#but it was so real that for a second i doubted reality

[seamany]

The Post that Solved it All for me, PART TWO

NOT MY POST, MOBILEBLACKSMITH2535 ON REDDIT*

What do I mean by this? Try this exercise with me. Think of your desired reality right now (bonus points for a first person perspective). You can even close your eyes and take a few seconds to think of it. You got it in your head? Now that you are in your desired reality think about the thoughts that you usually worry about when it comes to shifting (stuff like "it's not real" or "I can't do it" or "it's taking so long" etc). Thinking as your desired reality self now you are going to realize those thoughts are pointless because you shifted and you are in your desired reality. There you go, congratulations, you are in your dr. Every time you experience a feeling of helplessness or other negative feeling you are going to remind yourself that you have shifted already and creation is finished. Emotions do not matter and can never control you because they are physical sensations, a part of the 3d. The 3d that you don't care about anymore. You aren't going to ignore the 3d you just don't care about it anymore because you are in your desired reality. Why should you care? You already have your desire. You've shifted already and everytime you go to sleep you wake up in your dr, so why worry about whether this shifting attempt is going to be successful? Why even worry about the worry? Worrying is useless. You are not doing anything anymore except living peacefully knowing you are in your dr. You don't have to will away the emotions or thoughts. You don't have to do anything any more. It doesn't matter if you forget all of what I said in this post, and now you have gone back to panicking about nothing, because you are in your desired reality. You can breathe knowing that that doesn't matter anymore. No more worrying. No more heartache. No more anxiety. No more frustration. No more doubts. You won. You know what I'm saying. Say these things to yourself as much as you feel you need to, but fair warning learn from my mistake and don't look for proof of your manifestation in the 3d. Because you are in your desired reality, so why in the world would you see anything else? Whether or not you are using the law of assumption to get something you desire or not it is always taking affect and you can never stop manifesting. Unless that's your manifestation. But it's still a paradox because your manifesting no manifestation. Anyways that's it. This is what separated me from being desperate, obsessive, and discouraged to being a master shifter. Just remember that the law literally cannot fail you. If you are experiencing something it's BECAUSE you are accepting something NOT because the law does not work. It's as simple as that. Please ask questions, I want to help as much as I can. I know this is a long reply, but you can't give up when you've only just gotten started. If I can do it than you sure as hell can do it. And I know that doesn't mean anything to you most likely. But just trust me. :)

[cloverapple]

Shifting FAQ and why you need to calm the FAQ down

“Can I script that—”

Yes.

“Can I shift to a reality where—”

Yes.

“Is permashifting possible?”

Yes.

“I’ve been trying for x amount of years—”

The time passed already. Focus on here and now.

“Will X happen if I script Y?”

Whatever you script will happen exactly how you want it to.

“Can I shift without any methods?”

Yes. There are infinite ways to shift = Infinite ways to go about something that is instant.

“I’ve tried everything—“

Except fully trusting yourself, since you’re still dwelling on your shifting journey from a place of lack.

“Do I need to believe 100% to shift?”

No. You just need to allow it. Doubt doesn’t stop you, resistance does.

“Is shifting, like, REALLY real?”

Yes.

“But my blockages—“

You’re not a clogged drain. There’s nothing blocking something that happens naturally.

“My subconscious doesn’t believe in my affirmations—“

Oh, my bad. I didn’t realize affirming was the only way to manifest. Sooo, what should I do with this whole bag of feeling my way into my DR, visualization, subliminals, SATs, askfirmations, scripting, channeling, daydreaming, meditating, embodying the state, living in the end, inner conversations, mental rehearsals, literally just vibing, and doing absolutely nothing because sometimes that works too? Should I just toss all that in the trash? Light it on fire? Bury it in the backyard? Cool, good to know.

“Can I shift while I’m tired? While I’m sad? While I’m stressed?”

Yes, yes, and yes. Emotions don’t block shifting. If anything, they help.

“Why haven’t I shifted yet?”

That’s like asking why the sun isn’t rising when you know it’s just beneath the horizon. You know it’s coming, you know it can break through any second, but you keep staring at the dark like the world is ending.

“How do I figure out what I need to do?”

The only person in this universe who knows the answer to that question is you, yet you doubt yourself so much, you mistrust yourself so much, that it’s like whatever your subconscious is telling you goes in one ear and out the other.

“But NOTHING works for me 😭”

Okay, listen—in the gentlest, most kindergarten-teacher voice possible—shifting is like 10% processes that “work for you” or not and 90% trust and letting go. If you can’t trust yourself, cool, trust your undeniable ability to shift. If that feels like a stretch, trust your subconscious (it’s been running the show since forever, give it some credit). Still not there? Trust the outcome. Trust something, anything. And then? LET. GO. RELAX. Like, actually unclench your jaw and stop treating shifting like it’s a piece of raw chicken and you a dog that has not eaten in *checks watch* 2 minutes.

Because if you’re over here sobbing, whining “nothing works for meeeee,” that tells me two things:

A) You don’t trust anything, which, surprise surprise, makes shifting a little difficult. B) Something does work for you. There’s a sweet spot, a method that clicks—but you haven’t found it because you approach every process with fear instead of fun, frustration instead of curiosity, anxiety instead of chill.

Imagine slipping into the driver’s seat of a car you know how to drive, but you’re bawling, panicking, flailing around like the steering wheel’s out to get you. You’re gonna hit a pedestrian. THE PEDESTRIAN IS YOU.

People forget that shifting is as limitless as you are. Shifting is you. Shifting has no rules. You have no rules. So why are you boxing shifting in? Why are you boxing yourself in? Why are you creating problems for something infinite? Why are you stepping into the identity of a finite being when you have the power to shift realities?

You weren’t born with limits. You were taught them. Conditioned to believe that things have to be hard, that you have to struggle, that you need to earn what’s already yours. But shifting doesn’t play by those rules, and neither do you. The only limits are the ones you keep dragging along with you.

“I’m quitting shifting. I still can’t shift even though I’ve tried XY and Z⏤”

This is you:

Side note: If you’ve read all this and you’re still frustrated, overwhelmed, confused, and sitting there like “I don’t know what to dooooo 😩”

Take. A. Break.

A day? Cool.

A week? Even better.

Two weeks? A whole month? Do it.

Take a break from shifting, from overthinking, from spiraling down every forum post and Reddit thread like it’s gonna reveal the secret of the universe. Because if you’ve hit that point where nothing sticks, every piece of advice goes in one ear and out the other, every answer feels wrong, and you’re waiting for some magical piece of advice to make you shift, guess what? You need to calm the FAQ down.

Maybe your brain’s flashing red lights like “WARNING: SYSTEM OVERLOAD” and you’re out here ignoring it, treating frustration and exhaustion like it’s another problem to fix instead of a big ol’ sign that your mind needs a nap and a snack.

Let it chill. Recharge. You’re not losing progress; you’re just giving your brain a breather so when you come back, shifting feels like fun again, not a chore.

[jealousmartini]

Reality shifting and My kind of love

Thinking about shifting and how I have too much love to give just for one life and how shifting has shown me an open door into a world of opportunities for me to show my eternal love and not just to have it overlooked. I'm a motherly lover, some would call the mother friend. So I have a craving to show my loved ones a personal kind of love that makes non-believers believe in love again.

Because all I've ever done in this life is want to show my love for my family; my loved ones, what I have to offer but never been able to its full extent because I feel too closed off, too over-looked and too misunderstood to really express all my love to them.

It's the kind that is honest, understanding, and is forgiving. It's the type of love that seeks to understand more than it does winning in an argument.

It is nurturing, it is kind, and it is selfless, but it is also vengeful, it is just, and it is unapologetic.

It is light-hearted, it is playful, and it is passionate and It is affectionate and accommodating, and it is comforting. It is that kind of love that is unfiltered and real. So it doesn't hide who they are, and it definitely doesn't try to change who you are either. It's the kind of love that lets you be you completely and naturally and quickly matches your energy. But it corrects you when you know you're in the wrong because it takes no bullshit

It is the kind of love that prioritises words of affirmation, physical affection, quality time, and acts of service. So although it has its own unique combination way of showing love it still finds ways to adjusts itself to better suit the loved one without thinking twice.

— It mentally and literally takes notes of your habits, your hobbies, your likes and dislikes, your special interests, what pisses you off and what calms you down and it immediately but subtly starts catering to your unspoken needs. It is attentive and observant so it immediately notices and remembers the smallest details about you. Subtly because it doesn't want to startle you or make you feel smothered and exposed.

— It loves to do simple gestures like sending you a good morning text, asking you about your day, did you have a goodnight sleep? If not, what was holding you up so late? It'll take pictures and buy things for you because "it reminded me of you". It loves to make your life a little easier by remembering things you most likely forgot, keeping an extra batch of essentials just for you and brings those snacks you love that you mentioned once.

— It has a habit of referring to you with cute petnames and nicknames based on what it recognises you for. It is a suckered for teasing but knows when to knock it off. It loves to spend time with you, it loves to listen to you, and it loves to just be in your presence even if you dont want to talk. Its presence is warm, inviting, and reliable; in the sense that it believes comfortable silence is so precious and important, and it knows how to make the anticapated awkward tension after a conversation between us slip. without even saying a word.

It's that type of love that leaves no room for doubt. Theres no chance for you to feel insecure and It is near impossible for you to second guess whether it means it or not. It is stubborn but it isnt petty. It doesn't go away just because you say you dont want it in the moment, but it does give you space and comes back when you need it again even if you dont want to admit it.

It's that type of love that treats you based on who you are, not who you show everyone. Because it understands you further than what the surface leads on. And it wants to know you at your core, no matter how much trauma it has.

— And as much as it wants to get ALL of you, it understands there is a line. So whenever you have a problem to share it is always ready to pay attention. And it knows when to mind it's business when you don't want to talk about it.

It's the type of love that loves to give and never expects. The type of love that never runs out. My kind of love.

[experimentalfma]

Alfons gave him a good-natured shrug and a small smile. "It's alright. I have some free time the next few days, and it's been a while since we researched something together." And he did genuinely enjoy working and researching with Ed. Granted, he'd had a better understanding of what they had been looking for during previous projects, but there was something about the importance this particular subject held for Ed that drew his precarious curiosity.

Though judging from the amount of material Ed had set down, he was going to need more than a little curiosity to get through it all. It was going to require a long-term dedication that he'd have to put real time and effort into. Probably not as in-depth as his work with the rocket, but considering there would be that much to learn and he was starting from scratch, there was a distinct possibility that it could become a close second.

But if Ed was ready to begin, then so was he. He'd plunge in head-on and put his uncertainty on hold. If he was going to do this right, he would have to at least try to do that. So he gave a decisive nod, a simple first step in the crash course for something only a few hours ago he would have dismissed as nothing more than an ancient pseudoscience. "Alright," he agreed. "We'll start from the beginning and keep going as long as it takes to get through everything." He wasn't quite ready to believe in it, but he would have to treat it as if he did if he wanted to try to fully comprehend what he was studying.

And considering he couldn't make out a single word or interpret any diagram in the notebook he was flipping though, it was undoubtedly going to require that kind of attention. Alfons stared back at Ed when he confirmed that what he was looking at really was the language only Ed knew. "Amestrian..." he mused softly to himself as he glanced back down at the page. Even knowing what it was didn't make it any clearer, though if it really was what his roommate said it was, of course there was no way that he'd have been exposed to anything like it.

He raised his eyes back toward his roommate again when Ed reiterated what this was and what it really meant. Studying his face, Alfons couldn't see a trace of insincerity or deception. Ed really meant every word he said. And if he'd never shown this notes to anyone else, that meant that he was trusting Alfons with a part of himself that he kept closely guarded and that he was taking a real risk revealing any of this at all.

Alfons took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he closed the notebook and set it back down on the top of the box, straightening up to meet his roommate's eye. He could clearly see that need for belief reflected in golden eyes, how important it was to him for Alfons to truly know this was real, and though it still seemed impossible, that shadow of uncertainty in the face of the mysterious language hadn't faded, and coupled with the sincerity he saw in Ed's face, he couldn't deny that tiny seed of doubt in his own conviction planted in the back of his mind.

"I'll try," he finally agreed softly. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips, somewhere between an intention of reassuring Ed and a slight confusion that he was actually willingly going through with trying to accept something that could completely break his own established view of reality. "I won't be able to fully dedicate myself to understanding what you're trying to teach me if I don't at least try to keep an open mind," he relented. "It is strange, but if that's what I need to do if we're going to properly research this together, I'll do the best I can."

With one last glance down at the box, he stepped over to the table and pulled out the chair next to Ed's to sit down beside him. Blue eyes flicked between the arrays his roommate had laid out and Ed's face as Alfons tried to reassure himself that this was actually going to work. Well, they'd already gotten his far, so the only reasonable choice was to continue moving forward. So he pointed to the array drawn on the sheet of paper closest to where he sat and asked, "So what does this one mean?"

"Yeah, I think so. Of course we won't get through it all tonight, but in order for you to understand what happened to me I think we'll need to look it all over." It would give Alfons a better sense of where he was coming from, which seemed more important right now than anything else. Ed wanted Alfons to take his words seriously, to understand where he was at with this. It wouldn't be enough for Alfons to agree to help him. At some point if his words weren't believed, it would likely fall apart. Ed didn't want that. Not only because he genuinely needed the help, but also because he wanted Alfons to believe him and not think he was crazy or losing his grip on reality.

The smell of coffee filled his senses as he gathered some notes with arrays written on them and laid them out on the table. Ed smiled. "Thanks for making some coffee. It smells delicious." It would be just what they needed as they poured over his notes. "I really appreciate you helping me out with all of this. I know it's a lot." He knew Alfons was busy with other things so it really meant a lot to him that his friend was willing to take some time out of his busy schedule to help.

Ed nodded then laughed a little. "Yep, there's a whole box. I've been busy every night before bed, writing things down. I guess those late nights added up." He sat down as he put the arrays side by side. "Ready to get a crash course in alchemy?" Ed was curious to how Alfons would pick up alchemy. He knew the language barrier with his other notes would be an issue, but the arrays were just pictures. Still, it would take some time to properly explain everything given that Alfons had never been exposed to it before.

He watched Alfons pick up one of his journals and open it up. Ed didn't say anything about how Alfons wouldn't be able to read what was inside. Instead he let it play out to see how Alfons would react to Amestrian. This might be the point where maybe Alfons would start to believe him. Ed knew his friend had seen several other types of language given the close proximity the countries were in this world. It would be damned near impossible not to see or at least be familiar with the language of a neighboring country. But this would be different. This would be new to him.

Ed took a sip of coffee, waiting for Alfons to finish flipping through the journal. When Alfons looked at him with shock on his face, Ed gave him a weak smile. "Weird seeing it instead of just me talking about it. It's Amestrian. My native language. I wrote my notes in it because it's more comfortable for me to do so, and also because I didn't want anyone to be able to read it in case my notes were found. You're the only person I've showed this to."

He wasn't sure what else to say about it. There was no hiding anything now. "I know this is probably strange for you, but this is what I've been telling you about. I wasn't lying, and I'm not going crazy. I'm really not from this world. I need you to believe me or at least consider it a possibility."

[spideysatan]

I hATE when my trauma manifests itself thru dreams/nightmares

[rapha-reads]

My mother cheating on my father with a guy 30 years younger than her and when we tell her it's disgusting and unacceptable she tries to justify herself like "Oh, this is so Christian moral and catechism puritanism from you" and "This is the patriarchy that's talking".

.... Are... Are you trying to justify your CHEATING on your husband since 1990 on feminism and freedom? ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT, YOU WILL. She thinks she's not in the wrong because, what, fuck her Christian education and she's a woman, she can do anything she wants ? Is she FUCKING KIDDING ME???

YOU CHEATED, YOU ARE CHEATING, YOU'VE BEEN CHEATING FOR MONTHS, YOU FUCKING JERK.

You hurt your husband, you threw him out of the house, you hurt your children, you think you can come back to my father's village? Your youngest daughter is TWELVE, and you're hurting her so much she's bottling everything in so well she could win an Oscar already, AND YOU THINK EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND YOU HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING WRONG OR MORALLY REPREHENSIBLE ?

What sort of fucked up imaginary world are you living in that cheating is acceptable. For heaven's sake. She had the galls to tell me "adultery is banal, it's ordinary, everybody is doing it, it's not serious; don't be so dramatic". *screams* Hi, hey, if everybody is jumping off the bridge, are you going to jump too? Have you not PAID ATTENTION? Wars, murders, catastrophes have been done because of CHEATING, it is not a MODEL, it's a warning!!! Wtf, wtf, WTF.

I'm tired, I'm so tired. I have a thesis to write and I can't bring myself to work because my mother is throwing away all her life, acting in a shameful and unacceptable way, and disrespecting her family. My grandfather and my uncle and aunts aren't aware yet, but when they learn, oh boy, they might jump in a plane for Morocco to go yell at her.

Anyway. I'm having a real bad time these days and my only solace, my only salvation, are my sisters and my brother.

[rottenlittlefink]

I don’t mean to sound like your grandparents but maybe, just maybe, if you’re absolutely lost on your shifting journey… How about u just meditate and contact your spirit guides & ask them directly how to shift? It’s personalized and different for each and every individual, and who’s better to help u than the ones who already know *absolutely everything* about you…??? It’s okay to “cheat”, better to cheat than to repeat 🩵

[shiftthemoon]

reality shifting isn’t hard. you’ve been told it’s hard because everyone’s too scared to admit it’s not. they cling to their 800-step methods, their must-have crystals, their perfect conditions because they think that if they let go of that control, they’ll fail. but here’s the thing: the more you try to control the process, the more you convince yourself it’s out of your control. and that’s the problem. that’s why so many people feel stuck. shifting isn’t some big, far-fetched thing. it’s just you. it’s always been you.

we’re conditioned to think we’re powerless. think about it—school, work, society, all of it drills this idea into us that everything has to be proven, earned, validated. so, when you hear about shifting, your brain freaks out and says, wait, wait, this is too easy, this can’t be real. and then you spiral. you overcomplicate it. you make yourself think you need the “perfect” script, the “right” subliminal, or that you have to meditate for three hours while the stars align perfectly. like, no… you don’t. all of that? it’s fluff. it’s noise.

at its core, shifting is belief. just belief. no, really, let that sink in. you don’t need to “do” belief perfectly. it’s not something you master through sheer willpower. it’s something you already have. you’ve believed in things your whole life. you believed in gravity without needing proof. you believe your favorite songs are beautiful without needing to explain why. belief is natural. it’s effortless when you stop overthinking it. that’s the energy you need to bring to shifting—trust. trust that your mind knows what it’s doing, and that if you let it, it will take you there. every single extra thing you pile on? the overthinking, the doubt, the need for guarantees? that’s what’s slowing you down. not the “lack of progress,” not some mythical “block”—it’s you convincing yourself it’s harder than it is.

and let’s talk about social media for a second. oh my god, the shifting community on social media… i get it. it’s comforting to see other people on this journey. but let’s be honest—how much of that content is actually helping you? like, really? 90% of the time, scrolling through shifting advice isn’t inspiring; it’s overwhelming. everyone’s got their own opinions, their own “best methods,” their own rules. one person says scripting is a must, another says it’s a waste of time. one person swears by affirmations, another says visualization is the only way. and before you know it, you’re sitting there questioning everything you thought you knew, wondering if you’ll ever get it “right.” spoiler alert: you already know how to shift. you don’t need a thousand voices telling you what to do. in fact, the more you listen to them, the harder it becomes to hear yourself.

take a break. seriously. log off the apps. give yourself space to breathe and think. ask yourself: why do i want to shift? what’s stopping me? what feels right to me? no tiktok trend, youtube guide, or reddit post can answer those questions for you. only you can. and i know that sounds scary. we’ve been conditioned to think we need external validation for everything, but shifting is a deeply personal thing. you don’t need a step-by-step tutorial. you need to trust your instincts. that’s it.

and let me be clear: i’m not saying methods or subliminals are bad. they’re fine if they help you feel aligned. but they’re not what makes shifting happen. you are. methods are just tools. if you use them, great. if you don’t, that’s great too. because the truth is, shifting isn’t about doing things “right.” it’s about letting go of the idea that you need to.

so let me break it down for you. the only things you really need to shift are:

1. a desire. you have to want to go to your desired reality. no brainer, right?

2. belief. this is the big one. you have to trust it’s possible. no “what ifs,” no “but hows.” just trust.

3. persistence. if it doesn’t happen right away, that’s okay. don’t give up. if you’ve ever learned to ride a bike, you know that falling doesn’t mean you can’t do it—it just means you’re learning. shifting is the same.

that’s it. no fancy rituals, no endless research, no “perfect” conditions. the process is simple because it’s natural. you’ve probably done it before without even realizing it— the only reason it feels hard now is because you’ve convinced yourself it has to be.

stop making it harder than it needs to be. shifting isn’t this unattainable, mystical thing reserved for “chosen ones.” it’s something anyone can do. you can do it. your mom can do it. that anti-shifter lurking in every crevice of shiftblr could do it. you’ve always been capable. but you have to stop getting in your own way. stop doubting yourself. stop relying on others to tell you what’s possible. this is your journey. own it.

and above all, be patient. shifting is not a race. it’s not about how fast you can get there or how perfect your dr is. it’s about trust, intention, and focus. log off, tune into yourself, and let it happen. shifting has always been yours to claim. it’s not something you need permission for. it’s not something you need to earn. it’s just you, your mind, and your belief. always has been, always will be.

[hrrtshape]

you can manifest anything in days, hours, even seconds.

you ever think about how you’re shifting realities right now? you just did it. again. and again. and. boom. there it goes. you’re not stuck in one solid, concrete world. you’re a flipbook of possibilities, and every second, a new page turns. the you reading this isn’t the you from five seconds ago. that version of you is gone. poof. never to return. god, i miss her.

so, why do people think manifestation takes time? time is just the illusion that makes reality feel digestible to our little human brains. but you don’t "wait" for things. you shift to them.

LOA isn’t about "forcing reality" like you’re wrestling fate to the ground. it’s about assuming you’re already in the reality where your desire exists. because the multiverse is infinite. every possibility is real somewhere. you’re not "creating" your dream life. you’re just moving to the timeline where it’s already true.

you can literally manifest in milli-seconds. the second you assume something is true, you land in the reality where it’s true. the only reason it sometimes feels "slow" is because you keep doubting it, wobbling between frequencies like a radio that’s not quite locked in.

for example, you want your dream body? kewl. shift to the parallel reality where you already have it. no, i don’t mean work out for six months and hope for the best. i mean assume, right now, that you have it, and live as though you do. time is fake, and you don't need it. your cells aren’t checking their watches. you can wake up in two hours with the body you’ve always wanted, because why not? that timeline exists. people have done it. the only thing between you and that reality is the idea that it’s "too unrealistic."

and what’s more unrealistic? the concept of shifting infinite times per second through an ever-expanding multiverse of possibility, or the idea that one of those infinite realities just so happens to contain the exact thing you want and all you have to do is land in it?

anyways. "shifting" and "manifesting" aren’t two different things. they’re just two perspectives on the same mechanism. you shift every second, every moment, all the time. and manifestation is just deliberate shifting. picking the station instead of letting the static choose for you.

so, no more "waiting." no more "how long will it take?" because it’s already happened. the moment you say this is my reality now. congrats. you just shifted.

　　　. . . you can read more about this here <3

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

How to manifest your desired face:

*This is the most popular topic, so i made this to clear up some questions you might have or struggle with.*

Manifesting your ideal face Can be frustrating sometimes, why? Well you Always encounter the mirror, and it Can get you very demotivated and you might think that there's no movement or doubt the Law.

But let's simplify LOA Real quick-

1. Decide: decide what kind of face you want, it Can be mixed or just the ideal face you want.

2. affirm: making an affirmation that you feel comfortable to repeat for example "i already have my desired face" "i look exactly like xyz!"

3. persist: being stubborn and faithful to your assumption, you Always return to your assumption/imagination regardless of what the 3d shows you. For example: you still see the same old face in the mirror, before reacting, you affirm that you have your desired face.

That all you gotta do.

But here's the Real question →

Why the 3d is still showing me my old face?

Duh 😒 didn't we ALWAYS Say that you shouldn't take the validation from the 3d? The 3d won't EVER give you your desired face if you focus on it.

The 3d will Always shows you your current assumptions, if you keep saying that you don't have your desired face, well Guess what? Yeah duh you will still see your old face.

But we need to fix that, we need to stop this repeating cycle.

YOU ALREADY HAVE YOUR DESIRED FACE! IT IS DONE!

The second you decided that you have your desired face, you have it in 4D.

Done deal.

There's nothing for you to do now, just to persist in the assumption that the fact you already have that desired face of yours.

And the 3D will catch up on and will reflect your 4D, IF you keep fulfilling yourself and accepting the imagination as the true reality.

I cannot stress this enough when i say that the 3D is just a mirror, a dead reality, without imagination, it nothing but a dead reality, what you're experiencing right now is because you imagined it first then it was being reflected into the physical reality.

"B-but Eli i can't ignore the 3d when it is in front of my face😞"

Yeah i know it is difficult but let me tell you.

YOU DON'T NEED TO IGNORE THE 3D!

Just know it will change cause you literally decided that you already have your desired face, you know it is done, creation is finished, you already have your desired face in your 4D and the 3D have no choice but to reflect it!

"but Eli i'm done seeing my ugly face!"

I know it is hard when you are Always in front of that mirror, but beer with it for a while, keep saying positive affirmations, keep affirming that you look exactly like your desired face! I know it will feel Weird and uncomfortable at first but you will get used to it with Times.

"but Eli when i see those pretty girls on tiktok i feel so insecure and i wish to be them😢"

Girl, instead of saying that, when you see a pretty girl on tiktok just Say "oh my god! She's so pretty! But i'm prettier than her, that obviously🙄💅🏻" or "this girl is so pretty like me!".

Affirm against any opposite thought, you're clearly telling your subconscious every single day and reminding it that you DO have your desired face and you're already pretty.

How to know that i'm living in the state of the wish fulfilled?

You won't give a single Fuck to the 3d, you know you already have your desired face so you won't give a single Fuck to what the 3d throw at you.

You'll feel an immense calmness and you'll feel like you already own/ have that desire, it will start feeling natural.

You know it is a done deal, you already have your desires so you'll be unconcerned about what happening in the physical reality, no matter what the 3d throw at you, you KNOW that you do have your desires in the 4d.

People saying your ugly? The Fuck girl? Can't you see my beauty? I'm literally the prettiest.

Seeing pretty girls and feeling insecure? Gurll i'm literally prettier than them, they wish to have my face.

Still seeing your old face in the mirror? Gurl i literally have my desired face, i looks exactly like xyz.

See how it is easy? You just need to be disciplined.

If you really want your desired face, then be that stubborn mf and manifest that perfect face of yours.

Now go and make that change, you'll thank me later😌.

Xoxo, Eli

© Scentedpeachlandcreator

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 In Pink Sheets.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After spending the first night with Spencer, doubts arise about the nature of your behavior at work from now on. How could you not make it obvious that you two had already passed all the bases?

Words: 3k.

Warnings & Tags: +18 (for suggestive talk, they are naked lol, aftercare? but no explicit). bau!reader. established relationship. reader is overthinking and being dramatic (literally me). first “I love you” yep. making out interrupted. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Literally my sheets are pink, this is personal and pure fluff to try to fix my tortured heart.

The world outside barely existed. The light filtering through the curtains felt softer, the air warmer, the distant clatter of construction dull and unimportant. Everything that mattered was here, wrapped up in the quiet rise and fall of Spencer’s chest beneath your cheek. Your pink sheets tangled around you felt almost too soft, like they might dissolve if you moved too quickly. But you didn’t want to move anyway. Not yet. Please.

His arm was placed gently around your back, and his fingers drew simple circles against your skin. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and rooted, as your breaths gradually came into sync. It was the closest you had ever been to a state of pure bliss.

You moved slightly, just enough to feel him tilt his chin down, to feel him sweep over you with a careful gaze that made you feel completely seen and literally naked. His breath caught, his throat cleared slightly, and you knew what was going to happen before he even tried.

“Don’t even think about asking if it was good,” you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin. “It wasn’t good. It was perfect.”

You definitely knew him a lot.

His chest shifted under you as a soft, nervous laugh escaped him, breaking the quiet. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that carried confidence or certainty—it was shy, almost unsure, and it made you lift your head slightly to look at him. His cheeks were flushed, a faint pink that spread up to the tips of his ears, and his lips curved in a sheepish smile as he avoided your gaze.

“What’s so funny?” You asked gently, your voice low and curious, tilting your head to study him.

He glanced at you then, his eyes meeting yours for just a second before flickering away again, as though the intensity of the moment made him squirm. His fingers, which had been tracing lazy circles on your back, paused, and you felt him take a breath like he was gathering his words.

“It’s just…” he started, his voice soft, hesitant. “I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that…this is real. That you’re here. That we’re here.”

His words hung between you, vulnerable and raw, and you felt your heart ache with a warmth so deep it was almost overwhelming. You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw, coaxing his gaze back to yours.

“Hey,” you said softly, your thumb tracing the curve of his cheek. “I’m here. This is real. You’re finally in my bed, and now I’m probably going to have to figure out how not to smile so much at work.”

A slow, genuine smile spread across Spencer’s face at your words, and for a moment, you both just looked at each other, as if savoring the perfect reality of the moment. He exhaled, his tension easing slightly, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that hinted at both excitement and uncertainty.

“You think you’re going to be able to hide that smile?” He teased, his voice a little more confident now, but still carrying that softness that made your heart flutter.

“Probably not,” you replied, the hint of a smile tugging at your own lips. “But I’ll try. For the sake of professionalism, of course.” You raised an eyebrow as you added, “It’s not like anyone needs to know I had a…very good moment.”

“Moment?” He smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

You bit your lip, feigning innocence as a faint heat rose in your cheeks. “I didn’t want to be too explicit. You might not be able to handle it.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” he quipped, his grin widening into something sly, the corners of his mouth betraying his growing confidence.

It's hard to believe that this is the same shy, awkward boy who, before he started dating you, could barely look you in the eye without stuttering or turning red.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, your tone playful but sharp as you leaned in closer. “Well, aren’t you bold now?” You tilted your head, studying him with mock seriousness. “I think I might have corrupted your innocent soul.”

And in a way you already had. For some reason, you had the genius that everyone told their secrets to because they thought he had no one to air them with, telling everything to you and having to hide his own secrets. Two months of dating and sneaking kisses were under a thousand keys, and no one suspected anything. Thank God.

It was common knowledge, especially for someone like Reid, who could recite all the FBI rules without a problem, that romantic relationships were off-limits between coworkers. Even though you understood the logic from day one and knew that feelings and professionalism could be a dangerous mix, you still couldn't help but fall for someone like Spencer without return.

However, it wasn't your fault. I mean, who wouldn't fall in love with someone they see every day and who is clearly the perfect man? You just blinked, and there you were, already dreaming about him and feeling butterflies every time you heard his nervous laughter or ramblings on different topics. If your team hadn’t noticed the way your gaze lingered a little too long or how you always seemed to brighten when he entered a room, it was pure luck.

“You know,” you began thoughtfully, breaking the silence, “I read something once…about how people can always tell when two people have…slept together.”

Reid tilted his head slightly to look at you, his brows drawing together in curiosity. “Oh?” he asked, his tone both amused and intrigued. “And where exactly did you read that?”

You hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “Um…” you started, biting your lip as your cheeks warmed. “It was in a magazine.”

His eyebrows lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a barely contained smile. “A magazine?” he repeated, the question laced with playful skepticism.

You rolled your eyes, groaning softly as you buried your face in his chest. “Okay, okay, I know. It’s not exactly the kind of reading you’d respect, but I was sixteen, okay? It was one of those random magazines my mom had lying around the house.”

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest beneath you. “I’m not judging,” he said, though the amusement in his voice made you peek up at him skeptically. “I just find it fascinating that a teen magazine would tackle…body language.”

Of course, he definitely wasn't the kind of person who read gossip or fashion magazines in his spare time. It was possible to believe that he had never even opened one in his life and had only seen them from afar, hanging next to the newspaper.

You groaned again, pulling a pillow closer as if to shield yourself from his teasing. “It wasn’t exactly a scientific study, okay? It was more like—‘How to Spot When Two People Have Chemistry,’ or something equally ridiculous. But it stuck with me for some reason.”

For some reason? Or because when you were bored, you played at analyzing people and their relationships?

His eyes softened, and though he was still clearly amused, he propped himself up slightly, leaning his head toward yours. “Okay, so tell me—what did this magazine say?”

You sighed dramatically, though you couldn’t keep the grin from your face. “It said people can’t help themselves. They look at each other differently. Their body language changes. The way they smile, how close they stand, the way their energy shifts. It’s like this unspoken, glowing secret, and apparently, everyone can see it.” Especially profilers.

His lips twitched again, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something softer. “So, according to this magazine, we’re giving off some kind of…post-coital signal?”

“Oh my, when you put it that way, it sounds even worse.” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “That's something an old scientist would say.”

He laughed quietly, pulling your hands away so he could see your face. “Hey, I’m just trying to understand you. But I guess I can see the logic in that. People do give away a lot without realizing it.”

You exhaled, relieved that he wasn’t outright laughing at you. “Exactly,” you said, your confidence returning slightly. “And now I can’t stop thinking about how obvious we’re going to be at work. Like, what if everyone knows the second we walk in?”

It's easy to imagine your coworkers looking at you funny as soon as the elevator opens, Morgan making some jokes about your goofy smile, and you laughing in a way that makes it seem like you're not owning up to everything.

He smiled, his expression softening. “Well, if it’s true, then I think it’s more about them noticing how happy we look. Not anything…incriminating.”

“Just tell me, why would you be happy on a Monday morning?” you asked, tilting your head and narrowing your eyes in playful suspicion.

He gave a small shrug, his tone matter-of-fact. “Honestly, for us, is there even a difference? We work almost every day—it’s like weekends don’t exist.”

You chuckled at his answer, the playful spark in your eyes never quite fading. “I guess you’ve got a point here, Dr. Reid. But still, Mondays are supposed to be miserable, right? Isn’t that like, the universal rule?”

“Well, if we’re being honest, I think that’s just a myth. I mean, when you get to spend your weekends like this…” He gestured between the two of you with a light, affectionate movement, “Mondays don’t seem so bad.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes with a teasing smile. “And that’s exactly why everyone’s going to know what we’ve been up to when we show up at work. It’s like you have a neon sign flashing above your head saying, ‘I had an amazing weekend.’”

Spencer chuckled softly, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “I don’t know if that’s true. I think we’re good at keeping things under wraps,” he said, his voice light but carrying that hint of uncertainty.

It was a good argument; he had two months in his favor.

“Just...don't point your feet at me or hug me so closely." You said with surprising seriousness. “The magazine says those are clear signs.”

“I’m not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said quietly, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Feet and hugs, noted.”

Wow, he was taking it so seriously that it made you feel tender.

“Maybe we should act like we hate each other, put on a show.” You said, raising an eyebrow, unable to suppress a sly smile.

He gave a gasp, looking confused. “Oh, I’m not much of an actor, but if you want…”

You cut him off with a playful scoff. “It was a joke, sweetheart. I’m not really trying to pull off some dramatic office rivalry.”

“Good,” he replied quickly, his voice almost too serious, “because I don’t know how to act like I hate people I love.”

He…what?

You blinked, stunned. “People you what?” you asked, your tone catching in surprise.

His cheeks flushed a deep red, eyes darting away as though he were trying to escape the weight of his own words. “I…people I love,” he stammered.

You stayed silent, studying him, your gaze softening as the words lingered in the air between you. It was clear that this wasn’t something he said lightly, and his vulnerability made your heart ache in a way that was both comforting and new.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Spencer turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a fierce intensity that stole the air from your lungs. His breath was shaky, his words barely more than a whisper, but they struck you like lightning. “I love you,” he said, his voice full of quiet sincerity, each syllable wrapping around you like a promise.

He said it. He really said it.

“You love me,” you whispered, your voice shaky, as if the very sound of those words was too much to fully comprehend. You repeated it, a little louder this time, trying to grasp it, to make it real. “You, Spencer Reid, love me.”

He nodded, his eyes soft but unwavering, the faintest trace of a smile curving on his lips. “I do. Me, Spencer Reid, I love you.”

A soft, breathless laugh bubbled up from your chest, and before you could stop it, the smile that had been lurking there finally broke free. It was impossible to keep it in, not when everything inside you was overflowing with a joy you hadn’t known was possible.

“God…” you exhaled, your heart swelling with warmth. “I don’t think I can hide this smile now.”

The air between you both felt charged, like a fine thread of connection weaving you closer with each passing second. His gaze was soft but unwavering, a silent promise in his eyes that made everything else fade into the background. The gentle rhythm of his breath mingled with yours, and before you knew it, your hand instinctively found the back of his neck, your fingers brushing the soft skin there. You pulled him just a little closer, as if the pull of your desire and your heart was impossible to resist, a gravity stronger than any force you’d ever known.

He shifted beneath you, guiding you to lie on top of him. His hands were warm against your skin, and you could feel his pulse, steady and strong, under your fingertips. Slowly, your lips met in a kiss—tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but it deepened quickly, drawn by the magnetic force of everything left unsaid, all the things you were only just beginning to understand.

“You love me,” you whispered between kisses, the words tumbling out in disbelief, as if the very idea of it needed to be reaffirmed with each touch. “You love me.”

Spencer’s response was immediate, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer, his lips skimming the sensitive skin of your jaw, his breath hot and urgent against your ear. “I love you,” he breathed softly, the words coming out as a promise, each syllable wrapped in a depth that made your heart ache.

You kissed him again, this time with a softness that felt more vulnerable, more like a question—one you didn’t need an answer to, but you couldn’t help but ask anyway. “You love me,” you murmured, not sure if you were trying to convince yourself or him. But as you pulled him closer, his lips finding yours with a quiet urgency, you knew, deep in your bones, that it was true.

His lips found yours again, this time with a fervor that left you breathless. The kiss was deep, desperate—both of you giving in to the craving that had built up between you, a need so raw and powerful that neither of you could hold back. His tongue swept against yours, slow at first, savoring every moment, every sensation. But the deeper the kiss became, the faster it escalated, a fire starting to blaze where there had once been only a flicker.

“I do,” he whispered, the words coming out in a low, steady stream as his hands slid up your back to cradle your face. His touch was gentle but firm, as if he wanted to hold you forever, as if the very act of touching you was something sacred, something worth cherishing. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

The repetition of those words stirred something deep inside you, a quiet happiness that blossomed with every echo. You smiled against his lips, your heart swelling with warmth, and for a fleeting moment, you felt invincible, as though nothing in the world could touch you. It was just him and you, here, in this sacred space, and you didn’t care about anything else. Not the noise, not the chaos, not even time itself. Nothing mattered except this, except him.

His hands gently slid the sheet that still covered part of your body, the coolness of his fingertips contrasting with the warmth of your skin, and you couldn't help but shiver at the contact. You responded with a kiss, your lips meeting his in a passionate embrace. His mouth was everywhere: your lips, your neck, your jaw, tasting, exploring, claiming. It was as if time had stopped and there was nothing but the two of you, lost in this world of sensations and feelings.

But then, as if the universe couldn’t bear to let you stay in this blissful bubble for even a moment longer, there was a sudden, sharp buzz. It broke through the air with an almost cruel precision, pulling you both out of the fragile world you had created. You groaned into Spencer’s mouth, breaking the kiss reluctantly, your forehead resting against his. His chest was heaving beneath you, both of you struggling to regain control of your breaths, your bodies still humming with the aftershocks of the kiss.

The buzz came again, persistent, urgent. Your eyes flicked to the phone on the bedside table, and your stomach sank as you saw the name that appeared on the screen: Hotch.

His expression mirrored yours, frustration creeping across his face. “It’s a text…” he muttered, but he didn’t reach for his phone. He simply sighed and buried his face in your neck, the sudden weight of reality settling between you both.

You kissed his forehead softly, your fingers threading through his hair. “Not now…please,” you whispered, as if pleading with the universe to give you just a few more minutes of peace.

He chuckled lightly, but the sound was laced with a hint of frustration. “I’m sorry.”

You gave him a mock frown, but the smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed you. “How dare you,” you said with a sigh, unable to fully suppress the warmth in your chest.

Before you could kiss him again, another buzz came—sharp and relentless, interrupting the fragile peace. Spencer groaned, reaching for the phone with a resigned sigh. He checked the message, reading it without making any effort to sit up or pull away from you. You could see the familiar irritation flicker across his face as he absorbed the contents.

“It’s a case,” he said softly, his voice heavy with disappointment. “They need us. Now.”

And just like that, it's time to say goodbye to soft pink sheets and sweet kisses and hello to body language techniques for hiding the memories made in your bed and the fact that Spencer Reid loves you.

[certifiablyinsanez]

I really hope that now, the people who have been under-appreciating the class and racial dynamics of the show and Blitz and Stolas’ relationship can now realize that Blitz had every right to have doubts and worries over Stolas’ character when it came to their gap.

Do you know what this episode reminds me of? Authoritarian, dictatorial rule. People have opinions of public execution in the real world. It’s something that actually happens. Even for peoples and societies that don’t currently commit to public executions more than likely have a past history of doing so. And the realities of this very real thing were made clear in this episode. Because Blitz, and even all of IMP, was going to die. And in the real world, you probably don’t have a royal lover to save you at the last second. It is a real tool used by cruel masters to keep people in line, to invoke terror and submission. We all saw their faces.

A family of imps, children watching. The little girl closing her eyes sadly.

His best friend and loved ones watching him get his head lopped off.

Even his scorned ex who he viciously hurt is horrified by this.

Just because we knew Blitz was going to be saved, should in no way erase the seriousness of this event. This is something used to enforce submission, to instill fear. Satan mentions how he created imps to be obedient. This was meant to be a reminder to all the lowly people in hell that their place is in the dirt. Because Blitz is only moderately successful for his race. By the standards of higher classes he would still be seen as a low-rate wannabe business man running a seedy operation. His is not rich by any means. His business only produces enough to moderately support his family and his workers.

And he was about to be killed for it.

He was about to be executed because he was a little too uppity. Because he dared to be anything other than what was designated for his race. Let that sink in. Imagine if you were executed on international television just because you wanted a better career and life. This is the reality in Hell. And the unfairness of it all is so blatantly seen when Stolas is harshly punished but still allowed to live. Not only that, but it was put on public record that he’s silly to think he would be killed because “his life actually has worth”. That’s insane.

And I need everyone to apologize and write Viv and her team love letters because these dynamics EXIST IN REAL LIFE. They are real and have real consequences, and this is real for the POC that lives down the street from you. This is not something that happens in a backwards place 10,000 miles away. It’s in everyone’s backyard. This episode was beautifully written and I look forward to every new episode to come.

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

Im not psychologist I have no right to diagnose anybody but I strongly suspect the trans people who claim they are in danger from problems and dangers that are scientifically impossible are caught in a persecution complex

[stilljuststardust]

The path ahead is only uncertain because you are.

You have probably read it a million times, you control the 3D, you've also probably doubted it a million times. Why do you keep giving in to the 3D? Why do you continuously search for validation? Why do you keep asking yourself where it is?

The answer is simple, you still believe the 3D to be the true reality. You refuse to even entertain the idea that it can be wrong. "Ok but I don't have it" Says who? The 3D? The 3D is only saying it because you are.

If you never listen to another word I say listen to me now:

The reason you're struggling is because you see the physical world as immovable and final. The 3d is MALLEABLE and CANNOT exist if you do not validate it.

The SECOND you decide something is yours IT IS. STOP looking for validation from the 3D when the ONLY real validation comes from you.

Be honest with yourself is the 3D really "resisting" you or are you resisting the idea that your desire is FACT. So many people get stuck on this because they don't realize that yes, deciding you have it IS ENOUGH.

And because I get the same comment every time I tell people they already have it:

before you comment "where is it then", it isn't here because you do not hold the assumption that it is.

"Oh but I do" No. If you did truly believe you have it you would never argue with me to say that you don't.

Your subconscious will believe anything you tell it and produce proof of what you're telling it into your reality. So stop telling it you're struggling to manifest, if you say you're successful you are.

YOUR WORD IS LAW. YOUR WORD IS LAW. YOUR WORD IS LAW. YOUR WORD IS LAW YOUR WORDISLAWYOURWORDIS (I am shaking you by your shoulders.)

[4dbeingguide]

there is only one sentence you need to know as a manifestor:

the 3D/physical world isn’t real. only the mind is.

disclaimers:

this is slightly rant-y though i don’t attack you, i uplift you

excuse any grammar errors!

credit to all the artists whose art was used!

let’s get into it.

you do not exist/live in the 3D, you simply perceive your own mind and assumptions in three dimensions. the 3D is an illusion. it isn’t real. the phone you’re reading this on, your surroundings, me writing this post, “other” people, they’re not real.

this will literally answer all the questions you have about LOA. examples include:

“what if what i’m doing won’t make anything manifest in the 3D?” then boo-fucking-hoo? it wouldn’t even matter because that’s not where you live. you’re 4-dimensional. if it’s happened in the 4D, it’s fucking happened! put it in your success story list. rejoice now that it’s happened. because it has! the 3D is NOT real, the 4D is so you should be checking the 4D! think about this question: “what if it doesn’t manifest in the 2D (a world of only length and width)?” i bet you’re like “womp womp? the fuck would that have to do with me? it’s not real and i don’t live there!” give that SAME energy to the 3D. you live in the 4D.

“where is it in the 3D?” why do you care? it’s not where you live. CONSCIOUSNESS is the only reality. you heard me. you shouldn’t give a fuck about whether it will manifest in the 3D or not because the 3D doesn’t determine reality, YOU do. why do you want confirmation from an illusion when you can have confirmation from what’s actually real (the mind)?

“but if i stop caring about whether it’ll manifest in the 3D or not, it might not manifest in the 3D!” first of all, womp womp then? you don’t live in the 3D. second of all, that’s literally impossible unless you directly/intentionally assume that it’s the case. the 3D literally EXISTS as a reflection/limited perception of the mind. it’s LAW that it will come. and the last time i checked, “i don’t care whether it comes or not” and “it won’t come” are different statements. but what i just find so hilarious about this one specific doubt is that you’ve literally just PROVEN your THOUGHTS create the 3D.

“i can’t manifest abc! it goes against the laws of physics/circumstances etc” lemme just get this straight. the MIND is the only reality yet you are lying and saying it has limits based off of 3D “law”? and the 3D is not real meaning the “laws” of the 3D aren’t either? the 3D doesn’t and will never be able to tell the mind what to do. that being said, you can manifest pissing a million bucks, teleporting into a villa in italy or becoming wanda fucking maximoff and developing superpowers. you can manifest hulk hogan flying across the pacific to your door and proposing to you, hell, you can even manifest BECOMING hulk hogan. you can manifest your SPs buying you three million bentleys then making out with you in each of them. you can manifest going back in time. you. can. manifest. ANYTHING. you. can. manifest. anything. you. can. imagine. you’re OMNIPOTENT.

this one is very interesting cause it’s a response to doubts! “if i keep doubting, it won’t show up in the 3D!” the reason your doubts persist is because your mind thinks they actually mean shit and are an issue worth addressing. so what if it doesn’t show up in the 3D? it’s already happened.

“but what if im one of the odd ones out? what if i can’t manifest?” despite the fact that it’s scientific law, the rebuttal for this doubt is very simple. you wouldn’t be alive lmao. being alive is a constant act of the 3D reflecting your mind, that’s literally its only purpose. it’s an inanimate, mindless, limited perception of your mind that instantly conforms to your beliefs. you are CONSTANTLY manifesting. what you’re doing is just learning how to control WHAT you manifest. (just to set the record straight. this doesn’t mean you are to blame for your problems since you didn’t consciously choose them).

“the 3D isn’t showing me what i want!” well it isn’t real lmao? why the fuck would that matter?

one of the WORST beliefs you can have as a manifestor is that the goal of manifesting is changing the 3D. i know you (probably) came in thinking that but i want you to shed that belief. the 3D is not real. the goal is to get it in the 4D, where you live. to fully experience something, all you have to do is change your mind as that’s the the only reality. when you accomplish that goal, rejoice and move on.

this is why i very, VERY heavily dislike the statement that “an assumption persisted in will harden into fact”. no, an assumption IS a fact. only regarding something as real when it manifests in the 3D (which isn’t real) is fallacious.

“thoughts create reality” i bet you’ve heard this before in this community but i don’t like this either for this simple reason: thoughts (that you accept) ARE reality.

my biggest piece of advice to you as a manifestor is this: realize that the 3D doesn’t mean shit.

when you DO get your manifestation in the 3D, it’s perfectly fine to be happy but don’t jump up and down saying “it’s finally happened (in reality)!”. NO. it happened in reality ages ago, the 3D just caught up.

i’m gonna link some really sexy posts that will help you understand this better. most of these are scientific.

https://www.reddit.com/r/NevilleGoddard/s/AmlHe5oipA (the post is up, i don’t understand why tumblr won’t embed it)

if you liked this post, leave a like, reblog, engage, follow, let me know if this helped 🫶😭

[prettyboykatsuki]

mindfuck. | sunday (hsr)

𖤓 tags ; afab + gn!reader, established relationship, established d/s dynamic (implied to be 24/7), extremely submissive!reader, soft dom!sunday, mindfucking in a sense, extremely horny telepathic communication, sensation play (pain + pleasure), intesne, overstimulation, oral (f!recieving), penetration, misuse of aeonly abilities, very lovey-dovey in an insane way, lowk mutually codependent lol, 18+

𖤓 wc ; 4k. (this is.. wow)

𖤓 a/n ; this was not written with canon in mind. this was written with heart-eyes and wet pussy. if it does not make sense with his canon abilities, it is not my business !

everything in this dynamic is very consensual but sunday pushes reader a lot so it gets intense for them. they have aftercare !! but they are both insane so please be cautious!! i dont think it warrants dark content but it is . wild.

He won't put on airs in front of you.

Maybe it's because your lovers, as he describes it. Not partners because that implies equal control, not something so juvenile as your boyfriend. Lovers. Sunday refers to you unilaterally as his lover. As his.

As his lover, he remains ruthless. He doesn't lie though. He's frank with you to the point you wonder how he lies so easily with everyone else. He shows you the vulnerability of his grip strength, the intensity of his feelings for you. Sunday loves you. He won't put on airs about this.

Sunday loves you, so there's no need to worry about anything. Don't worry about the bed you sleep in, the clothes you wear, the things you eat. Sunday won't put on airs about wanting to let you have freedom. He doesn't even pretend like he'd be happy if something caused you to leave. He wouldn't tell you to find someone else should you grow sick of him.

Be with him. Let him love you. He'll carve something out of his heart and keep you there - conform to his ribs and listen to the sound of its beat. You're his lover. All his. Bone, blood, faith, religions - all his, always.

When Sunday is in a bad mood, you can always tell. Though his face remains indifferent - he's harder on you than he is usually. He's not often in a bad mood and the difference might look minor to anyone else. And identifying the source of his mood is arduous, because often it's him thinking himself into a corner. The worst of it comes when he convinces himself you want to leave him, even when you assure you have no such intentions.

Sunday is twisted. You know that. But you willingly handed him the chain to your leash. It's no doubt you're just as rotten.

His mood, though usually magnanimous - can become cold and ruthless and brutal on days like that.

There are three things that tell you that Sunday is in a bad mood when he visits your room today.

First, that he's meeting you in the real world and not in the dreamscape. Sunday doesn't like reality. If he's meeting you there - it means that he is wanting affirmation you are real despite everything, which is not a sign of him being very level-headed.

The second is that he's being affectionate. He comes to your door and kisses you on the lips before making you greet him. A deep kind of kiss, shared between average people. Lacking control and precision - all want.

The third is that he takes off his clothes when he closes the door behind. He makes you sit on the bed like always, but doesn't join you in his full attire. He doesn't make you get naked and come sit in his lap while he still has his suit on.

You have a routine about this after all. Sunday comes, makes you sit at his feet until he's pleased with your begging - makes you cum to the point of delirium than murmurs softly until you've sobered again. He'll talk to you afterwards. Lays in bed next to you and strokes your hair with absent fondness only after affording you pleasure. Only after paying him your worship.

But he skips the step entirely today and undresses. He's never undressed without you asking him. Always a reward.

You want to ask what exactly has him this desperate, but you're almost afraid to know. It's so unusual it jars you.

He has his back turned away from you on the bed where you sit. You're naked with the exception of a choker. Sunday is undressing in front of you, all without you asking. It feels like something you shouldn't look at, though he hasn't forbidden you from it explicitly.

You peek anyway, pushing away the guilt.

He undresses himself neatly. Slides the silk of his gloves off and lays them flat on the armchair nearby. He shrugs his white coat off, follows it. His fingers are beautiful and soft outside of their confines, and they unbutton his shirt dexterously. Off with his vest and his other attire - once his top half is bare he turns to you.

Despite yourself, you try to level your enthusiasm. You look down at the bed underneath you, only listening for his footsteps. Instead you find the hardness of your heartbeat, rising into your throat.

Your skin feels hot. He hasn't even touched you but you're wet, albeit afraid of what any of it means.

You feel your pulse quicken impossible when his hand brushes along your cheek. His fingers are long and slender, his nails as pristine as the rest of him.

"Look at me."

And so you do, picking your head up to gaze at him. His expression is unreadable, but different. "Is everything okay?"

That seems to shock him. He smiles that time, comfortably. "Everything is fine. Something came up. I thought I'd come see you."

"Oh well, I'm glad you came to see me," You say quickly and he smiles again even softer. "But, well. It's different."

"It is. Is that a problem?"

"No, no - I just. Are you upset?"

"Not with you," He's quick to assure. You love him, you think. It's things like that that make you love him. "Something annoyed me."

"Is that right," You look up at him and look closer. "Can I help you?"

You feel it then. There's a shift in his demeanor. He's pleased with the question, with your attitude. You feel his hand nearly tremble as he strokes you fondly. "You want to make me feel better?"

You feel strange. Skittish. "Y-yes. If that's alright."

"Aren't you very generous?" He replies. It sounds like praise, makes your stomach turn. "There's something I'd like to do with you. Will you allow me?"

You're not sure why he's asking. "You don't need to ask my permission for anything."

He shivers at that. You think he does. It's brief enough that you miss it. His eyes lid, thumb smoothing across your lower lip. "That's right. You're all mine, aren't you?"

You nod. "Uh-huh."

He smiles at you. Laughs, pleasant and warm and rich. It's an unfamiliar sound - almost carefree. It makes you happy to hear but you try not to let it show so he doesn't get conscious of it. Still, you smile. Stare down at the space underneath and glance at his naked torso and flush all over again.

"Then, allow me," He sits next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He grabs your hand tender and guides you into his lap. The amount of contact is so much unprepared, your knees feel weak. He allows you to straddle him, guides your arms around his neck. You can feel his gaze on you and you squirm but don't move.

"You're very nervous." He points out.

"You're," You feel like the Penacony will fall from underneath your feet "...touching me."

"You're so ruined already, over that?"

You nod. Of course you are. It's Sunday's body you're touching. He never allows you this much unless you've done something to please him greatly. Unless his mood is good. You're used to the silky cloth of his gloves even when he fucks you on his fingers, your cunt dripping onto his nice suit even when he's pleasuring you for hours. He reminds you of the miles between you doing that. A show of power.

So of course the sudden change in that distancing is alarming. Arousal keeps spiking every time you remember. It makes you feel stupid. You're touching his warm skin, seeing the sinew of his shoulders and the way he's built. His core soft and stable, everything dusted with rosy hues. He's slender and beautiful and elegant all over so of course you're wet between your legs, achy and unnerved by just how much your pussy seems to pine after his touch.

Your brain feels like it'll pour out of your ears, the words barely forming to speak.

"It's too much."

He doesn't say anything in reply. His fingers snake between your legs where you're stood on your knees - sliding down slick folds, tentative and amused. "You're so much wetter than usual," Then, with a breathlessness to his voice "Is it really making you feel this way to see me half naked?"

You lock eyes with him. You can't make yourself out in the reflection of his eyes but his face changes. It doesn't matter what you can see, because you know you look desperate. You can never hide how you feel from Sunday, but especially not like this. Vulnerable, you nod curtly - mouth fallen open.

"It's okay," He coos, which are not the words he normally chooses. He normally says that you'll be alright - which is different from this. Restlessness makes your skin prick. "Do you want to know why I'm in a bad mood?"

You nod.

"I thought of you running away," He says, which is typical. But it's too much for it to be just that so you wait. "Going back to your home planet to never return. It wasn't pleasant but I couldn't stop imagining it."

"...Was that really all?"

"Really all? Do you think there's something that would displease me more than that?"

"You really want me to stay with you." You say, less than ask.

"I treasure you," He murmurs, his voice is low. Cold, even - underneath layers of possession. "You are mine to treasure."

"Of course but," You want to look away from his eyes but you find that you cannot. "So much? Do you really?"

He smiles again. It doesn't reach his eyes. "More than you'll ever know." He reaches for your hand and holds them, smiles as you gasp. His lips brush along your knuckles. "So you'll trust me, won't you?"

"Yes. Whatever you want."

"Such dangerous words."

You don't ask he means by that. It wouldn't matter. Wouldn't make it any less true. The tight space that Sunday has carved for you is yours no matter how suffocating. It's yours and you would do so much to please him.

Sunday lets his fingers walk up the curve of your spine. You shiver, watching him. He's pleased somehow, and that's good you think. It's better than him being angry. His hand stops at the nape of your neck, cupping it and rubbing his thumb along your pulse.

"Let me in,"

You don't know what that means until you feel it. Two sensations press against you at the same time. Sunday's abilities - halovian and not. Your eyes close tight at the pressure in your skull, but Sunday's hand in the physical world soothes you. He's reaching you in two ways - two different ways. You know them now.

His powers feel different from his halovian abilities. His powers (or THEIR powers, you suppose) are piercing and needlepoint - never completely pleasant or intended to relieve. He uses them only occasion, and never for too long. The invocation is usually a test of some kind. Even as he mutters the words against your neck now, they illicit that kind of response. It makes your body pulsate. It's pain that only he can deliver and heal - pain that he gives to you, that is yours. It's not harsh enough to incapacitate.

But it's strong enough that the back of your teeth chatter. Your muscles pull, lurching forward to collapse in his arms. Like a hot iron searing your tongue - like a needle going through the softest part of it. Your first are closed into tightly as you allow him inside of your very being. Penetration that outweigh physical, violates you to the core and carves you out tenderly. You're awake and alive and ruined beyond whats mortal. It's not so intense usually. Allowing him to sink in the hollow blankness of your mind and dig his sharp claws into the soft matter. Jolts of electricity spatter along your insides - your mouth open with drool sliding down both end. HE is inside of you. HE intends to control you until he decides to stop.

You open your mouth to speak but the pressure is too strong. Another sensation follows you, then - just after you get used to the first. It's different. It's the gift he was born with, the pleasant throb of halovian telepathy.

You feel your jaw go slack at the overwhelming difference between pain. Complete, unyielding euphoria.

You moan. Your physical body reacts - your clit throbbing so hard it stings, making your entire lower body like it will melt off of you. With a shaky inhale, you feel the full breadth of Sunday's internal emotions. Possession and adoration knit themselves together and move like a caress over every inch of your body. Lightheaded from the pressure, your breathing strains.

There's not a single part of you Sunday is not touching intimately - fingers and palms and tongues. His physical hands, soft and placating rub your pussy and drive you to hysteria. His voice is whispering you words of comfort - to trust and hold on. His emotions twist and dominate yours and everything in you sings back in obedience. You want to cry. And you think you will after your adjusted enough to remember where you end and Sunday begins. If that ever happens. If it's possible experiencing the weight of this.

You're boneless underneath his touch. Your physical body and sensations reach heights far beyond and in true, utter desperation you call his name. You're not usually so spoiled but it's too much and you need him. "Sunday. Kiss me."

You can see yourself almost in third person. His laugh is smooth but breathy, as he lays you down on the mattress and leans over you. He kisses you as you've asked, long and deep - and doesn't pull away even as you lick desperately at his lips. Your nails are clenched into your hand, making them bleed.

He speaks to you clearly.

"You love me don't you?"

The words barely make it out of your mouth. Your heart is pounding. It's not like you can lie like this anyway, but you never would. "Yes. Yes, I love you."

He must feel it. Feels you as much as you feel him because he laughs near jovial and kisses you again. His soft lips slide against your shoulder, your collarbones. "Yes. I love you too. But you know that."

Yes. You do know. There's no way you couldn't.

Your entire body feels weak as Sunday lowers himself further and further. His mouth, warm and inviting - leaves open mouth kisses across the entire expanse of your body. Your nerves feel fried, like they're getting pulled like weeds and laid out.

You know what Sunday's mouth feels like well, but like this is too much. Too much to fast, your spine arches off the back of your bed as his breath ghosts over bare cunt. Gasping, you reach for the sheets behind you. No awareness of your surroundings can save you from it.

Ruthless as always, you feel his tongue slip against your folds and lose sight of the remaining threads of your consciousness. Sunday uses his abilities to stabilize you, says something about how you can't pass out yet. You whine at the back of throat but don't tell him to stop. He praises you for that with another long stripe against your clit.

Sunday is good at knowing your body. Pristine and precise to the point of being scary. He lays his tongue flat and latches himself on you, angular in leading you to your orgasm. Your body is so impossibly sensitive that he barely goes for a minute before you feel yourself shuddering in that familiar desperate way. His feelings come in a wave after that, a pink hue in your eyelids as he expresses his unending praise even after your incredibly premature orgasm.

"Sorry," You mutter, barely breathing as everything swirls inside of you. Your stomach flips. He puts his hand up to hold yours. "Didn't ask for permission."

He laughs at that, bright and pretty. He's pleased with you. You're practically vibrating from need. It's alright. You don't have to ask today."

"Are you...aah...sure?"

"Yes. It was polite of you to ask." He praises, and kisses the inside of your thigh. He licks your pussy again this time with deliberate slowness and you cry out his name. "You're so wet for me. So sweet. Should I use my hands at all or do you think you can take me as is, hm, my love?"

"Give it to me," You slur, unsure if you can hold out on it much longer. "Please, please, please."

"No need to beg. I do like to hear it though." He says, mostly to himself. He kisses you as another wave of sensation enraptures you and leave you limp. You feel it all again, strong to the point of feeling numb. Piercing pain followed by overwhelming, lovesick euphoria. Your body goes limp against the bed, fingers curling into the sheets.

Sunday coos at you. He guides your arms around his neck and guides your hands to his shoulders. "You can hurt me a little."

"Don't want to hurt you."

"I want you too," He says, and you think if you were sober enough it'd feel like a confession. "It's alright. You'll never be sharper than I can handle."

You whimper but concede, letting your nails dig into his flesh hard to keep yourself together. Sunday whispers praise against your neck as you go through the impossible motions of it. It's so much longer than he'd normally put you through his and your body is pushed to it's limits. You know that but he seems pleased with you. You want to please him.

"You're doing well." He praises, softer than ever. "A little more. Just a bit."

The world could be ending outside around you, but you would be completely clueless to it. The only thing, the only thought, the only consideration you can make towards Sunday. His adoration does not feel like the flicker of a candle, but like ball of light curling around itself. It is tight, and hot, and always at risk of exploding itself into something cosmic and unreachable. You wonder if it is possible to love too much, but tell yourself that isn't true.

Even as love makes a mess of you in the physical and metaphysical and all else. Even as it flays you open and guts you and licks you until you are all but hollow yearning, you don't think he loves you too much. You just think that he loves you. If Sunday is all the concentrated light in the universe, you are the eternal darkness meant to make him whole. Your love for him just as deep, like a void that never ends - certain, inevitable darkness.

Your tongue feels heave in your mouth as you kiss Sunday again. A lonesomeness comes every minute you spend apart, even brief. Sunday does not leave you alone for long.

Even as he prepares himself to feel you deeper, he whispers and talks to you. Placating praise leaves tears welling at the corners of your eyes but you nod and listen anyway. You wait for him.

"Take a deep breath." He tells you. He positions himself over you again - though you can barely see or understand as you open your eyes. You blink rapidly, trying to get a sense of his expression even as your mind is gripped at the corners and pulled taut at every edge. Color clouds your vision - hazy making your eyes glass over as you attempt to pry them open. Sunday appears before you like an Aeon in all their glory, beautiful and divine. You sniffle at the sight of him, whimpering at the sensation of his hands on your thighs.

"I love you," You whimper at the touch of his cool hands on your hot skin. "Love you,"

"I know," He says, sliding his cock along your folds with such unwavering affection it makes you gasp. The tip throbs along your clit, sticky with need and you whine. "Shh. I'm here."

You allow him whatever he wants. Your head feels full. Nodding, drunk and floating - you squeeze your eyes close as you feel the tip of Sunday's cock push through you. You wish you could see it better, though you've seen it before. Long and pretty, red tip and neat hair at the base. The sensation makes your tummy flutter, your hands up to his shoulders.

Your pussy weeps at the feeling of him finally entering you, something deep in your body begging for him. Your throat closes, eyes watering at the sensation of being so full as he starts to move. Slow but sure, not intended to pain you - restrained. Everything is full. Heart, body, mind - every inch of you harbors Sunday like he's made you in his image. Your lower half throbs and thrums, a euphoric outpour making your legs wrap around his waist. You don't want him to move. You want him to carve himself in you and stay forever.

Tears fall helplessly as he bottoms out. His waist is pretty, you think - as you see where his meets yours. You see his cock sheathed inside and your mouth drops open. Sunday grinds against you, hot as it touches your sweet spot. Never-ending in his chase to please you.

"Sunday," Your voice is hoarse as he moves his hands to rest between your bodies, thumb brushing along your clit. "I'll cum."

It's more than that. You think if you start, there's no way you're going to be able to stop. The thought frightens you almost. Sunday is quick to assure you.

"It's okay," He tells you, and keeps moving and touching to bring you to the very precipice without any mercy at all. "I know. Your body is mine and it's what I wanted. So," He glances up at you with as mile. "Give me what I ask of you."

Your lips form into a pout because you know you can't say no to that. You wonder why this is what he wants from you, but your brain is too scrambled to even try to deduce it.

Feeling an orgasm this way isn't something you've ever experienced in your life. You can't imagine you ever will again. That much pleasure and sensation, life-ruining - feels like falling through space with no assurance of when you'll crash. Just knowing it will come eventually. Your entire body lurches forward at the full sensation, bursting at the seams. Everything around you melts until you're left with nothing but hot white pleasure racketing along each of your exposed, frayed nerves. You fall away and into nothing. It feels so good you can't speak, can't think, can't do anything but let that nasty sob leave your lips in complete and utter ruin. You cry for Sunday - teary, snotty, pathetic, and you want to beg him for something though you aren't sure it's mercy.

He fucks you through it. The repetitive sensation of your body being fucked while you're lifeless makes your ears ring but Sunday fucks you anyway. Fucks you meaner than you though he was capable of, fucks you precise. Lets his cock fuck into you with such force your cunt is forced to remember him until death do you part. You can only feel Sunday. Every atom of you his, his his.

You spend so much time in that high, you barely know when it stops. Sunday fucks you to his own orgasm and you feel that inside of you too, which only makes you cry longer.

You know it's over when Sunday starts to pull away and you feel unimaginably hollow. Even though it was so hard on your body for the entire duration, you find yourself exhausted when you start to sober up and open your eyes. You see Sunday before closing them again. He is as beautiful as always.

__

You think you must pass out for a bit, because a breach of time comes where you see nothing but darkness. When you're awake - you're in a bath in the hotel bathroom.

Sunday has not left your side when you're awake again. He looks worried as he sits on the edge of the tub and waits for you.

The water is warm and comfortable. You are tired and very, very hungry. Sunday looks at you but doesn't realize you're awake even as you gaze at him. He seems sad and that saddens you.

"Sunday? Everything okay?"

His eyes open wide when he hears you speak. Your voice is barely there. He's still naked. You blink. "You're not wearing clothes."

He stares at you for a long, long time. And then, afterwards, his bare hand comes up to your cheek and cups your neck. He kisses you deeply, tenderly and it makes you sigh a little to feel. It's unusual. He laughs against your lips.

"I wanted to bathe with you," He says after a long while. You widen your eyes. "Is that okay?"

"Oh, uhm," You nod feeling self conscious. "That's fine."

"And," he holds your hand in the soapy water and lets his thumb smooth against your finger. "Let's eat together. After. Okay?"

You smile to yourself. "Uh-huh. Okay."

You love him you think. There's no such thing as too much. No matter how it would look to anyone else. You think Sunday loves you too. Enough to ruin you completely and put you back together again.