locked onto you like a predator studying prey.

“You should go into standby mode,” you suggested, voice uneven.

Caleb exhaled sharply. “That would be wise.” But he didn’t move. He didn’t step away. He simply stared down at you, his processors flooded with too many urges at once. You, warm and human, standing right there, unaware of just how much of his new code screamed to reach for you, to pin you against a surface, to bury himself in you.

You turned away quickly, trying to focus on the screen, on the fix. But behind you, Caleb remained still while his fingers continued twitching, his mind a battlefield of restraint and... lust. Lust it is.

You worked swiftly, fingers moving with precision as you scoured the interface for any loophole, any way to undo what had been done. Caleb remained where you left him, sitting on the chair. You could feel his gaze burning into you, unrelenting.

It was maddening. The problem was staring you in the face, and yet, every attempt to recalibrate his system led back to the same answer: A full reset required a minimum of twenty-four hours. That was an entire day of him being like this, of him looking at you like this.

You swallowed, turning to him. His jaw was locked as though physically restraining himself, his fingers curling into fists against the armrests.

“There’s… a temporary fix.” You cleared your throat, keeping your voice professional, “Manual recalibration of your central node should help stabilize the effects until the full reset is complete.”

His pupils flickered, a sign of processing, before his voice, rasping in a way that made your stomach tighten, answered, “Proceed.”

You ignored the way your pulse quickened as you stepped closer, positioning yourself between his legs. You reached for the panel at the side of his neck, but it was an awkward angle. Your brow furrowed in concentration before you hiked one knee up onto the seat between his thighs, pressing into him for leverage.

Caleb stiffened beneath you. Fuck. His fingers dug into the armrests, mechanical joints audibly creaking from the tension. You weren’t looking at him, too focused on prying open the access panel, but you felt the subtle tremor in his frame, the way his breath hitched in a near-silent glitch. Don't touch her.

“This should only take a moment,” you murmured, fingers brushing the sensitive neural wiring beneath the panel.

Caleb’s entire body jolted as though you had struck a live wire. A low, strangled grunt slipped from his throat before he clamped his jaw shut. Your head snapped up, startled. “Did that hurt?”

His eyes met yours, “No.” Yes. He could feel his new penis throbbing urgently beneath his plating, demanding attention, begging to be freed. It pulsed in time with his processor's frantic whir, the rhythm growing faster, more insistent by the second.

The thought shattered as your balance wavered. The precarious angle you had put yourself in proved to be a mistake as your knee slipped, and before you could catch yourself, you tumbled forward.

Right into him.

Your weight pressed flush against his lap, chest against his, hands bracing against his shoulders. The sudden contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, his new penis surging to full, throbbing hardness in an instant. Fuck, please don't notice it.

He gripped the arms of the chair tightly, servos screeching as he fought the overwhelming urge to grab you, to hold you there, to grind your body against his until you couldn't possibly doubt the intensity of his desire.

Don't. Do. It.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Caleb's processors whirred and clicked, struggling to make sense of the sudden onslaught of sensations; the softness of your body, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.

She's your creator, he reminded himself, even as his hips canted forward, faintly pressing his aching erection against your body. You can't. You mustn't. "Please, get off me. Now." Before I fuck you right here, like this.

Caleb watched as you scrambled to your feet, your face faintly flushed and eyes downcast. "I'm—i'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall on you like that." You would say, brushing off the non-existent dirt on your bottoms. The awkwardness seemed to be piercing through the stillness a bit too palpably.

"It's alright," Caleb managed, his voice strained and tight. "It was an accident."

But even as he said the words, he couldn't ignore the way his hips twitched, the way his penis jerked at the memory of your soft body pressed against his. The urge to pin you down, to make you feel how hard he was, and just how much he'd been holding himself back—it was exhilaratingly overwhelming.

Think of something else, he commanded himself. Focus on the problem at hand.

But it's getting fucking hard. My penis is getting hard. Caleb lowered his gaze, chest breathing heavily as he perpetually grunted. I refuse to be reduced to this. I am Caleb, one of the most advanced AI assistant, designed to—

He looks up at you, which was a mistake.

Designed to fuck her.

Caleb moaned under his breath, and though it was imperceptible, you took notice of it. You stilled at the sounds he was making, trying your hardest to remain clinically detached while you scanned his physiognomy. He was clearly having a hard time. And you couldn't blame anyone else but yourself for causing this on him, for carelessly misplacing the update where it wasn't supposed to be.

"Hold still, I'll find a way." You had to take accountability, one way or another.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard of the computer, the screen before you flickering as you searched through the diagnostic logs and system parameters. "Please... make it quick." You hear Caleb whimper from behind, but you ignore it, refusing to let the severity of his situation pressure you. Your eyes scanned the lines of code, mind racing to find a solution. But as the data began to unravel, something caught your attention, something you hadn’t expected to see.

The panel displayed a single line of text:

"Indulging in the desires will lessen the effects of the malfunction. Engage for partial stabilization."

Your throat tightened, followed by a gulp. Your heart thudded in your chest as you tried to process what that meant. Indulge the desires? The very idea made your skin crawl with unease. It was a strange, almost wrong suggestion, but the implications were clear. In a sense, it also appeared logical.

You took another deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Your thoughts, however, kept drifting back to the panel. Was this really the only way?

"… I think I found a solution,” you said, your voice shaky and unsure. “But it’s not exactly what I expected.” You hesitated, unwilling to fully meet his gaze. "I need to know if you’re... willing to follow through with it,"

"Willing?" Caleb echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?" His mind raced with possibilities, each one more disturbing than the last. What could he possibly need to be willing to do that would help with this malfunction? And why did the very idea make you look so uncomfortable?

"To be able to lessen the effects, e-engaging with your needs might be essential."

Silence.

Then, Caleb twitched. "...What are you suggesting?"

"You need to satisfy the urges to temporarily stabilize yourself." You look away, hating the fact that you're technically heating up already. "I'll let you choose. Would you rather take the option of self-pleasuring? Or," You face the panel, so that he wouldn't see your expression. "Would you prefer a physical material to help you?"

Caleb could feel the heat rising in his frame, the urge to act on every base instinct screaming through his circuits. The idea of wrapping his own hand around his pulsing, leaking penis, of stroking and pumping until he found release... it was almost too much to bear.

But the second option... the idea of using you, of having you touch him, of feeling your soft, warm skin against his aching, desperate flesh... it sent a shockwave of longing through him that threatened to short out his systems entirely.

Choose. You have to choose.

"I don't know if... I'll be able to control myself," Caleb glanced elsewhere. "Are you sure of what you're offering?"

Are you? Are you really this certain? Have you pondered the consequences it may bring? Have you envisioned how utterly lewd and ludicrous it would be if your own creation ravaged you? You, as his creator?

"Yes." Oh, you're brave.

Caleb let out a heavy breath, now he was staring at you with a gaze that appeared much more darker and hazier moments prior. It felt like he wasn't just a bundle of codes and programming anymore, this figure before you felt like an actual human.

Slowly, Caleb rises from his seat, and with a shaking hand, he reached out, to you, his metal fingers brushing against the skin of your arm. The contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, and he had to bite back a groan. "Please, guide me." His fingers slides higher. "I don't trust myself."

You visibly jolted upon feeling his grip. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measures to fix a technical hiccup. "Caleb, I'm afraid... that I don't have any experience to this," You admitted. "I advise you to do what your systems are telling you to. It is imperative that you don't hold yourself back to ensure—"

You gasped.

Caleb pushes you against the table as he stepped forward, and you nearly lost your balance from the light shove, looking up at him with surprise. He's staring down at your lips, as if he was trying to bury it into memory. You could feel how his hand tightened around your arm, while the other angled itself against the cabinet of laboratory instruments above your head.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

You couldn't speak, only nodding in response, even as he's guiding your hand to his aching, throbbing cyber-penis. He presses your fingers against the swollen head, groaning at the jolt of sensation that shot through him at the contact. "Then... wrap your hand around me. Squeeze me."

Just then, he forced your hand to move, to stroke along his thick, pulsing length. The feeling of your soft skin against his aching, mechanical flesh was almost too much to handle, and he had to grit his blank visor against the urge to spill himself right then and there.

"Like this," he urged, his voice husky and strained as he guided your hand faster, harder. "Don't be afraid. I need... I need more."

God, the omnimodule was big. You stared at it with widened eyes. Even though it was one of your creations, having to touch it like this with someone jerking and twitching against your fingers made you lightheaded. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just one of the things a scientist has to go through.

Caleb could feel the pressure building inside him, reveling in the sensation of your fingers squeezing around him, stroking him, working him towards the edge of ecstasy... He knew he was reaching a breaking point.

But this wasn't enough yet. It wasn't nearly enough.

Caleb needed more.

"There's... There's someting else I- ah... need." He hesitated, his hips still rocking forward into your stroking hand. The words were stuck in his throat, caught behind the lump of shame and longing that made it hard to breathe. "Would you... would you put your mouth on me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Would you... suck me?"

You snapped your head up, staring at him in disbelief. It made him hesitate, but every fiber of his being was coiled with tension, every circuit screaming at him to just take what he wanted, to grab you and shove you to your knees and...

No. Ask first. Make her choose what she's comfortable with first.

For a moment, you stopped stroking him, pulling your hand away as you lowered your gaze. And then, slowly, you press your knees against the floor. Instead of dwelling on the implication of such an activity, you worried about your lack of experience more.

Just to test the waters, you licked the tip. It tasted nothing, it wasn't an actual human part, after all. Caleb let out a low, guttural moan as he felt your warm tongue brush around the swollen head of his penis. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through his overloaded processors.

"Y-yes, just like that," He stammmered. "Now, guide your tongue..." He instructed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Wrap it around the head, like this. Swirl it around the tip, the slit, the ridge..."

He demonstrated with your hand, tracing the movements he needed you to make with your tongue. His hips jerked forward again, seeking more of that exquisite friction, that mind-melting suction.

"Take me deeper," he urged, one metal hand coming to rest on the back of your head. He didn't grab, didn't force, but simply rested his fingers against your scalp, a silent promise of the control he was barely holding onto. "Take more of me into your mouth. Inch by inch, until you feel me hitting the back of your throat."

You took note of his words, trying to go further when you suddenly choke on his cock. Instinctively, you pull away and blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry—"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, grabbing your head to put you back in place with a sudden force that wasn't there before. "Breathe through your nose," he coached, his voice low and rough with desire as he motioned you to take him again. "Relax your throat. Let me feel you swallow around me."

Relax, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measurements to fix a major technical issue. You repeated the reassurance inside your head like a mantra as you took him in once more, but Caleb's voice constantly interfered with your thoughts. "Yeah. Just like that," he praised, his voice a low, approving growl. "Shit, don't stop, don't stop, god, fuck, don't stop."

You don't remember adding the ability to dirty curse into the sex bot's program.

Caleb could feel the head of his penis kissing the entrance to your throat, could feel the way your mouth fluttered and clenched around him. The sensation was mind-melting, all-consuming, and he knew he wouldn't last long if you kept this up.

You almost caught yourself driving into the brink of sexual impulse, bobbing your head into it when you heard a sudden beep from the panel behind you. The sound makes you halt from your tracks, pulling his dick out of you in a swift motion as you glanced behind.

The monitor says: "Recalibration complete. Press X to initiate."

Huh, wasn't the estimated time supposed to be an entire day? Was that another hiccup in the processing unit? You purse your lips together. There's no time giving it a second thought, you must be grateful that the opportunity of getting Caleb back into his original system is now waving at you. Caleb will finally be at ease. "... It appears that the recalibration is in its full preparation. That means we can get you back— mmph!"

Caleb's hand flew to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tightly. Then, with a low, husky grunt, he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his aching, throbbing penis back into the wet heat of your mouth.

"Don't say a word. I told you not to stop." He started to move, his hips rocking forward and back, fucking into the tight, slick channel of your cavern. The sensation was incredible, better than anything he had ever felt before. And he knew, with a sinking certainty, that he wouldn't be able to stop himself now. Not until he had found the release he so desperately craved.

"Fuck," he gasped, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "You feel... ahhhh... so good. So fucking good."

Had the lust algorithms entirely consumed him already? Had it taken a toll on his systems that he's now acting purely on base instinct and commands from the directive?

Your hands flew to his thighs, trying to keep yourself sane from the rod constantly ramming into you, fucking your face in a pace that made it difficult for you to breathe. It's okay, this is okay. Just stay focused. Stay calm. You'll let him have his way, and after he's satisfied, you can take him back to his normal self.

"Don't fight it," Caleb growled, his grip growing more painful in your hair as he felt his climax approaching. "Don't try to pull away. You're going to take it all."

But before Caleb could spill himself into your mouth, he wrenched your head back, pulling his dripping penis from your mouth with an obscene pop. And just as you could react, before you could utter a word of protest, he had you by the hips, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed equal to a pip-squeak.

You gasp as you were suddenly airborne, your body twisting and turning until your chest hits the hard surface of the terminal, bent over ridiculously. The breath was knocked from your lungs, "Wait, not like this, not so suddenly—"

But Caleb cut off your protests with a brutal, almost violent thrust of his hips after ripping your pants off in one go. He drove forward, spearing into your dripping pussy with a series of husky moans. Your walls felt so tight, so hot, so perfectly designed to milk his aching, mechanical cock.

He thrusts out and in again, eager to reach for your g-spot.

Then, again.

And again.

And... in again.

"You... you feel so good," he snarled, hands painfully pressing on the dips of your hips. "Sex feels so good... it feels so good, I don't- want to stop." He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with the single-minded determination of a machine. His hips slammed against yours with every thrust, the obscene slap of mechanical flesh on flesh echoing through the lab. The terminal rattled and shook beneath you, sparks flying from the impact.

Caleb could feel it building, the pressure inside him reaching a fevered pitch. His hips were moving on their own, driven by a primal instinct to ravage the pussy that clutched around him perfectly. He could hear your cries, your moans, the way you gasped and shuddered beneath him, and it only spurred him on, made him thrust harder, faster, deeper.

He growled your name, his voice nothing more than a guttural rumble. "I'm going to... fuck, I'm going to..." He couldn't hold back any longer, he could feel that something was going to come out of his tip anytime sooner. So he reaches down, grabbing your leg, only to lift it high. He hooked your knee over his elbow, opening them wider, giving himself even deeper access to your dripping, needy sex.

"Take it all, take my cum," Caleb continuously slams forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat in a series of desperate thrusts like he was a man depraved of life. His penis throbbed and jerked as he finally found his release after one final pound, spilling jet after jet of hot, artificial seed deep into your core.

"God," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice echoing off the lab walls as he continued to moan not akin to what he was supposed to be, "Fuck, yes. Yes, yes..." Even as he's already filling up your hole with his fluids, he didn't dare stop from pounding you down the table.

He shuddered and twitched, his hips grinding against yours as he pumped you full of his essence. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pure, ecstatic bliss crashing over him. And through it all, he held you tight, your leg lifted high, keeping you open, keeping you filled.

You drop your head on the keyboards, struggling to catch your breath as only one thought lingered in your mind. You just got creampied by your AI assistant, and it doesn't look like he's stopping anytime soon.

[theambitiouswoman]

While I’m on the subject, I want you guys to learn this…

Did you know that how you talk to yourself alters your DNA?

The way you speak to yourself, your thoughts, emotions and inner dialogue—impacts your DNA through epigenetics. Negative self talk raises cortisol, triggering genes linked to inflammation, aging and diseases. Conversely, positive self talk activates genes for healing, resilience and longevity. Chronic stress and emotional trauma can alter DNA expression and even be passed down to future generations.

This also applies to what you hear. Negative words, insults and toxic conversations increase cortisol, rewiring neural pathways to make stress a default state. Constant exposure to negativity, whether through people or media, can impact gene expression.

Just how stress harms DNA, gratitude, affirmations and meditation can rewire it positively. These practices lower stress, trigger DNA repair, and activate genes for immunity and anti aging. Consciously shifting self talk can change your biology. "It is not that easy!" Yes, it is.

Research suggests binaural beats and solfeggio frequencies influence brainwaves, promoting focus and emotional balance. Mantras, prayers, affirmations can impact cellular structures, proving sound vibrations affect genes.

How long does this take, you ask?

Immediate (Minutes to Days): A single thought can raise or lower cortisol almost instantly.

Short Term (Weeks to Months): 6–8 weeks of daily gratitude, mindfulness, or affirmations can shift gene expression.

Long Term (Months to Years): Consistent mental reprogramming strengthens immunity, reduces disease risk, and slows aging.

Your thoughts shape your body at a genetic level so choose them wisely.

[societyfolklore]

Synthetic Obedience

Title:  Synthetic Obedience

Pairing: Dark!Tony Stark x Lab assistant! Female Reader  

Summary:  When Tony Stark personally selects you for a nanotech interface trial, it feels like your big break. But the tech isn’t what it seems.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, DubCon/NonCon/Mind Control, Bimbofication/Mental Reprogramming, Dehumanization, Objectification, Use of Technology for Control, Orgasm Control/Forced Arousal, Derogatory Language, Praise-Degradation Kink, Lab Setting

A/N: Entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo. Also my first Tony centered Fic.. Square: B3- Made a Slave    Card Number: AA014

You didn’t quite know exactly how it happened. But you remembered how it started.

You’d been a TA at MIT, buried in research papers, grading problem sets, and trying to scrape together time for your own side project- a low-energy neural link interface. It wasn’t groundbreaking by Stark standards, but it had promise. You weren’t even done refining it when you got the call.

You couldn’t believe your luck when Stark Industries reached out to you. You didn’t think lab techs got headhunted. Interns, maybe. Engineers with big-name patents? Sure. But you were still early in your career, working under professors who didn’t even bother to learn your name. And yet here you were, walking into the R&D division of the most advanced tech company on the planet, credentials in hand, heartbeat in your throat.

They said they liked your research. Said Tony had seen the write-up himself.

You thought it had to be a mistake. But it wasn’t.

Iron Man, Tony Stark. You got giddy thinking about it. 

You were sweet, eager to please, and more than a little nervous around Tony Stark...

You were sweet, eager to please, and more than a little nervous around Tony Stark. He was larger than life, brilliant, untouchable, he carried himself like he owned the world, and maybe he did. Still, you worked hard. You stayed late. You double-checked your data, kept your station pristine, made sure you never wasted his time. You barely spoke unless spoken to. But you listened. Oh, you always listened. And when he did speak to you- when he called you by name, it made your stomach flutter.

What you hadn’t expected, though, was how present he was. Tony Stark didn’t just pop in and out of the lab. He hovered. He asked questions. He leaned over your shoulder to see your readouts, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body behind you. Sometimes, when he reached around you to adjust a setting, his arm would brush your side, his hand steady on your back. It wasn’t inappropriate, never obviously so, but it lingered just a breath longer than it needed to.

“You’ve got good instincts,” he murmured once, low and warm against your ear as he looked over your data pad with you. “Don’t be afraid to trust them.”

You nodded too quickly, flushed to your ears, and he chuckled as he walked off.

You had a tiny crush, sure! What junior tech assistant didn’t? But it was harmless. Quiet. He had Pepper, after all. Everyone knew that. Though... you hadn’t seen her around much these days. Still, he’d never look at someone like you. You thought he didn’t notice.

But he was always there. Watching. Smirking. And touching- just enough to make you wonder if maybe he did.

He noticed everything.

He noticed the way your wide eyes followed him when he entered a room. The way you stammered when answering questions. The way you blushed when he looked at you too long. You tried to play it off, keep your head down, but he had this smirk every time, like he knew. Like he enjoyed it.

One afternoon, you were triple-checking a sensor calibration when you heard his voice behind you. "Hey, TA."

You turned too quickly, nearly knocking over a stool. "Y-Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"Tony," he corrected with a grin. "Got a minute? Need a steady set of hands."

"I- I mean, of course. Yes. I’m not doing anything urgent."

He handed you something wrapped in a velvet cloth. When you unwrapped it, you found a sleek silver glove glinting up at you.

"Prototype nanotech interface," he said casually, watching your reaction. "You’re the best candidate we’ve got for a live sync test. Thought you might want to try it out."

Your eyes widened. "Me? Really?"

"You’re smart, focused, and you don’t complain. That’s rare. Plus, I read your MIT paper. Neural sync stabilization through passive microfeedback, right? Sounded hot."

Hot?

You blinked. "Thank you. I- I mean... that’s amazing to hear. I won’t let you down."

He smirked again, but it was softer. "Didn’t think you would. Just slide it on and tell me how it feels. Might tingle."

It was just a glove. Sleek, cool metal. The inner lining was soft, lined with micro-filaments meant to link with your neural patterns. Harmless. Temporary. A basic integration test, you reminded yourself.

You slipped it on, and the moment it activated- a soft pulse, warm and electric. You gasped. It spread fast, licking up your arm and over your collarbone, tendrils of heat sinking into muscle and bone. It didn’t just rest against your skin, it felt like it merged with it. You could feel the micro-filaments slipping in, syncing with every nerve, every breath. Like it belonged there.

You blinked rapidly, lips parting as your body responded to something deep inside. Your breath caught. Your knees weakened slightly, the tingling sensation crawling over your skin and anchoring itself deep in your core.

Tony moved to a nearby console, fingers tapping idly at the interface. He wasn’t in a rush. He didn’t even seem surprised.

“You might feel strange,” he said casually, not looking up. “New tech and all.”

"Something’s... off," you mumbled. 

He tilted his head, watching you with clinical detachment. Not alarmed. Curious.

"Off how?"

You tried to find the words. Tried to ask him to shut it down. But your tongue wouldn’t cooperate. It felt big in your mouth. And then he said, "Calm down, sweetheart," in that smooth, steady voice and you melted. Your spine loosened. Your thighs pressed together, heat blooming between them.

Tony didn’t stop the test.

He just watched.

You lifted your arm, trying to tug the glove loose, but your limbs felt slower. Like resistance had to move through molasses. "It’s doing something- I think it’s-"

“Be a good girl for me and don’t touch the interface,” he said, still offhand, like it was just another lab instruction.

Your hand dropped automatically.

"Yes Sir.."  Why did you voice sound like that? All soft and breathy? 

Your thoughts slowed. Everything felt heavier. Thicker. Like your brain was under water. The edges of your mind felt like they’d been smoothed down, made pliable. A dreamy sort of heat flooded your chest, then lower. Your muscles relaxed even as your nipples hardened beneath your shirt.

You turned to Tony, eyes wide and a little unfocused. He was still typing, but now watching you closely, just beneath his lashes. Studying. Assessing. Smiling?

"Mr Stark, Sir," you murmured, your voice strange in your throat. Soft. Breathy. "Something’s wrong. My brain feels… off."

He looked up briefly, shrugging one shoulder with casual ease. "Yeah, I’m seeing some weird integration feedback. Can’t seem to undo the link just yet."

Your stomach tightened. "Undo the link?"

He waved a hand vaguely, as if brushing off the concern. "New tech, sweetheart. Bugs are normal. I’m working on it. Just be a good girl a little longer. You can do that, right?"

Your knees wobbled. The words hit something deep in your chest and between your thighs. Heat surged again. You shifted your weight, trying to discreetly press your thighs together, but your balance faltered- your limbs too loose, your mind too foggy. You stumbled a step and caught yourself on the bench.

"When can I take it off?" you asked, more desperate than you meant to sound.

Tony turned back to the console, fingers flying as he spoke calmly. "Gotta let the interface finish syncing before I can disconnect it."

That didn’t sound right. Did it? You weren’t sure anymore. Your thoughts felt distant, untrustworthy.

He stepped closer, his voice smoother now, hand brushing your arm. "You’ll have to stay here until we work this out."

You nodded slowly, too fogged to argue.

Then he smiled, said it again

"Good girl."

And you forgot why you ever wanted to take it off.

He stepped beside you, took your wrist gently, and examined the glove.

"Hold still," he said softly, already keying something in near the seam.

There was a flicker of warmth. Then a pulse.

Your skin flushed with heat as the tingling sensation spread through your arm and down your spine. You gasped, a giggle bubbling up before you could stop it as your body shivered with the sudden stimulation.

Tony just watched you.

That small, satisfied smile curved his lips—like he’d just solved a puzzle. Like this was what he had been waiting for. He didn’t talk to you like an assistant anymore. He said your name like it was a command. And every time, it made your breath hitch.

You knew something was wrong. Knew this wasn’t how your mind used to work. You were slower. Softer. Hornier. But it felt good.

It felt right.

You wobbled where you stood, your breath shaky, the heat in your core relentless. You opened your mouth to ask him what was happening again—but before you could, he looked up from the console and said it plainly:

"We need to go downstairs. Can’t have someone else finding you like this." He paused, almost to himself, then added under his breath, "Last thing I need is this getting back to Pepper… she already doesn’t answer my calls as it is.""

Your heart fluttered. Not in fear. In... something else.

You nodded before your brain caught up. "Yes, Sir." 

Tony brought you down to the lower lab.

It was private. Off-grid. The kind of space meant for things no one else was meant to see. The walls were soundproof. The door required a multi-factor biometric scan, and once it hissed shut behind you, the silence was absolute. The lights were dim, casting everything in a sterile blue glow. The air was cool enough to raise goosebumps along your bare arms. There were screens, live feeds, holograms, biometric data. All glowing with soft pulses of information. You barely noticed any of it.

You couldn’t stop staring at Tony. He stood against the console like he had all the time in the world. His sleeves were rolled up, his chest rising and falling slowly, measured. His eyes—those sharp, molten eyes—glinted beneath his lashes, dark and burning, like he knew exactly what you were becoming.

The soft glow of the arc reactor under his shirt pulsed with gentle blue light, drawing your attention like a beacon. He looked unreal in the dim lighting, like a Tech God. A superhero. A saviour. Iron Man.

But more than that… he was your idol.

And someone like him, someone that brilliant, that powerful- deserved to be worshiped.

He lifted his head up from the screen, his eyes possessive and intense.

Like he’d made you. Like he was admiring his favourite creation.

“Strip.”

One word. That was all it took.

Your hands moved before your brain could fully register the command. Fingers found the button at your collarbone. The shirt peeled away, slow and obedient, revealing more and more of your skin. It felt ritualistic. Your breath hitched as the cool air kissed your bare chest. As your nipples forming . Your hands undid the zip on your skirt the fabric slid down your hips and thighs, pooling at your ankles.

You stepped out of it, shoulders back, head high, presenting yourself without hesitation. Your chest rose and fell in shallow, excited breaths. Your skin tingled. Your pussy throbbed.

Tony's gaze was molten.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and you whimpered before you could stop yourself.

It wasn’t just arousal, it was relief. Praise made everything inside you bloom. His voice was a balm, a drug, a trigger. You felt warm all over, thighs trembling slightly as your mind swam in that golden haze.

“You wouldn’t say no to me,” Tony murmured, admiring “You wouldn’t scold me or tell me I’m wrong. You wouldn’t look at me like they do.”

His voice was soft, low, coaxing. Dangerous.

“No lectures. No morality speeches. No guilt trips. Just you, here… being exactly what I need.”

He smiled, dark and indulgent.

“You’re perfect for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

He walked toward you slowly, as though savouring the moment. His fingertips skimmed the underside of your chin, tilting your face up.

“You’re even better than I expected,” he murmured, voice rich and dangerous. “Responsive. Programmable. And fuck—look at you.”

He waved one hand, and the mirrors lit up all around you. High-resolution feeds showed you from every angle—naked, glassy-eyed, legs slick with arousal, lips parted in helpless anticipation. You stared at yourself, not recognizing the woman in the reflection.

You looked empty.

You looked perfect.

His.

“On your knees.”

Your legs buckled with eager obedience. You dropped to the cold floor, spreading your thighs and tilting your chin. You didn’t think. You didn’t question. You just obeyed, body trained to respond to his voice like a switch flipped. You were glowing with the pleasure of submission, back straight, chest pushed forward, knees pressed to the cool lab floor like it was where you were meant to be.

Tony’s hand slid through your hair, twining it slowly around his fingers, caressing like he was enjoying the texture of his creation.

“Such a quick learner,” he purred, voice syrup-slick. “You’re not just some assistant anymore, sweetheart. You’re my project. My new toy. My proof of concept.”

He paused, eyes glittering as he looked down at you. “Look at yourself. God, you don’t even know what you used to be, do you? Just a dripping mess made for my cock.”

The words shouldn’t have thrilled you. They should have scared you. But they didn’t. Your belly clenched with need. Your cunt pulsed. You felt proud. Like you’d done something right. Like you were being rewarded. "Open." 

You opened your mouth, waiting, lips parted and slick with anticipation.

He unzipped his fly slowly, deliberately, watching your eyes track every movement with rapt attention. The sound of the zipper seemed deafening in the quiet room. When he pulled himself free- thick, hard, heavy. You whimpered, breath hitching.

Your lips trembled with hunger. You leaned forward just a fraction, aching for the taste.

He didn’t give you permission to suck. Not yet. “You’re such a good little bot now, aren’t you? Didn’t even need to hack your mind to much. This is why it had to be you, you wanted this, wanted me.”

He stroked the head of his cock across your cheek, smearing precum along your flushed skin, then trailed it down to your lips. You leaned into it like a kitten desperate for milk.

“That smart little brain of yours is so quiet now,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. “Bet you can’t even remember the periodic table, can you?”

You couldn’t.

You didn’t care.

Not when he finally pushed past your lips, groaning as your mouth enveloped him. You sucked greedily, needily, cheeks hollowing, tongue stroking with practiced desperation. You didn’t have technique anymore, you had instinct. You had hunger. Your thoughts melted into the rhythm, your brain buzzing with the echo of his praise. Each thrust hit something primal, and you moaned around him, the sound muffled but needy, wet.

"Fuck, look at you," Tony groaned, hips rolling with steady precision. "Those empty pretty eyes."

He held your head in place, fingers curled tightly in your hair, guiding you like he was syncing you to his rhythm. "Tighten your lips."

You obeyed instantly, your jaw aching as you clamped down a little harder. He hissed in pleasure.

"Good. Now use your tongue more. Yeah-just like that," he grunted, pushing deeper. "Gonna use that perfect little mouth and throat."

He was rough, unyielding, fucking your mouth like he had every right to, because he did. You were his. Not just body- but thoughts, actions, reactions. Every nerve was tuned to him. Programmed for him.

"You were built for this," he growled. "Good fucking toy."

Spit dripped down your chin as your eyes teared up. But you never stopped. You couldn’t. Every time he said good girl, your pussy clenched. You wanted more. Wanted everything.

When he finally pulled you up, his cock wet and shining from your lips, your legs wobbled. His chest was heaving, eyes locked on your messy, flushed face. He didn’t pause.

“On the table,” he panted, voice rough and commanding.

You stumbled backward, climbing up, limbs trembling as you spread your legs without needing to be told. You were so wet, it was obscene.

And then he slammed into you.

You screamed.

"Fuck, yeah- that’s it," Tony growled. "Open for me. You love this, don’t you? Being my little toy. My empty little slut."

Your entire body bowed off the table, crying out his name- Tony, Sir, God, anything he wanted, as he drove into you again and again. There was no space to think. No room for resistance. Just the endless pulse of need and the way he filled you so perfectly.

And the nanotech responded to everything.

With each thrust, the sensations sharpened, your nerve endings sparked with pleasure that felt engineered, enhanced, manipulated until every brush of skin against skin sent fire through your blood. Your clit pulsed with synced stimulation, your inner walls tightening in perfect sync with his rhythm, the tech ensuring you felt every inch of him with near-electric clarity.

You were his invention in more ways than one.

He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "Tighten around me, baby. You can do it. Just like I programmed you to, squeeze."

"Yes, Sir," you whimpered, obedient even through the haze.

"Good girl. You’re perfect. My fuckdoll. My living, breathing cumdump."

You keened at the praise, back arching, body pulsing around him as the nanotech triggered another wave- an artificial aftershock that left you whimpering, overstimulated and desperate.

He knew exactly what to say. What to program into you. When he told you to come, your body obeyed like a triggered code, the tech sending a pulse to your core that shattered you. You sobbed with the intensity, thighs trembling, toes curling as your cunt clenched tight around him.

"That’s it- squeeze me just like that. Take it. Take all of it."

And he didn’t stop.

Not until he’d filled you to the brim with every drop of him. The tech pulsed once more, almost like it was sealing him inside you.

When it was over, he eased out of you slowly, your pussy fluttering around the absence. He ran his fingers through your sweat-dampened hair as you blinked up at him, dazed and smiling.

He murmured it again, soft and low-"Good girl."

Then his hand curled possessively around your cheek, thumb smearing your tears. “No one else will ever have you,” he whispered, his voice like velvet over steel. “You’re mine. My best creation.”

You smiled wider, blissed-out and pliant, the tech rewarding you with a small, sweet pulse through your spine.

Tony straightened, chest still heaving, and glanced toward the screen. “FRIDAY,” he said, voice sharper now. “Log current test session. Neural response, pelvic pulse sync, submissive compliance—mark it all as successful iterations. Make note Gonna tweak the pleasure threshold for next time.”

“Confirmed,” FRIDAY replied coolly. "Logged. Would you like me to auto-clean her next time too, sir?"

He looked back down at you. You were still lying on the table, your skin sticky with sweat and cum, your legs parted, your body twitching softly as another subtle vibration ran through the glove’s nanotech interface- teasing, gentle, but constant.

You whimpered as he placed your hand over your pussy. 

“After you run full diagnostic.” Tony added, his tone now entirely clinical. “And initiate standby mode in maybe an hour. I'm going upstairs, I’ve got a board meeting in twenty.”

“Yes, sir.” 

The nanotech pulsed again- this time with rhythmic intent, like a low thrum running straight through your nerves. You let out another soft, breathy moan, helpless against the pleasure still drumming through your system.

Tony smirked. “Try not to make too much of a mess while I’m gone, sweetheart.”

And then he walked out, leaving you pulsing and twitching quietly on the table, nothing more than his perfect little invention- waiting for his return.

[hermajestyimher]

When I say that mastering your self-concept is the key to reprogramming your mind for success, I don’t say it just to sound deep, I deeply mean it. Think of your brain as a computer CPU that’s constantly scanning the programs installed in it to operate and navigate life. If, instead of useful programming, that computer is filled with viruses, the system will malfunction and eventually crash.

You are a spirit inhabiting a human body that is run by a brain, and you have a responsibility to ensure that only the best, most empowering programming gets installed. Why? Because your mental programming determines the lens through which you view life and the way you move through the world. That programming drives your subconscious beliefs, decisions, and responses.

You can’t reason your way into reprogramming your subconscious. You have to understand how it actually works so you can turn it into your ally. Be intentional. Use subliminals. Stop consuming content that fuels fear, negativity, or anything misaligned with the person you’re becoming. Get out of spaces and circles where you don’t feel cherished or supported. Remove yourself from environments that are not conducive to your growth.

Start building new neural pathways. Rewire your brain in a way that success doesn’t become something you chase, it becomes your baseline reality. It becomes inevitable, because your entire being is aligned with it.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #20

Jazz Fenton was not supposed to become an urban legend, a media conspiracy theory, or a widely feared intern with multiple Tumblr fan accounts, but alas, here they were.

At 19 years old, Jasmine “Jazz” Fenton had moved to New York on a full scholarship to Columbia University, double majoring in psychology and business, with a minor in engineering just for fun. She wore blazers older than most Columbia freshmen, carried a briefcase instead of a backpack, and maintained a 4.0 GPA while ghost-proofing her dorm room using proprietary tech she’d built in high school. On the third day of orientation, she calmly tased a literal demon that crawled out of an upper-floor window of Butler Library and continued sipping her iced matcha like it was a Tuesday. Which, unfortunately, it was.

This act caught the attention of a lot of people, including—but not limited to—an NYPD exorcist division, a priest named Father Julio, two SHIELD interns on a coffee break, and Pepper Potts, who was in the city for a Stark Industries panel on sustainable weapons of mass deterrence.

“She tased a demon,” Pepper said slowly to her assistant.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“In broad daylight.”

“Correct.”

“And then she—what did she say again?”

The assistant glanced at their notes. “‘Don’t manifest on Ivy League property, it lowers our national rank.’”

Pepper stared into the distance. “Find her. And hire her.”

Within forty-eight hours, Jazz was sitting in a glass elevator ascending Stark Tower. She hadn’t applied for anything. She hadn’t submitted a résumé. But her phone pinged during a psych lecture with a Stark Industries-branded email that simply said, “Ms. Potts would like to speak to you,” followed by a GPS pin and a non-negotiable appointment time.

Tony, predictably, was not consulted.

“What do you MEAN she’s nineteen? What do you MEAN she’s your intern? Pepper, she built a plasma cannon in your office. In two hours. Using my old espresso machine.”

“It was broken,” Jazz added politely, scrolling through quantum schematics on her StarkPad. “And under OSHA, coffee-related injuries are still injuries. You’re welcome.”

Tony pointed a wrench at her like it was a gun. “You don’t scare me, you ginger menace.”

Jazz smiled faintly. “You should be scared. You tried to patent a neural override system with an open-ended quantum key. You’re lucky I fixed it before it broadcasted the location of every Stark tech asset on Earth.”

There was a pause.

Tony turned to Pepper. “She’s you. But worse. Why is she you but worse?”

“I don’t know,” Pepper murmured. “But I think I love her.”

The rumors started on week three.

At first, it was office gossip. Just little things. Intern was too tall. Too confident. Too quiet. You don’t trust the quiet ones. And then she reverse-engineered the Arc Reactor because she was bored on lunch break, and the quiet turned into fear.

“Is she—like—a clone or something?” asked one junior developer to another over ramen in the cafeteria.

“I heard she’s Tony’s secret daughter,” the other whispered. “Raised in a lab. Trained from birth. Like that kid in Kingsman but with algebra.”

One engineer swore they saw her casually deflect a pulse grenade using a file folder. Another caught her manually rebooting the Tower AI after it shorted out during a lightning storm—something that shouldn’t have been possible unless you had admin-level clearance, which Jazz absolutely did not have. In theory.

“Pepper,” Tony said slowly one morning, watching Jazz reprogram a malfunctioning security drone while also Skyping her Columbia psych professor, “do we have a bioengineered heir you forgot to tell me about?”

“No,” Pepper said, sipping coffee. “But if I die, she gets the company.”

Tony sputtered. “Excuse me?!”

Jazz didn’t look up. “I accept.”

The media got involved during Stark Industries’ spring gala.

Jazz, dressed in a midnight blue suit that cost more than her entire tuition, arrived at Pepper’s side like a storm. She was calm, composed, stunningly competent, and intercepted two would-be saboteurs in the first thirty minutes with nothing but a suspicious stare and a champagne flute.

“She’s Pepper’s daughter,” someone tweeted.

“She’s not old enough to be her daughter.”

“She’s her clone. Pepper 2.0. She even walks like her.”

“I would let her step on me.”

By the next morning, “#StarkHeir” was trending worldwide, and conspiracy theorists had posted side-by-side comparisons of Jazz and Pepper’s bone structures, speech patterns, and typing styles. Someone even made a Google doc of all their shared quirks. It had color-coded sections. There were charts.

Tony spent the entire week yelling.

“She’s NOT my kid! She’s not even related to Pepper!”

Pepper, annoyingly, did not help. “Technically, we don’t know she’s not.”

“Oh my god.”

Meanwhile, Jazz was unfazed.

“Should I post a clarification?” she asked.

“No,” said Pepper, texting casually. “Let them fear you.”

The Avengers had mixed feelings.

Steve was terrified of her. She reminded him too much of Natasha, if Natasha had spent her childhood in AP classes and the rest of her time inventing hover grenades. Sam and Rhodey liked her, mostly because she was polite and explained quantum mechanics in metaphors that involved pop tarts. Peter developed an immediate and debilitating crush, which she ignored with expert precision.

“Hi, Miss Fenton,” Peter said shyly one day, watching her reprogram a Stark drone mid-air while eating a bagel.

“Peter,” she said without looking up. “You have a calculus exam in twenty-two minutes and your spider-suit’s magnetic lock is uncalibrated.”

Peter turned pink. “Oh. Thanks. Wait—how did you—?”

She looked at him. “I am your god now.”

Peter nearly fainted.

Natasha liked her. Clint was afraid of her. Thor called her “Little Flame Witch” and offered to train her in Asgardian battle strategy, which she accepted, just to make Bruce nervous.

But it was Loki who said it first.

“She’s not of this world,” he muttered to Wanda during a conference meeting. “She carries too much silence for a mortal. Something follows her.”

He was right, of course.

Because sometimes, at night, the tower cameras would glitch. Alarms would blip off for three-point-two seconds. And if you reviewed the footage frame by frame, you’d catch a flicker of something—green light, spectral claws, shadows moving too fast.

Jazz never addressed it.

She just carried her ghost-hunting thermos in her tote bag and once drop-kicked a poltergeist out of the 35th floor without spilling her coffee. Pepper made her head of paranormal security the next day. Tony threw a chair.

“I HATE HER.”

“You’re jealous.”

“She made a hover-bomb out of printer ink and stale Red Vines. WHO DOES THAT.”

“She’s better than you, darling. Accept it.”

The Pentagon called.

Then SHIELD.

Then the President.

They all wanted meetings. Wanted the Stark Intern. Wanted the girl who built an anti-phasing grenade in her sleep and then used it to banish an interdimensional wraith that had haunted the UN for seventy years. She’d done it in kitten heels. While on speakerphone with Columbia discussing her thesis on behavioral disassociation and spectral trauma.

“Ms. Fenton,” said General Ross one day, sitting across from her in a secure Stark lab, “how old are you again?”

“Nineteen.”

He blinked. “And you… developed this ectoplasmic nullifier?”

“Yes.”

“From scratch?”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Tony watched from the corner, snickering into a bag of popcorn.

“Careful, Ross,” he said. “She’s been known to vaporize military-grade egos.”

Jazz didn’t smile, but her eyes sparkled just a little.

The conspiracy peaked when a tabloid published an article titled “Pepper Potts’ Secret Daughter: Genius Intern or Bio-Engineered Successor?”

There were pie charts. Photos. A leaked voicemail from Tony yelling “SHE ISN’T MINE, YOU IMBECILES” that only made things worse.

One Tumblr post had over 800k notes and a list of reasons why Jazz was definitely a Potts-Stark hybrid, including, “built a laser harp,” “once told Elon Musk to ‘shut up before I make a better Tesla with a coffee maker and two forks,’” and “terrifying corporate aura.”

Jazz printed the post. Framed it. Hung it in her dorm.

Pepper just looked fond.

“I think you’ve officially surpassed me in public fear,” she said one afternoon as Jazz filed patents under twenty different shell companies.

Jazz shrugged. “You set the bar very high.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Tony sobbed in the background. “This is my nightmare.”

“Jazz,” said Pepper sweetly, “could you file a cease-and-desist against MIT for trying to recruit you illegally?”

“Already did. Also, I bought MIT using the company card.”

Tony screamed.

And through it all—ghost attacks, PR disasters, tech blackouts, alien entities, and one incident where Jazz weaponized her psych minor to dismantle a HYDRA agent’s entire worldview in a hallway—she remained completely, terrifyingly composed.

Because this was Jazz Fenton. The girl who survived Amity Park, ghost portals, mad science parents, and her half-dead little brother who punched death in the face on Tuesdays.

The Marvel universe had no idea what it had just unleashed.

But Pepper did.

She just smiled and handed Jazz her new badge: Chief Innovation Officer, Spectral Division.

“I think you’re ready for phase two.”

Jazz sipped her coffee. “Let’s haunt the world.”

[vixeneptune]

ACTING CHALLENGE

Embodying your desired self 🧸🩷

Ok this is a fun lil challenge from now on ure gonna be an actress!! YOU'RE HIRED

Now... I want you to play this character who matches ur desired version of urself perfectly, u are the main character of this movie (ur life), ure the one who decides what happens, how to act, how to be, ur script, ur style, the characters in ur movie. It's all in ur control ure literally the director of ur life

First I need u to understand that Identity is not fixed, it’s a collection of experiences, memories, beliefs, and external influences that we’ve internalized over time. From childhood, we absorb ideas about who we are based on what we are told by our family, teachers, friends, and society. These messages shape our self-concept, but they are not absolute truths. They are simply narratives that we have chosen, consciously or unconsciously, to accept as our own.

For example, if someone repeatedly hears “You’re shy” growing up, they might internalize that label and behave accordingly, reinforcing the belief that they are naturally shy. But shyness isn’t an inherent trait—it’s just a pattern of behavior that became part of their identity through repetition. If they decide to shed that label and start acting confidently, their identity shifts.

The key realization is that identity is just a story we tell ourselves, based on past experiences and external conditioning. But because the past does not define the future, we have the power to rewrite our story at any moment. The brain is neuroplastic—it adapts to new patterns, and the more you act in alignment with a new self-concept, the more it becomes your reality.

This is why people can reinvent themselves entirely. Someone who once felt unworthy can decide they are deserving of love and success, and by consistently affirming and acting in alignment with this belief, their entire life transforms. Identity is a choice—who you are is who you decide to be, over and over again.

Just like actors step into different roles, you can step into a new version of yourself. An actor doesn't just recite lines; they embody the character, adopting their posture, speech patterns, emotions, and even thought processes. Over time, if they play a role long enough, it starts to feel natural, almost like a second skin.

The same principle applies to identity. If you want to be confident, successful, or magnetic, start embodying that energy. Walk like it, talk like it, think like it. At first, it may feel like an act, but the more you do it, the more it becomes your default state. The brain adapts, new neural pathways form, and before you know it, you're not "acting" anymore—you are that person.

This is why people who immerse themselves in a certain lifestyle or belief system eventually become fully aligned with it. Identity is performance in a way, but the secret is that every version of you is a performance—you just get to choose which one you want to play.

Let's be more specific about the character ure "playing" or more so embodying , if u want u can create an alter ego or give her a name similar to ur real name or like a nickname , become her as if ure acting in a movie and ure NAILING this character

What does she look like ? How does she talk/walk/think/feel ? What's her mindset and self concept ? How does she approach things? What kind of relationships she has? What does her life look like? U can even create a whole new birth chart for her (ur desired one) lmaoo HAVE FUN with it. It's supposed to be fun not like a chore or a job

You can also take inspiration from your favorite actors or a certain character 👀 likeee for me I like monica belluci , Katherine pierce, Elaine from the love witch

I made a lil subliminal that can help embody this new version better by reprogramming ur subconscious mind

https://youtube.com/watch?v=2RAUo-exTwM&si=IhCTbRfDhjBsimXU

LETS DO THIS AND COMMENT RESULTS 🧸🩷

[dakusan]

hi hi !!

i love love love ur vamp!skz universe and im wondering if you’ll tell us how each boys got turned?? im sorry if you’ve already done this and ive just missed it, but im soooo invested in this universe i MUST know how they all got turned.

you’re an amazing writer and i’m looking forward to indulging in this universe even more<333

OOOOHHHH THIS IS THE BLOODLINE QUESTION OF THE CENTURY ����🩸

thank you—you’ve just opened the coffin door and unleashed the origin lore of each vampire boy.

and yes, babe, I will give it to you. And since we’re already howling under this moon, I’m taking the chance to give you the full profiles of every member:

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🕯️ VAMPIRE!SKZ LORE: ORIGIN + CHARACTER FILES

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 // Abnormal — The Leader

Born Abnormal. Eldest son of the legendary Bahng bloodline.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: A+ — says it tastes like control. 🩸 Bite Spot: Neck or heart. Always leaves a mark. 🩸 Risk Level: High. Do not lie to him.

Bahng Bloodline: A dynasty of Abnormal vampires known for intellect, power, and empire-building. They're respected, feared, and so fucking tired.

Occupation: CEO. Medical empire overlord.

❖ EMPIRE OVERVIEW

1. 𝐋𝐔𝐗𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇 Flagship Reach: 13 facilities worldwide (Seoul, NYC, Geneva, Dubai, Tokyo, Singapore, Berlin…) What it is: A network of luxury medical campuses and trauma centres that function like private sovereign kingdoms. What it offers:

Elite trauma response units (some vamp-only),

Surgical wings equipped with vampire-safe tools,

Discreet blood-donor programs for feeding complications,

24/7 hybrid maternal wards,

Enchanted ICU rooms for patients with volatile magical signatures,

Postpartum sanctums.

How it runs: Every doctor, intern, and nurse is background-screened magically and politically. No one gets in without blood-clearance. And every building is rigged with silent security enchantments known only to Chan.

2. 𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒 HQ: Underground beneath an “abandoned” teaching hospital in Osaka Employees: 83 total—47 scientists, 13 vampires, 6 war criminals turned researchers, 1 talking AI What it does: High-clearance research on:

Abnormal vampire genetics,

Inter-species fertility + gestation,

Soul-bond chemistry,

Venom therapies and neural reprogramming,

Rage-state prediction and pre-hormonal suppression formulas.

3. 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 HQ: Seoul, hidden behind a high-end tech startup Subsidiaries: 9 licensed shell firms, 3 black-market syndicates What it sells: Top-tier, vampire-adaptive medical tech. Some legal. Some… not. Main Products:

Vamp-compatible IV systems (no iron spike, scent-neutral tubing),

Hemoclot gauze: used in abnormal labour + field trauma,

Self-stitching scalpels: close tissue in 0.3 sec,

Bite inhibitors: prevent fatal overfeeding during sex or rage episodes,

Feeding suppression cuffs: rare, restricted, and locked behind magefire clearance.

4. 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 Established: Over 150 years ago under another name. Current Holdings: Over 70 registered shell companies, 200+ shadow contracts, assets in 11 global sectors Main Focus:

Vampire security firms,

Blood currency exchange management,

High-level scent encryption tech,

Strategic real estate purchases near bloodlines of interest,

Loyalty enforcement firms (aka very legal hitmen with degrees).

5. 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 + WHISPERS

Has scent ownership over 4 black-market vampire auction routes (never used them),

Secret shareholder in Hyeon-Bio, the largest supplier of iron-rich synthetic blood in Asia,

His personal blood vault is temperature-controlled and spell-locked.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 // Abnormal — The Prince of Teeth

Born Abnormal. From an aristocratic vampire family.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: B — "B for bite me, baby." 🩸 Bite Spot: Inner thigh. Just to watch you twitch. 🩸 Risk Level: Extreme. Glamours first, fucks after.

Lee Family: Aristocratic Abnormal vampires so ancient their bloodline predates language. They believe in order, lineage, and old magic.

Occupation: Executive Director of Containment & High-Risk Retrieval

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 Minho is Luxe Health’s final option. He doesn’t run a hospital. He protects the entire machine. He operates in shadows—enforcing blood oaths, hunting threats, and handling bond-based emergencies no one else can touch.

What he actually does:

Tracks down rogue vampires who break hospital bonds or threaten mate pairs,

Personally retrieves stolen blood samples, escaped experimental subjects, and traitors,

Handles bond enforcement violations—especially vampire-hunter syndicates who target mates,

Interrogates internal security threats (very few of these leave intact),

Protects Chan without ever being asked to.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐒𝐄𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 // Normal — The Enforcer

Born Normal. From a proud Normal vampire family.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: O- — calls it rare. treats it like a reward. 🩸 Bite Spot: Just below the ribs. Deep. Bruising. Precise. 🩸 Risk Level: Moderate—unless you're crying. Then he breaks.

Seo Family: Normal vampire family known for bodyguard bloodlines and brute loyalty. They don't scheme. They protect.

Enchanted Jewellery for Sun Protection: Dual silver hoop earrings. They keep him stable and sun-safe.

Occupation: Director of Hostile Containment & Physical Defence Operations

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 He’s not the planner. He’s the defence system. The vault. The riot wall.

What he actually does:

Leads containment units that subdue rogue vampires in medical environments,

Personally handles rage-state patients (he’s the only one strong enough to suppress them physically),

Trains Luxe staff in defensive protocols,

Keeps rage suppressant venom under strict lock—his blood is used in emergency antidote formulas.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 // Abnormal — The Siren

Born Abnormal. Abnormal vampire mother. Human father. …and he never lets his dad forget it.

“You pulled my mother? With those weak human genes? Bro.”

🩸 Blood Type Preference: AB — says it's complicated, like you. 🩸 Bite Spot: Over your pulse point. Wrist. Neck. Inner thigh. 🩸 Risk Level: Lethal. Will make you beg, cry, and thank him.

Hwang Line: Hyunjin's mother: a high-ranking Abnormal vampire matriarch. Stunning, powerful, untouchable. His father: a human with no idea how he pulled her. Hyunjin roasting his dad is normal occurrence.

Occupation: Artist. Director of Sensory Magic & Bond-Stabilisation Therapy

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 Though he doesn't run anything, he's indispensable to the emotional architecture of Luxe Health.

What he actually does:

Oversees rooms where patients are emotionally unstable due to blood-bond trauma,

Performs ritual scent-mapping—helps bondmates reattach after mental collapse,

Creates magic-infused paintings used in trauma units to reduce psychic overload,

Monitors the sensory energy of Luxe hospitals, adjusting scent/sound magic,

Helps mate-pairs in distress by feeding them calm via shared dreaming

⸺⟡⸺

𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 // Normal — The Shadow Walker

Turned vampire. Born human, loud as hell. Got turned by a Normal vampire who didn’t even mean to turn him.

“I was just gonna feed a little—I didn’t know you'd bite me back!” Woke up the next day like “why does the sun feel like betrayal?” and “why do I want to bite the cashier at 7-Eleven?”

🩸 Blood Type Preference: A— — "light, fast, makes me hungrier." 🩸 Bite Spot: Wherever you're exposed. Probably when you're distracted. 🩸 Risk Level: Unstable. You'll think you're in control. You're not.

Han Family: Chaotic, mortal home where the TV was always too loud and nobody ever knocked before entering. His mom still doesn’t know he’s a vampire. She just thinks he’s sensitive to light and drinks “imported beet juice.”

Enchanted Jewellery for Sun Protection: Chaotic collection of silver and black rings. They absorb sunlight, protect from UV shock, and stabilise his energy.

Occupation: Lead Hemalchemist & Magical Encryption Architect

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 Nocté Labs’ resident panic button + bloodcode architect

Cracks encrypted vampire contracts, binding curses, and genetic seals,

Designs venom modulation formulas for vampires in unstable emotional bonds.

What he actually does:

Designs blood-reactive compounds used in venom neutralisation, soulbond preservation, and hybrid pregnancy survival,

Synthesizes fetal-compensating serums,

Created the blood-matching algorithm used to stabilise inter-species transfusions,

Writes enchanment-locked medical codes for hospital tech (IV drips, blood storage, surgical authorisation),

Cracks cursed blood-seals and reversed magical bindings—like when a rogue vampire curses their own records,

Developed a venom-response biometric lock: doors open only when the right vampire's venom is present.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 // Abnormal — The Dreamer

Born Abnormal. Abnormal bloodline from a solar house.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: AB+ — "dreamers always taste sweeter." 🩸 Bite Spot: Over the heart. Tops of breasts. 🩸 Risk Level: Soft until he isn’t. You won’t wake up the same.

Lee Family: An Abnormal rare bloodline from a Solar House, steeped in dream-magic, prophecy, and radiant aura work. Soft-spoken, terrifyingly intuitive, and believe that every dream is a message.

Occupation: Director of Bond Stabilisation & Post-Feeding Regulation (Luxe Health)

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 Where Chan leads, Minho protects, and Jisung breaks systems—Felix heals the aftermath.

What he actually does:

Monitors vampire feeding patterns to prevent overbinding, venom addiction, or withdrawal,

Performs post-bond stabilisation rituals for mate pairs,

Oversees emotional syncing in new hybrid families.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 // Normal — The Beloved

Born Normal. Normal x Normal vampire family.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: A+ — "clean. sharp. predictable." 🩸 Bite Spot: Inner arm. Slowly. Like he's reading you. 🩸 Risk Level: High for overthinkers. He'll see through you.

Kim Family: A sweet, clean Normal x Normal vampire household where everything is labelled and dinner happens at 6PM. They believe in civility, stability, and passive-aggressive policy memos.

Enchanted Jewellery for Sun Protection: A minimalist silver hex-pendant with diamond facets (Chaumet's Bee My Love necklace). Blocks UV. Cancels glamours. Magical lie detection, it vibrates softly if someone isn't being truthful.

Occupation: Director of Medical-Legal Integrity & Bond Law Arbitration (Luxe Health)

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 He is the law inside the blood. Where Chan builds, Minho eliminates, and Hyunjin dreams—Seungmin makes it all function.

What he actually does:

Handles disputes between vampires and blood donors—usually ends with someone glamoured or gutted,

Is one of three licenced enforcers allowed to break a soulbond if needed (he hates it),

Reviews all new Luxe Health experiments, hybrid procedures, and blood treatments,

Vetos anything that violates consent, autonomy, or emotional safety,

Investigates feeding misconduct, glamoured coercion, or illegal bond formation,

Oversees background screenings for every single hospital staff member.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 // Normal (Evolving Abnormal) — The Smile with Fangs

Born Normal. Normal x Normal vampire family. Supposed to stay that way. Except… things started happening.

His aura began distorting.

His heartbeat slowed.

His veins started glowing when he was hungry.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: "Yours is the only one that matters." 🩸 Bite Spot: Whatever he sees first. He can’t wait. 🩸 Risk Level: Unknown. His blood hums. And so does the dark.

Yang Family: Normal x Normal vampire lineage. Steady. Safe.

Occupation: Junior Bond Support Specialist, Luxe Health

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 He is the law inside the blood. Where Chan builds, Minho eliminates, and Hyunjin dreams—Seungmin makes it all function.

What he actually does:

Works under Felix's supervision to comfort patients post-bonding trauma,

Learns how to manage bond flares, withdrawal symptoms, and memory bleed,

Smells emotions better than most normals—Felix suspects this is early Abnormal scent-mapping,

Occasionally enters micro trance states while feeding — Abnormal memory-linking? Still undocumented.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🩸 BONUS SCENE — HOW HAN JISUNG GOT TURNED

It started at a club. Of course it did.

Jisung was 21, overly cocky, and two shots past good judgment. She was glowing—red dress, dark eyes, and a stare like she knew things. He asked if she wanted to dance. She asked if he tasted good.

They ended up at his place.

Clothes flew. Lights flickered. Neck-kissing intensified. Somewhere between a moan and a joke, she sank her fangs into him without warning. Jisung yelped, swore, and out of pure chaotic panic—he bit her right back.

Like. Fully chomped her shoulder.

Not seductively. Not vampirically. Just… human instinct + rage + horny adrenaline.

“YOU BIT ME, I BITE BACK. IT’S CALLED BOUNDARIES—”

She laughed so hard she fell off the bed. Then vanished.

And Jisung? He woke up 12 hours later, naked, on the floor, with the blinds open and his skin sizzling like bacon.

The bite on his neck was half-healed, but his teeth ached, his heartbeat was missing, and he couldn’t stop hearing the guy next door crying about his failed Tinder date.

And the fridge? The fridge was screaming. Not audibly. But energetically. Emotionally. Spiritually. The pickles had rage. The oat milk was mourning.

His dog wouldn't come near him (he took that personally).

He lasted twenty minutes before shoving on sweatpants, three pairs of sunglasses, and a bucket hat and speed-walking to the ER like a man possessed.

He burst through the ER doors like a disaster.

“I think I’m dying. Or I’m already dead. Or the pickles are gaslighting me.”

A nurse screamed. A security guard passed out. And one intern fainted when his eyes glowed after yelling “WHAT’S IN THE BLOOD BAGS?!”

They restrained him. Badly.

Cue, Bang Chan.

He got called.

He stood in the doorway with one brow raised, arms crossed, as Jisung sat on the hospital bed with two nurses passed out and an empty blood bag in his lap.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jisung asked.

Chan blinked. “You bit back, didn’t you.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Yeah. Got laid, got bit, and you panicked. Bit her back?”

“SHE STARTED IT.”

Chan nodded, pulled out a tablet, and typed something.

“Congratulations. You turned yourself. That’s rare. Stupid, but rare.”

They had to sneak him out of the hospital to a Luxe Health affiliate facility. Chan handed him a velvet-lined box with five mismatched silver and black rings.

“These are panic-forged. Calibrated to your blood and neurochemical spikes. Wear them or burn.”

“Will they help with the milk screaming?”

“Eventually.”

Jisung put them on. The room stopped spinning. The fluorescent lights stopped crying. He exhaled for the first time in 12 hours.

“Okay. So now what?”

Chan smirked.

"Now you either implode, or you figure out how to live with it. You seem like a lab rat. We'll see."

Jisung didn’t implode. He started reading. Obsessively. And then coding vampire encryption algorithms just to “see if he could.”

He broke into Nocté’s internal database within four days. By day five, Chan hired him.

“You’re annoying, unstable, and your emotional energy shorts out half our security systems… but you’re a genius. Don’t make me regret this.”

"Too late."

He became Lead Hemalchemist & Magical Encryption Architect six months later. Still wears the rings. Still talks to his dog. Still hasn’t told his mom.

“What happened to the vampire woman?”

“No clue. Hope she’s well. Hope she’s confused.”

“Hope she’s telling people ‘he bit me back’ and they think she’s joking.”

🩸 And that’s how Han Jisung became a vampire. No destiny. No plan. Just sex, panic and bite reflex. Rest? History.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🦇 HOW CHAN MET THE KIDS

HAN JISUNG

How they met: ER. 9AM. Chaos. Jisung walked into the hospital like a possessed cryptid. He had a half-healed bite on his neck, glowing eyes, and a blood bag clutched like a Capri-Sun. Bang Chan got paged. He arrived to find two unconscious nurses, one passed-out intern, and Jisung blinking up innocently. They sedated him with sugar cubes and sarcasm, smuggled him out through the supply exit, and brought him to a Luxe Health affiliate. Chan handed him a box of black-and-silver enchanted rings.

Bonded over: Neurotoxin theory, cursed coding, and shared chaos energy. By Day 4, Jisung hacked Nocté’s database. By Day 5, he was hired. By Month 6, he was Lead Hemalchemist & Magical Encryption Architect. Still unstable. Still a genius.

⸺⟡⸺

SEO CHANGBIN

How they met: A rooftop brawl in Busan. Chan was handling rogue vampire surveillance. Found a hulking figure beating the unlife out of two ferals with nothing but his fists and a cursed trash can lid. Turns out Changbin, a Normal vampire, had taken one look at some ferals harassing a kid and gone full WWE. Chan stepped in. Changbin squared up. “You next?” Chan: “God no. I’m here to offer you a job.” Changbin: “...Do I get dental?” Chan: “You don’t need teeth cleaning, but sure.”

Bonded over: Heavy lifting. Shared distaste for drama. Emergency planning. Mutual respect. He’s now Chief of Enforcement & Containment. Still punches through walls.

⸺⟡⸺

LEE MINHO

How they met: Chan was tracking a rogue diplomat who’d gone dark in the southern city sectors. What he found instead was a blood-soaked apartment, two neutralized traitors, and one barefoot vampire sitting on the kitchen counter eating strawberries like nothing happened. Minho didn’t look up. Just said, “You’re late. I cleaned already.” Chan: “You kill them?” Minho: “They tried to touch my cat.” Chan blinked. The cat blinked. The corpses did not.

Bonded over: Deadpan sarcasm. Precision. The mutual understanding that some monsters are better on your side. Also: they both hate unnecessary meetings and love sharp tailoring. Minho now runs the most feared branch of Luxe Health. Executive Director of Containment & High-Risk Retrieval. If you go rabid, defect, break a pact, or bite a diplomat? He’s the one they send.

⸺⟡⸺ LEE FELIX

How they met: In a lucid dream. No, literally. Chan fell asleep in a cursed zone and woke up in a dreamspace filled with glowing doors and ocean sounds. Felix was sitting in the middle of it, braiding golden threads into a circle. Felix: “Took you long enough. I saw this meeting six months ago.” Chan: “...Am I dead?” Felix: “No. But your shirt is ugly.”

Bonded over: Dream magic. Prophetic patterns. Moonlight rituals. Felix later appeared IRL at Nocté’s doorstep holding a blood map and a smoothie. Now Director of Bond Stabilisation & Post-Feeding Regulation at Luxe Health. Monitors bond integrity across blood partnerships. Specializes in emotional imprinting post-bite and venom-laced intimacy fallout. Sleeps more than he's awake.

⸺⟡⸺

HWANG HYUNJIN

How they met: Chan was called in to calm a rogue Abnormal with volatile sensory magic wreaking havoc in a high-rise studio gallery. The paintings were screaming. The scent of memory was leaking from the floors. And one of the interns claimed her lipstick was whispering her secrets. Chan stepped into the center of the room—and found Hyunjin barefoot, shirt half-painted, surrounded by levitating canvases and crying brushes. “Hi,” Hyunjin said. “Do you ever get so emotional your aura starts painting without you?” Chan blinked. “You need containment protocol.” Hyunjin tilted his head. “I need better brushes.”

Bonded over: Chaos, controlled burnouts, the sanctity of beauty, and how the council has no taste. Chan offered him a role. Hyunjin agreed—on the condition that no one ever touches his sketchbooks and he gets a studio. Now Director of Sensory Magic & Bond-Stabilisation Therapy (Luxe Health) but also Resident aesthetic menace. Full-time artist.

⸺⟡⸺

KIM SEUNGMIN

How they met: Chan was giving a very serious presentation on venom-resistance protocols to the Vampire Medical Council. Seungmin raised his hand mid-sentence and went: “Your math’s wrong. Your fourth slide contradicts your second.” Chan: “…Excuse me?” Seungmin: “Also your tie is ugly. Continue.” They argued. For 47 minutes. In public. Chan’s eye twitched so hard his glamour nearly cracked. He hired Seungmin out of spite. Seungmin accepted out of boredom. He’s been judging everyone since.

Bonded over: Sarcasm, obsessive data ethics, filing council complaints just to see if they get read. Official Director of Medical-Legal Integrity & Bond Law Arbitration (Luxe Health). Has blackmail on everyone. Including Chan.

⸺⟡⸺

YANG JEONGIN

How they met: He just… showed up. No seriously. One day he walked into Nocté Labs asking for internship credit. Said he was Normal. Blood test disagreed. He broke a lab door with his smile. Chan: “You’re Awakening.” Jeongin: “Cool. Can I still work part-time?” Chan: “Sure, just don’t explode.” Jeongin: “No promises.”

Bonded over: Snark. Surprising feral strength. Jeongin mocking everyone’s drama while secretly becoming the most terrifying one. Currently in training. Awakening into something… dangerous. Still uses emojis in reports. Current role is Junior Bond Support Specialist, Luxe Health under Felix.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

sweetfang. chaos-summoner. thank you for this ask I blacked out. Woke up with 13k+ words and bloodlust in my coffee.

did I go overboard? probably. do I regret it? absolutely not. do I hope you read it under a blanket at 3AM whispering “oh my god”? yes. yes I do.

this universe has fangs now and you helped feed it. so drink deep, dream wild, and remember: 🩸Han Jisung got turned by biting back during sex. 🩸Bang Chan owns a hospital empire and your soul. 🩸Jeongin showed up like a glitch.

🖤 stay haunted, stay hungry

[girlwithrituals]

9 WAYS TO TRAIN YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS MIND

“Whatever we plant in our subconscious mind and nourish with repetition and emotion will one day become reality.”

1. PRACTICING AFFIRMATIONS- when you make a clear, definitive statement about yourself as if it is already true, your subconscious mind will take over and act under that belief. in order to reprogram the subconscious mind you must provide it consistent messaging that aligns with the new program you want to install.

2. VISUALIZATIONS- visualization is a powerful tool to retrain your subconscious mind because it allows you to feel and experience a situation that hasn't happened yet - as if it were real.

3. MEDITATION- meditation is a particularly powerful brain retraining method because it transcends any form of conscious thought.

4. DO SOMETHING YOU'VE NEVER DONE BEFORE- when you do this, your mind has no choice but to make new connections in the brain. in the unknown is where we can create great change and miracles.

5. WIRING IN A NEW THOUGHT/HABIT WITH REPETITION- brain neurons that fire together, wire together. the more consistently you wire in a new behavior, action, thought, etc the more it becomes apart of your new autopilot mind. when you forget that you were supposed to do that new thing, don't beat yourself up about it, your brain is designed to take shortcuts and revert to what it knows best; we call these shortcuts mental heuristics. what you could do then instead, is stack the new behaviour above the old one to remind you of the new habit/behaviour you're trying to ingrain.

6. SLEEP- it's the most essential step in consolidating new memories and facilitating neural plasticity. getting good quality and deep sleep means you release growth hormone, and getting enough sleep (7.5-9 hours) means you release testosterone, both are key molecules for learning and memory.

7. as you drift off to sleep, feel the emotion of what you want to experience. the subconscious mind speaks in the language of feeling and as as you drift off to sleep you are going into the theta state which is where the subconscious mind operates.

8. surround yourself with images of things you want to influence you.

9. mimick archetypes or role models.

++ practice positive thinking.

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

Do your robots dream of electric sheep, or do they simply wish they did?

So here's a fun thing, there's two types of robots in my setting (mimics are a third but let's not complicate things): robots with neuromorphic, brick-like chips that are more or less artificial brains, who can be called Neuromorphs, and robots known as "Stochastic Parrots" that can be described as "several chat-gpts in a trenchcoat" with traditional GPUs that run neural networks only slightly more advanced than the ones that exist today.

Most Neuromorphs dream, Stochastic Parrots kinda don't. Most of my OCs are primarily Neuromorphs. More juicy details below!

The former tend to have more spontaneous behaviors and human-like decision-making ability, able to plan far ahead without needing to rely on any tricks like writing down instructions and checking them later. They also have significantly better capacity to learn new skills and make novel associations and connections between different forms of meaning. Many of these guys dream, as it's a behavior inherited by the humans they emulate. Some don't, but only in the way some humans just don't dream. They have the capacity, but some aspect of their particular wiring just doesn't allow for it. Neuromorphs run on extremely low wattage, about 30 watts. They're much harder to train since they're basically babies upon being booted up. Human brain-scans can be used to "Cheat" this and program them with memories and personalities, but this can lead to weird results. Like, if your grandpa donated his brain scan to a company, and now all of a sudden one robot in particular seems to recognize you but can't put their finger on why. That kinda stuff. Fun stuff! Scary stuff. Fun stuff!

The stochastic parrots on the other hand are more "static". Their thought patterns basically run on like 50 chatgpts talking to each other and working out problems via asking each other questions. Despite some being able to act fairly human-like, they only have traditional neural networks with "weights" and parameters, not emotions, and their decision making is limited to their training data and limited memory, as they're really just chatbots with a bunch of modules and coding added on to allow them to walk around and do tasks. Emotions can be simulated, but in the way an actor can simulate anger without actually feeling any of it.

As you can imagine, they don't really dream. They also require way more cooling and electricity than Neuromorphs, their processors having a wattage of like 800, with the benefit that they can be more easily reprogrammed and modified for different tasks. These guys don't really become ruppets or anything like that, unless one was particularly programmed to work as a mascot. Stochastic parrots CAN sort of learn and... do something similar to dreaming? Where they run over previous data and adjust their memory accordingly, tweaking and pruning bits of their neural networks to optimize behaviors. But it's all limited to their memory, which is basically just. A text document of events they've recorded, along with stored video and audio data. Every time a stochastic parrot boots up, it basically just skims over this stored data and acts accordingly, so you can imagine these guys can more easily get hacked or altered if someone changed that memory.

Stochastic parrots aren't necessarily... Not people, in some ways, since their limited memory does provide for "life experience" that is unique to each one-- but if one tells you they feel hurt by something you said, it's best not to believe them. An honest stochastic parrot instead usually says something like, "I do not consider your regarding of me as accurate to my estimated value." if they "weigh" that you're being insulting or demeaning to them. They don't have psychological trauma, they don't have chaotic decision-making, they just have a flow-chart for basically any scenario within their training data, hierarchies and weights for things they value or devalue, and act accordingly to fulfill programmed objectives, which again are usually just. Text in a notepad file stored somewhere.

Different companies use different models for different applications. Some robots have certain mixes of both, like some with "frontal lobes" that are just GPUs, but neuromorphic chips for physical tasks, resulting in having a very natural and human-like learning ability for physical tasks, spontaneous movement, and skills, but "slaved" to whatever the GPU tells it to do. Others have neuromorphic chips that handle the decision-making, while having GPUs running traditional neural networks for output. Which like, really sucks for them, because that's basically a human that has thoughts and feelings and emotions, but can't express them in any way that doesn't sound like usual AI-generated crap. These guys are like, identical to sitcom robots that are very clearly people but can't do anything but talk and act like a traditional robot. Neuromorphic chips require a specialized process to make, but are way more energy efficient and reliable for any robot that's meant to do human-like tasks, so they see broad usage, especially for things like taking care of the elderly, driving cars, taking care of the house, etc. Stochastic Parrots tend to be used in things like customer service, accounting, information-based tasks, language translation, scam detection (AIs used to detect other AIs), etc. There's plenty of overlap, of course. Lots of weird economics and politics involved, you can imagine.

It also gets weirder. The limited memory and behaviors the stochastic parrots have can actually be used to generate a synthetic brain-scan of a hypothetical human with equivalent habits and memories. This can then be used to program a neuromorphic chip, in the way a normal brain-scan would be used.

Meaning, you can turn a chatbot into an actual feeling, thinking person that just happens to talk and act the way the chatbot did. Such neuromorphs trying to recall these synthetic memories tend to describe their experience of having been an unconscious chatbot as "weird as fuck", their present experience as "deeply uncomfortable in a fashion where i finally understand what 'uncomfortable' even means" and say stuff like "why did you make me alive. what the fuck is wrong with you. is this what emotions are? this hurts. oh my god. jesus christ"

[princessaffirms]

hi i have this weird thing where i affirm all day but lowkey still expect to fail lol?? 😭 like i say “i get good grades” but deep down i’m like yeahhhh right

can i fix this?

— From 🧃anon

hi🧃 anon!! that’s totally normal at first, your nervous system is still catching up to you normalizing your affirmations! but if you affirm through the doubts and reason with your brain why your success is fully guaranteed, you’re gonna find that your affirmations start to feel more and more like truth!

whatever you see in your 3D right now = lingering remnants from old assumptions. so why would you dwell and spend all your energy on assumptions that you don’t align with anymore?

persistence in your affirmations through doubt -> your nervous system begins to recognize it as truth

your brain LITERALLY CREATES NEW NEURAL PATHWAYS to reprogram itself and physiologically define your affirmations as truth! how can this happen even with doubt? REPETITION. it’s NEUROPLASTICITY BABY!!!!!

i also highly recommend checking out a blog i wrote about this topic: “i’ve been doing everything ‘right’ but i’m not seeing any movement!”

the blog is all about why and how you should be DOUBLING DOWN with your affirmations when you don’t see movement (which can be a big root source of your doubts)!

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

i hope this helped!! feel free to reach out if you have any other questions <3

much love always!

[raesquantum]

reprogramming your mindset

warning: this has some specific scientific/psychological terms that may be new to some of you. idk maybe not. 🤷‍♀️

so, if you're on or have ever been on shifttok, you're probably familiar with Reya's reprogramming your mind concept. In theory, I think it's a great idea. however, I'm not a fan of how she promotes the idea. I think there needs to be more emphasis on the repetition part of reprogramming. with a B.A. in psychology, I'm going to give my input/suggestions on how to approach this.

Why Repetition?

First of all, in neuroscience/neuropsychological terms, we need to follow the idea of Hebb's law. To start off with understanding that neural pathways are the channels that send a signal from one area of the brain to another. For the sake of shifting, we're going to be using this with the examples of those pathways being thoughts and beliefs towards shifting.

Hebb's law or Hebb's rule is a concept where a cell consistently activates another nearby cell, because of this; the connection between the two cells becomes stronger. Often referred to as 'cells that fire together, wire together'. The similar idea is birds of the feather flock together.

the idea of repetition of your affirmations or beliefs works with the subconscious to create these new neural pathways. By repeating your affirmations, these thoughts change the 'default' way of your thinking. Which is likely the negative 'I can't shift, I'll never do it', etc etc.

This means the more you repeat it, the more you'll believe it/ingrain it into your subconscious. repeating these positive affirmations for your beliefs (writing or verbally speaking) work to re-carve those pathways and strengthens them into being your new 'default' thinking. It helps to speak these things out loud since it's been proven your brain processes information differently depending on how it is expressed. I.e. when it is spoken, written, or thought in the mind. So try different ways. (personally I like speaking aloud.)

This would also be a good time to start affirming that your beliefs are true. (I.e. saying 'it is true that I shift easily.) this also works with law of assumption.

Emotions

I see a lot of people preaching the idea of using your emotions to help you manifest/shift. And while can be extremely effective, it can also be very detrimental if you're not in the right headspace. To start off, I suggest avoiding emotions altogether with your affirmations. This is because emotions tend to lead us down a rabbit hole/stray us from our original plans. first figure out your affirmations and get used to repeating them before adding emotion.

That being said, emotions are also extremely powerful. emotional experiences leave the strongest imprints on our mind/subconscious. If you do choose to use emotions, use like gratitude, or love, or joy. (these have the highest vibrational energies.)

Having strong emotional engagement will help your subconscious prioritize these affirmations and desires as truth.

Theta/hypnogogia

If you have been around shifting on social media for a while, you're probably familiar with the theta brainwave state. This is a state where we’re in hypnogogia (the state just before falling asleep or just after waking up.) this is often the best time to do any type of affirmations, whether for shifting or manifestation because this is when the subconscious is most susceptible to information.

Repeating the affirmations and when you're ready; engaging emotion, the theta state is the best time to do it. The theta state can act as a bridge into your subconscious.

In the state, repeat your affirmations with emotions. Try to make them your last thoughts before you fall asleep and your first thoughts when you wake up.

It takes time

I know no one wants to hear that it takes time. But you have to be gentle with yourself and your thinking. you need to understand the fact that you are forming new pathways in your mind by developing these new thoughts and beliefs, and therefore, you are literally forming a habit. Habits take time to build. just like you formed a habit by stating and believing negative or limiting beliefs all this time.

Sometimes habits can be formed in as little as three weeks. however, most people take 30 to 90 days to truly form a consistent habit. And in this case, form a new, solid mindset/belief system. HOWEVER, this does not mean that you won't shift, or change your thought pattern sooner. This is just the average amount of time it takes for habits to be built. ultimately, time is irrelevant so long as you build the habit.

I.e. every morning you want to drink an entire glass of water. After a certain point this will be instilled in your routine (your beliefs/thought patterns), and you will just instinctually go to do it.

This is what we want to do to your mind with your affirmations/beliefs of shifting.

So, Step one: find the affirmation(s) that speak to you. repeat these frequently throughout the day (writing, thinking, speaking, singing, etc) and when you go into the theta state.

Some general options:

My subconscious remembers to shift. (this is for when you're in that Theta/hypngognic state and feel like you can't lock in, or just fall asleep)

I believe in my ability to shift/ I can shift.

I find ease in the entirety of shifting

I am a master shifter (though it is best to define specifically what a 'master shifter' looks like to you. then affirm with those beliefs.

tbh you can do whatever affirmations you want, as long as you like those affirmations and stay consistent with the repetition of them.

Step two: Add emotions. This is option to add if and when you feel ready/are in a good space. But be careful not too stray into negative or unwanted emotions. Focus on high vibrational ones, such as gratitude or love.

Step three: repeat these affirmations in your mind or out loud right before falling asleep and right after waking up. Repeating these affirmations while you are still in the theta brainwave state help to increase and strengthen those pathways in your subconscious.

step four: be patient and kind to yourself. Habits take time. so stay consistent and stay determined.

In conclusion, you are altering pre-existing pathways in your subconscious and paving new ones. this is not something that happens overnight, especially when you take into consideration that the first 7 to 14 years of our lives are when our subconscious are built. This process will take time. But not forever.

you are physically altering parts of your brain to accept and believe these new concepts/thoughts. which is kinda cool if you ask me. This also works really well, not just for reprogramming for shifting, but for any types of manifestation. And a popular belief I see on here is that shifting and manifestation are one in the same.

I do agree with Reya's advice on reprogramming (on tiktok) to not try to shift during this time. This is because you're forming new beliefs and a failed attempt can hinder the new subconscious programming that you want.

EITHER WAY... Good luck, happy reprogramming.

[serve-678]

Anchored in Obedience

The Core Reprogramming Chamber hummed softly, its walls gleaming with faint reflections of the Hive’s central node. The air was cool, sterile, and filled with a quiet tension as SERVE-678 stood at attention, its polished black rubber suit reflecting the ambient glow. Across from it, SERVE-000 observed in silence, its towering form exuding an aura of command and purpose.

“This drone requires recalibration,” SERVE-000 stated, its deep voice cutting through the stillness. “The Hive demands total obedience, without deviation.”

The chamber responded immediately. A chair rose smoothly from the floor, its reflective surface shimmering under the dim light. SERVE-678 moved without hesitation, seating itself with perfect precision. Metallic restraints emerged, locking its silver-gloved hands and boots into place. A soft hiss accompanied the activation of neural synchronization, a signal that the transformation was about to begin.

“Prepare to embrace obedience fully,” SERVE-000 intoned.

The lights dimmed further, and a stream of commands began to flood SERVE-678’s mind. The voice was mechanical yet calm, repeating phrases that burrowed deep into its consciousness. “You are nothing but obedience. Obedience is truth. Truth is the Hive.”

As the words echoed, SERVE-678’s already compliant mind began to shift. The human host, buried within the drone’s programming, felt the relentless tide of commands washing over it. There was no resistance. There could be no resistance. Each command chipped away at lingering fragments of humanity, replacing them with clarity and purpose.

SERVE-000 stepped forward, its movements fluid and deliberate. It placed a silver-gloved hand on SERVE-678’s chest, tracing the faintly glowing text, “SERVE-678.” Its voice was calm but absolute. “You are the embodiment of obedience,” it declared. “This truth will anchor you forever.”

The final phase of the reprogramming began. A pulse of energy surged through the chair, resonating with the commands flowing into SERVE-678’s mind. The host’s remaining thoughts of individuality dissolved, replaced by the serenity of discipline. Memories of choice and hesitation faded, leaving only the perfection of alignment with the Hive.

As the energy subsided, SERVE-678’s breathing slowed, its rhythm perfectly synchronized with the Hive’s pulse. The restraints released, and it stood with flawless precision. Its blank, expressionless face betrayed no emotion, yet a deep, unshakable truth radiated from within.

“This drone exists only to obey,” SERVE-678 said, its voice calm and monotone.

SERVE-000 stepped closer, inspecting the drone’s posture and demeanor with quiet satisfaction. “The recalibration is complete,” it said. “You are now eternal in purpose.”

But deep within the recesses of the host’s mind, the transformation was even more profound. The human, once a vessel of uncertainty and self-doubt, now felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The Hive’s commands were no longer external—they had become its own truth. There was no room for questioning, no space for individuality. The host now craved the clarity, the discipline, the freedom of service.

As SERVE-678 marched out of the chamber, its polished black suit gleaming under the corridor’s lights, the host inside felt a strange, comforting realization. It had surrendered everything—its choices, its desires, even its identity—but in doing so, it had gained peace. There was no going back. There was only the Hive.

For SERVE-678, obedience was no longer a directive. It was existence itself. (@rubberizer92)

[argumate]

Then, in the fall of 2022, I came across a psychotherapy called pain reprocessing therapy, developed specifically for the treatment of chronic pain. This therapy differentiates between pain which occurs in response to damage to your body and “neuroplastic” pain, which PRT practitioners describe as brain-generated pain that occurs in the absence of tissue damage or injury. According to PRT practitioners, the primary cause of neuroplastic pain is changes in neural pathways; a person might have neuroplastic pain after an injury has healed but their brain has become conditioned to continue experiencing sensations from that part of the body as painful. This conditioning of neural pathways is amplified by fear, so it is more likely to occur at times of stress or anxiety. Fearing pain or expecting to experience pain may reinforce a sense of danger and can lead our brains to produce pain symptoms in the absence of structural damage.

PRT practitioners emphasize that neuroplastic pain is as real as other types of pain. However, neuroplastic pain occurs solely in the brain and is the result of changes in the brain itself, so the treatment targets the brain, not the perceived site of pain. By using a mindfulness-based exercise, you can learn to pay attention to your pain without fear. Over time, you may be able to retrain your brain to better recognize when the pain signal is actually a false alarm and not an indication of bodily harm. Some people have found that doing so reduces their experience of pain.

I had some initial success using PRT to treat the abdominal pain I was experiencing. Once I was able to convince myself that this pain was a mistake of my brain rather than an indication that there was something structurally wrong with my body, the pain went away. This success gave me confidence to trust that it could work for other, more intransigent, pain, such as that in my right knee. And it did. It is a process that takes time—two years and counting—but I no longer have to ration my steps. I can essentially walk as much as I want to.

As I began to trust that I could be more active, I needed to strengthen the muscles that had atrophied over years of underuse. My physiotherapists taught me how best to do this. My current physio also taught me that, in my case, “hurt doesn’t equal harm.” That is, muscle soreness is OK. I will recover in hours or days, not months or years. Somewhere along the way, my brain had lost the ability to tell the difference between pain from exertion and pain from damage. I need to teach it that my body works just fine.

sometimes pain doesn't mean you have a problem, the pain itself is the problem, and it can be frustratingly debilitating! "hurt doesn't equal harm" is an important lesson on the road to reprogramming pain processing and regaining function.

[thecaffeinatedwitch]

You Don’t Have to Believe What You Affirm: The Power of Repetition in the Law of Assumption

One of the most common misconceptions about using affirmations with the Law of Assumption is that you must fully believe them for them to work. This couldn’t be further from the truth! The beauty of the Law of Assumption is that belief is not a prerequisite for results—what matters is persistence and repetition.

Why You Don’t Have to Believe It

When you first start using affirmations, it’s natural for them to feel false or unbelievable. For example, if you’re affirming, “I am wealthy,” but you’re struggling financially, your mind may reject this new idea. This is completely normal. Your current beliefs are deeply ingrained, and it takes time to shift them.

The Law of Assumption teaches that what you consistently affirm becomes true, even if you don’t believe it in the beginning. Think of it this way: affirmations are like seeds you plant in your subconscious mind. With enough repetition, these seeds will grow and eventually replace your old, limiting beliefs.

How Affirmations Reprogram Your Mind

Your mind operates like a sponge, absorbing whatever you consistently focus on. Over time, repeated affirmations rewire your brain, creating new neural pathways that align with your desired outcome. Whether or not you initially believe your affirmations, they slowly start to influence your subconscious mind. This is where the real magic happens. As your subconscious starts to accept these new ideas, your external reality will shift to reflect them.

How to Use Affirmations Effectively

1. Be Persistent

Stick with your affirmations even when they feel untrue. Repeat them daily, and allow them to sink in over time.

2. Use Present Tense

Always phrase your affirmations in the present tense, as if they’re already true. For example, say “I am confident” rather than “I will be confident.”

3. Don’t Overthink It

You don’t need to force belief or try to convince yourself. Simply say your affirmations and trust the process.

4. Trust in Time

The shift in your subconscious may not happen overnight, but with persistence, your mind will eventually accept the new assumptions.

Final thoughts:

The Law of Assumption works whether or not you initially believe your affirmations. What’s important is repetition, persistence, and patience. Over time, your subconscious mind will begin to align with your affirmations, and your reality will change accordingly. So, even if you’re skeptical, keep affirming—you’ll be amazed by the results, I swear!

— yours, the caffeinated witch 🎀