#they scientifically cannot be black

[claitea]

ok sorry i just really loved the thought of n arguing with this little thing i wanted to draw it

Do you ever think about how almost all of N’s Pokémon throughout the first games were one offs he released after he battled you, how he cared about them all deeply enough that he thought it would be selfish to have them battle more than necessary. And do you ever think about how this is the case with all his Pokémon EXCEPT his Klinklang in the final battle at the league, where the second to last battle he had a Klink and this Klinklang is very likely that same Pokémon? Do you think this was a visual representation of his mindset wavering from a fixed point? How that Klink refused to leave him right away and he couldn’t bring himself to force them to leave because his mind is in so many different directions? He can keep them around just a little longer until he becomes champion, it won’t be long, he can bend things some so long as he doesn’t fully stray from his path…right?

Or is that just me am I the only one willing to be insane about Klinklang of all Pokémon

[ellipsus-writes]

The words they're afraid of.

(Read on our blog.)

The recently appointed Department of Defense head Pete Hegseth (formerly Fox News pundit, perpetually soused creepy uncle, and current group chat leaker of classified intel) banned images of the Enola Gay from the Pentagon’s website for the offense of “DEI” language. In keeping with the far right’s stated war on anything vaguely resembling diversity, equity and inclusion, even historical photos are up for cancellation. When a literal weapon of mass destruction is censored for being a bit fruity under the Trump administration’s war against inconvenient truths, what exactly is left untouched?

This is clown show stuff, but the stakes are far from funny. While some might be hesitant to compare the current administration to the very worst history has to offer, we can at least all agree that they are dyed-in-the-wool grammar Nazis. Policing language has been the objective of the MAGA culture war long before Project 2025’s debut—the wave of book bans orchestrated by astroturf movements like Moms for Liberty, and Florida’s 2022 Don’t Say Gay bill have already had a profound effect in the arena of free speech and freedom of expression (despite the far right’s long tradition of doublespeak performative free-speech martyrdom to the contrary). Don’t Say Gay ostensibly targeted K-3 education, but LGBT+ content at all levels of education (and beyond) was either quietly censored or entirely preempted in practice. The results were not just a war on so-called ideology, or words alone—but on reality and essential freedoms.

Now, words as innocuous and important as racism, climate change, hate speech, prejudice, mental health, and inequality are targeted as subversive. Entire concepts are being vanished from government institutions, scrubbed not only from descriptions but from metadata, search indexes, and archival frameworks.

If you don’t name a thing, does it exist?

These words are as numerous as they are generic: women, race, Black, immigrants, multicultural, gender, injustice. But what is painfully unserious is also particularly dangerous in its real-world consequences. The process of controlling words is a well-worn authoritarian tendency. Fifty-two universities are now under investigation as part of the President's effort to curb “woke” research and thought crimes. Institutions are being coerced to comply with a nebulous set of ideological demands, or face budgetary annihilation. That means cutting funding for entire departments, slashing financial aid, defunding scientific grants, and pressuring faculty to self-censor.

The possibilities for censorship extend far and wide—interfering, by extension, in everything from reproductive healthcare programs, to libraries and museums. The Trump administration’s proposed budget slashing all federal funding for libraries, including the Institute of Museum and Library Services, will effectively gut an infrastructure that supports over 100,000 libraries and museums across the country—community centers, educational lifelines, internet access points, and archives of marginalized histories (starting with the Smithsonian Institution).

When you erase access, you erase participation. And when you erase participation, you erase people, and the means by which future generations might even learn they existed. A culture that cannot remember is a culture that cannot resist.

The erasure is, yet again, unsurprisingly targeted at minorities and LGBT+ people. The National Parks Service quietly revised the Stonewall Monument’s website to remove references to transgender people—a fundamental part of the original protests. Not an oversight, not a mistake, but a deliberate excision—one point in a wider plan of erasure depicted in stark detail in Project 2025, a blueprint to dismantle civil rights, defund LGBT+-related healthcare, and rewrite history from the ground up.

Dehumanization by deletion—welcome to the reactionary resurgence of doubleplusungood governance. In Trumpland, words are weapons—but not in the way they intend. Their fear of language betrays its power; that’s why they’re trying so hard to police it.

Words hurt them.

Hurt them back.

- the Ellipsus Team

[minetteskvareninova]

I am not on Bluesky and you cannot make me join, but if there was anything that could make me do it, it would be seeing this contrarian bullshit while procrastinating from studying on my Early Modern History exams. Because someone needs to give these historically illiterate morons a reality check.

Listen. I don't *like* Middle Ages. I don't vibe with their art, philosophy, politics, anything. But they existed. They brought something of value to the world. Over the course of the Middle Ages, Europe experienced important societal developments. Without these developments, renaissance literally wouldn't happen. Renaissance was in many ways (art, philosophy, science) a continuation of the Middle Ages, in that there really isn't hard cut between Late Medieval period and the renaissance. In other ways, it was exactly like the Middle Ages AND WORSE. The panic over witchcraft reached its zenith in the 16th and the first half of the 17th century. Lots of unscientific bullshit about medicine, alchemy etc. was still going strong well into the 17th century. In fact, 17th century really was the worst, I'd just despise it with all my heart if it wasn't for a few bright spots like baroque architecture, beginnings of the scientific revolution and the like. And are you seriously calling out medieval Europeans for their silly religious beliefs and tendency for violence when renaissance was THE era of bullshit religious conflicts?! Like, my man! Thirty Years wasn't a medieval thing! Even the thing about "going to war with your cousin" - THAT'S LITERALLY WAR OF SPANISH SUCCESSION WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT

I am not even going to talk about the 16th and 17th century on other continents, because in the Americas it was the era of LITERAL APOCALYPSE. Like how can you talk about any progress when that part of the world saw a brutality that would make the crusaders blush.

It sucks that Early Modern Era still effectively doesn't exist in the popular imagination. Its best parts are subsumed into "renaissance" and "enlightenment". Its worst parts are grouped in with the Middle Ages - not the least because they didn't actually improve that much, and in fact got worse a lot of the time. But you cannot celebrate the art of Da Vinci and just ignore the atmosphere of constant warfare between petty duchies it was born in. That's not how historical eras work. In fact, historical eras aren't really discreet categories with a clear cutoff point, but more like approximate divisions of a continuum. There is very little that separates the art of 1599 from 1600, but by 1650, you do kinda start seeing the difference.

Also! I know I keep repeating this, but Middle Ages didn't suck equally throughout their entirety. "Dark Ages" were the Early Medieval Era, which itself was a several centuries long period by most estimates. High Middle Ages were mostly as good as the Middle Ages got, you get gothic architecture, invention of universities, scholastic philosophy, the works. 14th century is when the things really start to suck again, Black Plague comes, you get wars and peasant rebellions, yada yada. But you also get the earliest "renaissance" art, so if you like that style, you can't disavow the Middle Ages entirely. And the 15th century is also mostly bad, except that one is when the renaissance and humanism period begins in earnest, so.

[monster-disaster]

[alien] Bruk'x

alien!Bruk'x x human!Reader Good to know: male masturbation

Summary: You drive Bruk'x crazy without knowing about it.

Bruk'x resists the urge to follow you out of the mess hall and through the long, echoing corridors of the base back to the wing that you and the other humans have been occupying since your arrival. You are always there, always busy with one thing or another. Your work ethic and excitement are like a fire he cannot look away from. Even when he cannot understand your language, he finds himself captivated by the rapid, animated way you speak with your co-workers. Your voice rises and falls in rhythms unfamiliar to his ears, and your hands move as if your whole body is involved in the conversation. Every emotion flickers across your face, so expressive and so different from his own people, and each nuance draws him in, holding him spellbound.

Ever since you arrived on his planet as a scientist, seeking the military's help to explore uncharted territory, his mind has been tangled with thoughts of you. Your enthusiasm and your questions, which seem to never quiet your always racing mind, amaze him. Bruk'x can never quite predict what you’ll ask next, and he finds it amusing. It feels as if there’s always something you are eager to discuss, always a new curiosity sparking in your eyes. And it seems to him that you are always working. He never sees you in the simple, casual clothes the other humans wear from time to time. Instead, you wear black pants, a white shirt, and a matching lab coat that never looks quite clean. There is always something on it, a telltale mark that reveals what you've spent your day doing.

Today, blue stains speckle the fabric and smudge your fingers, unmistakable evidence of your work with the ink-blue flowers that grow in the shadowed parts of their world and leave stains that last days. You even approached him about it earlier. Your brows were slightly furrowed in worry as you held up your hands. Your accent was thick but charming as you struggled with his language. Are you sure it will come off? Bruk'x chuckled and nodded, offering you a warm smile as you gazed up at him. You always listen to him with such intent that it makes it all too easy for him to imagine you looking at him the same way for other reasons. In his mind, instead of asking him about his home and people, you ask about him for more than scientific reasons. Your white, blunt teeth flash in a smile as you laugh at something he says, and your small, human eyes crinkle at the corners, framed by those dark circles that have worried him ever since he learned they are a sign of lack of sleep for humans. It’s so easy for him to imagine that you might be genuinely interested in him, maybe even needing or wanting him.

Bruk'x grapples with the cultural rules that bind him day after day. In his society, it’s customary for females to make the first move, a tradition he can neither forget nor dismiss. He cannot reveal his interest in more than a few kind gestures, and although you respond to his small displays of affection, you do not take it further, driving him to the brink of sanity.

The night presses on, but Bruk'x stays at his table in the dimly lit mess hall, long after his mates have retreated one by one to their quarters or the night shifts that await them. It’s late, and the base has settled into a hushed calm, with only the faint hum of machinery and the occasional shuffle of feet echoing in the corridors. His own duties are over, but he clings to the hope of seeing you again, of catching one last glimpse of you today.

He knows you are likely still deep in some task, your mind so engrossed that you’ve lost track of time. He can almost picture your tired, determined eyes scanning the shelves in the lab, one hand absentmindedly pushing a strand of hair from your face as you murmur to yourself in your own language.

He glances up whenever he hears a faint sound near the doorway, hoping it’s you. You’ve made a habit of sneaking out to the mess hall, sometimes in the dead of night, to find a leftover snack or something warm to drink. He’s caught you more than once, your eyes bright with a mischievous glint as you riffled through supplies, muttering to yourself about how little food humans need compared to his kind, and why that somehow doesn’t stop you from needing just one more bite before bed.

He shifts in his seat, the ache of his long day forgotten as he imagines what he might say to you if you show up. He might pretend he came here simply to unwind, just another coincidence, or he might let slip a small comment about the strange customs of humans who work so late. He often wants to say more, but he knows he must tread carefully.

Soon, his Captain, Carmek'x, appears at one of the doors, which slip apart with a quiet, hissing sound as he steps inside. Bruk'x watches him approach, his four long arms moving in perfect sync with each quiet, measured step. Despite his broad, muscular frame, Carmek'x moves with a surprising elegance, gliding around the tables until he stops in front of Bruk'x. The dimmed lights cast a faint glow over his skin, a deep blue that almost matches the shade of your fingertips, still stained by the flowers you collected today.

The big alien halts at the table, raising one eyebrow in a familiar, questioning gesture. Bruk'x knows that his captain picked up the expression from a certain nurse on base, but he says nothing.

"Everything alright?" Carmek'x asks, his voice low and calm. Behind him, the long, ropelike strands that cascade from his head, weapons than what you and your people would call hair, shift restlessly. The protective plates at the ends click together every now and then as a subtle reminder of their strength.

"Long day," Bruk'x replies, his tone weighted with unspoken thoughts.

Carmek'x regards him with a knowing look, and Bruk'x meets his golden eyes without flinching. They both know what the other is thinking, though neither says it aloud. "Be patient."

Bruk'x only nods in a silent acknowledgment. With the way things are and the unspoken rules binding him, patience is the only option he has.

When he finally retreats to his room, Bruk'x feels as though he has been running circles around the base for hours. Exhaustion settles deep within him, dragging through his limbs like a weight he can't shake off. His mind feels fogged. You are so tightly tangled in his thoughts that no amount of distraction seems enough to get rid of you.

With a deep, resigned sigh, he sinks down onto his bed, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to push the image of you away for even a moment. But it doesn't work. He isn't even surprised. You linger in his mind, vivid as ever. He images your uniform, messy hair, and bright, curious eyes. He can almost feel the warmth of your arm brushing against his as you lean in to speak. Your accent is thick and heavy in his ears. You always stand so close, digging through your pockets for those small scraps of paper you use to scribble down your questions or ideas because otherwise, you forget them within a few minutes. He almost smiles to himself, remembering how eagerly you jot down everything you want to discuss with him later.

Your scent drifts through his mind too, that strange brew you call "coffee" mingling with the earthy fragrance of the plants and soil from his world, clinging to you as if they are a part of your very being.

His four arms lie tensely at his sides, twitching and fidgeting restlessly, not quite sure what to do as his imagination wanders. He can almost feel himself reaching for you, his hands moving of their own accord, yearning to pull you closer. In his mind, he buries his head into the curve of your neck, breathing in your warmth, letting your softness lull his racing mind. He imagines you tilting your head slightly, instinctively giving him the space to press his lips to your bare skin, so soft and vulnerable. It strikes him how much you trust, how effortlessly you embrace the unknown, and how your vulnerability seems to bother you so little. It unsettles him. You often seem so careless with your own safety. The thought of being the one who guards you, who ensures you’re safe, cared for, and treasured, surges within him. A need to protect you stirs within him, an instinct stronger than any he’s known. His hands move instinctively, his breathing deepening as the thought of holding you close consumes him. How would you feel against him? You’re so soft and smooth, so delicate compared to the solidity of his own form. His chest rises with every labored breath, longing coursing through him. If only he could hold you in his arms, feel your heartbeat against him, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

His cock throbs insistently, pulsing against the rough fabric of his uniform, which suddenly feels unbearably tight. Every seam and stitch seems to scratch at his skin, igniting a strange, burning itch across his body. Almost instinctively, his arms move, fumbling to shed his clothes quickly. One by one, his garments fall away until his cock springs free, hard and glistening with pre-cum. It juts out, slapping against his abdomen.

Every image of you that flashes through his mind sends a new wave of need surging through him, making him ache.

He wonders, no, he craves to know what you would look like without your clothes. Would you be like the human women he saw in the images his comrades pulled up? The memory makes his cheeks burn with an embarrassed heat. When they heard about humans coming to their lands, some of his mates eagerly searched for information about your kind. It didn’t take long before they uncovered pictures and videos of human women, bare-skinned and open. Are you as soft as you appear? Would your skin yield beneath his touch, pliant and warm? He growls low in his throat, driven by the thought. His large hand trails down his taut abdomen, grasping the base of his cock with a firm grip. The shock of his own touch makes his hips jerk forward involuntarily. He wants it. He needs it. Would you like him to take your nipples into his mouth like those in the videos? He would love nothing more than to feel your delicate hand at the back of his head, guiding him down, pressing his face to your chest. His mouth waters at the imagined taste of your skin. The honor of pleasuring you overwhelms him. He pictures you arching your back, pushing yourself against him, allowing him to worship your body.

His hand starts to slide up and down along his length, his fingers spreading the pre-cum across his thick shaft.

He wonders what you would think of him, of his cock. In the videos, he noticed how the human males seemed… softer, even at their hardest. His mates laughed at this, baffled at how these humans could protect themselves. Would you be disturbed by his hardness, or would it spark your curiosity as he’s noticed so many things do? A rough chuckle escapes him, hoarse and pathetic. The sound vibrates in his heaving chest. Would your soft hands explore him, tracing every ridge and scar, lingering over the roughness of his cock? He’s certain you’d be fascinated. He can imagine your curious gaze, the same one you use when studying every new thing in his world, directed at him. He would let you examine him, ask your never-ending questions, and touch him wherever you wanted. He’d answer all of them, body strained, tense as a bow, fighting not to snap from the pleasure.

His hips buck upward, thighs hard and trembling as he braces himself on his bed.

Would you let him do the same to you? Would you let him part your thighs and taste you, take you apart slowly, carefully? He’d have to be so patient. He would need every inch of his restraint to make sure you were ready. Patience isn’t his strong suit, but for you, he’d find it. He can picture you pressed against the bed or even splayed across his chest, letting him take his time. He’d be careful and slow, watching every reaction to make sure you could handle him, each movement more controlled than the last.

Since he’s met you, he’s watched more videos than he’d care to admit, scouring for any glimpse of a woman who resembles you, seeking to understand what human men do to pleasure their mates. He'd told himself it was just curiosity, but he knew he wanted more. He wanted to know what you’d sound like, feel like, if you’d arch and gasp when he finally touched you. Would your body feel as soft as those women looked? And how would you taste? The thought of you on his tongue makes him groan, swallowing hard as he imagines your warmth and scent enveloping him.

His hand tightens as he picks up the pace, squeezing every so often to prolong the rush building at the base of his spine.

He would ask you to sit on his face, pressing yourself down so he could savor every inch of you. The mere thought makes him groan. The sound is thick with desire. He is a sergeant, used to commands and obedience, and he would gladly submit to your every need. He’d let you lead, eager to follow your guidance and surrender to your desires.

And when it was time… how would you want him to take you? Would you prefer to be taken from behind, or would you want him to press you against the wall, holding you in place as he pounded into you? Or maybe, you’d want to ride him, allowing him to watch every expression cross your face, every bounce of your body, each gasp you’d make. He imagines the feel of your body; tight and wet, gripping him so perfectly, pulling every ounce of his essence from him as though you couldn’t bear to let him go. He’d give you everything he had, and after that, no other male would ever be enough.

His jaw clenches, his teeth grinding as the edge nears, imagining how you’d feel wrapped around him, tight and hot, squeezing every drop out of him. He’d make sure to give you everything, to show you that no other could satisfy you the way he could. No other man would ever compare; he would make sure of that.

Would you bite him, marking him with your blunt, human teeth? He hopes so. He imagines your teeth sinking gently into his neck, marking him, or your nails scratching down his back, leaving a trail of evidence that he’d carry with pride. Would you even be able to draw blood? The thought alone nearly undoes him.

His hand moves faster, hips thrusting up as he chases his release. His imagination runs wild, painting vivid scenes of you in every position. You’re breathless, naked, and beautiful in each one. The vision is too much. His release crashes over him like a wave as a hoarse shout tears from his throat. The sound is raw and guttural. His body convulses, muscles tightening and shivering as his climax pulses through him. Thick ropes of his cum spill over his hand and across his abdomen, leaving him a panting, trembling mess. He keeps thrusting into his grip until he can’t bear it anymore, finally collapsing back against the bed, every ounce of strength spent.

It takes Bruk'x a long time to gather himself, his body heavy and his mind muddled. The satisfaction he felt moments ago has already faded, replaced by the gnawing frustration that seems to cling to him no matter what he does. It drives him to madness, a helpless ache that no release can seem to soothe.

He sighs and prepares to return to bed, hoping that sleep will come, but his thoughts are interrupted by a loud, insistent knock on his door. He frowns, annoyance tugging at his expression when the knock echoes again, followed by a familiar voice.

"Captain?" Bruk'x calls, swinging the door open to reveal the other alien standing there.

Both of them look disheveled, faces flushed and breathless, but neither of them acknowledges it.

Carmek'x gaze is intense. "Forget patience," he says. His voice is clipped and direct.

Bruk'x stares, confused. "What?"

"Human women," his captain explains, his tone laced with frustration and perhaps a touch of irritation. "They work in different ways. Patience be damned."

_

You can dive into Carmek'x's story and explore many others I've shared throughout the year on my Patreon, with even more exciting content coming this month.

[sagelasters]

scientific study on the void state

For decades, people have thought sleeping is a momental period or pause where both the body and mind is asleep. When I stopped remembering my dreams, I recalled seeing just pitch black in my sleep, and I never thought much about it until I started getting into the void and loa in general. It’s strange how my mind remembered those moments of nothingness and pure darkness, they were briefly short but I came to the conclusion that every single one of us has been in a void state. Whether or not you remembered it, maybe you do, maybe for a split second you were enveloped in pitch blackness till you woke up. Most of us brush off these strange phenomenals, but here’s the real question: Is it possible to be aware in your sleep? The answer is yes, our subconscious mind is fully awake even in your sleep. I think one of the most interesting scientific experiments I’ve read was an interview in 2022, it explores the ‘objectless awareness’ in our sleep. 

There were about 38 participants in the experiment, in which they were given a word to mentally spell and then they were interviewed based on that specific spelling. This is to measure participant’s memory accuracy, just to make sure they didn’t fabricate or make up any descriptions in the experiment. When participants pass the first round, they are given a survey if they have experiences of being conscious in their sleep. The result is that some participants recalled to lack any bodily sensations or imagery, one person reported that they lost the sense of being ‘themself’ but they identified as a ‘light’ or ‘orb’. Another person reported that after being in the state of nothingness, they were shaken up and brought to another ‘dream scenery’. Others recalled that their thoughts were completely non-existent in this state and they are aware of being ‘transitioned’ to what they called the ‘black spot’ and ‘nothingness state’. 

The chart summarizes what the participants experience in their sleep, the ‘nothingness phase’ seems to be the middle ground between regular sleeping state, to hypnagogia (transition between being awake and sleep, you experience sleep paralysis and muscle jerks in this stage). Most participants were unable to recall what happened after they transitioned out of the ‘nothingness phase’. The following is what they said:

Participant 1

"So, this sensation of nothing was letting me know that I was still in a dream, because I made the comparison to, I cannot feel any of my limbs. So, I know that I’m not just in bed right now with my eyes closed. Because none of my body’s there."

Participant 2

"I no longer have an idea of a body.. a dream body at that point. And then I [emphasis] became or was this just like this little ball of light, […]. So like I knew that the sphere of light was ME, but also like the light that was around the sphere was me, […] Once I become the sphere, you are asking if I have any body perception? I do not have any at that point […] having a dream body is just completely gone."

Participant 9

“And then, and then all of a sudden, there was just nothing I could not, I’ve gone from, from my body, I guess. And I’ve had other bodies before and this felt very, very, very different where I did not like there was no dream body, no dream scene. No, no ANYTHING. It almost seems like a form about a body. But it almost seems like you are, you are caught between, caught between somewhere where you are trying to get in and the physical, you are, you are somewhere else. […] And so, so I was able to feel that I guess.” 

Participant 8

“It’s more like I was the void. ”

Participant 12

" It’s just total darkness. And you…, there’s very little difference between you and what’s around you. ”

Well didn’t that blow your mind away? This probably raises more questions on more phenomenal that modern science has no idea about, considering the fact that we just discovered our sense of awareness is still on even in our sleep. 

Citation

Alcaraz-Sánchez A, Demšar E, Campillo-Ferrer T, Torres-Platas SG. Nothingness Is All There Is: An Exploration of Objectless Awareness During Sleep. Front Psychol. 2022 Jun 10;13:901031. doi: 10.3389/fpsyg.2022.901031. PMID: 35756253; PMCID: PMC9226678.

[pige0ns]

i love how much the current season of severance is characterized by interpenetration. the first season was cold and isolated. severed. the innies and the outies were separate, and the leaks between them mostly only ominous hints. a tissue in mark's pocket. a dream of black goo. a blue band aid. an orange book. a recording from the break room. of course a reintegrated petey could not survive in season 1. in a severed world, it is the person trying to become whole who is the doomed, ill-suited freak. willing lobotomy should be grotesque, but when it is sanitized by corporate and scientific aesthetics, it can seem like the civilized thing, and anti-lobotomy that is grotesque. anti-lobotomy that is homeless, unshaven, and dripping blood.

this is why the we we are is so successful as a conclusion to season 1. it is a shocking violation of the boundary that existed all season. it is not just an ominous hint, but a total, almost violent obtrusion. as transgressive as the act of cutting, but in the opposite direction. and it makes the violence of the original cutting more salient in retrospect. (it's in the name, too--"we" instead of "you"; a coming together instead of a separation)

and now, in season 2, in the aftermath of that boundary violation, the boundaries start breaking down even further. helena on the severed floor. mark's reintegration visions. gemma being herself, even deep inside lumon's bowels. milchick visiting their houses. gretchen visiting dylan. mark in the birthing cabin. the innies outside at the ortbo. burt and irving being influenced by their innie connection. mark and helena meeting in the restaurant. the literal sex and romance and infidelity, involving not just innies or outies, but innies and outies. representatives of the inside and outside physically, bodily, commingling.

and it's against this backdrop that the characters in season 2 have begun to confront the boundaries within themselves. they've begun to ask how different and how separate they really are. do innies and outies have different souls? is infidelity with yourself really infidelity? it's almost cliche at this point, but really: does love transcend severance? clear narrative roles of hero and villain are decaying. former antagonists like milchick and cobel are now something murkier. meanwhile helly and helena, once seemingly so distinct, have increasingly revealed their commonalities. both trapped, both drawn to mark, repeating lines like "she's not your wife." the emphasis on helena this season is key. helly and helena embody self-division, given their initially divergent characters, goals, and narrative roles--one a hero, the other a villain. so for their differences to erode, for helena to get closer to the screentime that helly got last season, signals that this is a story in which self-division itself is growing suspect, unstable, untenable.

and then there's mark's reintegration. if of course petey couldn't survive reintegration in season 1, then of course mark can't complete his reintegration in season 2. season 2 is not a story of completion, it is a story of transition. it is messy, ambiguous, ambivalent adolescence. mark might want his innie's memories, but he has given no indication that he wants or identifies with his innie's self. as protagonist and deuteragonist, mark and helly are natural foils, and mark's forced and unsuccessful reintegration process is in contrast with helena's unexpected inching towards "natural reintegration", to use britt lower's phrase. in "attila" we see helena with her hair and manners loose, however awkwardly, playing at aspects of helly in a way that mark scout, as of "the after hours" (when this is written), would not consider doing with mark s. metaphorically, mark cannot yet reintegrate because his halves are not aligned. but they're not separate any more either. they're overlapping. they're at odds. but what will make them align? i assume that is what the finale and next season are for.

[tired-demonspawn]

im working on something else rn but a lil while ago i made a star wars au, so here you go :)

the main idea is written in the corner but imma tldr it(also i dont trust the upload quality of the pic): set in roughly prequel era robotnik used to be a high up republic special weapons group guy and, as a high up military guy, was assigned a jedi bodyguard, that being stone.

once his inventions got a bit too war-crime-y the republic had him jailed and stone (who fell in love with him) breaks him out and they start being weapons dealers

other misc details under the cut

okay so some of these are mentioned in the pic but i wanted to specify/expand/clarify:

stone never really falls to the dark side, that's actually why he couldn't bleed his own crystal (which let's be completely clear he would be willing to do for robotnik), he simply didnt have the hate and pain necessary to do it. he follows robotnik, his devotion and duty to him is what gives him strength in the force(think knights of zakuul)

to go with his brand, also just to show that he could, robotnik made stone a lightsaber with a black market red kyber crystal... smthn smthn your lightsaber is your life...

i went with orange for his original one because

it provides a nice contrast with the rest of his fit

it goes with robotnik's colour scheme

he simply does not have the temperament of a purple lightsaber, i dunno man the vibes are off

for my fourth reason let me present to you a quick clone wars episode concept:

--

(clone wars intro music)(random quote) UNCERTAINTY HAS GRIPPED THE REPUBLIC! the separatists have captured a republic military research vessel along with its scientists and military generals! it is up to only 3 brave jedi to save them.

(i fucked up the tone of the intro guy by the middle, and also i dont really have a 3rd guy i just wrote 3 cuz it seemed like a number they would use)

anyway gimmick clone wars intro aside

robotnik was forced entirely into the military uniform(including non special gloves) for a special scientific military meeting where "even jedi werent allowed" it obviously being a trap robotnik had a few aces up his sleeve, but even so, stone was told to stay on alert, because robotnik was most definitely getting kidnapped.

so when robotnik misses all 3 agreed upon check ins stone contacts the council(hes already somewhere with a lot of jedi, its not just a matter of "he thought it best to report"(and waste precious time that could be spent saving the doctor?) but "he literally cannot take a ship and leave without it raising suspicion"), he basically tells them something like "we cant waste any time arguing, im going. i am closest to the last reported location" so the council sticks 2 more people on him(if it was an actual episode they would most likely be already established, so we could see a "familiar face" interacting with this new character of stone)

anyway they find where did the seps take them because obviously robotnik chipped himself.

with the correct password(that only stone has(not that he knows that hes the only one)) robotnik can be tracked even through hyperspace(not exactly, but it at least gives a general quadrant of space, which ofc after leaving hyperspace gets pin-point accurate)

they get to the base, they sneak around trying to find how to get to the prisoners(because its nice that they have robotniks coordinates to the tenth of a milimetre, but they dont have the base blueprints)

during the dramatic peak of the ep, there's a weirdly menacing moment where the mild mannered jedi knight, that was kinda made fun of the entire episode for being "reduced to an errand boy" can actually swing a lightsaber around pretty well.

and then he unties robotnik, helps him up, asks if hes alright("of course not, imbecile! what took you?" "the tracker wasnt as accurate while in hyperspace as you theorised" "hm. well in any case none of this would happen if it werent for this stupid uniform" "i have a change of clothes prepared for you in the ship") aaannnd the errand boy is back

fast forward, robotnik was both arrested and freed, is now doing his own thing.

the two knights that were with stone in that "initial episode" are snooping around one of robotnik's labs, investigating this new arms dealer. they're on a terminal of some sort and behind them out of focus of the camera a bright orange lightsaber ignites, contrasting sharply against the red/blue tones of the lab.

"you aren't welcome here." the former jedi knight says.

--

and scene

so yea hope that last bit sold you on the orange lightsaber bit

originally wanted to post this au with more art attached but alas life had other plans.

anyway if you've read this far i hope you have a nice rest of your day :)

also dont be afraid to ask any questions about this au, i have so many thoughts about it, so im 100% sure i didnt include something i deffo have figured out because i either a) forgor 💀 or b) didnt know how to properly explain a vague feeling about a possible situation

[22ayla21]

Family Gathering of the Knowers

When Anaxa's wife complains that the only thing missing from their home is a scientist cat, she is immediately corrected - even the cat in this family is involved in science.

Anaxa sat in his usual chair, slowly sipping the tea he had prepared himself, since "no one in this house could brew it properly." There was a stack of books on the table in front of him, but he didn't even try to look at them today. He had other entertainment.

- You don't understand anything! - the eldest daughter exclaimed indignantly, folding her arms over her chest. - The texts carved on the ruins of the Western Amphitheater cannot be deciphered using traditional linguistics! They are an archaic form of symbols that convey not a literal meaning, but a concept!

- This is nonsense! - the youngest leaned hotly on the table. - Concepts are abstractions! I am sure that they can be translated using the usual method of comparative analysis!

- Ha! Then why has no scientist done it yet?!

- Because they do not have my genius!

Anaxa raised the cup to his lips with a slight smile. For the first time in a long time, he felt completely satisfied. Both his daughters were smart, daring, and intolerant of stupidity. Just like him. The only person at the table who did not share this enthusiasm was his wife. She sat opposite him, her head in her hand, and looked at her daughters as if fate had played a cruel joke on her.

- Why did this happen to me? - she moaned, looking at the ceiling. - The whole house is made up of scientists. Even the tea is probably brewed according to scientific formulas.

- Don't exaggerate, dear, - Anaxa put his cup on the saucer and looked at her with a soft smile. - You just have a subtle perception of reality.

- I have a subtle nervous system, - she corrected.

- Stop it, you like it when we think about the nature of the world, don't you? - she slowly turned her gaze to him.

- Think - yes. But when it happens at dinner, at breakfast, during a walk, when I sleep, when I’m not sleeping… I don’t want the cat to be a scientist!

At that moment, a disgruntled "Mrrr!" was heard from the windowsill. The wife slowly turned her head towards the source of the sound. Anaxa's cat was sitting on the windowsill - a fluffy black animal with icy eyes, who looked at her with disdain, as if offended by such a statement. Anaxa nodded calmly to the cat.

- You see, even he agrees that you are talking nonsense.

- That's it. Enough, - the wife closed her eyes tiredly. Anaxa, smiling, touched her hand.

- You are just jealous, because you do not have such amazing abilities for knowledge as we do, - she snorted quietly.

- You know, it seems to me that the only thing I got from you is patience.

- And excellent taste in men, - he added calmly, sipping his tea.

The wife rolled her eyes, and their daughters continued their furious scientific argument, not paying any attention to their parents. Anaxa bowed his head slightly, watching them.

- But admit it, you're proud of them, - she sighed, looked at her daughters and, smiling slightly, shrugged.

- Of course, I'm proud... But I'm scared to imagine what will happen if they grow up and find husbands, - Anaxa thought for a second.

- Then we'll drink tea and watch them trample their husbands into the ground with logic.

- You're calming me down, of course, in a strange way.

- Just enjoy it, my dear. It's not every day that you get to see the birth of great minds.

And, taking another sip of tea, he noted with satisfaction that the younger one had finally found a loophole in the older one's arguments. Ah, how wonderful it is to watch the evolution of knowledge.

[writerinlearning]

𝐋𝗼𝐯𝐞 𝐏𝗼𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧

plot: during a mission, henry gets hit with a chemically-altered weapon and finds himself under the influence of the love pollen.

pairing: henry hart x fem!reader

show: henry danger

warnings: none that i can think of. brief mention of injuries, maybe?

word count: 8,9k

author’s notes: english is not my first language, apologies for any mistakes. this piece is based off a request i received, and it is the only request i’ll ever do (i have explained why in the guidelines tab you can find in the pinned post on my blog). as i read the request, an idea popped into my head right away, which is why i had to write it. this takes place around season five of henry danger, before henry loses his hypermotility. it’s also sorta inspired by the episode love muffin from season three of henry danger. a little backstory worth mentioning, reader got the job as one of ray’s sidekicks the same day as henry, and she goes by the name Menace. i hope you enjoy reading!

henry hart masterlist | main masterlist

It all just kind of happened. Y/N cannot tell how, when or why; it just happened. It was supposed to be a simple mission: catch a bad guy who escaped from the police’s holding cell, throw his ass back to jail, and celebrate the victory with Inside-Out Burger and the rest of the Danger team. It was anything but. 

“Hen, are you okay?” Y/N asks her friend, gently tapping his cheek to wake him up.

She can hear grunts and shouts behind her, and she knows Ray is trying his best to subdue Dr. Lover, a misguided scientist who uses the pollen from various flowers to create all kinds of chemical weapons with his scientific knowledge. But her focus is solely on her best friend, who lay unconscious on the floor after being hit by a blast from one of Dr. Lover’s weapons. Y/N pulls her lower lip between her teeth, one hand gently cradling Henry’s face while she uses her other hand to gently tap his nose and cheek again.

“C’mon Hen, wake up.”

Y/N insists, her voice barely above a whisper as she keeps on trying to wake him up, but his eyes stay closed. The weapon Dr. Lover used on Kid Danger lay scattered somewhere around her, but it is of no use to her as she has no idea what that weapon is, and what it does. 

Panic slowly creeps under her skin. Her breathing becomes shallow, shortened. Her eyes flicker around the warehouse, but they always drift back to her best friend, lying unconscious next to her. The sounds of Captain Man’s grunts as he fights Dr. Lover gets muffled by the racing thoughts in her brain, and her vision becomes blurry when the tears fill her eyes. A short whimper leaves her slightly parted lips, and she bites down her bottom lip again, trying to keep herself together.  

“Shit!” She blurts out, voice shaking. “Don’t do this to me Henry, come on…”

She moves one of her hands from his face to the side of his neck, looking for his pulse. The adrenaline rushes through every fiber of her body when she cannot find it, and she can feel the tears silently rolling down her cheeks. She chokes back on a sob, the sound muffled by the hand she brings to her mouth to stop herself from breaking entirely. She inhales sharply, breath trembling as she composes herself. She knows CPR, she could try that, but she isn’t certain Henry needs it. She doesn’t know what that weapon did to him, and maybe she just couldn’t find his pulse because she’s wearing her black and navy-blue gloves. With her teeth, she rips one glove from her hand and she brings her now bare fingers to Henry’s neck, looking for his pulse again. It’s there, but it’s faint, slowing down with each second that passes. A small, relieved sigh leaves her, and she closes her eyes for a short instant. Her ears pick up on the fight behind her, and from the clinking of cuffs against metal and the ragged breaths echoing around the corrugated iron walls, she can tell that Captain Man is close to subdue Dr. Lover. 

Y/N looks down on Henry again. She contemplates whether or not to slap him hard across his face to wake him up, but she doubts it will do much when her mind reminds her that his pulse is slowing down. She takes a deep breath, remembering about that one time where she went to a first-aid training. She can do this. With one hand, she tilts Henry’s head up, and with the other she gently pinches his nose as she leans down to perform mouth to mouth. She repeats her movements twice, lowering her ear on his chest to listen to the sound of his heartbeat, and she resumes her first-aid action another three times before Henry’s body jerks forward in a sitting position as he gasps for air. Y/N gets knocked out of the way in the process, but she lets out a relieved sigh when she sees her best friend finally awake. 

“Kid Danger, are you okay?” She asks, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Henry blinks, running a hand across his face as he looks around, taking in his surroundings. His eyebrows crease a frown on his forehead, and he scratches his temple. He is in an old warehouse, that much he can tell from the dirty walls and the lack of artificial light from the ceiling. He can feel the wind creeping through the holes in the doors and in the walls, and he has to stop himself from retching when the scent of acid reaches his nose. Slowly, the memories of why he is here come back to the forefront of his mind. Dr. Lover had escaped from jail, and it’d been up to Captain Man, Kid Danger, and Menace to get him back there. They’d found him in the old warehouse near the Swellview border, but as soon as they’d stepped inside he got hit by a powerful purple blast that knocked him off his feet. He feels a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, and he turns his head around.

There she is, Y/N. She wears her sidekick uniform, a navy-blue spandex suit with a black leather jacket that matches his own silver and red one. Her mask, the same colours as her uniform, covers her eyes and there’s a dark eyeshadow that covers her skin; the same way silver eyeshadow covers his. 

“Hey Kid Danger.” Y/N smiles when she holds his gaze to hers. “How are you feeling? You got hit pretty badly.”

“I– I–” Henry stutters, feeling the heat rise in his body. “I love you.”

His voice is soft, and Y/N chokes back on her saliva, blinking rapidly. This certainly came out of nowhere, she thinks. She holds her breath when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her midsection and a mop of hair brushing against her chin. Her body freezes, and her mind begins to race with a thousand thoughts by the second. What’s happening? She clears her throat, shaking her head as her eyes drift back to her best friend who is now all snuggled up against her, eyes closed and a lovestruck smile hanging on his lips. She chuckles awkwardly, the sound rumbling from her chest as she puts her hands on Henry’s shoulders to gently push him away from her. 

“Alright Kids, we’re good to–”

Captain Man begins to say as he approaches his two sidekicks, but he stops himself mid-sentence when his eyes land on the both of them. A smirk cracks his face, watching Kid Danger snuggling up against Menace and how the teenage girl’s eyes are blown wide in surprise. A chuckle rumbles from his chest as he crouches down next to Menace, putting a hand over her shoulder.

“So, Kid Danger’s okay.” Ray smiles, eying Henry through his mask. 

“Is he?” Y/N tilts her head, brows furrowed. “Ray, he won’t let me go.” She whispers then.

“Alright.” The man shrugs, standing up and grabbing one of Henry’s arms to pull him up. “Come on Kid, we gotta go.”

Henry whines when he is pulled away from Y/N, lips pouted when he turns to look at Ray. Y/N lets out a heavy sigh, jumping on her two feet. She picks up her glove, sliding it back on her hand, and she brushes away the dust that had gathered on her legs when she’d been sitting on the floor. When she looks back at her boss, Henry’s already back by her side, both his arms wrapped around her shoulders as he rests his chin in the crook of her neck. The heat flares up her cheeks, and Y/N is fairly certain that her face is a bright red colour. Henry’s sudden confession lingers in her mind; it felt weird, and out of the blue. Sure, she’s had the longest crush on her best friend; she can’t even remember when she first caught feelings for him, but she always tried to hide the way she truly feels about him. Had he suddenly figured it out and needed to tell her how he feels too? Or did Dr. Lover’s chemical weapon do something to him? Either way, Y/N cannot shake the feeling of déjà-vu; like something similar had happened before. She lets out a soft smile, running a gloved hand across her face as she feels Henry’s arms tighten their embrace around her shoulders. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, helplessly looking at Ray, with her head slightly tilted to the side. 

“I don’t think he’s gonna let you go, Kid.” Ray states, amused by the situation.

“You think?” Y/N snaps back, brows raised. “How are we supposed to get back to the Man Cave if he’s all snuggled up against me?”

Ray shrugs as his eyes drift towards Henry. His eyes are closed as he lays his head above Y/N’s left shoulder, his hands locked together over her clavicles. Y/N lets out a breath, giving Henry’s hands a gentle tap to break free of his hold, and she steps aside next to him when he unravels his arms from around her. There’s a lopsided grin on his lips when he looks at her through half-opened lids, and a small giggle rumbles from his chest when her hand finds his. 

“C’mon Kid Danger.” She says, her voice soft. “Let’s get back to the Man Cave.”

—

Going back to the Man Cave proved to be more difficult than what Y/N had expected, with Henry stuck to her the whole way there and Ray making snarky remarks here and there whenever Y/N tried to pull away and Henry protested. Now she’s sitting on the round couch near the supercomputer, out of her Menace uniform and back into her own clothes, with Henry snuggled up against her, him too in his civilian clothes. 

Y/N had seen Henry under the influence of a love potion before, but she didn’t have romantic feelings for him then. And, she hadn’t been the object of his love. She vaguely remembered the events from two years earlier, when Ray had had muffin-induced feelings of love for a villain named Gwen. The woman had tried to do the same with Henry, but instead of having muffin-induced feelings of love for her, he ended up having muffin-induced feelings for Jasper. The feelings only disappeared when anger took over them, and she remembers how Henry had been injured after picking up a fight with Ray. When she thinks about it, she should have known that giving mouth to mouth to her best friend after he’d been hit by one of Dr. Lover’s weapons would lead to something like this. Surely the villain didn’t call himself Dr. Lover for nothing. 

Y/N closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose when the elevator doors ding open. She tries her best to look over her shoulder to see who it is, but the task turns out to be complicated when you have a six feet teenage boy holding onto you for dear life with his head buried in the crook of your neck. She groans softly, throwing her head back against the edge of the couch, getting a glimpse of Jasper approaching the Man couch.

“I am so glad I am not the object of his love this time!” Jasper snorts when he sits across from Y/N, a smile on his lips.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying my suffering, Jasp.” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Come on, Y/N.” Jasper smirks, giving her a knowing side-eye. “Is it really suffering?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Y/N’s lips turn into a thin line as she glares at Jasper, who only raises his arms up in defense. So, maybe she’s been more obvious than she thought she’d been about her feelings for her best friend but last she knew, Henry had no idea how she felt about him and she’d prefer it if it stayed that way. She doesn’t want to ruin her friendship with him, and she certainly won’t let the influence of a love potion change that. If it even is a love potion, she thinks. 

Henry shifts next to her, and Y/N takes it as an opportunity to move away from him. But Henry’s faster than her, curse his hypermotility, and his slender fingers wrap themselves around her wrist, pulling her back to him. She lets out a small yelp when she lands on his lap, her body stiffening when his arms snake around her waist and he pulls her close. Her back is against his chest, and he rests his chin atop her shoulder, his blond mop of tangled hair brushing against her earlobe. A shiver runs down her spine, and she has to close her eyes to control her breathing. Schwoz needs to figure out what happened to Henry, and he needs to figure it out soon.

“I don’t suppose making him angry will change anything?” Y/N suggests, raising a brow at Jasper.

He seems to think for a moment. “Nope. Schwoz said this wasn’t like the love muffin from two years ago so…” He trails out, looking for his next words. “Whatever Dr. Lover did to Henry, it’s different from Gwen and her love muffins.”

“Okay… but here’s a thought. We never caught Gwen again, after the whole incident. Do we think she might be working with Dr. Lover this time?”

Jasper shrugs, taking a quick glance towards Henry. His eyes are closed as he leans over Y/N’s shoulder, a lovestruck smile hanging on his lips, and his arms are tightly secured around her waist, preventing her from evading him. It reminds Jasper of the time where Henry had been under the influence of the love muffin, and how he wouldn’t stop clinging onto him until Piper had attacked him for stealing her curling iron. Jasper grimaces at the memory, but he can understand Y/N’s discomfort with the whole situation. Contrary to what everyone thinks, Jasper has a tendency to observe people when they’re not watching, and even an idiot would see the way Y/N steals furtive glances towards Henry when he’s not looking, or how her cheeks would flare up whenever someone suggested that they might be dating. Jasper knows about Y/N’s feelings for Henry, but he keeps it to himself because he knows it has to come from her if she ever wants to say anything about it. Besides, he is an excellent secret keeper, he wouldn’t tell on his friends. But when he thinks about it, perhaps Y/N’s right. Perhaps Dr. Lover’s been working with Gwen, and whatever it was that hit Henry earlier today might have something to do with Gwen’s love muffins from two years ago. 

The sprocket hisses as it rises to the ceiling, and Jasper turns his head towards it. Ray steps out, eyes stuck to the PearPad he holds in his hands. His brows are furrowed, creasing lines on his forehead that show the weight of a life of crime-fighting. At the same time, the hidden door between the supercomputer panel and the auto-snacker clicks open, and Y/N looks over Jasper’s shoulder to see Schwoz coming out of there, grumbling in a foreign language. 

“Did you find anything?” Y/N asks Schwoz, a little hopeful.

But the science man says nothing, dismissing her with a wave of his hand as he walks to another room, somewhere in the hallways behind the tube pads. Y/N sighs, throwing her head back as she closes her eyes. The exhaustion of the day starts to weigh on her, to the point that she doesn’t care if she’s Henry’s hostage anymore. Besides, his shoulder’s comfortable so why wouldn’t she rest her head on it? Henry seems to enjoy it too, because as soon as her head is on his shoulder, his smile grows larger across his face, and he half-open his eyes to glance at her. All he can see is her strained neck though, and all he can think about is how tempting it is to kiss it. Instead, he simply nuzzles his face closer to the crook of where her neck and shoulder meet, the tip of his nose brushing against her skin as her sweet perfume fills his nostrils when he takes a deep, contented breath. He doesn’t realize that his small gesture makes the goosebumps rise on Y/N’s skin, nor does he notice how she holds her breath for a minute.

“Ray?” Y/N calls out eventually, her voice half-asleep. She doesn’t mean to enjoy the close proximity with Henry, but it’s comfortable. Safe.

Ray detaches his gaze from the PearPad in his hands to look up to the round couch where both his sidekicks and Jasper are seated. He raises a brow when he notices the smirk on Jasper’s face, but he can’t help a smirk of his own when he sees just what Jasper is smiling about. 

“Ray?” Y/N calls out again, her voice sleepy.

“Yeah?” Ray suppresses a chuckle.

“Do we think Gwen might be working with Dr. Lover?”

“Why?”

“Well…”

Y/N stops herself when she feels Henry’s fingers suddenly trail up and down her right side, sending a shiver down her spine. She holds her breath, pressing her lips together to try to compose herself, and she moves her arms down on Henry’s, clasping her hands above his to make him stop. She swallows the nervous lump in her throat, gathering her thoughts. Henry smiles lazily against her neck, and she can feel the redness in her cheeks. She clears her throat, blinking.

“We know Henry’s been hit with one of Dr. Lover’s weapons,” she begins again, her voice wavering. “And whatever it was, it made him fall in love with me, for some reason. Is it possible that, whatever that weapon was, it had the same kind of chemicals Gwen’s love muffins had when she made you fall in love with her, and Henry with Jasper?”

Her words are slurred together as she voices out her thoughts, and it takes Ray a minute to understand her. Another, deeper frown creases lines on his forehead as he reflects on her words. Much of what happened with Gwen was like a foggy memory in his brain, and the only thing he could remember clearly was how angry he’d been when Henry had tried to pick up a fight with him. Ray looks back at Y/N, a brow raised as she slowly lifts her head, eyelids half-dropped over her eyes. Behind her, Henry whines softly as his head falls off of her shoulder.

“We never caught Gwen either, after the whole muffin fiasco.” Y/N mumbles sleepily. “Could she have been working with Dr. Lover?”

Ray seems to be considering this. “She might have.” He says then, looking back at the PearPad in his hands. “I’ll ask Schwoz to compare the chemicals from the love muffin with the ones from Dr. Lover’s weapon.”

Y/N hums in response. The elevator dings open, and Jasper looks over his friends’ heads to see Charlotte coming out of it, her eyebrows rising up in confusion when she spots Y/N on Henry’s lap. Like Y/N earlier, Charlotte also gets a sense of déjà-vu. She frowns as she makes her way to the couch.

“Is this the love muffin thing all over again?” Charlotte asks, sitting next to Jasper.

Charlotte, Jasper, Y/N, and Schwoz are the only ones who remember in detail what had happened two years ago, with Gwen and her love muffins. And although they did tell Henry and Ray what had happened, their memories of it were always a little foggy. The only thing they can remember from it is being angry when someone attacked the one they loved or said bad things about them.

“Yeah, but I think Y/N’s secretly enjoying it.” Jasper laughs and winks as he answers Charlotte.

Y/N gives him a glare, suddenly wide awake. “I do not.” She feels her cheeks turning bright red. “It’s just– every time I try to leave,” she says, unraveling Henry’s arms from around her waist and shifting to a seat next to him to prove a point. Henry whines in discontent, reaching for her again. Y/N sighs. “This happens.” She clicks her tongue, allowing Henry to wrap his arms around her waist again. 

He doesn’t pull her onto his lap this time, and only one of his arms has snuck around behind her back to wrap around her waist, but he rests his head above her shoulder, reaching for one of her hands with his free arm. Y/N lets him, and a shiver runs down her spine as he intertwines his fingers with hers, the warmth of his palm spreading through hers. 

Charlotte cannot help the side-smirk that grows in the corner of her lips as she watches her two friends together. She can see the way the flush spreads across Y/N’s face, and the tired lovestruck smile stuck on Henry’s features. She knows Jasper has figured it out, about Y/N’s feelings for Henry; they did talk about it together, but Charlotte is fairly certain Jasper has no idea that Henry actually reciprocates Y/N’s feelings. She isn’t even sure Henry is aware of his own, obvious feelings for Y/N, but if he is, he’s actually doing a better job at hiding it than Y/N is. Charlotte actually figured it out because she noticed the way Henry would steal glances in Y/N’s way, or how his brows would furrow whenever a boy outside of him or Jasper would come up to Y/N and engage in a conversation with her, however platonic it was. 

“I got it! I got it! I got it!”

The three teenagers lift their heads up, to see Schwoz storming inside the Man Cave, flailing his arms up in the air as he runs in circles from one end of the room to the other. Even Henry has lifted his head up, if only for a second, a pout on his lips as he observes Schwoz through half-opened lids, his brows furrowed together. Ray puts his PearPad onto the console of the supercomputer, spinning around in the chair he sits in as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising a brow in anticipation as he looks toward the science man.

“What is it, Schwoz?” Charlotte asks, raising a brow.

“I know why Henry is all lovestruck.” Schwoz smirks, pointing at Henry.

“You do?” Y/N speaks up, albeit a little too excitedly.

Her sudden movement makes Henry’s head fall off of her shoulder, jolting him awake. His frown deepens on his forehead at the loss of contact when Y/N pulls her hand away from his as she stands from the couch, stradling past him to be next to Schwoz with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Pff, yeah I do.” Schwoz nods. “Only a stupid person would not get it.”

“Okay…” Y/N trails out, glancing at Ray, Charlotte, and Jasper. “So, what is it?”

“It’s love pollen.”

“Love pollen?” Charlotte asks, standing up too. “What do you mean love pollen? What is that?”

“Yeah! Henry was hit with a blast, why would it be any kind of pollen?” Ray adds, confused.

Schwoz sighs, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, how can I dumb it down so even a stupid child could understand?”

His rhetorical question is met with a lot of protests from Ray, an offended gasp from Charlotte, and a scoff from Y/N, but Schwoz pays them no mind. He begins to stroke his chin as if he had a beard, walking over to the couch and taking Charlotte’s place next to Jasper. He glances towards Henry, eying him cautiously. His head is laying on his arm on the round table in front of the couch, chocolate eyes focused on Y/N, and a silly grin has found its place across his features. He extends his free arm towards Y/N and she sighs, rolling her eyes before she caves in again. Her hand finds his, and he instantly pulls her down next to him, scooting over so she doesn’t fall on her butt on the floor from sitting on the edge of the couch. A contented sigh leaves his lips when she is next to him, and he lays his head back on her shoulder as he sneaks his free arm around her waist. He doesn’t let go of her hand either, keeping it on his thigh as he begins to rub his thumb in small circles across her knuckles.

“Are you going to tell us or not, Schwoz?” Y/N asks, growing frustrated.

“In a minute!” Schwoz retorts, his foreign accent slipping through.

“Does it have anything to do with the love muffins?” Charlotte wonders, tilting her head.

“Well, yes. And no.”

“Well, which is it, Schwoz?” Ray queries, raising a brow.

“Both. See, the love pollen comes from a rare flower that is illegal to harvest in the America. Very hard to find. When someone breathes it, they become in love with the first people they see. Or kiss.”

“But Henry didn’t breathe the love pollen.” Jasper retorts, thinking. “He was hit by one of Dr. Lover’s weapons.”

“Y– yeah, a purple blast.” Y/N adds, remembering. “Knocked him out for a good ten minutes.”

“Henry’s lab tests show traces of love pollen in his system, and other chemicals that are similar to the ones from the love muffins.” Schwoz shrugs.

“Okay, so maybe Dr. Lover found a way to combine them and turn them into a weapon!” Charlotte suggests, snapping her fingers. “He’s a scientist, with all kinds of gadgets– maybe he figured out a way to use the love pollen and the chemicals from the love muffin as a weapon.”

“Which means that Gwen was probably working with him!” Jasper adds. 

“So we just have to make Henry angry, and he’ll stop being in love with me. Right?” Y/N asks, turning her gaze to Schwoz.

“Love pollen is stronger than the love muffin chemicals, and because it is in higher quantity in Henry’s system, I don’t think making him angry will work.”

Y/N sighs, throwing her head back. Great, that’s just great, she thinks. So they know what’s causing Henry to be infatuated with her, but they have no idea how to make it stop. And the last thing Y/N wants is for Henry to be infatuated with her without being aware of it in the first place. If she’s honest with herself though, she really doesn’t mind the attention he’s been giving her; she just wishes it were real.

“Well, you better figure something out, Schwoz.” Ray speaks up.  “Because we need Kid Danger to fight crime.”

“I’ll help Schwoz figure it out.” Charlotte says.

Y/N lifts her head up then, glancing at her friend and mouthing a small ‘thank you’. Charlotte dips her chin down in understanding as Schwoz rises from the couch, and the two of them soon disappear behind the hidden door near the auto-snacker. 

“Okay, Hen…” Y/N sighs, sitting straighter on the couch. Her free hand rests on Henry’s arm around her waist. “It’s getting late and I need to go home. Can you let me go?”

Henry lets out a soft whine in protest, his hold strengthening around her waist and Y/N groans. Jasper snorts in front of her, and she gives him a death stare, smirking proudly as he lowers his head to avoid her stare. Then, she glances up to Ray, who’s watching her with an amused gleam in his eyes. She frowns, tilting her head to the side.

“A little help, Ray?” She asks him, hopeful.

“He’s going to follow you home, you know.” Ray states, raising a brow. “Poor kid’s infatuated with you, he can’t even be a minute without you.”

Y/N sighs. “I can’t go home with him like that. My mom’s gonna figure something out.”

“Then tell her you’re staying at Char’s place.” Jasper suggests. “And you stay here in the Man Cave until she and Schwoz figure out something.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, leaning back into the couch. She reaches for her phone in her front pocket, quickly texting her mother after unlocking her screen. She then sets her phone down on the table in front of her, shifting in her seat to be more comfortable. She watches as Ray stands up, exchanging a few words with Jasper before he disappears through the same door as Charlotte and Schwoz. Jasper stands up then, and Y/N frowns as she follows his movements towards the elevator. 

“Are you going to leave me here alone?” She asks her friend, the frown deepening on her forehead.

“You’re not alone.” Jasper smiles. “You have Henry!”

“You know what I mean.”

“Eh, you’ll be fine. He’s mostly harmless. Besides, Ray’s gonna kill me if I’m not back up at the store.”

“It’s a fake store.” Y/N deadpans. “And since when do you pretend to care about the store?”

“I don’t.” Jasper shrugs. “But we gotta keep up with the appearances.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at that, huffing. She hears the elevator doors ding, followed by a loud whirring sound before the Man Cave falls quiet again. She lets out a sigh, her chest heaving up and down as she does so, and then she tilts her head to look at Henry. He looks peaceful, with his head on her shoulder and the soft smile on his lips. It almost looks like he’s sleeping, with his eyes closed, but she knows he isn’t; she can feel his thumb still brushing against her knuckles. Y/N knows none of this is real, save for her own feelings, and she knows that Henry probably won’t remember anything once he comes out of it. But it feels nice; it feels real. Safe. She leans back into the couch, leaning her head over Henry’s, and she closes her eyes, a quiet sigh leaving her lips. 

—

Y/N doesn’t remember falling asleep but when she wakes up, the Man Cave is entirely quiet. She blinks several times, adjusting her eyesight to the dimmed lights in the room. The slow beeping from the supercomputer reaches her ears before the soft snores coming from right beside her. Her back is beginning to hurt from leaning over the table, and she barely can feel her arms from the weight of her head on them. How long had she been asleep?

She wants to move; to stand up to get the blood flowing to her arms and legs again, but there’s a weight on her back and a gentle pressure around her midsection that prevent her from moving around. She inhales slowly, the memories creeping back into her mind. Her heart flutters in her chest when her brain processes who’s sleeping beside her, and her body relaxes. She shouldn’t enjoy it, when she knows that Henry’s feelings for her are not real and it’s all because of Dr. Lover’s weapon. Love pollen, as Schwoz called it earlier. And yet, she feels safe in his arms, and she revels in the warmth of his embrace, his soft snores vibrating against her back. She finds herself smiling, slowly moving an arm down to rest it against Henry’s around her waist, and she absentmindedly begins to run her fingers up and down the exposed skin of his forearm, closing her eyes again and living in the moment, however short it might be. 

Henry stirs beside her, slowly lifting his head up as a yawn leaves his lips. A shiver runs down his spine when his brain acknowledges the tingling sensation on his arm, and he opens his eyes. They land on Y/N and on the way she gently moves her fingers up and down his forearm. He doesn’t know whether she’s asleep or awake, but he doesn’t move, just in case. There is this yearning look in his eyes as he looks at her, flutters in his stomach as his knees touch hers. His gaze drops to her lips, his pulse racing at the thought of kissing her. 

“I can feel you staring…” Y/N mumbles, still-half asleep.

Henry’s eyes widen in surprise as she opens hers, and his face flushes red. He blinks, trying to avert his eyes from hers, but her genuine laugh brings him back to look at her again. She shoves him playfully as she sits on the couch, cracking her back in the process and letting out a relieved sigh. He tilts his head, curiously watching her. She’s so effortlessly beautiful, it makes Henry wonder how he hasn’t noticed it before. The way her smile carves dimples in the corner of her lips, or how she scrunches her nose a little when she laughs. The way her eyes would sparkle with some genuine emotion, as if she were wearing her heart on her sleeve, and how she’d run a hand through her hair whenever she’d shy away from something. It takes Henry’s breath away to just think about every little detail of her his brain seems to pick up on, and by the time his eyes drift to her lips, those perfect lips, he’s already too far gone; completely smitten with her. 

Y/N notices it, in the way he looks at her with that lovestruck gleam in his brown eyes, and her heart breaks a little. Her smile falters just in the slightest, because her brain reminds her that what she sees isn’t real. It’s the love pollen, and she mentally curses herself for hoping it would be real. The hissing sound of the hidden door in the wall across from where she sits brings Y/N back to reality. She lets her hand fall to her side, Henry’s disgruntled whine reaching her ears, but she can’t bring herself to look at him. Her touch lingers on Henry’s skin, and he tries to reach for her hand again, but she doesn’t let him, shifting in her seat so that her back is facing him. Henry grunts softly, resolving himself to resting his chin on her right shoulder instead. Y/N focuses her gaze on the hidden door as it cracks open and out comes Charlotte, with a satisfied smile on her lips.

She looks at Y/N. “We did it.” She says as she sits down across from her friends. “We figured it out.”

“Really?” Y/N asks, hopeful. “You really did?”

Charlotte hums in response, placing a muffin on the table. Y/N raises a brow, moving around as she leans back into the couch again, crossing her arms over her chest. Henry, whose chin had slipped off of Y/N’s shoulder, takes it as his opportunity to be closer to her, resting his head on her shoulder again and wrapping an arm around Y/N’s midsection as he lazily waves his free hand in Charlotte’s direction to greet her.

“Is this a joke?” Y/N deadpans, tilting her chin towards the muffin.

“Nope.” Charlotte answers, popping out the ‘p’.

“Indulge me.”

“Well, while you were asleep, Ray went back to the old warehouse to retrieve the weapon Henry’s been hit with. Turns out there were residuals from the blast and Schwoz managed to extract the love pollen from it.” Y/N nods her head, allowing Charlotte to continue. “He used it to create an antidote, but I figured Henry wouldn’t take it willingly.”

“So you baked him a muffin with the antidote in it?” Charlotte hums in response. “Alright, so he just has to eat it, and then he’ll no longer have feelings for me?”

“That’s right.”

Y/N sighs. Finally. Not that she hated the attention he’d been giving her, but it wasn’t real, and she couldn’t do that to her heart; pretend all of this was real. It wasn’t fair to her, and it certainly wasn’t fair to Henry, who probably had no idea of what’s happening. She runs a hand over her face, closing her eyes briefly.

“Are you sure it will work?” Y/N asks then.

“Only one way to find out.” Charlotte smiles. “Are you okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Y/N raises a brow.

“Well, you’re not exactly the best at hiding your emotions. And I’m not stupid. I can tell you like him, that you have for a while.”

Y/N sighs, but she nods. “I’m okay with it.” She takes the muffin in her hand. “It’s not fair to him, he probably has no idea what’s happening.”

“But will you be okay, after?”

Y/N nods again. In all honesty, she isn't sure that she will be. Because how can she pretend that nothing happened, when it reawakened feelings within her? She can’t ignore the fluttering in her stomach when Henry is around, not anymore. She can’t ignore the way she felt when he had his arms around her; safe. And there is a part of her, deep down, that hopes what she saw in his eyes, in his affection for her, is real.

She inhales sharply, shaking her head slowly to chase away her intrusive thoughts before she nudges Henry’s side gently with her elbow. He lifts his head up from her shoulder, blinking away the sleep in his eyes, and he smiles when he sees the muffin in her hand.

“It's a banana nut.” Y/N says simply, a small smile on her lips.

Henry smiles back, taking the muffin from her. He doesn’t waste another minute before he takes a bite. It’s still warm in his mouth, freshly out of the oven, and he sighs in delight, closing his eyes. 

“How long before we know if it worked?” Y/N asks Charlotte, turning her head towards her.

“I don’t know, Schwoz didn’t s–”

Charlotte stops herself, eyes widening slightly when Henry begins to cough uncontrollably. Y/N sits upright, adrenaline shooting through her system as her fight or flight instincts kick in, and she angles her body towards Henry, firmly placing both her hands on his shoulders to keep him steady. She can see the tears prickling in the corner of his eyes from his coughing fit, and how he presses one hand into his chest to try and relieve the pain. She moves her hands to cup his face and hold his gaze to hers, a gentle smile across her lips. She begins to breathe slowly, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth, tilting her chin in Henry’s direction to ask him to do the same. He blinks, moving his hands up to wrap his fingers around her wrists to ground himself – the muffin long since fallen between their legs onto the couch, and Henry’s lips slightly part as he takes a deep breath through his nose. Y/N tries her best to ignore the feel of his touch against her skin as a shiver runs down her spine.

When he feels he can breathe properly again, Henry blinks, letting his hands fall from Y/N’s wrists. He feels her touch leave his cheeks and he tilts his head slightly, eyes boring into hers.

“Are you okay, Hen?” She asks, and he can hear the worry in her voice.

He frowns, nodding. “Y– yeah. Wh– what happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Charlotte asks then, furtively glancing at Y/N.

“Not really, no. Weren’t we supposed to catch Dr. Lover or something?”

“We did.” Y/N tells him, taking a sudden interest in her lap. “He’s back in jail.”

“Alright! That’s a good day’s work.”

“Yeah…”

Henry’s frowns deepen, hearing the slight disappointment in his friend’s voice. His eyes dart to Charlotte, confusion swirling in his chocolate irises, but Charlotte shrugs, shaking her head. It’s not her place to tell.

“You okay, Y/N?” Henry asks her, trying to reach for her hand.

Y/N nods, standing up. “Y– yeah, just tired. I’m gonna head home.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

“No, it’s fine Henry. I’m just– yeah.”

Y/N shakes her head, walking over to the elevator. She picks up her backpack from the floor, her fingers pushing the up button on the panel to her right, and the doors open with a loud creak. She grimaces at the sound, stepping inside the elevator and pressing the ground floor button to Junk’N’Stuff, the fake store a half-mile up the Man Cave, and the doors close behind her. She only allows herself to breathe again when she’s certain neither Charlotte nor Henry can see her, and the tears slowly begin to roll down her cheeks. She knew Henry might not remember anything; she knew he still did not remember the whole muffin fiasco, even after two years. She didn’t want to be selfish, but as the elevator goes up to the fake store, Y/N wishes Henry hadn’t eaten that muffin.

Back in the Man Cave, Henry frowns and shifts in his seat on the couch to face Charlotte. He can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong; that Y/N lied. It’s the way she walked away from him, how she’d averted her eyes from his by lowering her head down. It’s the little hesitation in her voice, and the way her shoulders tensed when she’d gotten up. Something had upset her, and she lied to him about it. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He has to find out.

“Is Y/N okay?” He asks Charlotte. “Did I do something?”

“What do you remember about today?” Charlotte queries instead, tilting her head.

“Wh– what do you mean?”

“What’s the last thing you remember, before choking on a muffin?”

Henry ponders her question for a minute. He runs a hand across his face, trying to focus the racing thoughts in his mind. He knows they’d been looking for Dr. Lover, who’d escaped from prison, and that their best lead had been the old warehouse near the Swellview border. He remembers going there, in his Kid Danger suit, with Menace and Captain Man, and he remembers being the first one to enter the warehouse.

“I remember going to that old warehouse with Ray and Y/N.” Henry says eventually. “To catch Dr. Lover. And then, I was choking on a muffin on this couch.”

“So… you don’t remember anything that happened between then, and now?” Charlotte trails out, studying him.

“Nope. Why? Did something happen?”

Just as Charlotte was about to answer him, the sprocket hisses open and the two friends turn their heads towards it. Ray steps out, shoving his phone in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Did it work?” Ray asks when he looks up to the two teenagers.

“Did what work?” Henry wonders. “What’s going on?”

“Oh yeah, it worked.” Charlotte affirms, nodding.

“Ray. What. Worked?” Henry asks again through gritted teeth.

“He doesn’t remember anything?”

Charlotte nods at Ray. “Doesn’t seem like it. The last thing he remembers is going to that old warehouse with you and Y/N.”

“I’m right here!” Henry protests, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ray sighs, running a hand across his face as he makes his way towards the couch, jumping over the backrest to sit between Charlotte and Henry. 

“Where’s Y/N?” He asks, noticing the absence of his other sidekick.

“She left.” Charlotte answers. “Said she was tired and that she was heading home.”

Ray nods. “Well Kid,” He sighs then, putting a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You got hit by Dr. Lover’s love weapon.”

“Wh– what?” Henry blinks, confused.

“Dr. Lover was already waiting for us in that warehouse, and he blasted you with his weapon when you went inside. You were knocked out for a good ten minutes before you came back to your senses. Y/N even had to give you some mouth to mouth to bring you back.”

“Sh– she had to– what?”

Ray ignores Henry’s panicking tone. “Any-Ray, it turns out that the blast from Dr. Lover’s weapon was filled with love pollen and similar chemicals to Gwen’s love muffins from two years ago. You’ve been infatuated with Y/N since this morning, Kid.”

“Until you ate that muffin, which had an antidote that Schwoz and I came up with to counteract the effects from the weapon’s blasts.” Charlotte concludes, her gaze softening.

Henry’s face pales as he slowly realises what has happened since they went to that old warehouse. Granted, he has no memory of it, but he can still picture what might have happened since this morning. His eyes drift back to the closed elevator doors, a pang of guilt latching onto his heart as he thinks of Y/N. The ghost of her touch still lingers on his cheeks, making his stomach flutters. He remembers the worry hidden in her words after he’d almost choked on the banana nut muffin, and the way her eyes searched for his as she held his face in her hands while he tried to catch his breath. He remembers how she’d pulled her hand away from his as she stood up from the couch, casting her eyes to the ground as she slowly made her way to the elevator. He can still hear the falter in her voice when she’d declined his offer to walk her back home, and he thinks about how it bothered him when she left without saying goodbye. He frowns, lips pressed together in a line across his features, the gears working in his brain.

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh my god.” Henry breathes out as the realization hits him. “Oh my god!”

“What, what, what?” Ray blurts out, raising his hands up in alarm.

Henry ignores his boss to look at Charlotte. “Y/N has feelings for me, doesn’t she?”

Charlotte hums softly, giving her friend a small smile. She watches as he runs a hand through his hair, eyes blown wide in panic as the truth of what happened dwells on him. She is surprised he has figured it out, considering that he’s been oblivious to Y/N’s longing stares for the past year. 

“I– I have to talk to her.” Henry tells himself as he stands up from the couch.

But just as he goes to head for the elevator, the emergency alarm goes off across the Man Cave, and Henry throws his head back as he groans in annoyance. Charlotte is quick on her feet to check on the supercomputer’s screen as Ray reaches for his gumtube in the front pocket of his jeans. Henry does the same, throwing a round gum in his mouth before blowing a bubble after a couple of minutes to change into his Kid Danger uniform. Charlotte spins around the chair she sits in, glancing at the two heroes as they stand under the tubes.

“Where are we headed Charlotte?” Ray asks.

“The old warehouse again.” Charlotte frowns, looking towards Ray over her shoulder. “It might be Gwen.” She then suggests, pointing a finger at her boss.

“Might be. Will you–”

“I’ll call Y/N.” Charlotte interrupts him, smiling. “Tell her to meet you there.”

—

“Can we talk, Y/N?”

Henry asks when they find themselves alone in the Man Cave. Charlotte had gone home after they’d come back from their emergency call, and Jasper was upstairs in Junk’N’Stuff, closing up the store. Ray had disappeared behind the sprocket, going about his business that neither Henry nor Y/N had any interest in knowing, while Schwoz had gone in his lab to tinker on a new weapon he was creating for Captain Man and his sidekicks. 

Henry keeps replaying the events from just an hour earlier as he looks at Y/N, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and awaiting her answer. It had been Gwen, in the old warehouse, trying to get her hands on Dr. Lover’s chemically-altered weapons. Henry thought she’d put up a fight to defend herself, and he was surprised when she surrendered herself to Captain Man. At least he thought she did, until she drew out one of Dr. Lover’s smaller weapons from her pocket and aimed it at the three of them alternatively. He’d felt how Y/N tensed next to him when her eyes caught the weapon, planting her feet into the ground and raising her arms slightly in a fighting stance. Before he knew it, the fight was over and Gwen had been handcuffed by Ray, but Henry’s eyes found Y/N then, and the gash in her Menace uniform on her forearm. It had bothered him when she got mad because he’d worried about her; about if she were hurt. His heart had broken a little when she’d stomped out of the room, mumbling insults under her breath that he couldn’t catch on. The whole way back, she hadn’t spoken to him and it bothered him, because they always used to joke around in the Man Van after an emergency, waiting for Captain Man to be done with his statement for the police.

Henry shakes his head, pushing away the memories to the back of his mind as his eyes drift to her. Y/N sits on the round couch, head resting against the backrest as she glances at him behind her through her eyelashes. She hums in answer, nodding her head slightly. Henry takes a deep breath, wiping his moist hands against the fabric of his pants before he takes a seat next to her, their knees touching. He holds his breath, waiting for her to suddenly move away from him, but he is pleasantly surprised when instead she rolls her head a little, resting it on his shoulder. He doesn’t know why she does it, but he can see the exhaustion on her face, and he tells himself that she’s tired and probably only half-conscious of her actions. His eyes land for a brief minute on the white bandage around her forearm, and he fidgets with his hands, shoulders dropping slightly as he racks his brain for the right words to say.

“I– I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable today.” Henry says, eventually. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“I know.” Y/N whispers, and he feels her nod her head against his shoulder. “That was the love pollen. I may have overreacted.” She yawns, blinking. “What happened today doesn’t change a thing, Hen. You’re still my best friend.”

Her words calm his nerves, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest. Still, it bothers him. It bothers him that she called him her best friend, because he wants to be more than that. He might not remember all that has happened today, but he can’t say that what he’d been feeling was fake. Even if he were under the influence of the love pollen, his feelings had to come from somewhere and deep down, he knew that he couldn’t deny it. 

“I don’t want to be just friends.” Henry blurts out in a whisper.

“Wh– what?” Y/N lifts her head, raising her brows at him.

“I don’t– I don’t want to be just friends.”

“You– don’t?”

Henry shakes his head. “I asked Schwoz about the love pollen when we came back from our emergency call, after he patched you up. I know he told you and everyone that the love pollen makes you fall in love with the first person you see, or kiss.”

“Y– yeah, I know that.”

“What he didn’t tell you guys–” Henry continues, holding her gaze to his. “– is that the love pollen combined with chemicals similar to the love muffins influences feelings that are already there. If I hadn’t been in love with you already, I don’t think Dr. Lover’s weapon would have worked on me.”

Y/N blinks, trying to process Henry’s words through her brain. Did he say he was in love with her?

“You– you’re in love with me?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her irises swirl with something hopeful in them as Henry looks at her. He cracks a smile, carving a dimple in his left cheek, and he brings the palm of his hands to her cheeks, brushing his thumbs against her cheekbones. His eyes drift to her lips as he leans in, his hands moving from her cheeks to hold the sides of her face. His lips find hers as he closes his eyes, his heart skipping a beat. Y/N’s eyes widen in shock, but her brain is surprisingly quick to process what’s happening, and every fiber of her body relaxes as she closes her eyes, her arms finding their way around Henry’s neck. He is the first one to pull away when they both get out of breath, but his hands stay on her face, the warmth of his palms spreading through her skin. Soft pants escape her lips as she looks at him through her eyelashes, moving her arms around so that her hands lay flat on his chest and she can feel the steady beat of his heart under her right palm.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.” He whispers. “I have been since the day you got stuck in the eighties.”

Y/N chuckles, remembering that day. Then, “I’m in love with you, too, Hen.” She whispers back, her eyes fluttering shut as she leans in to kiss him once more.

ⓒ writerinlearning – 2025

[soaps-mohawk]

The Human

Kyletober Day 13: Lactation Kink

Summary: Your human didn’t quite know what he was in for when he rescued you from your crashed spaceship. 

Pairing: Kyle x alien!reader

Word Count: 2,198 words

Warnings: Mpreg, alien!reader, tentacles, lactation kink, teratophilia, alien culture, mentions of oviposition, reader got Kyle pregnant, reader has looks described because alien, exploration of humanity, seahorse-type anatomy, mentions of birth, this is in no way realistic or scientifically accurate for obvious reasons

A/N: I actually love this one. Please don't let it flop 😭

MASTERLIST

Your tentacles slide across Kyle’s skin, the rubbery tips tracing the divots that give the otherwise smooth skin texture. Scars he called them. Humans don’t have the regenerative healing your species does. Every slice closes itself almost immediately, every amputated limb (or tentacle) grows back in less than an Earth-day. Humans take time, and some wounds leave permanent marks. 

They’re fascinating, humans. 

Such an inferior species, yet capable of so much your species isn’t. You can see more than he can, light and dark, colors he can’t even conceptualize, dimensions he’s incapable of understanding. Yet, he’s capable of feeling things you can’t. Emotions, he called them. You thought he was threatening you the first time he bared his teeth at you. A smile, you learned. You thought he was going to explode the first time he laughed. You thought he was dying the first time he cried. Grief, he called it. 

Your tentacles shift to tracing the lines on his skin, something else he cannot see. They swirl across his skin, darker than his normal coloring. Your own skin is different from his. Rubbery, he’d called it, yet smooth to the touch and slightly wet. A deep purple color, as he described, that changes in sunlight.  You have no hair as he does, but the sensation of his hair is pleasing against your own skin. He’s more sensitive than you are, his skin twitching as you tickle him with your tentacles. 

You’re on his bed, resting between his legs. Thick and strong, corded with muscle. He’s slightly larger than average in human standards, yet you still stare down at the top of his head when you stand before him. You’re small by your species standards, yet you still loom over him. You’re very different from him, yet he had been kind enough to let you reside with him in his house after you crash-landed in his yard. 

He lets out a long breath, the action moving your head where it’s pressed against his swollen stomach. The two tentacles at the top of your head are pressed flat against his abdomen, listening to the movement of your eggs within him. 

“Can feel them.” He grunts, his hand lifting to push against the side of his stomach. 

“Yes.” You say. You still haven’t quite mastered the human language. His language is strange, nothing like your species’. You fumbles over the words at first, humbled by the strange mouth movements and sounds needed to produce their words, yet he’s patient in teaching you. 

You can hear the vibration of the eggs as they shift, growing and incubating inside your human. He’s changed since you laid your clutch in him. The muscle that had once bulked his form has softened, squishing under your long fingers when you grip him. You turn your head, resting your chin on his stomach. You stare up at him with your large, black, unblinking eyes. His own brown eyes are staring back, hooded and soft as he looks at you. 

You had expected the worst when you crash landed on the small blue planet. Earth. Most of the galaxy is aware of the small planet filled with an unintelligent, war-like species. Those who had dared to visit the planet had warned the inhabitants were hostile and unwelcoming. Most won’t risk visiting. You had no choice. 

Yet, this human had taken you in, welcomed you. He had offered things to fix your ship, yet you lingered. You grew fond of the human, learning about his culture and Earth. Warlike was the correct description, but not all humans are alike. 

Yours is different. 

You stayed long enough to feel that stirring beginning in your loins, your eggs beginning to grow. As the urge to mate intensified, you decided you wanted your human, Kyle, to carry your clutch. 

Now here you are, waiting anxiously for your eggs to finish incubating and growing. There’s only three in this clutch, a small clutch for your species. You are glad for that, as it is only Kyle’s first time carrying your clutch. The average six eggs may have been too much for him. 

You push yourself up on your arms over him as he shifts, pushing himself up so he’s seated on his bed. You sit back on your haunches, watching him carefully. He lets out a quiet groan, his hands coming up to rub his swollen breasts. 

“Fuckin’ aches.” He says, rubbing his nipples. 

“Milk.” You say, putting a hand over his swollen abdomen. “Babies.” 

“Why does it have to come in now? They’re not close to hatching yet.” He complains. 

You don’t quite understand his words, managing to pick out a few here and there. You crawl up the bed, kneeling at his side. Four long, spindly fingers reach out, cupping his breast. It’s heavy and swollen with the nutrient-rich milk your hatchlings will need to grow. 

You lean in closer, green tongue flicking out to lick your lips. “Help.” 

“I don’t-oh.” He groans as you squeeze his breast, your long tongue flicking out to wrap around his nipple. “Fuck, that’s nice.” He breathes as you squeeze his nipple with your tongue. 

You take his reactions as approval, removing your tongue as you lean forward. Your lips close around his nipple, suckling at it as you hold his gaze. You’re careful not to nick him with your sharp teeth as you suckle, warm milk starting to drip into your mouth. Your tongue flicks against the bud, coaxing more out to relieve some of the pressure. 

The milk is sweet, a pleased growl rumbling in your chest. It’s far better than human flesh. Your first day on Earth you had eaten one of his neighbors. It’s not a word you have been taught yet, but you had picked it up in a conversation. He had been a very large man, threatening and violent, and you had been starving. Most human food does little to satiate your dietary needs, but humans hadn’t either. It was the substance in the bones that filled your aching digestive system. 

Kyle had scolded you and then locked you in a closet as he spoke to a policeman. 

He told them his neighbor said something about visiting home and how he might have decided to stay in Austria. 

It meant little to you, but Kyle’s scolding about eating humans had stung something inside of you. Disappointment. He had let out a quiet sigh, but then told you he never liked that neighbor anyway. 

You haven’t eaten a human since, trying to avoid that stinging pain from the look on your human’s face. 

That, and Kyle had quickly learned how to satiate your dietary needs. 

Your tentacles spread across Kyle’s skin, wrapping around him to hold him close to you as you drink the milk your hatchlings will feast on soon. You approve of it, his body adjusting well to provide for your hatchlings. 

A few more Earth days and he will be ready to lay them, and less than an Earth day after that they will hatch and your children will come into this world. 

Kyle’s arm wraps around your back, his hand pressing into the skin between your tentacles. You let out a high pitched noise around his nipple, sucking harder from the pleasing sensation. He groans in response, pushing his hand harder against your body. You meet his gaze, staring at the deep colors of his eyes. Your species does not convey emotion on your faces, yet you’ve come to love how expressive humans are. 

One spindly finger lifts to his face, brushing against his cheek. His skin is so soft, such a different feeling compared to your own thick, rubbery skin. Tenderness is not a concept you understood before Kyle, yet now you understand it well. It’s one of the few human concepts you’ve been able to grasp, thanks to Kyle’s expertise. You’ve seen it with his creatures, felt it yourself. You handle Kyle with gentleness and tenderness because you could break him easily. 

Kyle grunts, trying to pull away as his breast goes dry, his nipple starting to ache. You pull away, licking your lips. “Tasty.” 

A smile crosses his face as he stares down at you. “Good.” He palms his other breast. “Could use some help over here too.” 

“Yes.” You say, shifting across his body so you can reach the other. 

Your hand lifts, wrapping around his breast as you lean forward, sucking at the nipple. His head falls back as milk begins to drip onto your tongue again. His fingers dig into your back, a low growl rumbling in your throat. One of your tentacles slips down his body, over his swollen belly before brushing between his legs. There’s a bulge under his shorts, a sign of his arousal. A cock, he had taught you. It’s not unlike your ovipositor in shape, but it is how human children are delivered into females’ bodies to incubate. 

It was an odd concept to you, though he had been patient in trying to explain it in a way you would understand. He had been surprised to learn about your own species’ mating methods, listening to you attempt to explain them in your broken English as well as you could. He had shown no fear when you asked him to incubate your eggs, agreeing willingly. They would have dissolved back into your body if you hadn’t found a mate to carry them, and that had been what you had expected had he denied your request. 

Now he is carrying your clutch happily, even if it is an adjustment for his body and mind. 

He is happy. Despite the aches and pains and adjustments, he wears the sign of human happiness often. He sits, stroking his distended belly often. Your hatchlings will take only after you, as he plays no role outside of an incubator, yet his actions and emotions make him seem as if he’s fond of them like they were his own. 

It’s a strange concept to you, one you may never understand. 

Your tentacle slips under the waistband of his pants, the tip stroking his stiff length. He groans, his other hand sliding down your body, fingers dragging along your skin. You’re getting sensitive, your skin becoming alive with receptors in your own aroused state. You wrap the tentacle around his cock, beginning to stroke it in the way you learned he likes. 

You suck harder around his nipple, milk spraying on your tongue as his hand slips to the front of your body, his thick fingers dragging over the slit that’s beginning to open from your arousal. You growl around his nipple, your tongue wrapping around the sensitive bud and tugging to get as much milk as you can. 

His fingers continue to rub over your sensitive slit, the edges puffing in arousal, the viscous liquid coating his fingers. You taught him how to please you, just as he had shown you. You like it, the intimacy of these moments, the sensations and the stimulation of your senses from his body pleasing to you. Humans have high mating drives, higher than your own species. It is satisfying, pleasing him, even if you have no need for pleasure yourself. 

He groans, his head tilted back as you continue to pump his cock with your tentacle. He’s becoming more and more aroused, his entire body alive with hormones and pheromones. You slip another tentacle beneath the fabric of his pants, using it to flick his tip. 

“Fuck, fuck, just like that.” He groans. “Don’t stop!” 

His hips jerk, the milk in his breast slowing to nothing but a trickle, but you don’t stop suckling at his nipple. He offers no complaint as he almost writhes in pleasure, your own body reacting as he presses his fingers into your slit. You let out a high pitched whine, your tentacle squeezing around his cock in response. 

“I’m close.” He breathes. “Fuck, so close.” 

He thrusts his fingers into your slit, the tips brushing against your ovipositor where it’s tucked into your body. You release his nipple, your tentacles vibrating in pleasure against his skin. It feels nice, very nice, something you weren’t aware could happen until he taught you. 

He cums with a deep groan, coating your tentacles and his shorts with his release. Your hips press against his hand as you reach your own orgasm shortly after, your tentacles writhing and shaking as you growl. 

Kyle pulls your body up close to his, wrapping his arms around you. Your tentacles wrap around him, pulling the two of you close together, as close as you can be. You’re both breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together. Your tongue darts out, licking the sweat from his cheek. You can taste the chemical changes in him, the hormones released by his pleasure and satisfaction. You let out a pleased hum, recognizing his own satisfaction in that taste. 

He leans closer, pressing his lips against yours. It’s still strange to you, but you allow it to happen. A kiss, you know the action to be, something he taught you. It’s a sign of affection among humans. 

A sign of love. 

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[awkwardbirdsdreaming]

Bird #52 - the Eurasian magpie (LC)

Before the 16th century, magpies were just called 'pies' which sounds so silly. These little guys are known to have passed the mirror test, a pretty special feat in non-mammals! You can find them hoarding shinies and being silly all throughout temperate regions of Europe and Asia, as their name suggests.

Also their scientific name is Pica pica and I cannot read that without pikachu popping into my head.

I indeed can draw magpie! :D I just assumed you meant either the Eurasian or the black-billed magpie - they look similar enough that I just went with Eurasian. But I was very tempted to do the azure-winged magpie. That's the only magpie I've ever seen in person and I feel a bit of a connection with them haha. Thank you!

[neousfics]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs (Miscommunication Edition)

If you liked my fic Miscommunication, here are the fics that inspired it!

I'll let you go if you kiss me goodbye by shadowquill17

Word Count: 5,440

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Edwin and Charles have been kissing regularly for months.

Edwin is under no illusion that it is because Charles is attracted to him. Clearly Charles misses physical intimacy and he cannot get it in a tangible way with anyone living, and while one day he will no doubt find someone who is both dead and attractive to him… in the mean time Edwin is happy to fill in, as someone who is one of those two things.

Only now Charles has met someone, and it seems the day has come for Edwin to let him go.

Review: I've read this one, like, 10 times. It hurts, it comforts. What more can you ask for?

Bright as a Morning by IntoTheUnknown

Word Count: 9,161

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

“You trying to court me like one of your old-fashioned girls?” Charles says, and he doesn’t sound displeased with that idea.

Or:

Edwin tries to navigate a relationship he refuses to believe is reciprocated, while Charles tries to prove that it very much is.

Review: This one is a bit more cute and wholesome than the others on the list, but I love it regardless. We get a fun exploration of Charles and Edwin fumbling through that "we're dating-are we dating?" mess that many early relationships face.

Won't Fear Love by coloursflyaway

Word Count: 10,265

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment.

If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him.

or:

Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

Review: We always love a coloursflyaway fic and this is no exception. The dramatic irony of, as a reader, watching Charles fall in love through Edwin's eyes yet also watching Edwin persist in willful ignorance of that love makes the hurt/comfort conclusion all the sweeter. 10/10 love this one.

you can have the best of me, baby (and I will give you anything) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Word Count: 7,466

Rating: Mature

Summary:

So they start kissing, and it turns into more. Into scientific exploration of the sort that Edwin finds himself dedicated to. Too dedicated to.

And Charles is good about it all. Too good about it all, as dedicated to the pursuit as Edwin is.

But that's all it is. Of course it is.

Because the thing about what they're doing is that they should really talk. They should really, really talk. They should say something before their mouths trace each other’s, before Charles helps Edwin shed far too many layers, before Edwin carefully peels Charles out of his own clothes and treats with them as much delicacy than he does any case, because Charles' ripped jeans and beat-up black coat patched with nicked pins is more precious than any artifact ever could be.

But they don't talk.

Of course they don't talk.

Because to talk would make this real, and Edwin needs it to be real, but it can't be real.

Review: I love the way the tone of the fic really changes when we switch from Edwin to Charles. It makes for a lovely bit of reader-frustration that makes you want to bash these boys heads together until they sort out their shit. Of course, the reward is just as sweet when we finally get to see them together.

Kiss You Better by coloursflyaway

Word Count: 4,068

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

The first time Charles kisses him, it wipes Edwin’s mind clean like nothing else ever has. No case, not Hell, no amount of exhilaration or fear or devastation, none of it compares to the moment their lips meet, nothing even comes close.

They have been talking about… something, Edwin cannot even remember the topic, and Charles gets a look on his eyes that he has never seen before, something far away and yet so aware, and one second, Edwin is talking and the next, there are lips pressed against his, soft and warm and tender.

Charles kisses him and it’s like Edwin is finding a new home in his lips, a new purpose in the hand Charles raises to cup his cheek, a new, yet familiar destiny in the little sigh he breathes into Edwin’s mouth; a kiss of life.

----

10 times Edwin thinks Charles is kissing him to figure out if he loves him, and one time he knows better.

Review: Oh look, it's another coloursflyaway fic and its also amazing. How shocking. This has got some fun poetic language in it and of course some good hurt/comfort.

Caravan of Love by Hse11z5

Word Count: 2,442

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Charles and Edwin are both undercover, trying to solve a supernatural mystery on a caravan site. Charles decided, to keep their cover, they must stay the night in the caravan, say disguised, and pretend to sleep like real people do. Unfortunately, there is only one bed. [Written for Painland week - day 6- free day]

Review: Just a classic one bed moment where we get to watch Edwin desperately try to convince himself this is a totally platonic moment while Charles desperately tries to hit on his bestie.

[gin-juice-tonic]

Hello. It's me again. I'm sure you've realized by now what this type of introduction to a post is leading into. I'm going to bring up another page in the bill book. This entry is going to be less about "proving" anything, but rather it's just something I'd like to discuss. (Also just a warning, this one ends up a bit long due to how many photos are included!)

As I have said before. I had many many thoughts, and I am liable to talk about them until they're all talked out. I want to focus on a single page again (Or I guess, a single double page).

Sorry for the kinda small image here, but don't worry. I'll point out the part I want to talk about.

What I find strange about these pages in particular, aside from the fact that it starts to become written like some sort of noir novel and that Bill has chosen to speak like a femme-fatale, is the new idea it suggests to us:

Bill at some point told Ford he was from another dimension.

I say "at some point" because Ford doesn't react to the idea like this is new information here. Why do I find that strange? Well, for one thing, there's never anything that would indicate Ford knew this pre-portal.

To start, we know that Bill introduces himself to Ford as "a Muse"

Notice the way Ford speaks about him. "From a higher plane, divine, otherworldly". He makes some guesses on the second page (spirit, alien, dream, etc), but nothing to indicate they've discussed the whole other-dimension thing yet. Of course, this is still early, so let's skip further ahead.

Here's where we start talking about other dimensions.

Bill has told his "weirdness dimension" lie to Ford, but there's no implication that he himself is from this dimension. And not to mention, this dimension hasn't been destroyed, so naturally it cannot be the one he talks about in the Bill Book pages.

Regardless, Bill is still being referred to as a divine thing, unknowable and even possibly not real. Safe to say he isn't inter-dimensional yet, so let's continue.

(this section has been edited from its original wording)

Here Fiddleford and his idiosyncrasies enter the fray, and Ford debates telling him. Fiddleford is aware they're building a portal to another dimension, so it would not be that far of a stretch in that vein for Ford to also explain that Bill himself is from one. But Ford's attitude toward the situation veers towards the less scientific. Ford still considers Bill to be something divine, and is worried Fiddleford would think black magic is happening.

Worrying that Fiddleford would think he's gone mad is one thing, but the emphasis on black magic and fiddlefords superstitions strike me as odd.

I understand there are likely several varying reasons why Ford wouldn't want to tell Fiddleford about Bill, even if Ford DID know he was from a different dimension, however:

If Ford had something to suggest Bill's essence was more scientific in nature, I.E. him being from another dimension himself, I think he would've put that into consideration in that when deciding whether to reveal him to Fiddleford, or at the very least would've given up the emphasis on his superstitious nature.

I'm not trying to say he would've actually fully revealed it to Fiddleford if this were the case, but I think the thought process around the concept of doing so would be different.

.

We're closing in on the portal test now. Ford refers to him here as a "non corporeal entity". He is non corporeal so long as he exists only in the astral plane... but is that what Ford is talking about? Or does he believe Bill has only ever existed in the mindscape? Does he know yet? I don't think this page actually includes much of an answer, I just figured it should be included.

The next-next page does have Ford cheekily refer to him as "imaginary" though...

Fairly soon after this, the portal incident and the betrayal happens. Could it be possible that somewhere within these pages, Bill spilt his home dimension backstory? I'm still inclined to think not.

These questions have no definitive answer, but I am led to wonder:

1) Bill's whole dynamic with Ford is that of a "Muse" inspiring intelligent minds throughout history, wouldn't the reveal of him being from another dimension call this dynamic into question?

2) If Bill is something from another dimension, wouldn't asking Ford to build a portal to a dimension totally-not-at-all-related-to-him become suspicious? Would Ford not question his motives at that point?

(A later edit: As has been pointed out in the reblogs, some of what I have discussed thus far fails to take into account the mental state Ford could be in due to Bill's abuse/manipulations. Expecting perfect logic and reasoning from him like the two questions above are asking for may not be fair. I am leaving them in this post so the aforementioned reblogs continue to make sense, but again, how his prolonged abuse factors into his logic and decision-making should be taken into consideration.)

.

.

I have just a few more post-portal pages to show to continue my long winded discussion with as well.

The pages about Exwhylia read a bit weirdly, admittedly. The first page Ford states he thought this was Bill's birthplace, the second page he states he believes Bill came from somewhere similar but was mysteriously destroyed.

If Ford thought this 2-D dimension had been reduced to an atom before he got there, how could he have planned to go? And I should hardly call being destroyed by a monster a "mysterious" method of destroying. Whatever the explanation for the way these are written is, I don't think they read like Bill has ever spoken to Ford about his home dimension.

Additionally, he mentions his "quest to defeat Bill" is what led him here, which I feel implies he learned of this place after being portaled.

I wish I had a good closer for this mini-essay, but the questions I asked above the Exwhylia section were originally supposed to be it. I don't believe Bill had told Ford about his dimension. That's the end of the sentence.

MAJOR ADDENDUM:

I can't believe I missed this (I can believe it) but.. In the book of Bill, Ford refers to Bill as "extradimensional" after their very first meeting!

Pinpointing the answer to my timeline question supposedly to this exact moment. In my opinion, if you combine this with everything I've mentioned above, no part of this idea from the book of bill makes any sense at all. You might remember at the beginning of this post, Ford guesses at what type of creature Bill is... two years after this last page here was supposed to have been written.

Additionally, if he had known there was an "extradimensional" creature in gravity falls at this point in time, I should hardly think it would've taken him two whole years after that to think of the idea that the Falls' weirdness may come from out of our dimension! (Not to mention in J3 he tells us the idea was told to him directly from Bill. Two years elapsed between these conversations? Knowing Ford, not likely. Again, even if Bill somehow did avoid telling him that whole time, I think Ford very well could've figured it out on his own by then.)

[dolceaspidenera]

Okay but... How about all the hints to Caleb's story they managed to put in the science-based video? I love that they actually reached out to a physics professor to make all the lore accurate. I feel personally attacked by this video with how it mixes scientific facts about gravity and black holes and philosophy on what love is. (I admit I cried a little, don't judge me.)

"According to the physics principle of "Information conservation," matter absorbed by a black hole continues to exist in another form- perhaps as energy, or perhaps as encoded information. What seems irretrievable has never truly disappeared. It still exists, it exists forever."

We know that Caleb is fighting the Toring Chips' influence using his Evol to keep his memories and feelings related to MC safe. As this wonderful post by @deepspacenova eloquently explains (seriously go read it, it's a great analysis), only 7% of his mind is still his, and yet he is clinging to it, his emotions and memories of MC are his only comfort and the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely. Yet, he is able to persevere because a black hole can keep all those informations forever stored, inaccessible to the Toring Chip, and thus safe from erasure.

"Beyond supernovas and black holes, astronomy offers another concept that illustrates mutual attraction and ultimate embrace. It's called the "Roche Limit". Due to the pull of universal gravitation, celestial bodies continuously move closer to one another. However, there exists a minimum safe boundary between them- the Roche limit. Once this limit is crossed, the smaller celestial body transforms into stardust, gradually gathering around the primary planet to form a ring that encircles it. Before breaking beyond the Roche limit, planets and their satellites, though always companions along their orbit, cannot truly embrace. After breaking beyond the Roche limit, even at the cost of destruction, they achieve an eternal embrace. This proclaims to the universe: when the force of attraction is powerful enough, togetherness becomes forever."

IF THIS ISN'T EXACTLY WHAT WE SEE HAPPENING IN THE MYTH TRAILER!

Caleb: "Then it's a promise. In life... and in death... we will never be apart."

"Universal gravitation is often used to describe love: gravitation guides all things in the universe toward each other- it is this inseparable companionship that makes the bond between everything unbreakable. Love is the same: even when facing challenges and difficulties, as long as mutual attraction exists, one can feel the presence of the other's presence regardless of distance. Love is omnipresent, no matter where you are, the possibility of encountering love exists. Just as universal gravitation never disappears from the universe, true love also exists forever, moving toward cyclical eternity, interpreting the ultimate embrace and vigilance, composing the universe's romantic epic. Mutually attracted, never apart."

My heart 😭😭

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Andrew Doyle

Published: Mar 27, 2025

The University of Oxford is at it again. Somehow forgetting that its function is the pursuit and production of knowledge rather than ideological propagandising, its authorities have decided to modify the Latin passages of the degree ceremony to be gender-neutral. Bye bye, magistri (masters) and doctores (doctors); instead, graduates will be referred to as vos (you). One presumes this is to avoid causing offence to ‘non-binary’ students who happen to specialise in the classics.

On a purely theatrical basis, this stripping away of grandeur is disappointing. One of the most enjoyable aspects of matriculating at Oxford was that we had an excuse to dress up in black capes, and when I later graduated I was permitted to wear the flowing bright red garb of the doctor philosophiae. If I had climbed up to the top of the cupola of the Sheldonian Theatre on that day, I might have been mistaken for an activist from Fathers for Justice.

These anachronistic touches are surely part of the appeal of studying at Oxford. And although a slight modification to the Latin won’t harm anyone – let’s face it, barely anyone would have noticed – it does point to a deeper societal malaise. Like asking someone for one’s pronouns, it’s a little reminder that we are expected to truckle to this intolerant, regressive and identity-obsessed new state religion.

And let’s not forget that the entire notion of ‘non-binary’ is, for the most part, a status symbol for middle-class narcissists. Why should an 800-year-old ceremony be tweaked to satisfy the demands of these little Veruca Salts who wants the whole world to contort in accordance with their preferences? At the time of my graduation at Oxford I was a huge fan of Madonna, but I didn’t insist that the Vice-Chancellor intone: Modo virginis. Tum primum tactae.

Up until relatively recently, ‘coming out’ as ‘non-binary’ was a means by which uber-privileged celebrities could claim some degree of oppression. It was this generation’s most fashionable label, and was embraced by the likes of Same Smith and Demi Lovato. It was only marginally less ridiculous than Danni Minogue claiming she was ‘queer’ and then later clarifying that she wasn’t interested in women sexually, or Michaela Kennedy-Cuomo – daughter of the former governor of New York, Andrew Cuomo – announcing that she was ‘demisexual’. This is defined as someone who only feels sexually attracted to someone if they have an emotional bond, which means that Cuomo had effectively ‘come out’ as an old-fashioned heterosexual.

One cannot ‘come out’ as non-binary. The metaphor of ‘coming out’ is specifically related to the revelation of an innate characteristic that one has kept hidden due to societal disapproval. Up until the 1990s, coming out as gay involved a degree of personal risk; gay people were disowned, disinherited, fired, and sometime physically attacked or killed. Coming out as non-binary, a fashionable and celebrated identity, bears no such risks.

Moreover, homosexuality is a verifiably innate characteristic. It is remarkably easy to determine someone’s sexual orientation by scientific means, and to measure degrees of arousal on the basis of erotic stimuli. There is no apparatus in the world that could measure ‘gender identity’ any more than one could hope to measure where someone falls on the spectrum of mods to rockers. And yet we are expected to treat belief in this will-o’-the-wisp as the equivalent of an inherent sexual orientation or racial group. It’s remarkably insulting to minorities who have been persecuted throughout history.

For the sake of the literal-minded, I should point out that when I say that to be non-binary isn’t real, I do not mean to imply that people who call themselves non-binary do not exist. I am pointing out that identity is not the same as material reality; it is all about self-perception. The claim of being non-binary is not even synonymous with ‘intersex’ (not a third sex or evidence of a ‘spectrum’, but rather a developmental condition that results in sexual ambiguity in males and females).

The identity of ‘non-binary’ is based on the notion that one does not feel aligned with stereotypes of male or female. And so it amounts to a reinforcement of traditional ideals of maleness and femaleness. Rather than acknowledging that men and women can behave and dress as they like, to claim to be ‘non-binary’ implies that if men don’t behave like ‘real men’ and women don’t behave like ‘real women’, they are somewhere in between. It’s an oddly conservative form of rebellion.

This is why the Globe Theatre’s 2022 production of I, Joan, based on the life of Joan of Arc, was so reactionary. It presented Joan as ‘non-binary’ because she was powerful, courageous and wore men’s armour. For the woke, female strength and independence is not to be celebrated, but to be explained away. The same goes for the essay on Queen Elizabeth I that appeared around this time on the Globe’s website, referring to the monarch with ‘they/them’ pronouns on the basis that she rhetorically claimed to have ‘the heart and stomach of a king’.

So when former Coronation Street star Shobna Gulati last week claimed to be ‘non-binary’, she was not ‘coming out’; she was simply declaring her belief in a quasi-supernatural creed. Of course she is entitled to do that, but that doesn’t magically stop her from being a woman. But just as a friturier may announce his fealty to Ukobach, the demon in charge of frying souls in the underworld, there’s no reason for the rest of us to play along.

--

If this was the 90s, they'd be goths. If this was the 00s, they'd be emos.

I don't believe you're "non-binary" anymore than I believe that Xians are "covered by the blood of Jesus," or that Muhammad flew to heaven on a grotesque mutant donkey.

I don't believe in a biology-independent disembodied sexed essense "gender identity" anymore than I believe in an eternal Xian soul or Xenu and his thetans.

And I don't have to. That's what secularism means.

If your "identity" is invalidated by me not believing in it, then it was never real in the first place.

What I do believe is that nobody believes more strongly in enforcing narrow, rigid sex stereotypes than the people pretending they're breaking them.

[knowledge-from-the-abyss]

Psychic Abilities

What are psychic abilities? 

Psychic abilities are metaphysical powers that generally cannot be explained or observed by science (although there are scientific studies that are currently trying to understand and delve into psychic abilities). Everyone has access to psychic abilities; the most common psychic ability out there is intuition, that ‘gut feeling’ people get. I will list more psychic abilities down below. 

Please make sure that you are discerning mundane from magical; some of these abilities can and are symptoms of serious mental illnesses, such as schizophrenia, so if these suddenly start happening (especially around the age of 20) please make sure you are checking with your doctor to make sure nothing medically is wrong. 

Clairsenses

Clairvoyance- also known as clear-seeing, this clair allows people to see pictures or images, or even visions in their minds eye or sometimes even manifesting in the real world. This is also a clair that can allow someone to see auras. 

Clairaudience- also known as clear-hearing, this clair allows people to hear deities, spirits and entities, again either in their mind or sometimes manifesting in the real world. This can also manifest as hearing music randomly or having a song repeat over and over and over in your head, or having a deities name constantly on your mind/in your head (this can sometimes be a sign a deity is reaching out or generally trying to get your attention as well). 

Claircognizance- also known as clear-knowing; this can be your intuition going off about something. Just ‘knowing’ that something is going to happen, and then it does. Being able to know what color an object is when its in black and white, etc. 

Clairempathy- also known as clear-emotion; this clair allows the practitioner to sense others emotions, sometimes this can almost manifest as if you are feeling those emotions, even if you aren’t. 

Clairsentience- also known as clear physical feelings; this clair allows someone to feel physical sensations and energies (for instance, feeling like someone is touching your head when no one is physically there). 

Clairtangency- also known as clear-touch; this clair allows someone to receive information through touching objects. This has manifested for me before. I will touch an object and sometimes have gotten downloads of information from that object about the person who previously owned it, or the energies that were commonly around that object. 

Clairsaliance- also known as clear-smelling; this clair is when you can pick up on smells that aren’t necessarily in the physical world. A good example is that sometimes I will smell my deities when they are around me. 

Clairgustance- also known as clear-tasting; this clair is similar to clairsaliance, but with taste. It allows the practitioner to taste different things in the spiritual realm. Similar to clairsaliance, sometimes when I am channeling, I can taste the things my deities have been eating. 

Can psychics read minds? 

This, along with anything you might see about psychics in media (movies, tv shows, etc) is probably fake, at least in the way it is usually presented in these media formats. Using clairsenses, and being able to pick up on subtle cues from the other person, can lead to some ‘mind reading’ or telepathic-like abilities. For example, I know my wife very well, and even if she doesn’t always outwardly say so, I can sense when her mood has shifted. There are other friends that I have been able to do this with as well, including online friends. So the answer to this question is ‘yes, but not in the ways you might think’. I cannot tap into people's minds and see their exact thoughts, but with a combination of my clairsenses, and picking up on cues I see from them, I can figure out what they might be thinking, or how they might be feeling. 

How can I train/hone my clairsenses? 

There are various ways to do this, depending on the clairsenses you’re wanting to hone. Firstly, I recommend figuring out what your strongest clairsenses are. This is basically just about observing yourself and how you experience the world; this can also sometimes correspond to your physical senses. Once you know what clairsenses you have that are strongest, focusing on using those in various settings is a good idea. For instance, if you find that clairvoyance is the strongest clair you have, practicing meditation and seeing things during meditation might be a good idea. 

How do I know it's not just my imagination and it is psychic abilities I’m experiencing? 

This is where discernment and using other tools can come in very handy. Double checking with divination is a very good way to know if you are really using your clairsenses, or if it's just your imagination. There may also be certain emotions or feelings that come with psychic abilities vs imagination. For instance, for me personally, I’ve found that a good way to discern my intuition vs imagination is the emotions that come with it. If I get a sudden feeling about something for instance, I ask myself if there is anxiety or other negative emotions surrounding that situation; if the answer is yes, I often use other tools to figure out if the feeling I’m getting is truly my intuition, or if it's just me being anxious about a certain situation. If there are no emotions that I can figure out are coming from a situation, but something feels ‘off’ I still use discernment, but am more likely to immediately trust the gut feeling I get. In certain situations (like if I’m driving and my gut tells me ‘don’t take this road!) I usually do trust my gut feeling, and later on am often shown why my intuition told me to do that (often it's because of road closures or traffic that my intuition was guiding me to avoid). 

Do mental illnesses (such as autism, ADHD, and dissociative disorders) affect psychic abilities/clarisenses? How do I distinguish the two? 

Yes, mental illnesses can sometimes affect psychic abilities and clairsenses. Again, this is where discernment and using other tools such as divination can come in handy. Practicing can help as well; I have autism and ADHD, and sometimes it’s hard for me to distinguish if it's a deity talking to me, or just my ADHD going ‘brrrrr’. However, as I have practiced over the years, I have learned how to distinguish between the two sometimes; a lot of times my inner voice sounds different than the voices my deities will use, which is a good way to know that I might be hearing something other than my own inner monologue (I also still use divination tools as an extra step to make sure that what I’m hearing is in fact metaphysical). 

What deities do you recommend to help with learning/honing psychic abilities? 

First and foremost, pretty much any deity can help you with learning to hone your psychic abilities; however there are a few (mainly infernals, since I work so heavily with the infernal divine) that I will list that specialize in helping with psychic abilities. 

Hermes is a good option when it comes to seeking help with honing psychic abilities. As messenger to the Greek gods, communication is part of Hermes’ natural wheelhouse; this can go for both mundane and magical communications. He is excellent at helping not only with psychic abilities and clairsenses, but with divination as well. 

Dehuty/Thoth from the Egyptian pantheon is also a very good deity to reach out to for help with psychic communication; he rules over writing and communication. 

Some of the infernals I have listed below are lesser-known or unknown, so the UPG (unverified personal gnosis) listed here are all from my own personal experiences with them.

In my own UPG, the infernal Alcanor is also very good at helping with psychic communication, clairsenses and mediumship. 

Also my own UPG, the infernal Martinet is also excellent at helping with the clairsenses. 

Acuar is another infernal who is listed (VPG, verified personal gnosis) at being good at helping with psychic abilities (especially those that have to do with emotions). 

Lucifuge Rofocale, Azazel and Forneus are also infernals who are listed as being good at helping with psychic abilities. This is also VPG. 

This is not an exhaustive list of course, and in terms of the infernals listed, if you’d like to find out more about them I have more info on them on my Reddit blog; r/DemonStudies. 

Why are some clairsenses/psychic abilities stronger than the others? 

Clairsenses are like muscles; the more you use them, the stronger they will get. That being said, everyone is different; someone who is a runner is going to have very strong legs, but their arms might not be as strong in comparison, but their arms also don’t have to be as strong compared to their legs either. Same goes with clairsenses; the ones you use and focus on more are going to be the strongest ones you have. Some people also have natural talent with certain clairs (again, similar to physical abilities, some people are way better at smelling naturally than others around them, and this might also reflect with them having better clairsaliance as well). You can always hone and practice any psychic abilities even if they are not the ones you are strongest in. 

Do I have to be honed into my clairsenses to do deity work/spirit work? 

You do not have to be honed into your clairsenses to do deity work/spirit work, although from what I’ve seen most people getting into deity work are naturally drawn to honing their psychic abilities as well. 

Can using psychic abilities give me headaches? 

Yes, just like how sometimes you get a headache from eye strain from staring at something too long, using your clairsenses can also give you a headache or affect your physical body in other ways. Taking breaks, allowing your body and mind time to rest, and doing self-care can help to prevent this strain. 

Why do some people hear specific voices for their deities/spirits, while others just hear their ‘inner voice’ as deities/spirits talking to them? 

This comes down to everyone being different and everyone experiencing things differently. Again going back to how people physically experience the world, everyone experiences the physical world slightly differently, one person’s perspective might be different from another person’s. This is the same with clairsenses and how we experience our deities. I know for me, Loki generally smells like cinnamon and smoke (like from a bonfire), but for others, I’ve heard that he smells of just cinnamon, or they say that he smells like cigarette smoke at times.  

Will I be able to hear new deities/spirits I interact with right away? 

The short answer to this question is maybe. Again, this is about personal experiences; for me, when I first started out, I had a lot of trouble hearing new deities that I interacted with, it was very easy for me to pick up on their energies and know they were there, but when it came down to hearing and seeing them, even though I was hearing and seeing the deities I interacted with regularly, it was harder for me to hear and see new ones. Now that I have been doing this for so many years, I do find that I can very easily hear and see the new deities I interact with on a regular basis. So again, this can also be about practicing as well as natural abilities you may have. 

How do I avoid burnout when honing my psychic abilities? 

This is similar to the question about headaches above; taking breaks and self-care are very important when honing your psychic abilities. Also, don’t be hard on yourself if you’re not getting it right away. Again, this is like exercising a muscle; even if you do have natural abilities for the particular clairsense you’re trying to hone, it can still be hard and frustrating at times. Giving yourself grace, and not trying to rush the process will be the best thing you can do for yourself. Don’t compare yourself to others either, learn at your own pace; everyone's practice is different and everyone learns at different paces. 

How do I hone my intuition? 

First and foremost, trusting yourself is a huge part of honing your intuition. Intuition can often be that little voice in the back of your head warning you or telling you about something, or that ‘gut instinct’ many people talk about. Sometimes, it really is ‘just knowing’ something, and trusting that knowledge even when there is no outside evidence is very important. There are also many intuition tests you can do to work on honing (and recognizing!) your intuition and what it feels like. A lot of times I use these intuition tests to test and hone my intuition. Don’t be too hard on yourself either when you get these types of things wrong, sometimes we have off days and it is a learning experience! 

Will every deity/entity want to communicate using clairsenses? 

No, not every deity or entity will want to communicate using the clairsenses; some may prefer to use divination tools or other forms of communication to talk to you. From my experience most deities prefer to work with a combination of some clairsenses (even if thats just you using your intuition to pick up on messages they want to share with you) as well as other forms of communication. 

Are divination tools still useful even after I’ve developed my psychic abilities/clairsenses? 

Yes, divination tools are always very useful especially when it comes to discerning and verifying what you are told through psychic abilities. Using divination alongside psychic abilities is a very good way to make sure you are not going into spiritual psychosis. I always encourage anyone who is getting into any type of spirit or deity work to use divination as a way to discern what they are being told. 

As always I would like to thank my friend @astralscraft for helping me with this; they always ask such wonderful questions that I include and answer in these!