#i had a dream and all i remembered was this interaction

[lawofangie]

hi guys! i've been getting some dms and asks, and since there seems to be some confusion about what the law of assumption is, i wanted to make a post clarifying some things. so here are some things you need to know:

1. the law is not a mystical thing.

it is not magic. its not foreign. it is not a superpower. it is simply making assumptions. not praying, not wishing, not hoping, not affirming. making assumptions. manifestation is about accepting things as true without any proof, the proof comes later. once you've successfully completed this step.

2. you didn't create life, you created your reality.

there is a difference. i remember this one tumblr interaction where someone sent an ask, believing that since they're the creator of their reality, then they also created every tv show they watched. and no, you obviously did not. anything that you obviously didn't physically create in your life, you didn't create. the only thing you are responsible for in your life is how things operate in relation to you.

3. you don't get what you want, you get what you are.

there's a reason why you're told by neville to stop desiring, why you're told to state your desires as a present tense fact. its because no amount of wanting, no amount of desiring, is going to change anything. if our assumptions (what we believe is true without proof) have so much power over our lives, what do you think desiring implies? what does wanting say about you? if you had your dream job, would you be wanting your dream job, or would you already have it and no longer desire it?

it should be obvious that we as human beings are conscious enough to realize certain things. we have the freedom to change our own minds because we are autonomous human beings. therefore, you are completely capable of making the conscious decision to believe something without proof.

4. you are a human being. other people around you are human beings too.

i've noticed that a lot of people within this community seem to be out of touch with reality. i find this very concerning and it's why i no longer say things like "the 3d isn't real" or "you are god", because they can be blown out of proportion. while yes, you are the cause for everything in your life, this is still your life. the 3d can be as unreal or "fake" as it wants to be, but it's all you've ever known. it's all you will ever know. why? because regardless of any material you've ever consumed, we are human beings living a human experience. nothing can change that.

you still need to take care of yourself, you still need to live your life, you should still enjoy your life, you should still be kind to others and treat them with respect. don't neglect yourself and others around you. the 3d is real, it's just not as absolute as we're made to believe. that's all. the 3d is real, but its authority over you is not.

5. again, the law is not magic. it's a natural process.

once you assume something, it's not going to just magically fall into your lap. the law is meant to be a natural thing. while manifestation is instantaneous, there is still the bridge of events that unfold to lead you to what you decided has already happened. and while things can still happen in an infinite amount of ways, the "how", regardless of what i've just said, is still none of your concern. your job will always be to decide it's already done and stick to that.

also, please don't take my words out of context. i'm not saying that manifestation is a process or anything like that, this is simply the way our world works. for instance, if you wanted to manifest a free vacation, the tickets wouldn't magically appear in your hand right that second. you'd decide you were already going on/already on that vacation first. then in the next couple minutes/hours or the next day or that same week, a relative of yours calls or visits and mentions that they won a trip to your desired location, but they changed their mind, so they ask you if you want to go.

this is what i mean by a bridge of events unfolding. there is no process, just events that lead you to where you already assumed you are. your physical reality is a mirror that reflects whatever you tell yourself instantaneously. things will always unfold in a natural way.

that's all for now. i hope this helps. 🩶

[bloodblanks]

one umbrella cover two [mr. scarletella x reader] — chapter xii.

As you interact with Mr. Scarletella, you come across a promising opportunity to escape.

note: reader is not player (mc).

author’s note: dead dove: do not eat. this fanfiction will contain dark and explicit content, including heavy dub-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

When your eyelids fluttered, opening and closing multiple times as you woke up, you found yourself feeling disoriented. The previous day’s events rushed through your mind, sending bubbles of unease rippling through your gut.

God, what have I done? Your eyebrows instantly knitted together at the memories, your cheeks blazing all the while. You glanced at Mr. Scarletella, who was still asleep. He appeared surprisingly peaceful in his sleep, his skin almost seeming healthier and less pale, though it was likely your imagination. In some way, he was attractive, his face well defined—

No, you shouldn’t be thinking about these things. You physically shook your head, as if to forcibly expel the thoughts from your mind. Trying to change the mental subject, you glanced at your hands, but the sight only caused your heart to plummet. It wasn’t just your fingertips anymore—the grey had spread down to the knuckles.

The familiar acceleration of your heart and the clamminess of your palms were noticeable. The temperature in the room felt much too warm, condensation forming on your forehead as you stared at your hands with wide eyes. You needed to get out of here fast; you were certain of it. But most things were easier said than done, and this was no exception.

You looked back to Mr. Scarletella, who you noticed was now beginning to stir. Amongst the panic and worry you felt, there was also a hint of relief at seeing the entity wake up—somehow, you found yourself thinking that the sooner he was awake, the sooner you’d be able to negotiate your escape. Granted, there was really no guarantee that you would be able to bargain for such, but seeing as your escape attempts had all been futile, negotiation seemed to be your only choice.

You could fight him, you know, your own mind chastised you. Just saying.

You knew it had a point. Nonetheless, you reasoned with yourself that you stood absolutely no chance against him in a fight, and any physical altercation would result in potential injury, which would effectively cause you pain, which was something you wanted to avoid.

At that moment, you remembered the soreness in your skull, your fingers instinctively brushing against your wound, only for you to hiss in discomfort and pull them away. You definitely needed to get that injury checked out. Perhaps you could tell that to Mr. Scarletella. That was surely a valid reason to leave, right?

You started formulating a plan in your head, trying to piece together the right words needed—the vagueness of the language made it a rather difficult task—to convey your desire to see a doctor. But your efforts were quickly wasted as the entity’s eyes snapped wide open, causing you to flinch, before he sat up in bed. He seemed to not notice your presence, his breathing ragged, his chest heaving, and an expression you’ve never witnessed before etched into his ghostly features—fear.

Mr. Scarletella was afraid. Of what, you didn’t know; you concluded that he likely had a nightmare.

When a minute passed and he didn’t speak, you decided to gently initiate a conversation.

“You okay?” you hesitantly asked, hoping you wouldn’t further alarm the man. His sudden, unexpected distress was enough to cause you unrest, too. You knew it was likely an unpleasant dream of his, but until it was confirmed, you could only fret.

When he didn’t respond, the turbulence in your chest intensified, your mind beginning to list off various possibilities for his lack of composure. Whatever could be considered a threat to him would be even more dangerous for you to face.

“Want you teach me you language.” Mr. Scarletella’s sudden statement startled you. You blinked at him in surprise, not fully registering what he was saying.

“You know another language,” he proceeded to elaborate when you didn’t say anything. “Possible you teach me?”

He wanted to learn your language. It was an unusual request, especially considering the troubled expression on his face, but you nodded anyway. You supposed it wouldn’t be a bad idea for him to know your language; it would help facilitate more detailed conversation and easier communication. It would also be much easier to explain in your language your need to see a doctor, and—

God, when you remembered the doctor, your brain also managed to connect a few more dots, a forgotten concern of yours resurfacing as you remembered that Mr. Scarletella finished inside of you. You winced at the memory, a visible frown on your face.

It had taken you far too long to realize that being impregnated by a fucking supernatural entity, while highly unlikely, was not entirely impossible. You had frantically shouted something about it, but it was in the wrong language and also much too late, as the aforementioned monster had already reached his orgasm.

Wonderful, you thought. Absolutely fucking wonderful. You needed to get a pregnancy test alongside your head injury checkup as soon as possible.

You glanced at Mr. Scarletella, eyes narrowing as you analyzed his appearance for a hypothetical fertility rate; he did not seem particularly fertile. That was enough to quell your worries for a while. You remembered then that he was still waiting for your answer, before scrambling to form a coherent response.

“Possible teach,” you nodded in affirmation. His demeanour seemed to brighten just a bit.

—

A lot strange.

As you taught him your language, he was unable to shake off the feeling that he already knew these words. Like a distant memory, ripples of water from a place far away, everything you said was eerily familiar. Almost like he already knew the language, had the words written out on a surface, and all you did was wipe off the dust.

Previously me human?

The question reverberated in his skull, clinging onto every new word he repeated and weighing the letters down with tension. It was a logical and sensible conclusion to come to, and yet, he found the possibility difficult to accept. Being human entailed that he had a life he no longer remembered. Being human entailed that he had lost something, and the concept greatly unsettled him.

Troubled.

He couldn’t help the nagging feeling that whatever was missing was of significant importance, which made it all the more disturbing that he didn’t know what it was.

“You okay?” you questioned him for the third time. He had once again become consumed by his own thoughts, letting them take his focus away from you.

“Yes,” he replied, making use of the new word you taught him. He hoped he had used it correctly. The faint smile on your face indicated that he had.

“What you thinking?” You gestured to his head, though he’d already realized the word’s meaning.

He paused, unsure of what to tell you. Not only was it still hard for him to formulate entire sentences in the human tongue, he also found difficulty in understanding just what was occurring within his own mind.

What me thinking?

“Human,” he hesitantly said. “Me thinking human.”

You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him before letting out a soft, awkward laugh. “I see.”

Sound pleasant. Me like.

He adored the sound of your laughter, was enamoured with the warmth your smile exuded.

“Want know human,” he attempted to elaborate. “Possible you teach me?”

Cute.

Your other eyebrow joined the raised one, both of them lifted from their original positions as you looked at him in surprise.

“You want learn human?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. He knew little to nothing about humans. All he knew was that they were frail, spoke their own language, and from the other world. Perhaps if you told him more about humans, he would be able to understand all the strange visions he’d been having.

Human happy.

The corners of your lips tugged upward in a joyous grin. He wasn’t sure why you were so pleased about this, but he didn’t think much of it, only that he liked seeing this expression on you.

“Possible teach.” You kept smiling. “Me show you me world.”

This time, it was him whose eyes widened. Though he had been to the other world in numerous instances, he only ever stayed in the building. He hadn’t explored the rest of the world; the idea never even occurred to him before. It would be a good start to learning about humans.

Me happy.

He smiled, liking the idea.

“We go another world.” As he finished his statement, he reached down to pick you up. You obliged, holding onto him for support as he left the room, passing through the hallways.

It wasn’t noticeable at first, but he found his movements feeling rather stiff, as though the act of phasing through the air was no longer natural to him, despite it having been no different from walking or talking. He tried to pay no mind to it, but much to his irritation, he discovered that the clumsiness of his movements was slowing the pace of his travels.

Slow. Not pleasant. Not like.

Eventually, when the delay in his actions became too much to bear, he decided to take a break, putting you down momentarily. He would need to figure out what was wrong with his body before continuing the journey. Though the elevator wasn’t too much farther, the agitation spiking with each beat of his heart was becoming overwhelming.

“You okay?” he heard you ask him. He nodded, not wanting to alarm you.

He moved across the corridor. Much to his dismay, it wasn’t just his imagination—his speed had indeed decreased.

Problem. Me troubled.

For a moment, he was lost in thought, his mind wandering through the endless possibilities and reasonings behind something so bizarre happening to him.

The distant sound of rumbling tore him out of his own head. When his vision refocused on the corridor he was in, he noticed that the space was beginning to distort. A sharp, long spike of panic shot through his spine.

His eyes darted around until they landed on your figure; you were waiting where he left you. He dashed towards you, but he wasn’t fast enough—his surroundings had collapsed around him, the hands that were searching for your body, unable to find any landing.

—

So close.

You were so close to making it out of this wretched place, when everything that could possibly have gone wrong, in fact, did go wrong.

It had started off so well, too. You let out a deep, perturbed sigh as you thought back to the initiating moment, when Mr. Scarletella told you he wanted to learn about humans. You couldn’t help but feel slightly remorseful about it, but you took the advantage of the opportunity to suggest returning to your world.

Some part of you insisted that it was ludicrous to feel guilty for deceiving the person who kidnapped you, but the other part of you felt undeniably bad. If it had been anyone else, you likely wouldn’t be so sympathetic, but if your observations and analysis of him were correct, then he wasn’t necessarily an abhorrent person. It would be much easier if you could just think of him as some freak who kidnapped you, and while he technically was one, he was also a non-human creature that didn’t have much knowledge of human customs.

Still, you failed to grasp why he selected you in particular. You would think that he possessed feelings for you if he didn’t seem so awfully oblivious to how human emotions worked.

It didn’t matter now, anyhow. You had convinced him to bring you back to your world, but it seemed fate had other plans for you. The world had once again distorted at just about the worst possible time, and now you were in some hallway—alone, body aching, stomach growling, and mouth parched.

The misfortune-complaining matrix would indicate that you have more than earned the right to complain by now, and so you did, spitting out a venomous string of curses, your fists clenching until your knuckles turned white.

In a brief moment of rage, you swung a closed fist at the nearest wall. The second your hand collided with the hard concrete—or whatever material it was constructed from—you yelped. You quickly withdrew your hand, cradling it with the other, your face twisted in pain.

Great. Your circumstances were already plenty miserable, but now your hand was throbbing too, on top of it all. The frustration within you was rising to a boiling point, your veins overflowing with molten iron. You felt the urge to punch the wall again, but the ache in your hand provided enough warning to stop you.

Your knees wobbled beneath you, your legs struggling to hold up your weight. Not long after, you folded like a chair, slumping down onto the ground with your face buried in your hands as you pitifully wept.

It was all Mr. Scarletella’s fault. It was all his fault for bringing you to this realm, for forcing you to stay here, for not being with you right now. You found yourself desperately lamenting the lack of his presence, and though you felt like a lunatic for thinking this way—in this very moment, Mr. Scarletella represented safety. Despite being the reason you were here, you knew your life wasn’t in danger when around him. And with how close you were to him bringing you back to your world, you couldn’t help but associate his presence to your freedom, as contradictory as that was.

Left alone with your thoughts, you simply sobbed away, feeling utterly sorry for yourself and the deplorable situation you were in. You cried until your eyes were red and eyelids plump, until your tear ducts dried up much like a well emptied of its last drops, until you were completely drained. Weeping was tiresome work, especially when your body was already struggling and feeble.

You were just internally debating on how bad of an idea it would be to take a quick nap here, when amidst your exhaustion, a sharp chord of panic rung through your mind at the sound of approaching footsteps. 

next chapter soon...

if you enjoy my writing, please consider reblogging; i really appreciate the interactions.

thank you everyone for reading and supporting my work! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[imsooooorrrrysorry]

Your first point is pedantic, do you really think anyone wants to see themselves as losers? Especially men, who value sex a ton, coming to terms that they can't get it? If a man calls himself an incel he most likely is "involuntarily celibate." He doesn't need to be knocking on every women's doors to prove it.

The point is an incel can barely get a positive interaction with women. Remember I was in the break room at work, I was flipping through tv channels. And one of my female coworkers started to talk to me about tv, and we had this pleasant exchange talking about tv. And it stood out to me because it was an interaction with a women that seemed pleasant and wasn't forced. Remember there was this blackpilled incel youtuber, Chewy, and he said he had this constant dream that made him happy. He said it was a dream where he was talking to this woman and he made a joke that made her smile. If that's the highlight of your day it's over.

Dating apps are the easiest way to tell whether you're an incel because they are apps meant for finding a partner. Everyone on the app is there to meet someone to date. Yet, incels can't even get a lowly right swipe. I'm not even talking about getting a date, they can't even get a consideration for the date. Think about all the women who saw an incels profile, probably in the thousands and not one gave him a consideration. Do you need to go up to 1000 women in real life to be considered an incel, in your eyes? Do online rejections not count?

I myself am not really "negative," but that doesn't matter because my "personality" isn't the issue. But do you think most hateful , negative incels express their "negative personality" publicly? Incels post often that they don't let their "based views" be known to normies.

And autistic men are still the minority in the incelsphere. So what do these autistic and neurotypical incels have in common? Subpar looks.

How can we know for sure that 80% of men have sex yearly? Again, men don't want to admit that they are sexual failures. They can be lying. If you started to go up to random men and ask them "can I see a picture of your girlfriend/ wife in your phone?" They would not pull up a picture, because they don't got one. You must have male relatives. A brother perhaps, or cousins. How often do you see them with women?

Kindness, intelligence, and humor overcoming looks is a lie. Don't trust any of those "studies." Incels have been doing tinder experiments for like 10 years now where they have a male model as the profile and their bio states that they're pedophilic violent felons and not only do they get matches, they actually get conversations from women. The women will overlook what they supposedly did. I know of tom Morgan, despite him being noticably autistic he still has many suitors on his YouTube videos, because he's good looking. Do you know of Clavicular? He's a mod on looksmax.org, went viral for his bone smashing. This guy is noticably autistic, he's clinically diagnosed too, he does a lot to looksmax. Meme stuff like mewing and bone smashing, but serious stuff too like fillers, steroids, tret, lifts, and a myriad of other drugs. He's a pretty good looking guy now, but he's also a pretty cruel and self absorbed guy. He posts about and insults the women he sleeps with, which he has proof of with pics and videos. He said he was going to bully his subhuman roommate. He takes vids of himself mogging and insulting other men to show people how superior he is. And all of this while being very visibility autistic. Why does he get women? He's good looking. There's no running from the importance of looks when it comes to men dating women.

There's a lot of to the blackpill, yes, incels got a bad hand. But their bad hand was in the looks department, not the "personality." The help they need to escape inceldom is cosmetic surgery, they need face transplants and leg lengthening . Outside of that I encourage incels to focus on whatever they find satisfying. No need to be doom and gloom always . I'm going to be 30 this year, been in the incelsphere for nearly 10 years. Thought I was different, that I wasn't an incel and was going to get a girlfriend soon. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I don't think self proclaimed incels are late bloomers, they understand their condition.

Testing a male bullshit story #1

[williamvapespeare]

going to u for advice/hear others thoughts, not to attack u, but how do u reconcile knowing the actions of neil gaiman with interacting with dead boy detectives stuff? i know he didn't make all the comics but he made the original/other comics are based on his works and he was an executive producer for the netflix show. i'm feeling conflicted and i haven't seen a lot of dbda fans talking about it

hey! this is something i've been thinking about a lot too and my answer is solely based in my own experience; i can't speak for all dbda fans. i wouldn't say that i was a huge neil gaiman fan before this, even though i did like his work - you can see i wrote one good omens fic back in the day and i do remember loving "ocean at the end of the lane" when i read it. i was really sad that i couldn't see the play when it was in london. i definitely liked what he did, but i hadn't read all his books or anything like that so i can't imagine the hurt other people are going through who DID feel that way.

i see dbda as distanced from him in part because i haven't read or seen Sandman, which is maybe a problem because it allows me to block out his association with something i love. i've engaged with it mostly by reading dbda fanfic that uses sandman characters, etc (also HUGELY unrelated not, but once i got a comment on a fic gushing about how i'd used sandman lore in a throwaway line about charles not dreaming and i just said like "oh thank you!" or something but it was completely accidental al;sjkf). from what i know: neil gaiman didn't write the comics and wasn't involved in the show beyond executive producing. i want to support people making fun queer horror art because that's the kind of art i love and i personally like to make. the way people engage with this is going to be individual, especially for anyone who needs to grieve or deal with feelings of betrayal and trauma.

personally, the things i will do going forward are: try not to give support to media that will benefit gaiman, and DO give vocal and monetary support to the creatives of dbda when i can (ie i supported the Appearances fundraiser because i want to see these creators make more excellent weird queer art and i knew that money would go to them), give praise and credit for the show to the people who were actively involved in making it - Steve Yockey, the writers, the cast, the writers/artists of the comics - these people we KNOW were the ones who had hands in crafting the story we love and none of them are neil gaiman.

you are 100% right to call attention to the fact that gaiman is inherently connected to this world and story that i/we love and that IS something i need to learn to acknowledge in my existence in fandom and as someone inspired by it. i don't have a concrete answer for how i'm going to do that morally, other than make sure i'm aware of it and try to make decisions that support the creatives who make artistic and moral choices that i DO believe in.

hopefully this answer was somewhat coherent and answered your question alright? again, this is probably a really individual thing for all fans of the show so i'm sure everyone will have their own insights

[maxaroniiiii]

theyre being nice

[entering--hyperspace]

Cannot imagine whatever is going on through Mr Leonard Echowatcher's head. You spend your life yearning for a world where you lived differently, where the day wasnt soaked in war, blood, and battle. Where you could envision a future where you have a partner and a family with friends to live gracefully with. But then you are given such opportunities only to find you were never taught to be gentle, you have a gentle, empathetic nature and yet the physicality of it is a stranger to you. You are expected to raise a child with gentle hands so that she saves the world, What does that even mean? How can you accept your growing love for your friend when you were never taught how to love, that intimate love is a luxury best left forgotten, there are no need for such things in war. He has to learn to become the things he wanted bc he grew too old to develop it naturally. He becomes a father to taimi fumbling his way into learning how to care and parent, he is defensive of Aurene bc he is from a culture where they arent expected to raise their own young and yet has to do so with a dragon. It feels like a test, He has to prove both to others and to himself he is capable of being a father, of nuturing, that calloused, stained hands can still be gentle. He has to accept that love is a terrifying leap of faith in vulnerability in order to gain a partnership that is considered a rarity. I love the idea that he spent 30 years yearning for things he thought he would never have and when he is actually given those opportunities (albeit admittedly through unusual circumstances) he has to learn how to actually live in them, becuase they were always just Concepts until now. Ohhhh my god Mr. Leo you are my everything

[jorvikzelda]

today i had this Vivid memory flash through my mind of kissing my ex boyfriend (this was like 2018) and i felt so viscerally fucking revolted and I gotta say. it is truly impressive that I didn’t realise I’m a lesbian sooner than fucking half a year ago

[quailxcrossing]

wanna hear about my cringe oc dream last night (you have no choice)

[thetangibleghost]

I've always wanted to wake up from a dream laughing and I just did but I realized after I woke up that I have missed a million social cues :((((((((((((((((( it wasn't even funny idk why I couldn't stop giggling. I dont even giggle irl.

[thetriangletattoo]

.

[fappellmoan]

hello abby munamania. I have come to inform you that last night I had a dream where you and me and lydia were at a muna concert and it was in an arena and we were in the nosebleeds and your family was there and my family was there and your dad started giving me the third degree on how we met and how long I had lived in [your city] and we were like uhhhhhh don't worry about it. and muna performed motivation just straight up on the turf of the field. that's all I remember welcome to carmen's dreamland. and lydia just sat there next to you the whole time which is why you're getting this ask instead of them. sorry lydia🙏.

that is so insane oh my goddddddd… first of all teehehehehehee some day we will go to a muna concert together 🫶 um ur family is chill id probably have mine skip out so sorry u had to speak to a dream version of my dad… he is annoying like that 🙄 but idk he didn’t press too much on how lydia and i met… um but also like muna super bowl halftime??!?! muna.. first pitch and impromptu concert 🙀⁉️ idk but also now i have to share that i made this for annoying silly fun while waiting for the show

[stressedimaginativecat]

Villain rando: Are you three like friends or something?

*Lord Dominator and Bill Cipher shrug*

Slade:*deadpan* I'm being held hostage.

___

Dominator: *about Slade* Old man Joe is just the coolest ya know?

Villain rando: Who's Joe?

Dominator: *inhale* JOE M-

___

The Beast:*about Belos* 🎶Something wicked this way comes~🎶

Dominator: Congrats you literally described everyone here

Cozy Glow: Excuse you i'm a delight!

___

*in a library like place Slade sits comfortably in an armchair and reads a book*

Dominator: Heeey Joseph!

Slade:..*sigh* What is it?

Dominator: Beast says that there is new folk about to appear soon in these ports of Void and i with Bill plan on bullying the villain newbie a bit.. A lot actually.. So! Ya wanna come and make em cry?

Slade: Who will be gracing us with their presence?

Dominator: That Belos.. Philip guy.. The one who killed and cloned his brother a lot or something like that *shrugs* A worstie like us

Slade: Joy.

Dominator: Are you coming then?

Slade: I pass.. *resumes reading* Have fun.

Dominator: *looks at the book cover*.. Why are you reading Warrior cats?

___

Emperor Belos: Why is a child there?

Cozy Glow: Mind your own business.

[p2ii]

its so sad when a story has all the perfect components for a good romance, but the author doesn't know how to write romance/put those components together to make a compelling dynamic and story.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

GOODNIGHT BABS !!!!!!

MEAH MEAH MWAH MWAH MWAHHHH

CAL OBVIOUSLY THIS IS FROM LAST NIGHT BUT I WANTED TO ANSWER ANYWAYS SHSJSKSKSK ILY!!! I actually slept pretty well so perhaps this is why 😌

[misskamelie]

Head in my hands, I'm doomed, this can't be going on for this long good grief. What the hell does my subconscious want to tell me. Hate the pms hormonal storm

[sleepvines]

good morning!