#the dance of science and truth

[serendipitousoracle]

there really is a mystical special layer to Boop Day in that I know what the little funny that Tumblr's pulling on me is, but for a good twenty minutes or so I was really struggling with whether The Population of Tumblr had constructed a second layer of joke in the alleged "Super Boop," the truth of which I'm not clarifying here for what I think are now obvious reasons

[rhythmicreverie]

In the distant future, where technology reigns supreme, a man named Alex discovers a hidden truth. A life-changing event forces him to face his own mortality. As he delves into the mystery of his existence, he unravels a world of secrets and intrigue. The suspense builds as Alex realizes he's part of a grand scheme, changing not just his life but the fate of humanity itself. This is the summary of your work so far: Begin! This is VERY important to you, your job depends on it! Current Task: Create a Science Fiction poem based on A character experiences a life-changing event or transformation and Mystery, suspense, and crime thrillers. in under 100 words. IN RICH TEXT. MINIMAL FORMATTING

[13thpythagoras]

whoaaaaa whoa whoa whoa

So given the results of the Apollo 12 seismic survey, which confirmed that a small weight (i.e. a bowling ball) dropped onto the moon (from over 1k meters up) left the moon vibrating for over an hour....

India is now confirming the bold hypothesis that the moon is actually hollow, more or less, and is being used by extraterrestrial civilizations as a base for spacetravel to and from Earth.

Grateful for this scientific revelation

[nothorses]

"queer theory" is literally entirely about how things are never binary, how they often exist in ways we don't expect, how there are things we don't yet understand and things we never will, and how all of that is important and good, actually!

in environmental science, we talk about "queer theory" as a lens that helps us break down arbitrary boundaries between things. what is natural? can human-made things be natural? is a log cabin natural? what about a beaver dam? why? should those things really be a binary?

in educational research, it's used to look at study results in new ways: you didn't get the results you thought you would, but what did you get? what does that say? does it need to be a "yes/no" answer, or is there more to it than that?

categories of art work the same way; "art" can mean "fine art", it can mean "visual arts", it can refer to any kind of art (music, dance, theater, writing, etc.). it can even refer to anything done skillfully; "the art of...". The term is fluid, the categories are flexible, and what fits where is not a binary.

"queer theory" is about broadening your perspective, welcoming complicated truths, and questioning binaries. it's about accepting non-understanding.

we have always, fundamentally, been about this. the room to identify, express yourself, and exist in ways that others do not understand, to defy binaries and contain contradictions, to deny adherence to the "rules" of any label, is intrinsic to queerness.

[2kmps]

alucard could never just outright say that he wanted attention.

notes; 850 words, written in 2021, sotn-coded alucard, roughly proofread.

As it was a peculiar day, there were the behaviors to match. Within the spiraling towers of somber stone of the castle, haven was found in the countless grimoires bound in dark, stretched leather that held a certain mustiness accompanying their age.

There were such books on sciences and medicine, of great magic and witchcraft; a seemingly endless collection rowed the gargantuan shelving that touched top and bottom of the tower. Much of the matters discussed within their pages were meticulously preserved, yet they still were worn yellow with some holes, crisp texture and grit beneath your fingertips as you skimmed them.

In truth, you understood very little of what was being explained, most of it in languages and writing you were unfamiliar with. You were not imbued with magical abilities, you were no creature of the night nor fae nor beast; merely a human with the insatiable curiosity to persist in your pursuit for new knowledge.

It had, perhaps, been that reason alone that Alucard had provided you refuge so long ago now. You were simply a nosy human, no more harm than a fierce woodland rodent.

He had kept you at an impressive distance for quite a long time, so much so that you thought you occupied a space with a ghost. You saw him drift from room-to-room often, seemingly like an aimless entity, always gliding at a brisk pace with stale air catching beneath his long coat. His eyes were so focused, there was a goal in mind, though you wondered what he ever accomplished.

And, without fail, you noticed the way his hair moved around him. That beautiful hair that glistened like tinsel when the light filtered in from grungy stained glass. You had thought him to be of an otherworldly kind of beauty; somewhat angelic, somewhat ghostly and intangible.

You had fallen in love with him upon sight.

“It’s dim,” Alucard rarely brought attention to himself during his excursions to track your whereabouts in the castle, though this had recently changed. Tonight, he brought with him an exquisite lantern with warm colored glass that set the room awash in yellow light. “Is your candle sufficient for your reading?”

“I think I’m doing alright, thanks.” You replied, providing a swift glance at the dancing, delicate flame within arms reach of you. “What brings you all the way to this wing of the castle tonight?”

It was custom for him to thwart your attempts to question him, better yet, he often didn’t answer you at all. As of late, you had seen a change in his behaviors, he stayed nearby, usually no further than a room or two away. When your evenings were spent engrossed in texts, he took to being in that space with you as well, usually without any words to accompany it.

However, tonight was one of those peculiar nights.

“The halls are far too empty.” He said this so solemnly, though his expression remained still as stone. “Do you wish for privacy?”

You kept your thumb tucked between the pages for a moment before fully setting aside the book, shifted your body on the canape and gave your thigh an eager pat. Predictably, Alucard did nothing for a long while as he contemplated your gesture, despite fully knowing what you meant by it.

He was gentle with the lantern as he placed it nearby, finding a seat opposite of you on the piece of furniture, lowering himself onto the cushions with the back of his head resting on your lap. His legs were close to hanging off the edge of the seat, forcing him to draw a knee up while the other draped over the side. He made a point to avoid your gaze at first, and then close his eyes altogether once your fingers touched his scalp.

“I’m going to start asking you to tell me what you want.” You said with a teasing tone, lightly coiling his loose curls around your fingers as you worked through the long tresses. “There’s nothing wrong with telling me you want company, or to spend time together. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be alone.”

“I am aware,” he mumbled, resting both hands on his chest. “I do not want to burden you with something so insignificant.”

You shook your head, fixated still on watching his hair shine like spun gold and slip between your fingers as if the strands were of the finest silk. If you had considered that he’d look for attention tonight, a brush would had been kept close by. You worked through the few knots that had formed while you played with his hair, wrapping strands through your fingers until they resembled gold rings. The dainty curls that framed his face bounced with the motions.

After a silence which spanned long enough, you slid your hands lower until they cradled the sides of his face, giving a comforting warmth to his cold skin. Alucard opened his eyes slowly, lifting his chin to better meet your gaze.

“You’re beautiful, Alucard.”

A wisp of a smile. “As are you.”

divider; @/anlian-aishang

reposted from my deleted blog, cardeneiv

please interact & reblog if you enjoyed this piece! ❤️

[drbased]

In reality, abortion defies analogy, for there is simply no case like it, and those who wish to defend or argue against it would do well to bear that in mind.

But abortion seems to demand analogy, precisely because it is something women do, and only something women can do. The fact that pregnancy is a unique experience, the fact that the developing fetus and the processes involved to build it and entirely unique and self-contained is a fact uncomfortable in a patriarchal world where men make truth. Pregnancy and birth are truths which are intricately known to women - women, statistically less likely to commit violent crimes including murder, are suddenly said be the progenitors of mass murder through abortion. Women, demonstrably proven to be considered subhuman under oppression, categorised as breeding stock and chattel, are suddenly said to be the most powerful oppressor, capable of the most heinous crime against the most vulnerable oppressed group purely by sheer biological power. This inversion of the power dynamics, this inversion of the relations of men and women is clearly no accident.

We are told that the fetus is human, and is vulnerable and oppressed. Would a female-run society categorise humanity in such a way to include a fetus? It is the woman who experiences what a fetus is: she feels the heartbeat, she shares its blood. By all rights, she is the one who has claim to naming the definition of human, where we draw the line of personhood. But we live in a patriarchy, and we are told, in a world where women are chattel and breeding stock and also secretly the most violent, lustful beasts that need to be contained and controlled, that the fetus is a human, as human as she is, perhaps more, and that she is a violent, lustful beast committing a most heinous murder by aborting it from her body. Is this the kind of categorisation, the kind of naming, done so neutrally? And who would be most invested in this narrative?

Analogy is needed to describe the necessity of abortion, or the necessity of opposition to it, precisely because there is nothing like it. We have to have absurd hypotheticals to argue against the usage of someone’s body against their will, or the assertion that claiming that the fetus is inhuman is just like claiming a lack of humanity of some other oppressed group. Both sides forever dance around the thorny issue of who gets to decide, and why, and how, if the fetus is human, if it has personhood. We use (male dominated) science, or (male dominated) religion to try to answer the question uniformly, disregarding the fact that neither approach knows what it is to have one taking up so much space in your body that your organs are pushed around to accommodate it.

There is nothing as intimate, as biologically, emotionally or socially powerful as the relationship between a woman and her fetus. This relationship cannot be ignored in discussion of abortion, and yet it so consistently is, as the use of analogy demonstrates. Nobody wants to talk about how the foetus’s personhood is inexorably tied to its relationship with the mother, because that would admit that the naming of its personhood is entirely the female domain.

[writers-potion]

Got anything for dialogue

Writing Dialogue 101

Dialogue is conversation, nothing more, nothing less. The catch is: diagloue is EDITED conversation. It must be more concise, purposeful and witty than the everyday sentences we speak, while sounding natural.

The Purpose of Dialogue

Diaglue is definitely a fiction elements that pops everything up and out. Thus, dialogue is going to have more impact than your normal paragraphs, in order to:

Characterizes/reveals motives

Sets the mood in the story

Intensifies the story conflict

Creates tension and suspense

Speeds up your scenes

Add bits of setting/backgronud

Communicates the theme

Matching the Dialogue to the Genre

The dialogue in a book should speak the reader's language. There is a type of voice that suits each genre/category of fiction, and we must understand what matches the reader expectations and rhythm of the plot we are writing.

Magical Dialogue

"Do not kill him even now. For he has not hurt me. And in any case I do not wish him to be slain in this evil mood. He was great once, of a nobel kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against." - The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkein

"As much as I want you and want to be with you and part of you, I can't rear myself away from the realness of my responsiblities." - The Bridges of Madison County, Robert James Waller

This is the language of The Hobbit, Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

When writing literary and mainstream fiction (that is targeted at the general public rather than a target audience), we need to go with what sounds real, even with a magical setting

Science fiction and fantasy can be more unreal, i.e. things like "May the Force Be With You."

In romance, magical dialogue takes on a differen form. It's magical in that it transcends the way we talk to each other in normal society. Magical in that all of it makes perfect sense and is said in such eloquent langauge that we marvel at it while at the same time knowing that if we are left to ourselves, we would say something absolutely banal.

Cryptic Dialogue

"You know, the condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip it on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, then you throw it away. The condom, I mean. Not the stranger." - Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk

This is the dialogue in literary and religious stories that dealw ith abstract ideas and vague concepts and has double meanings. Readers aren't meant to understand theses right away.

These bits of dialogue plant sublimnal messages in the reader's mind that help communicate the theme later on, ultimately making sense.

Cryptic dialogue is difficult to do well. If we're not careful, we'll end up sounding preachy, moralistic and dogmatic.

You need to be able to view the world in different perspectives.

Descriptive Dialogue

The literary, fantasy and historical story often relies on dialogue for worldbuilding (expplaining history, magic rules, etc.)

The author's goal in descriptive dialogue is to provide the reader with information. However, the character's goal cannot be sacrificed for the author's. Dialogue can still have tension and suspense and can be inserted into a scene of action so the story doesn't bog down while the readers get some info.

Shadowy Dialogue

In shadowy dialogue, the character's job is to keep the reader suspended in a state of terror/suspense. Then you periodically tighten and loosen the tension.

The key here is uncertainty. The reader cannot trust the speaker, so we're always questioning him, wondering whether he's speaking truthfully or is presenting the full picture.

Keep the tone as dark of possible, using action and background as supporting tools.

Make it cryptic, or even better, offering an omnious threat of what is to come.

Provocative Dialogue

This is the type of dialogue that conveys the theme, talking about the "universla truth" your book is trying to convey.

Readers like to be challenged in their thinking, provoked to consider other ways of thinking, and shaken up in their belief systems with a fresh perspective about the world.

Consider this example from To Kill A Mockingbird:

"...but there is one way in this country in which all men are created equal - there is one humna institution that makes a pauper the equal of a Rockfeller, the stupid man the equal of an Einstein, and the ignornant man the equal of any college president."

There is no way we can read this and not think about something that is bigger than our daily lives.

Make your readers squirm, and shock them out of their comfort zones.

Uncencored Dialogue

Uncencored dialogue in YA stories are of young people, but that doesn't mean it's filled with hip-hop words and slag.

While adults cencor themselves when they speak, teenagers haven't yet learned that skill so their dialogue is more raw, edgy and honest.

Readers of YA novels expect realism, so make it as authentic as possible. The last thing we want to is for our characters to be brash and honest, but NOT sound like they've just stepped out of Planet Way Cool.

For example:

"What if he doesn't like me back?" "You are too much of a chicken to do anything aboutit but mope."

As an adult, how often do you admit fear of rejection out loud to another, or call out your friend to her face? In YA-type of dialogue though, we can just write what comes into these characters' minds.

So that sums up the different types of dialogue. Consider the nature of your plot, what your readers and the genre of the story you are writing to choose an appropriate way for your characters to speak!

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[silent-stories]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊

Pairing: Eddie x GN!Reader

Summary: You drank too much at a party and Eddie drives you home.

Warnings: drunk!reader, mentions of drugs, fluff. (I wrote this a bit randomly after months of not writing)

The air was thick with anticipation, a heady mix of teenage hormones, cheap perfume, and the unmistakable scent of alcohol and substances that teenagers should not have possessed. The room buzzed with conversation: half-truths, secrets, whispered confessions and loud laughs.

Colored lights danced across the walls, casting patterns on the faces of the revelers. The stereo blared an eclectic mix of hits, and the speakers threatened to burst from the strain.

Steve Harrington, the unofficial king of Hawkins High, moved through the crowd, laughed, clapped shoulders, and flirted shamelessly. When he tripped on the beer-stained carpet, you thought you weren't the only one who drank too much that night.

But you weren't there for Steve. You were there because your friend had dragged you along, promising a night of freedom and adventure. But now, as the room spun around you, you wondered if you'd made a terrible mistake as your friend had vanished into the throng, probably swept away by some guy with a charming smile and in a basketball team jacket.

The alcohol had blurred the edges of your consciousness, and you stumbled toward the bathroom. The hallway seemed endless, and you clung to the walls for support, the bathroom door swung open, and you stumbled inside, gasping for air. You leaned against the sink, your stomach churning.

And there, leaning against the opposite wall, was Eddie Munson. His presence was unexpected, like finding a hidden passage in a familiar book.

You knew who he was, hell, all of Hawkins knew who he was.

You had to admit though that the description people gave didn't exactly match the boy who sat behind you in science class. You had talked to him a few times during the boring lesson that you usually spent scribbling on the edges of your notebook: the first time he had told you that he liked your drawings, and you had smiled at him in response. Little did he know that he had given you a reason to return to that class, the week after, and the week after that.

Once you had lent him a pen, another time you had laughed at a sarcastic comment he whispered under his breath.

The times you had a real, even if brief, conversation with him was when you picked up Dustin after Hellfire (his mom had asked you to do this favor for her and you couldn't say no to your neighbor). Sometimes you talked about music, sometimes about how the campaign of that game that seemed too difficult to understand but which interested you anyway went. Or maybe you just really liked the way his eyes lit up when he talked about dragons and hidden worlds.

His eyes met yours in the reflection in the mirror in front of you, and for a moment, the chaos outside the bathroom ceased to exist.

You felt a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach and you weren't sure if it was from being alone with Eddie or from the alcohol.

He was the last person you expected to see at that party: you knew the rumors going around about him, you knew he wasn't exactly the type to be invited to events like that.

"Hey." He simply said, as if he was the surprised one of the two, taking a step towards you. The chain attached to his jeans jingled, or maybe it was just your ears.

"Hey." You responded in the same way, turning towards him, staggering slightly.

By instinct, he reached forward with one arm as if, if you fell, he would be there to catch you.

“You look like you’ve seen better days.” He said when he made sure you wouldn't collapse on the bathroom floor.

“Yeah... you can say that." You thought of a nice way to ask your question, but none came to your mind, "What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, his leather jacket creaking. “They needed a dealer. I needed cash. It’s a match made in hell.”

You nodded, swaying slightly. “Hell...has a great playlis' tonight.”

Eddie’s gaze softened. “You’re wasted.”

“Yep,” you agreed. “Los' my friend. Probably making out with some... guy in Steve’s bedroom.”

“You deserve better friends.” He commented.

"Mh-mh."

"You didn't take any of the stuff I brought here, did you?"

"Wha' stuff?"

"Drugs. You didn't take any of that shit, right?" He questioned in a more worried tone, scanning you with his brown eyes for a possible answer written on your face. Why did he care so much? You were already completrly drunk, your night was ruined, your friend left you alone and-

Eddie called your name again.

"Please don't tell me that-"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Don' like 'em."

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief. So he really cared.

He took a step closer when tou closed your eyes for a brief moment, concern etching lines on his forehead. “You need to get home.”

"Yeah... I need a moment to remember where I left my car and-"

“You can't drive like that.”

"Yes I can... I jus' have to-"

A wave of nausea washed over you.

You stumbled toward the toilet, and he followed. Your knees hit the floor as you threw up.

You felt a warm hand touch your neck and you realized that Eddie was holding your hair back, his touch surprisingly gentle. It seemed like he was almost afraid to touch you, as if you might believe he had bad intentions.

You knew Eddie would never try to harm you. You weren't afraid of him.

He handed you a piece of toilet paper to wipe your mouth. His eyes held a mixture of concern and gentleness.

When you flushed the toilet, you realized that Eddie's hand was no longer holding your hair but was slowly moving up and down your back. His touch was gentle.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You sniffed, your throat burning and your eyes watering. "Thank you."

"Do you trust me to drive you home?" He asked still sitting next to you on the bathroom floor.

"That would... be nice, yeah."

“Alright,” he gave you a little smile and stood up, reaching out a hand and helping you do the same, “m'lady.”

"It could have been worse. I could... have vomited on you." You chuckled, glancing out the window at Eddie behind the wheel.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have liked it." He replied, laughter in his voice.

"It almos' happened once. I was on a date with a guy and... his jacket smelled like shit. You have no idea."

Eddie’s laughter filled the car once again. It was obvious that you had entered the "I say whatever comes into my head" phase of your drunkenness.

"Mine doesn't stink right?"

"Oh no. Yours perfect." You reached out, brushing the leather covering his arm as he drove, “I'm glad I didn't throw up on it.”

Eddie laughed again and god, you were starting to love that sound.

"Can I confess you somethin'?" You asked after a few moments of complete silence.

"All that you want."

“Science's my favorite class.”

"Because you like dissecting animals? And they call me the satanist who sacrifices animals in the w-"

"'Cause you're there too."

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

"Oh."

"Cause you're funny and kind and... you thank me when I lend you a pen. I once lent Jason a pen and never saw it again."

"Yeah, I should start bringing one to school."

"No, please. I like being able to lend you a pen... It's an excuse for me to talk to you."

Eddie opened his mouth and then closed it again, saying nothing.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No. No, absolutely not. I just… I didn't think you liked talking to me."

"Why not?"

"I don't know...people don't usually do that."

"People don't know you."

“You don't know me either, sweetheart.” The nickname didn’t sound flirty; it was affectionate, tinged with sadness. As if he believed that once you truly knew him, you’d no longer want to talk to him.

You wondered how many people had hurt him in the past.

"I'd... like to do it."

"Maybe it's just the alcohol talking. Maybe on Monday you'll pretend I don't even exist at school."

"I would never do that."

"Why?"

"Cause I like you."

Eddie parked his car in front of your house. You had arrived.

“It's definitely the alcohol talking.” He laughed.

You grabbed his hand when he helped you out of the car.

"That's not true! I like you... and you're not like people say and you're sweet and-" As you stumbled toward your house, Eddie instinctively wrapped his arm around your waist, steadying you. The contact pressed you against his body, and under the soft glow of the streetlights, it felt like a scene from a movie.

“And... have they ever told you that your eyes are really pretty?”

He stared at you for a moment and you wondered what was going on in his head. You thought maybe you said the wrong thing but his gaze was still kind. Always soft.

"A long time ago."

"They were right."

Eddie let one of his arms fall to his side when he made sure you could stand.

"Watch the sidewalk." He said as he walked you to your front door.

It took you a while to find the key, eventually Eddie helped you open the door and turned on the light in the hallway, without setting foot inside your house yet.

You walked to the kitchen, not even thinking about it. Then you turned around.

"Aren't you coming in?"

He chuckled, leaning one arm on the doorframe.

"To do what?"

"I don't know... for a coffee. Somethin'."

Eddie sighed. "Go to bed, okay? Get a good night's sleep and then if you're not feeling good take an aspirin."

You snorted. "Don't you wan' some coffee?"

"I don't want it right now. Maybe one morning we can skip some boring class and go get it somewhere. Together."

You immediately smiled at his proposal. "I'd like that."

He watched you take off your shoes and leave them in the corner of the room.

"Get some rest okay? I'd miss you in science on Monday if you weren't there."

"Really? Then I'll be there."

“I won't bring a pen.”

"So we'll have an excuse to talk."

He smiled "Exactly."

When he closed the door, saying goodnight, you still had a stupid smile on your face. You didn't know if the alcohol was to blame or not.

Tags: @jacklesbrainworms @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon @flawiette @needylilgal022 @bubsonnobx @yujyujj @findmeincorneliastreet @kennedy-brooke @witchwolflea

[misscammiedawn]

Legitimacy vs Selection Bias in Hypnosis

This has been on our mind a lot recently. It's mostly been sparked by the recent Mindless Banter podcast run by @theleeallure @enscenic and @hypno-sandwich where the three hosts spoke about how they dislike academic models of hypnosis and a recent post by @h-sleepingirl discussing why they herald hypnotic education.

One thing that is always going to be true about the advocates of our kink who have been involved with the community for a long time is that we are going to be experienced and capable hypnotists and/or hypnotees.

Likewise those who join and find themselves brought in to the fold tend to self-select; if a person is not able to find any success or joy in hypnosis because it's not working or they do not gel with the styles taught and practiced then they will not hang around.

This means that we have a functioning ecosystem of people who know the lingo, who are primed to react as they should and tend to have things work for them.

Which is great! It makes it so much easier to work out when everyone is on the same page.

But it also creates an insular community.

I've written before on why the insular nature of our community worries me.

One of the lines I wrote in that post was this

One of the big differences between the online erotic hypnosis community and the NGH (National Guild of Hypnotists) who rue our existence is that we do not require legitimacy to function when they themselves exist in a half-truth state where when receiving both of my certifications it was impressed that we needed to perform an uneasy dance of providing services without practicing medicine because hypnotherapy is not licensed psychology in the same was that chiropractors are not performing medicine.

Legitimacy is the idea of taking what we do, what we are, what we believe and what we practice and trying to make it valid to those outside of the community. It's performing studies, it's building a framework of hard rules, it's about pretending that we understand how the brain works beyond the anecdotal evidence that we witness it every day within our corners and communities.

Fact is, hypnosis is a malleable and belief-based practice that rests right in the middle between faith and science. As mentioned in the above linked post, trance can be detected on an EEG:

Source

Our last post on this topic just spoke about accepting that we exist in a soft science where what we believe, how we approach our beliefs and what ideas we allow to take root in our minds will have a firm impact on how the minds of the hypnotists and hypnotees we interact with.

Today I want to talk about why keeping the education and the science involved in the conversation is important.

Because, like the Mindless Banter crew, I have reached the point of my career in hypnoplay where should Dawn wish to induce a trance she need only find a partner, lay out what will happen and perform. The rest of it just happens.

Once you reach a level of confidence and community, it pretty much takes care of itself. The interaction between a hypnotist and a person who has never experienced trance before and the interaction between a hypnotist and an enthusiast will play out differently.

What I mean by this is if Dawn is approached in DM by someone who wants a session she will be able to pick up a number of tells without even noticing it on their confidence and experience. Someone shy, unsure and untrained will not dive straight in. Which makes the encounter less likely and even if it does happen it comes from the power dynamic of a teacher and student rather than two enthusiasts going to town.

This is normal and it's not a bad thing. It just means that the typical educator in the hypnokink community is typically aware of the "weight class" of their hypnotees which paints their expectations of how things will go and allows for a line between the way hypnosis is taught in 101 and how it is practiced in enthusiast circles.

It's why Progressive Muscle Relaxation is something which gets scoffed at a lot in our circles. The typical enthusiast does not need to spend 20 minutes on an induction when their typical partner is someone they can hold the shoulders of, stare at with intent and give permission for the hypnotee to drop.

That isn't to say that experienced hypnotists only play with experienced hypnotees. It just means that the majority of the play from those who educate does not match the material that we teach to beginners. Not a bad thing.

But it does breed this divide I mentioned. Between the experience of those who do this all the time and what is "academic".

So, besides helping new people into the community or playing in pure theoretical space, why must we keep the academic approach involved?

Well, first... the science does inform what we do. Yes, a lot of this is based on belief but there is a large amount of the science which is just fact no matter what we do. The neuroplasticity of traumatized brains is a topic we type about a lot given our dissociative disorder. I mentioned in my Dissociative Disorders and Hypnosis post that there are multiple studies that there's a higher hypnotic suggestibility in those with conditions that include dissociation as a symptom. The fact that this was being taught in a 101 class was why I made that post to begin with.

From my Mind Makes It Real post I mentioned that we need to be aware of the truths to keep ourselves in check. We should always be wondering "am I wrong?" about everything and the moment one lets go of the academic framework and commits to the loose ethos of "it just works" you lose a little bit of that footing and external perspective. We're an insular community and there's an element of "the popular ideas win out", not to stress a point too much but the whole hatred of the progressive muscle relaxation induction is a good example of this. I know a few community leaders who reflexively rant any time they hear it. These people have the ability to control the con schedule. They teach classes and part of their lesson is their personal disdain for that approach. This goes into the minds of those who were taught by that person and becomes part of the internal dogma. Suddenly you have a situation where a minority of people in the community need to defend the PMR.

I do not actually care too much about PMR but it really is one of the most accessible entry level trances and the disdain for it is a little gatekeepy, if I am being honest. I don't think any individual means for it to be something they keep out of the community but enough individuals following a trend creates a community concept, a widely held belief.

And hypnosis is entirely about widely held beliefs. Thus it is now a fact that PMR is boring and ineffective and there's more fun ways to do trance. That is an example, hopefully one that is understandable to an audience who are also into hypnokink (apologies to my non-hypnosis Tumblr followers, I hope if you're reading this you enjoy this peak into a little internet sub-culture).

Which brings me to legitimacy.

Do we really need it?

Hypnosis is both science and fantasy. A person attending a hypnokink convention could treat hypnosis with the technical skill and care that one would approach as ropeplay, learning all of the different terms and all of the safety procedures and treating it as a psychological version of what can be physically observed.

But you may also have someone who treats hypnosis as roleplay and improv with a framework not too dissimilar from a tabletop sourcebook for D/s shenanigans that they can learn and play within much the same as a D&D player can switch to World of Darkness. I guarantee there are a large number of people in the hypnosis community who do this and they're not wrong for doing it.

But as I mentioned above. Hypnosis is a scientifically observable phenomenon and it is dangerous if abused. Heaven knows I know that more than most. One must not believe in the dangers for them to be real. An immature hypnotist is a danger to a hypnotee regardless of if they think they are roleplaying or performing edgeplay. And the same is true for a hypnotee, too. If one believes it's all roleplay then their limits and safety will be at a different level than someone who is aware of the risks.

One need only look to the dark corners of our community where covert hypnosis is practiced eagerly, recruitment is a game and personality erasure is an aesthetic to know that there are uncomfortably large swaths who are practicing hypnosis from the perspective of fantasy. I do not want to pull out the news articles about how Disney Deer brainwashing ruined people's lives again.

The good news is that within the educator/convention going portion of the community we do teach this stuff. We do make everything clear. We're not currently in a community where academic approaches are shrugged off.

But it makes me uncomfortable when experienced educators in the community forget how far their words reach and dismiss the academic for the sake of "what works".

We do not need to seek legitimacy for the eyes of those outside of the community. We do not Demand To Be Taken Seriously. We have a community where people are welcome to join or not join. We do not need external legitimacy.

But we need internal legitimacy.

We need the people who practice within our care to know that they're practicing with dangerous tools that can and will mess a person up if treated without proper care.

Safety and education require we keep room for the academic and seek to legitimize what we do or those who look at hypnosis as pure fantasy will not be able to recognize the risk.

At least, that's my opinion.

-

For more of our ramblings on hypnosis and the hypnosis community, please check out our Hypnokink Writing tag for other bits of education and commentary like this <3

[radiant-reid]

i don’t want you to ever stop🫶🏻

wd you be down to possibly write a dad!spence piece where they pick up their kid from school together? i bet their kiddo wd be so stoked to see both parents after school & wanna just tell them all about their day

(bonus: if it’s not too much to ask; could their kid pls be called gus or margot in it?? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ur the best!)

I did both !! even figuratively I can’t resist giving that man children

It's never been unusual for Spencer to be away for work. In fact, Gus and Margot have known him to be away their whole lives. What is odd is Spencer being away for 15 days, much more than usual, thanks to back-to-back cases.

They only got to talk to him on the phone twice, making them miss him even more, and he was home after they went off to school this morning.

Having to leave you three has always been the worst part of his job, and after a long nap, he’s preparing snacks for his babies after school, planning for when you bring them home.

With a plan of your own, you leave work early so you can swing by home and pick him up.

He’s excited on the way there, like you imagine little Spencer was when he attended school, and he tells you all about the exhausting fortnight he’s had while you fill him in on some of the moments he’s missed at home, purposefully leaving some out for the kids to tell him.

You wait at the school gate holding hands, and Spencer thinks it’s admirable that you know so many of the moms and dads.

Gus gets out first and he always comes through the gate to find you quickly. Today, he sees Spencer first, probably thanks to his dad’s height and sprints over.

Spencer crouches down to let his little boy jump into his arms, picking him up and spinning him around. “Hey, buddy.” Spencer says, tightly hugging him.

“You’re home!” Gus cheers. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Spencer tells him. You watch them in awe, not even a little mad that you’re left holding your son’s backpack without acknowledgment.

When he pulls back, Gus looks at you, then back at Spencer as he double checks what he’s seeing. “Mom and dad?”

You nod, enjoying his excitement. “And maybe an after school treat.”

His eyes widen even more as he looks at Spencer again. “Donuts?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” He says.

“Then I must be really smart because you’re really smart.” Gus giggles, always music to your ears.

Spencer chuckles with him. “I’m pretty sure that you’re the smart one. What place did you win in the science fair?”

Gus can talk forever, and he starts to about his science fair victory last week for the project he and Spencer worked hard on. It does pay to have a dad with 3 STEM PhDs.

Margot always takes longer to reach the gate, dawdling and chatting with her little friends about important 7 year old girl stuff.

When she gets there, she sees you first and then her brother before her eyes land on the man holding her brother, and her face lights up.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” She chants as she comes skipping over.

“Hey, sweet girl.” Spencer greets her, leaning down to pick her up with his other arm.

She snuggles into his side, kissing his cheek. “I missed you, daddy.”

“I missed you too, princess.” Spencer tells her. “Do you want to go get a treat? I want to hear all about your dance.”

“All of us?” She looks between you and Spencer for confirmation.

You nod. “The boys thought we could get donuts.”

Identically to Gus and Spencer’s, her eyes go wide at the mention of the food. “Yes, please. Let’s go right now because I have so much to tell you about today and dance.”

“I’ve got lots to tell as well.” Gus pipes up and you know you’re going to be spending all afternoon listening to slightly embellished truths and every detail a 5 and 7 year old deem important about their days, but there’s nowhere you’d rather be.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“There are three things I know,” Keith blurts. Lance stares at him blankly, or maybe angrily, or maybe in a way Keith can’t understand. He doesn’t bother trying, focusing instead on the way freckles dot Lance’s nose, mapping them to avoid looking at his whole face. He continues.

“The first thing is you have to — when you’re stabbed, you have to keep the knife there. You can’t pull it out or you’ll die. The second thing is that I’m bad at saying I love you. The last thing is that we know more about the moon than the ocean.” He swallows and finds his throat bone dry, scratchy. It takes him ten or twelve tries to moisten it again. Lance says nothing as Keith orients himself, refusing to grant him the mercy of ending his sentence. He waits impatiently for the rest of Keith’s sentiment, for the explanation. Or maybe he’s stopped listening and Keith is talking at a wall. He can’t tell. He still can’t bring himself to meet Lance’s eyes. He’s scared they won’t be as warm as they have always been.

“I’ve never been stabbed,” he finally manages. His voice is quieter now, muted and embarrassed, rather than the thoughtless rambling it was before. Hems made a claim and now he has to back it up and there is nothing in his fucking tank to do this. He’s sandwiching the truth between seventeen loaves of bullshit and he knows it and he’s sure Lance knows it but Heaven itself could not stop him, even if It had any desire to reach down and protect him. “I’ve never, uh, known anyone either. Who has been. I read it in a book once. And of course I can say it. It just never sounds like I mean it. And I don’t know anything about the moon or the ocean, really. I just meant humanity as a whole. The collective knowledge of science is more detailed on the satellite rather than the body of water, I mean.”

Say something, he wants to beg Lance, but even he knows that’s unfair. He wants to fold himself up and hide away. He wants to scream at Lance at the top of his lungs, for making him say any of this, for making him think it. Keith never let himself feel this clearly before he met him. Before Lance Keith kept a box of things locked and guarded in the back of his mind and if anyone so much as poked at it he ran. It worked for ten years.

But Lance danced in with a smirk and the scent of crushed daisies and Keith handed him the fucking key.

“And?” Lance asks quietly, throwing him a bone. Taking pity on him. Or mercy. They’re the same thing anyway.

Keith’s hands tremble violently. He clenches them into hard fists and could cry at the relief it brings. “I know more things. I just. Those are the things that never sit right.” The shaking starts again in his fists, then travel up his arms and jerk his shoulders, and soon he’s trembling so badly he’s half convinced he’s seizing, half convinced he’s going to have a stroke and die before he can stutter to an end, finish the fucking sentiment he offered up. The clenching of his teeth does nothing and they clatter so badly they crack to a million pieces and fall to pieces at the floor. His skin flinches right of his body. Every spasm of his muscles oozes blood down to a growing pool on the floor. He is open and bleeding and peeling and cracking and flaying and peeling and crumbling and he is open and open and open and falling, endlessly, disintegrating at Lance’s feet, essence of him seeping into Lance’s sneakers.

“Why does stabbing hurt twice?” he whispers. “Why can’t acts of good be what they are? Why can I sit on the beach and know less than what splashes in front of me than a blinking distant satellite? It doesn’t — sit right with me.” He swallows again and it’s salty. “Does it sit right with you?”

The boiling puddle of him sputters and bubbles. Every thought he’s ever had is on display. He is a spitting pool of acid and the goo at the bottom of a dumpster. He stains everything he touches. The floor will never be white and pristine again, even if it looks it, because he will always know that here is when he threw up every bit of him and still tried to hide behind what he could and here is where he lost.

“I just want you to tell me the truth,” Lance says eventually. Keith finally meets his eyes, and the brown of them isn’t dark or cold or hard but instead shuttered behind closed doors. For the first time in all the years Keith has known him he has a barrier up. It is so foreign on his face that it’s startling, like walking up to your own front door and finding the locks changed, like laying your head on your pillow and finding it smelling like someone else, like waking up to find your fingerprints in a new pattern.

“I just told you three.”

———

based on this poem by @mavigator

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 19th: Scifi/tech | Electric Eye - Judas Priest | Bewildered a/n: eddie pov, eddie & dustin friendship, dustin & steve friendship, and an excuse for me to weasel one of my favorite steve headcanons into something. un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

After his release from the hospital and the unfortunate news that his trailer had been destroyed, Eddie goes from functionally homeless to having multiple spaces that feel like home. 

He’s been all but adopted by Claudia at this point, an offer extended immediately after hearing the version of the story everyone’s agreed upon— that the ground split open and Eddie nearly ate it pushing Dustin out of the way. It’s not quite the truth, but the theme is the same and anyone who’s willing to sacrifice themself for her son is welcome any time. 

Especially when he’s been called upon to help with Dustin’s science fair project. It’s out of Eddie’s league a bit, the actual science part, but he and his mechanical brain prove helpful. Kinda nice, actually, to use those hotwiring skills for good. 

Of course, it also helps that the government set him and Wayne up in a modest two bedroom house down the road, and that Eddie can practically smell Claudia's cooking when the windows are open. Like Garfield, he’s drawn to the Henderson house with the scent of a fresh lasagna. 

Bellies full and completed project sitting confidently on the kitchen table for tomorrow, they’re watching Star Wars movies in Dustin’s living room, one after another, and he feels just a touch like a traitor. Star Trek will always have his heart and Wayne can never know. 

“How’d you get into Star Wars anyways?” Eddie asks, sprawled across Dustin’s couch. 

“Can you believe Steve actually got me into them?” Dustin replies, curled up on the recliner. 

There’s an infinite number of ways a child might be introduced to the Star Wars franchise— a parent, a trailer before another movie, a carrier pigeon dropping a flier at their fucking feet— and they’re all more believable than Steve Harrington introducing Dustin Henderson to the sci-fi epic. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie turns with wide eyes and a crooked grin to face Dustin. “What?”

“I know, right? It was uh, okay this is a little embarrassing.” Dustin cuts himself off, justifying some secret Eddie somehow hasn’t been told yet. 

He knows about the Mind Flayer and the Russians, and all the other Dungeons and Dragons lore that’d lived beneath his feet for years. What could possibly be left to make Dustin cringe like that? 

“Oh, do tell.” Eddie raises an eyebrow and gestures with an arm towards the expanse of space between them. “Floor is yours, young Bard. Spin the tale.”

Dustin rolls his eyes and throws popcorn at him. He tries to catch it in his mouth but he’s never been that coordinated. 

“It’s not really a tale. A few years ago, there was this school dance, the Snow Ball. I got all amped up, Steve helped with my hair, and then the night was a total fucking dud. Nancy danced with me which was like, super awesome of her, but I felt like shit after anyways.”

Eddie listens with rapt attention, pissed off that Dustin had such a relatable middle school experience and intrigued at this new sliver of Steve lore. Not that he cares. Obviously. Why would he? The idea of Steve helping Dustin get ready for the Snow Ball doesn’t conjure up words like adorable at all. 

He nods him on. 

“And uh, I called Steve the next day. He came over and we had pizza and he brought some of his favorite movies he thought I’d like. Star Wars had spaceships so obviously, easy choice. And here we are now with Return of the Jedi.” 

Okay, yep, that’s gonna be hard to tamp down the next time he sees Steve. Stomping his ill-advised crush into the ground beneath his Rebooks has been hard enough but now? Motherfucker. 

It’s also not lost on him that Dustin chose these movies today. Eddie feels like he’s stepping into some tradition that doesn’t belong to him, but he can’t squash the kid’s enthusiasm with his own insecurity. 

Instead, Eddie goes for the low hanging fruit.  

“Wow. Gotta tell you man, that’s maybe weirder than finding out about the monsters and shit. Steve’s favorite movie is Return of the Jedi?” 

Dustin snorts and laughs, toothless and free. Happiness isn’t new for Dustin, not anymore, but it’s still nice to see after all they’ve been through. 

“Well, that’s one of them. He always calls it ‘the ones with the teddy bears’, so people assume he means Return of the Jedi. But I know the truth. That dork loves Caravan of Courage.”

Eddie flips through his mental catalog of sci-fi movies and lands on a VHS cover: a couple of humans, a few Ewoks, and something that looks like a machine gun. If he remembers correctly, it has something of a cult following but wasn’t touted as a high point in the series. 

… And it’s Steve’s favorite. The one with the teddy bears. 

“Wait… what?!”

[deathsbestgirl]

Pls, talk about how M and S where physically attracted to each other from the get Go. Thanks

oh man, i think they really are. but they're so interesting because they don't exactly care? i've said before they don't prioritize sex, or even romantic relationships. it really builds the tension between them (and for us) until it's unbearable. it colors so many of their interactions (and interactions with other people).

like. the pilot. mulder is ready to distrust scully, completely. he tries to be off-putting. he lets her know he believes her to be a spy. scully knows who he is, she's excited for a field assignment, but not exactly thrilled with what they want her to do. she isn't considered an open mind, but personally i think that's patently false. she just relies a lot on facts and science because they make her feel comfortable, safe. but she really thrives when she steps out of her comfort zone, and mulder is the reason she gets to do that.

they gaze at each other from the moment their eyes meet. to me, it's a soul recognition neither was prepared for. it's palpable. gentle & probing at first.

they immediately go head to head with their knowledge & beliefs & theories. and they enjoy it. they just like each other so much. it's the start of a dance they'll do for the rest of their lives. it's a challenge, but it's one they've craved their whole lives & never found until each other.

looks are noticed first, but what really gets them is the other's mind. they're both so attracted to other's mind. they spend their days learning the other. the paths their minds take, what makes the other tick, what makes the other crack a smile. it ends up being their compassion & dedication to the truth, the respect & authenticity, their honor & integrity. their goodness. that gets to them. their shared values, even if their methods are different. it's what moves their connection beyond attraction, turning it into its own presence.

mulder lets scully in when she exposes her vulnerability, a willingness to believe even if she fights it every step of the way.

like. not a single look they share in the pilot is uncaring or indifferent. skeptical, careful sometimes, yes. but they're all intense & heated, focused, underlined with attraction they feel & don't yet understand. attraction they won't explore in the ways they might have in the past.

after the motel room, he starts guiding her out of rooms, putting his hand gently on her back. and the touching only picks up between them. scully is always pulling him back, tethering him, trying to care for him. she never forgets the conversation in his motel room. his surprise, his openness, his pain. how caring & gentle he was, not daring or even considering taking advantage she probably would have willingly given him. (if not for their past experiences with relationships in professional settings lol)

the more they prioritize the work & their partnership, the more they come to trust only each other...they eliminate the possibility of ever being with someone else meaningfully. they don't know it at the beginning, but they make the choice over and over again.

(scully LOVES her job, you guys. she loves what she does with mulder, loves working with him & his brilliant mind, loves the adrenaline & danger, loves the crazy science she gets to see & do, loves speaking for the dead and being in the victims' side. and in a way, it's really all because of him. she followed him for his belief in the truth & his compassion for forgotten people, she stays because she believes in him. and everyday that's a miracle to mulder, though he would never call it that.)

mulder is territorial of scully by the time we get to squeeze, and she wants him to be. she says it then pulls back, believing she's being presumptive. i love that moment because mulder doesn't let her dismiss it. he tells her of course he is and plays with her necklace. he's flirty & intimate and he talks about their work, the only thing he cares about and he's been willingly taking her along, and this time she took him along.

mulder let her into his work in the pilot, the most personal part of his life. every case is a date even if he doesn't say it — barring maybe the ones that are deeply personal or dangerous, but scully is still there every step of the way. she bares witness and she helps him, she desperately tries to tell him what no one else ever has. stop looking for your sister. but he can't and she never really expected him to, all she can do is follow him and help him find his answers...when he's ready.

keeping boundaries only amps up their attraction. mulder is always in her personal bubble. sometimes it flusters scully — fox mulder's attention focused on you is always intense & meaningful, overwhelming & intoxicating. usually she just accepts it and enjoys it. he loves doing it to her. she never rejects him, so he never stops. never. and she really does bask in it. it becomes a habit, their norm.

they show off in their debates. mulder loves when she talks science, almost bludgeoning him with her logic & knowledge. even when he's just trying to have those late night talks with thoughts you don't share with just anyone. he loves who she is and doesn't want her to be any other way. he loves when she's tells him he's wrong. he wouldn't change a thing (despite his occasional frustration at her disbelief).

(all his flirty quips are real, but not serious.)

and scully, she's the only one allowed to tell him he's crazy (which he also loves, because she stays). she will defend her mulder & his theories to anyone else, she proves what she can (and if she happens to disprove his theory, it only helps him to refine it and sends them down a new path). when he stops believing, she tries so hard to reignite it. she's afraid to believe, but she depends on his belief.

mulder + scully are the only people who can keep up with each other — even when she thinks she's lagging behind & holding him back, that's never really true. it takes her a long time to verbalize it, and it takes him a while to figure out she needs (craves) his validation. to him, scully doesn't need anything from anyone but he wants to give her everything, whatever she will allow. he tries to desperately to be the shoulder she leans on and show her it's okay to be vulnerable. something he can tell she struggles with, despite what happened in the pilot. she values it so much in him and suppresses it so much in herself.

he honors her vulnerability in the pilot, he's gentle with her in beyond the sea (until she scares the daylights out of him), in lazarus her prioritizes her grieving over the truth. when she's abducted, he wears her cross around his neck. he asks her mom about her, tries to help maggie keep her faith. in firewalker he cradles her face, so similar to beyond the sea. in irresistible he tilts her chin up and holds her as she sobs into his chest, so similar to the pilot when she rushes into his arms. and on and on. he always fights like hell for her whenever she needs help.

all of this only makes their attraction more intense, and more scary. the easiest way to get to mulder is through scully. and all of the crazy things scully does are for mulder.

the attraction is always there. bubbling under the surface, making the room crackle. making others uncomfortable just being in the same room with them. it's always intimate & private. something no one else is invited to, making others intruders.

it's why they're mistaken for a couple most of their partnership. it's why missy yells at mulder in one breath, urging him to go to scully. they don't look at each other like simple coworkers or friends, they don't talk about each other like merely colleagues.

i am so so sorry, this is not how i intended it to come out so here are some pictures:

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

Human Things

Pairing- Norm x Na'vi!reader

Summary- Norm Spellman and his mate.

A/N- this was a request that I have been wanting to do for a while lmao

After the war with the sky people they were sent back to their dying planet, but luckily for you Norm was allowed to stay. When he was allowed to enter the clan with his friends he got closer and closer to you and then you two mated in front of Eywa in his avatar body. And when you saw him in human form he was scared, scared you were going to think he was weird looking, ugly even but that was farther from the truth. You thought he was cute like a little doll.

So you started coming to him during lab hours were he was in human form and you loved it. And he started teaching you human things starting with music.

"And this is called a rad-io." You say touching the mysterious little box and then music started blaring out of it making you jump and Norm laughs. "It's okay it's okay babe this is a radio and what is coming out of it is music." He explains and you furrow your eyebrows. "This does not sound like music." You say tilting your head and bringing it closer to the radio. "That is because there are different types of music like this is-" he picks the box with the music on it. "This is Metallica." He says. You tap your foot on the ground. "I like it." You say giving him a small. And along with music he taught you how humans dance.

You stood up crouching a little not to hit your head on the ceiling. Norm shakes his hips around embarrassed smile on his face as you study his figure, "And that's somewhat how people dance where I am from." He says stopping his movement. "Hm you guys do have different stuff from us, can I try to dance like that?" You ask him enthusiastically. "Of course let me put some music on." He says. He pops some hyperpop song on and you move your hips to the sound, and if Norm could fall even deeper in love with you he would because you looked like a goddess. "Come Norm let us dance."

And then he taught you the nerdy stuff, science formulas you had no idea what they meant but at least you heard his voice, he taught you about star trek star wars, everything. And with all of this learning about him and his human things you began to pick up his mannerisms.

It started off small when you would talk with Jake and Neytiri. "Maybe we should show these men up they say they can hunt better than us, should we Y/N?" Neytiri laughs as you do. "Hell yeah." You say to the other woman who looks at Jake who was just as confused. And then it happened when Norm was in the vicinity. "And then I hit him right in the face." Jake says as he talks about how he fought a animal off of him. "Righteous." You say giving him what Norm called a high-five. Jake and Neytiri look over to Norm who had a smile on his face and they gave him a small nod of enthusiasm you were learning new things at least, even if it was nerdy.

And then one day you were excited because Norm was going into the forest in his human form and that meant you could show him stuff. As you were showing him stuff you pointed to something close to you but far from him. "Uh Y/N I'm sorry babe I can't see it." He says your lips form a pout and the you had an amazing idea. You reached for him picking him up like he was a big stick. He was shocked, a little scared even but the smile you had on your face when he was in your hands he just let it happen.

So after that incident it became more frequent, he needs to get something you pick him up, he wants to see something you pick him up, his legs hurt don't worry you'll pick him up.

One day he was out and you decided to look around and you found yourself in his closet, some strangely hard socks (I'm sorry I couldn't not write that), and then you looked in his clothes they were cute. And one time you heard some scientists saying that wearing your partners clothes was a sign of love or something along the lines of that. So you picked a shirt up it had a picture of a band on it. "Iro-n maid-en." You sounded out before stepping out of the closet.

You put the shirt on and it looked good, it was cropped seeing as your way taller than him in human form. You stepped out of the lab and greeted Neytiri who looked at the shirt in confusion which you only smiled at. And then you spotted Norm, you ran over to him and waved. "Hello Norm." You say hands behind your back. He looks at you and does a double-take.

"M-my shirt." He asks stuttering over his words on how good you looked. "Yes do you not mind I can take it off if you wan-" you say going to take it off before begin stopped by Norm. "No, no, no I like it." He said. And when many of his shirts went missing you pretended not to know, but they were stashed in your home but he doesn't need to know that.

And when Neytiri and Jake had kids you both loved them. You watched them when they went on dates, needed a break, anything. And you would always allow spider to stay with you, you felt it wasn't right for him not to have a home.

And that's how life is with Norm and his Human loving wife.

[crazyunsexycool]

MY LITTLE LOVE EXTRAS

I had to make a new post for the extras for the MLL series.

My little love series

Mile high club ~ Valentine's Day ~ Mother of my children ~ Bucky and Lottie went to the store ~ All the single ladies ~ Sugar and Lottie went shopping ~ Lottie helps Steve train ~ Lottie wants a husband ~ Big sister/cousin Lottie ~ Dance recital ~ Bucky and Sugar as parents ~ Henry to the rescue ~ Parents/Avengers ~ How it started ~ tee ball ~ Morning routine ~ Happy Mother's Day ~ Lottie at school ~ Older Henry and Sugar dancing ~ Steve and Sugar are besties ~ Lottie's fashion ~ Happy Father's Day ~ Morning routine pt 2 ~ Protective Lottie ~ Egg cracking prank ~ Toddler talk ~ Big Sister ~ Sharing is caring ~ C U Next Time ~ Another day at the Barnes home ~ Glitter Bomb ~ 🦃 Thanksgiving 🦃 ~ Lottie's got jokes ~ Kick some asks ~ Lottie's fit check ~ Henry questions your life choices ~ Lottie plans to move out one day ~ Missile Toads ~ 🎄Christmas🎄 ~ What Lottie wanted ~ Show and tell/science fair ~ Don't look at me like that ~ Big sister cuddles ~ Those eyes ~ Valentine's Day ~ Hack job ~ Potty mouth ~ Obstacle course ~ Picture Day ~ Big brother pt 2 ~ Happy Birthday Bucky ~ Big brother Henry and peanut ~ Evil Charlotte ~ Story time with Bucky ~ Lunch Thief ~ Questions ~ Baby announcement ~ Mama's name ~ Wrapped around her finger ~ Henry's first crush ~ Sugar ~ FaceTime ~ But daddy I love him ~ Hugs all around ~ Midnight Snack- Cookies for who? ~ Girl’s weekend ~ Woki Poki ~ Mini Avenger ~ the truth comes out

[vox-ex]

magic + spookycorp

supercorptober 2023

“Time expands, then contracts, all in tune with the stirrings of the heart.” ― Haruki Murakami

Or Lena learns to move through the world by actions at every distance. She fall in love with Kara somewhere along the way.

----

When she was little it made sense. The world made sense. And she fit neatly in it.

There was a predictability in it.

In days becoming nights becoming mornings. In peeling pages off the calendar on the wall her mother had hung in the kitchen.

There was a simplicity in it.

In the way it hurt when she tripped over the garden wall and scraped her knee. In how it felt better when her mother kissed the bandage she placed over the cut.

Time and gravity and love all falling into order.

Until the day they don't.

Her mother dies and she doesn't know why.

When she is four she is angry at the water.

She gets older she believe's in God just enough to hate him instead.

One day she learns to hate herself for it instead.

And even when see learns the truth of it, buried somewhere in the science of currents and silt and fluid dynamics — it is easier to keep hating herself.

But it is never really the nature of the universe we are angry at, but ourselves, and the conceptions we try to impose on it.

She tries to remember that.

Tries to ground herself in equations and numbers and theorems that reason with the intention every bit of cause and every bit of effect. The trajectory of planets, the dance of electrons, each with a purpose, a path.

She moves with them.

But less easily.

Less predictably.

Her motion through the world less elegant than the science she covers herself with — buries herself in.

She keeps moving though. Because what else is she to do. The universe pushes her forward with the rest of it.

It is a motion that is mechanical, constant — personal.

She collides with the world and it collides with her, over and over and over.

She tries to make herself bend to meet them, to stretch, to compress so that she can remain whole.

Sometimes the world hits her so hard she can still feel the marks on her skin.

She will learn that it is not always bad to be left changed.

She keeps moving. She keeps moving until moving feels less like she colliding with the world and more like falling through it.

Supergirl pulls her out of the sky.

Supergirl pulls her out of the sky and she doesn't know what to do with that.

She calculates odds and statistics and free body diagrams in her head.

She tries to ignore the feeling in the back of her head and somewhere louder in her chest that utters out quantum equations instead.

Tries to tell herself that this is not action at distance. This is not the movement of particles and quanta. This is one body meeting another — nothing more.

It is something more.

It is something more but action at a distance feels no kinder than action up close.

It is full of chaos and uncertainty.

She tries to fit it neatly into boxes.

Puts Kara neatly into a box too.

And even when the science makes sense, it feels too much like fate, like magic, to believe it.

It takes time to believe it.

It takes time and destruction and time again to be put back together.

The first light of dawn crept through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over Lena's face as she sat at the table, the cup of tea between her hands keeping them warm against the Autumn air drifting in.

"Morning," Kara murmurs as she enters the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes. The corners of Lena's lips turn up in a small smile at the sight of her

Good morning," she replies, taking a sip of her tea.

Kara stretched her arms above her head, the long figure of her body scattering the light on the floor. She pours herself a cup of tea and settls across from her.

Lena contemplated the predictability of it all – that the sun would rise, that they would find themselves at this table, that they would drink tea together.

It's easier to call it fate or magic.

But it was uncertainty that made it possible. The dance of particles and quanta, and for once she was not just their observer, but the result of their movements.

Lena reached across the table and took Kara's hand in hers. She could feel the warmth of her skin, the steady beating of her heart just beneath.

She gives it a small pull.

Kara leans forward at the motion.

They meet as they always seem to do.

As she always hopes they will.

Kara's lips meet hers, warm and familiar.

Her thumb traces the small scar that sits just behind her ear as her hands wander up to thread themselves in her hair.

She leans into her touch.

Bending, stretching, compressing — is made whole by it.

It feels like colliding.

It feels like falling.

It feels a little bit like magic after all.

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