#this will be the only thing i have to say on the subject

[mkfshard]

I take issue with the quotation marks.

My problem is that the worst Christians and the best Christians believe for the same fundamental reason: belief without evidence.

They love to say that atheist don't have a foundation for their morals (and that stuff like secular humanism and other philosophical grounding doesn't count), when their morals are based on something that requires so much reinterpretation to be coherent that 40000 unique denominations exist and all claim to be correct. As seen above, not even the only book they purport to believe can stop their asinine reinterpretations. It all comes down to what they want, and the scraps of shredded paper they use to justify themselves.

So much evil throughout history has been perpetrated by self-described Christians (including the goddamn nazis) and the response from the Christians of the world has been whitewashing. 'Those weren't REAL Christians, they weren't doing it right!' They could acknowledge these awful things and resolve to prevent something like this from happening ever again, but instead they try to wash their hands of it, all in an attempt to keep 'faithful' synonymous with 'good' in their minds.

But faith only means you have a low standard for skepticism, and are willing to believe outrageous claims based on subjective emotional evidence. This can lead you to doing good things, but it's a big fucking gamble.

If Christians want to tout themselves as being morally superior, then they need to fucking stand up and BE morally superior, actively opposing the horrors faith causes.

Until that time comes, none of us should take them seriously, and none of us should let them forget the kinds of things their faith can excuse.

[ssour-apathyy]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ signed, with love

hockey player!vi x basketball player!caitlyn x cheerleader!reader, fluff, secret love messages, pining, reader is lowk a dumbass, use of y/n

word count; 1,899

summary; as valentines day approaches, you start to receive anonymous declarations of love, only to find out they're sent by the last people you'd suspect

a/n; happy valentines day!! this is my little gift to you all, and i hope you enjoy. i'm gonna go ahead and claim that it's a bit awkward because they're high-schoolers and NOT because i don't know how to write stuff like this jdhfsjhfdj

It was the week before Valentine's Day at Piltover High, and the excitement buzzing through the air was almost palpable. The annual holiday event was in full force, where students were able to send love themed cards to each other, be it anonymous or not.

The hallways were abuzz with giggles and murmurs as students speculated who had sent them cards, who might send them cards, and the reactions of those they had sent them to. Everybody seemed to be deep in the tradition, well, everybody except for you.

You weren't insanely popular, but you weren't not popular. A nice middle ground, some may say. You had been on the cheer squad for a year now, which naturally meant you were higher up on the pyramid of social status compared to the rest of the student body. This wasn't the problem, the problem was that you just weren't interested in anybody.

You told yourself it was a mixture of nobody being interesting enough, and just not having enough time to pursue anybody. If you weren't doing anything cheer related, you were studying. If you weren't doing either of those things, you were spending time with Caitlyn and Vi.

Caitlyn- easily the most popular person at school. Captain of the basketball team, tall and beautiful, and just so nice. Not that fake, only doing this to keep up appearances, nice either, like actually nice. And then there's Vi- breakout star of the hockey team, a little rough around the edges, but so fucking hot. Together, they were the very top of the food chain, everybody's favourite couple, and absolutely unstoppable.

You had been friends with them for a few months now, when you had cheered at one of Caitlyn's games and she couldn't help but watch you the entire time. She just had to talk to you after the game was done, and Vi was on board immediately. All it took was one conversation and it was like you three had been friends for years, and suddenly were inseparable.

The three of you had lunch together every day. Vi would walk you to classes, Caitlyn would walk you to cheer practice, any spare time you had outside of school was almost always spent with them. People had tried to joke about you being their third wheel, but the look that Vi had sent their way had them promptly shutting their mouths. You didn't mind, though. Never at any point did you feel uncomfortable or left out, and you were happy to see your best friends so in love.

What you didn't know, however, is that both Caitlyn and Vi were absolutely smitten with you. Their feelings were small at first, like a small sprout popping up in Spring. That was until you had gone on a week vacation and they realised how much they missed you, and THEN you just had to go and bring them both home a gift- a basketball keyring for Caitlyn and a hockey stick one for Vi- and suddenly the small sprout was a grand oak tree and they just couldn't keep lying to themselves anymore.

They had a long talk between themselves, discovered that they were both on the same page, and started to plan how they would approach the subject. They cared too much to risk jeopardising your friendship by just springing it on you, so they knew that it had to be perfect.

── ⟢

Your eyebrows furrowed as the small card slipped out of your open locker door, fluttering to the ground in front of you. You slipped your textbooks into the locker before kneeling down to pick it up, turning it over in your hands as you stood back up. It was cute, a little doodle of a steaming coffee cup with 'Words cannot espresso how much you mean' written underneath. No name. You let out a soft chuckle and a little shake of your head as you slipped the card into your bag, and didn't think much of it. Probably just one of the girls on the cheer squad sending them to the team.

And then there was another.

'If I could start my life over again, I would find you sooner so that I could love you longer ♡'

"What the fuck.." you mumbled, looking around you to the other students filling the hallway, trying to see if anybody was looking suspicious. Nobody had ever shown an interest in you, not really, so to start suddenly getting valentine's cards was surprising to say the least.

Every day up until the 14th, there was a new card waiting for you. Every day they seemed to get more and more personal, and there was no doubt in your mind that they were meant for you and you alone. The girls on the cheer squad had no idea about it, but they were fawning over the cards that you had gotten, studying each one carefully. When you tried to ask Caitlyn and Vi, they had played it beyond cool.

"Wow, seems you've got yourself a secret admirer, huh? You sure you've not been out there flirting up a storm when we're not around?" Vi had teased you, causing your cheeks to burn as you snatched the card from her with a scoff.

"You don't recognise the handwriting?" Caitlyn had queried, even though it was no use. The messages in anonymous cards were written by the students handing them out for this very reason.

You got the final card on Valentine's day, and although it was the most simple and, well, least romantic, it still caused your stomach to do flips.

'Gym, after school today.'

── ⟢

Being on school grounds after hours was always slightly uneasy. The hallways were silent, your own footsteps echoing along the empty expanse of the building. You stood in front of the doors to the gym, heart racing as you wiped your palms on your jeans and shook the shake out of your hands. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, and pushed the doors open.

The lights were off, the only source of light in the open room was coming from multiple candles scattered around the floor. In the middle of them was a picnic blanket with a hamper sat neatly on it, a couple of plastic cups tucked beside it. Both Vi and Caitlyn were sat on the bleachers behind, chatting away to each other before the sound of the door closing behind you caught their attention.

"Oh... uh, hi guys" you drawled, voice laced with confusion as you quickly checked over your shoulder before taking a few tentative steps towards them. "Sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt."

Caitlyn stood up, her varsity jacket hanging off her shoulders as she hopped off the bleachers to approach you. "You're not interrupting, don't worry. You're right on time, actually."

That increased your confusion tenfold, and it must have shown perfectly on your face as you watched Caitlyn busy herself with pouring drinks, because Vi's soft laughter was suddenly reverberating through the empty hall.

"Y'know, for somebody with your grades, you aren't all that smart sometimes" she teased, coming up to rest a hand on your shoulder as Caitlyn passes you both a cup of soda.

"Wha- but I don't-"

Your fingers wrap tightly around the plastic cup in your hand as the realisation hits you, and your eyes bounce between the two girls. Vi has a cocky smirk on her face as she sees the gears in your head turning, whereas Caitlyn looks a little nervous as she sips her drink, arms crossed over her chest.

"You sent those cards?"

"We did" Vi affirms, her hand squeezing your shoulder lightly. "Cait said the puns were too cheesy, but I think you liked them anyway, hm?"

You watched as Caitlyn rolled her eyes, even though a hint of a smile was ghosting on her lips. "We had been thinking of how to approach the subject with you for a while, and well, this seemed like the perfect opportunity."

You nodded, eyes flitting down to the picnic blanket on the floor. "And... you did all this.. for me?" you asked quietly, your voice hesitant and still coated with disbelief. Caitlyn took your free hand in hers and gently guided you to the blanket, sitting you down on top of one of the pillows as she sat in front of you, Vi doing the same to your side.

"Of course we did. You're special, Y/n. We care about you a lot, and-" she cuts herself off, playing with your fingers that she's still holding in her hand. "We were hoping you'd feel the same."

Vi clears her throat and shuffled a little closer, lifting a finger to your chin so she can turn your head to look at her. "What Cait is trying to say, is that we like you as more than a friend. This is our way of showing you that, and asking if you want to be something more."

Your heart stopped in your chest, and a warmth had spread across your face as you let everything sink in. It was like being doused in ice-water, the realisation that you did, in fact, feel the same way about them. Your lack of a love life wasn't because you were busy, or because nobody interested you. It's because they had already filled that hole in you, you just hadn't thought about it long enough to see it.

"Wow, I- honestly had no idea" you breathed out, your words coated in an airy laugh. "I mean, looking back at it, of course it seems obvious this is where it headed."

The three of you shared a laugh at that, and you lifted your free hand away from Caitlyn's to rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

"I don't want it to change anything though, not really. I mean, yeah, obviously things will change-" You blush at the thought of kissing them. "-but it won't get like.. weird or anything right?"

The two girls shared a look and set down their drinks, Vi gently taking yours out of your hand too, shuffling closer to you so they were sat on either side.

"Nah, not weird at all" Vi murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"We won't do anything you don't want to, love. We'll take it at the pace you want" Caitlyn affirms, her voice soft yet strong.

They both lean forward and press a soft kiss to your cheeks, and you let your eyes flutter closed as the feeling of being sandwiched between them. For the first time in a long time, you had never felt as at peace.

"Okay then" you whisper into the space in front of you. "I feel the same way, so.. I think we should give it a shot."

"Yeah, sweetheart? Wanna be our girlfriend?" Vi questions in that teasing tone that you love to hate, her lips grazing against your cheek as she speaks. You just nod in response, both girls crushing you in a bone tight hug as relief washes over them.

"Now then" Caitlyn starts after a moment of the three of you basking in each other. She pulls away only to flip the lid of the basket, pulling out various different snack items. "I prepared this specially, and we have a valentine's picnic to dig into."

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 2

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: angst; hurt/comfort; reader might have a crush on Kyra ;)

Word count: 3.4k

| PART 1 HERE |

Over the next few days, Kyra and Y/n settle into a comfortable, domestic routine.

Kyra was the first to wake up each day. She went straight to Y/n’s room to check on her and give her her morning medication, along with a cup of black coffee.

Y/n didn’t like mornings, especially now with the heavy cast on her leg. Kyra, on the other hand, loved mornings, so she sat by Y/n’s bed and chatted for 20 minutes straight while Y/n nodded along to whatever Kyra was saying.

“—And that's how we’re beating Man United this weekend,” Kyra concluded after a long thought process about technical strategies that would lead the Gunners to yet another victory. “I mean, they can’t keep putting her as a winger, right?” Kyra turned to Y/n, waiting for her to nod again.

“How can you have so much to say at 7 am?” Y/n asked, hiding her face in her pillow.

“I just do, it’s a talent, you wouldn’t know it, Grumpy,” Kyra shrugged and threw herself on the bed next to Y/n, the sunlight hitting Kyra’s freckles.

Kyra was wearing tracksuit bottoms and an old, oversized t-shirt, she looked pretty, comfy, and very cuddly too.

“Will you come with me today?” Kyra asked, changing the subjects, caution in her voice.

“Where?” Y/n asked confused, her eyebrows furrowed. She wasn’t supposed to go to physiotherapy or the doctor for another two weeks.

“Training?” Kyra explained, holding her head with one hand as she rested her elbow on the mattress. “They miss you, the girls, I mean. You could go there for a few hours, talk to Alessia, Leah, Steph… I bet Win misses you too,”

“I’m not in the mood,” Y/n said, turning her back to Kyra. Y/n missed the girls, but it would be too upsetting to see them running around while she could barely stand on her own.

“You’ve said that the last three times, Y/n” Kyra sighed. “You haven’t left the house, not once, and you also won’t talk to anyone but me and your mom. That’s worrying. You can’t just wait for me to come home every day, you also need to do relaxing and fun things for yourself.” Y/n felt a pleasant pressure on her shoulder. It was Kyra’s hand.

You can’t just stay here in bed and rot, maybe you could start a new hobby! Painting, sudoku, I don’t know!””Kyra continued, using the serious tone she never used with Y/n. “You need to see people, see your friends, get some fresh air.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “And do what? Talk about how miserable I am all the time?” Y/n said bitterly.

Kyra didn’t understand.

She had never been seriously injured before, she didn’t know what it was like to just go to bed every day not knowing what the future held. Football was everything to Y/n. It was her passion, her hobby and her career. Ninety per cent of her friends were footballers themselves, her whole social circle revolved around football.

Without it, she was nothing Football’s been her thing since she was a kid. Y/n had grown up with a ball on her feet, and now it was gone, and she didn’t know if she would get it back. Right now, Y/n was nothing.

Kyra pressed her lips together and stared at the girl, trying to think of what to say.

“Go away please, I want to be alone,” Y/n muttered after the room had gone quiet.

“No,” Kyra said. “Let’s talk about this, let’s—”

“Go. Away.” Y/n snapped.

Y/n felt the shift in the mattress. Kyra wasn’t sitting on it anymore. “You can’t keep pushing people away, it’ll only hurt you even more,” Kyra said quietly. “You can’t let yourself go like that, you know how easy it is for us athletes to get depressed after an injury, I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I’m not depressed, Kyra!” Y/n locked eyes with the other girl, anger slowly building in her chest. “I just don’t have anything! If I talk to the girls all I’ll think about is how they’re playing and I’m not.

“You don’t have anything?!” Kyra raised her voice. “What do you mean you have nothing? You’re not just your fucking leg, or your football—You’re a whole person! Just because you can’t play right now doesn’t mean you have no worth.”

Y/n remained silent as Kyra’s voice escalated. Kyra was starting to get angry with her. Kyra had never been angry with her before.

“You are injured! Your tibia split in two, of course, it’ll take some time to heal. Does that mean you have to stay in the house for the remaining months? Of course not!” Kyra’s face was flushed, and she was out of breath.

“Kyra, my whole life had been inside a pitch, I don’t know how the fuck to live without knowing if I’ll ever be in one again!” Y/n exploded, pointing at her cast “And this fucking leg hurts all the time, it’s always a reminder of how unhappy I am and how the world kept on moving while I just stay here!”

“But you don’t have to just stay here! You are the one who is avoiding the world, but it hasn’t stopped for you, it never has! Especially because you have people who care about you! You would know that if you would answered your phone when your friends called,” Kyra rubbed her eyes, tiredly.

“Why is it so hard for you to be kind and patient with yourself?” Kyra asked, looking genuinely confused, trying to find the answer to her question on Y/n’s face. “It’s so easy to treat you well, I don’t know why you find it so difficult.”

Kyra finally took a deep breath, and then another.

“Okay, I’m calm now. I’m sorry,” Kyra said, unclenching her fist. “I didn’t mean to get mad at you, I know you’re frustrated and angry right now. I just wish you’d be more compassionate with yourself and your body.

The room was silent.

“I’ll just… go then. I have to be at training in half an hour anyway,” Kyra took a step closer to where Y/n was lying, she dropped a soft kiss on her cheek. “Just don’t—rot in bed the whole day, ok? I’ll buy you some food and send it over at lunchtime so you can eat something other than crisps”.

Y/n felt her skin warm where Kyra had kissed her. She barely had time to process it before Kyra pulled away. “Okay, thank you,” Y/n whispered, she couldn’t help the blush creeping up her neck.

She should say something, she should say how sorry she was and how ungrateful she had been, Kyra didn’t complain about having to put up with her. Often Y/n felt that she didn’t deserve to have Kyra by her side and now was one of those times. She felt embarrassed by the way she just acted.

Y/n wasn’t someone who felt at ease with vulnerability. She didn’t normally let people see her at her lowest, except her closest friend, of course, but even now the thought of seeing them, of going back to Arsenal, even if for a few hours, felt excruciating.

It was as if life was mocking Y/n. Everyone’s life would go on, even if hers was frozen in time. Arsenal still had good and healthy athletes to train.

Kyra still had responsibilities to attend ttoY/n didn’t, not for the months ahead of her.

Eight months the doctor said, eight months until (and if) she could run. Would she be this bitter for that long? Was she going to stay frustrated with everything and everyone forever? Was she going to shut herself off from her teammates—her friends—if she didn’t heal the way she intended?

Change was a slow process, but Y/n decided to start it right now.

“Ky?” Y/n called.

“Yeah?”

“I’m being an idiot,” Y/n admitted.

Kyra smiled. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/n apologized. Small steps.

“It’s fine, you are a lot meaner when you lose at UNO, it didn’t scare me.”

Both girls smiled at each other.

Kyra held no grudges; it was one of the things Y/n admired the most about her.

“But if you really want me to forgive you, you’ll let me do something,” Kyra added, mischievous in her voice.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “What?’

“You’ll see,” Kyra said before leaving the room. “I’ll be back around 3 pm, see you!”

Y/n heard the front door close, and now she was alone. Y/n thought she enjoyed being alone, but deep down she didn’t. She missed Kyra when she was away. The house no longer felt warm and comforting; instead; it felt cold and isolated.

Y/n thought about Kyra’s words; about her being kind to others and not to herself. When Beth and Viv tore their ACLs, Y/n committed herself to take their dogs on a walk every day, since the couple couldn’t walk.

When Vic got injured Y/n made sure she was left alone during the physio sessions. When Leah also tore her ACL she made sure to call her every day to see how she was doing; Leah, unlike Y/n, answered her calls.

Y/n had so much love and support around her. She needed it to allow herself to receive it.

Y/n looked around her room. It felt strange now. Before her surgery, she had thought the room was rather cosy, with its green walls and light wooden furniture, but now it felt like a prison.

Maybe Kyra would agree to put on a mattress in the living room and make it into a bed. Then both girls could just sleep there, and watch some films. It would probably bring Y/n some comfort.

..

Hours later Kyra came back from training wearing a black kit. Her hair was in a ponytail, with grass and dirt on it. Y/n wasn’t sure if it was because of their fight earlier, but Kyra seemed different somehow . Even though Kyra was all dirty, y/n couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked. She realised she hadn’t seen Kyra with her hair in a ponytail before, she always wore it in a bun. It was nice, maybe the new hairstyle was the reason why Y/n couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

Cute, Kyra is cute.

She has always been cute, of course, but in the last few days, she looked even prettier. It’s okay to think your friends are cute. It was normal. Y/n thought to herself as Kyra bent down to take out her shoes, the black legging hugging her body. The book Y/n had in hand long forgotten.

Hot. Y/n thought. She was hot.

Maybe it wasn’t okay to think your friends were hot.

“Sorry?” Kyra asked turning to face Y/n.

Y/n widened her eyes. “What? Y/n said, her cheeks flushed. Fuck, had she said that out loud? And why did she sound so defensive? Chill out. “I didn’t say anything., she said, in a calmer tone, closing her book.

“Yes, you did,” Kyra insisted, looking at her with a smile. She let her hair out of the ponytail, letting it fall over her shoulder.

“Nop! You’re going mad, I’m afraid.” Y/n asserted, chin up.

“It must be all the time we spend together, then” Kyra raised a brow.

A lot of time together, indeed.

“Wait, is that a book? I haven’t seen you with a book for a while, I’m proud you still know your letters.” Kyra continued, a smirk on her face

Kyra was right, thought. With football and national camps, she hadn’t had time to read. It had been embarrassing years since she picked up a book. But now she had time, so she just took advantage of it.

“Haha you’re so funny,” Y/n said dryly. “You told me to do something nice for myself, so I decided to read this book I had lying around,” Y/n said, proudly.

Kyra looked dramatically surprised. “Wow, you actually listened to me? Did something happen while I was gone? Did you fall? Oh, you might have brain haemorrhage!”

“The ability you have to turn a normal conversation into a sarcastic one will always blow my mind,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes.

“Good thing I love to blow your mind,” Kyra said before realizing the double meaning of what she just said.

The girls stared at each other.

“Okay that was awkward,” Kyra mumbled, blushing. “I mean it like—”

Y/n laughed, thinking it was cute how embarrassed Kyra looked. Usually, Kyra was the one who put people in awkward situations.

“It’s all right, I got what you meant,” Y/n said, offering a small smile. “So—” She changed the subject, not wanting Kyra to feel uncomfortable. “What was that thing you wanted me to do so you can forgive me?”

Kyra looked at her watch. “You won’t have to do anything. But they will be here soon.”

Y/n frowned slightly. “Did you get that line from some horror film? Who the hell are they?”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, I’m trying to be mysterious here”.

“You sound suspicious, not mysterious!”

“Oh, shut up, just sit there and look pretty, no more questions, please.”

Y/n welcomed the compliment “Why, because you won’t be able not to tell me?” She challenged.

Kyra was the worst secret keeper she had ever known.

“You know me so well actually!” Kyra said. “Stop asking questions. I’m going to take a shower, but I’ll be right back,” Kyra said before heading upstairs.

Don’t go. Y/n almost said. Almost begged her to keep that kit on so Y/n could just look at her for a few moments.

The thing was: Y/n got used to having Kyra around, not just because she needed Kyra’s help to get things done, but because she just…appreciated her presence.

Y/n was always bored to tears while Kyra was away for training or a match day, so when Kyra came home, Y/n wanted her all to herself. Which was a bit strange.

Kyra Cooney-Cross was making Y/n think of very, very weird things. She wasn’t necessarily upset about it, though.

Minutes later Kyra stepped out of the shower, wearing sweatpants and an Arsenal hoodie. Y/n welcomed the sight more than she’d ever admit. Kyra was pretty, prettier than yesterday and the day before that.

Was Y/n suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning? Could that be the reason she was fancying Kyra? As it genuinely finding her attractive and not a bets mate type of way?

Kyra was attractive, of course. But Y/n hadn’t realised just how much it messed with her mind, and mostly her body. Kyra was her friend. Not as in a friends-with-benefits thing, but oh they could be, Y/n would be happy about that.

Kyra moved in to help me out, that’s all. She doesn’t like me that way, and that’s fine. Totally fine. Y/n bit her nails, trying to convince herself.

Before Y/n could spiral any further, Kyra clapped her hands and told Y/n to get ready, because apparently, the visitors they were having over were about to arrive.

An hour later Alessia and Leah stopped by with a warm lasagna on Leah’s hands.

It turned out that Kyra was only forgiving Y/n if she agreed to meet some of their friends and socialise for a few hours. “It’ll do you good” Kyra had said.d

“Hey, pest,” Leah greeted Kyra at the door. “How’s your pest doing? She hasn’t been answering mine or Lessie’s messages for a while now, is she dead? Did you kill her?”

“Well good evening to you too, Leah,” Kyra said ironically, letting both Leah and Alessia in, after kissing Alessia on the cheek.

“Why can’t you be like Alessia, she is so nice!” Kyra pouted, pointing at the blonde girl, “She doesn’t call me a pest or anything.”

Leah laughed and handed Kyra the lasagna. “Lessie girl is too nice to ever tell you the truth.”

Kyra and Leah continued their bickering while Alessia made herself at home. The girl was very familiar with Y/n’s house, having spent many film night’s here with Y/n and Kyra before Y/n’s injury.

Alessia went into the living room, where she found Y/n sitting on the couch, crutches propped up to the side.

“Less” y/n said cheerfully.

“Hey sweetie, how are you doing?” Alessia sat by Y/n’s side, hugging her. “God, I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

Y/n smiled and leaned further into Alessia’s embrace. “I missed you too, I feel like dying every time Kyra goes to training and I have to stay here by myself., Y/n confessed.

“Oh, so you miss me when I’m away. That is so lovely to hear!” Kyra's mischievous voice filled the living room as the girl elbowed Leah, “See, I told you she wasn’t bored of me yet.”

“Take me with you, Less, please.” Y/n playfully whispered in Alessia’s ear before the girl’s body was replaced by a taller and leaner one.

Leah hugged Y/n and patted her back before lightly smacking the top of her head.

“Ouch! What was that for?” Y/n whined, pouting.

“Me, Beth, Less, Kim—we’ve all been texting you non-stop, and you won’t text us back!” Leah scolded. “We’re not just your teammates, we’re your friends, in case you forgot!”

“Tough love. Told you.” Kyra chimed in from the corner of the room.

“Shut up, Kyra,” Leah and Y/n said in unison.

Y/n kept her eyes down, feeling a little embarrassed. Leah wasn’t wrong, though. Over the past week, she’d only been texting two people: her mom—because otherwise, she’d probably sent the police down; and Kyra—so she could pick up some snacks for Y/n on her way home.

“I know being injured is hard, but you can’t isolate yourself, especially form us!” Leah continued with a gentle reprimand. “You’re only going to feel worse.”

Leah pointed at Alessia, who was now standing next to Kyra. “Lessie told me you didn’t laugh at the memes she sent you! It’s Less, mate—you can’t make Lessie sad.”

If Y/n wasn’t being lectured by her captain, she would’ve laughed at how Leah was using Alessia’s sweetheart personally to make Y/n feel remorse about being a bad friend.

“Also,” Leah continued, now turning to Kyra. “Can you imagine how hard it is to rely on someone like Kyra for updates? Yesterday, she thought it’d be funny to tell Steph one of your bone screws had come loose.”

Y/n snapped her head towards Kyra, who suddenly looked like a kid caught red-handed. “I didn’t even get screws in my surgery! The doctor used locking compression plates instead!” Y/n argued.

“Well, you tell that to Steph,” Leah said dryly. “She cried and said we should call the surgeon responsible for letting you leave the hospital with a loose screw in your leg before Kyra finally told her she was just joking and that you were fine at home.”

“I didn’t think she would actually believe it,” Kyra winced, looking away, a small blush crept onto her cheeks.

“Steph got back at Kyra, don’t worry, Y/n,” Alessia added smiling. “Kyra is now responsible for walking Win every day before training.”

“I hate walking,” Kyra mumbled.

“Should’ve thought of that before messing with Steph,” Leah smirked.

“I was just trying to lighten the mood!” Kyra groaned.

“You don’t always have to fix things with jokes,” Y/n said smiling. “But I appreciate you are—at some point— giving updates to the girls. Still, leave that to me, I’ll start texting you guys back. I am sorry” Y/n apologized, glancing at Leah and Alessia.

“It’s all right kid, we’ve all been there, injuries bring out the worst in us,” Leah said, patting Y/n’s shoulder. “Now can we please eat the lasagna Lessie has made us? I’m starving!”

“You made your lasagna?” Y/n asked, her mouth-watering.

“Sure did. I know it’s your favourite,” Alessia said with a wink.

“May you be blessed for all eternity, Less,” Y/n said with an utmost stone face. “It’s been days since I’ve had good food.”

Kyra helped Y/n with her crutches before asking, a firm hand on her lower back. “Days? I’ve been making nutritious meals for us since you got back from the hospital!”

“Putting frozen pizza in the oven isn’t ‘making nutritious meals,’” Y/n teased, accepting Alessia’s hand as she sat down on the dining chair.

“I’m trying my best here,” Kyra huffed, crossing her arms.

Y/n leaned in, pressing a kiss to Kyra’s cheek. “Yeah, Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it very much.” She smiled.” Now let’s eat before Leah passes out from hunger.”

..

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

Tell me if you would like to read any special scene with Kyra and reader!

Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

[raindailies]

❝ ── VALENTINE'S REMEDY ❞ 

❤︎ ❝ it's you.. it has always been you. ❞  

(mydei x gn!reader ; phainon x gn!reader) !!

८ sypnosis. valentine's day with : PHAINON & MYDEI !! (seperately). sfw. fluff. crack, gender neutral reader — MORDEN DAY AU . ؛ ଓ

@ warnings; none ! all fluff & cutesy valentines (๑﹏๑ ) ⋆

── notes. this valentines, i deliver this to you (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) , originally, i planned to have much more characters than mydei & phainon, but there are so many things happening that i couldn't do that — enjoy, nevertheless! I hope you all had a good valentine's day yesterday ♡

ᝰ.ᐟ PHAINON — cooking date.. ?

(wc : 997)

⟡ "(name)! I've decided—we should cook together for valentines!" Phainon proposes. Your face utterly falls at his word is absolute and full horror at the thought. Oh no. If there was one thing you should know about being Phainon's lover, is that he is horrid at cooking, unfortunately, you had to learn this the hard way. (e.g, your house coming close to catch fire if you hadn't stopped his myriad of senseless trouble)

⟡ "Are you sure? I mean—what if we just.. go to a café or—"

⟡ "No way! I wanna make cookies with you!" Phainon only implored further at your admittedly weak rebuttal, his demeanor akin to that of a beaming light (or a beaming puppy), you could only make an effort to avoid his eager gaze as he awaited your reply. 

⟡ After a beat of hesitance and silence, Phainon pretty much tackled you onto the couch, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other rested on your forearm, pulling you impossibly closer to his own body, lowering his chin to rest comfortably on your shoulder with a huff, the cheeky grin still ever present on his lips as you tried to wrestle yourself out of his hold, muttering weak protests, which proved impossible in a matter of a second when you realized his muscles weren't just for show. "C'mon, can't my lovely partner and valentines indulge in my well-versed fantasy of baking together~?"

⟡ Thus, led you two to where you were now. Valentine's day was supposed to be cutesy, right? Maybe sharing a sundae, kissing under the sunset sky that boarded the horizons with a soft tint—instead of the intricate (admittedly, delusional) scenarios that you were conjuring just days prior, now, you are subjected to cooking with Phainon. 

⟡ "(name)! Is the sugar supposed to be this flaky? And it's a little salty." Phainon exclaimed, remnants of 'sugar' on his fingers as he test-tasted them in his mouth, you looked over in horror.

 ⟡ "That's salt! You don't add that much salt to cookies?!" You shrieked. Things were going so well!! How were you supposed to know Phainon couldn't differentiate sugar from salt? As you tried to scoop out the salt from the mixture of butter, eggs, and vanilla extract, you spared a glance to see Phainon looking at you expectedly, his eyes were that of a puppy, and you knew him well enough to know that he was sulking, and you couldn't bare it in your heart to scold him (you did it anyways).

⟡ Your boyfriend was a basketball player, a real good one, sure—you didn't know that would affect his baking skills, though. Phainon (read: attempted) to throw the egg into the mixture, stance that of a basketball throw, only for the egg to splatter onto the ground. One ominous call of his name from you, got the white-haired male quickly begging for mercy, splutters of "I'm sorry! (name)! H-hey, please put down that knife!" cascaded from his hurried begs. 

⟡ "Hand me the flour." You noted, feeling a bag soon resting in your hand, however—as you poured, you decided to spare a glance at the bag. You inwardly sigh to yourself, catching Phainon's back collar to turn his face around, forcing him to take a good look at the bag. "This is baking soda!" Unfortunately, Phainon only offered a sheepish grin before hastily freeing himself out of your hold, in fear, probably.

⟡ You'd love to say his misfit of troubles stopped there, but it definitely didn't. You almost curse your whole ascenstor's family tree when Phainon called again. "(name)...? Uh, is the microwave supposed to be glowing?" You looked back hesitantly. Yes, the microwave was glowing. With a metal bowl inside of it. I love my boyfriend. I love my boyfriend. I love my boyfrie—

⟡ "How much longer?" Phainon was then exempt from further participation in the baking, sulking, he attached himself to your back, subjected to only being able to watch you bake, due to his tendencies to cause a mess in the kitchen. "Wait a bit, you really are impatient." His arms wrapped around your waist, your back met his chest, and he lowered his head to rest on your shoulder as you mixed the bowl of ingredients with a practiced technique. You could almost feel his sullen pout despite not looking at him. 

⟡ When you pulled the cookies out of the oven, Phainon was quick on his feet behind you, shuffling to get a closer look (and, hand sticking out to try and grab one but was quickly dismissed by your own hand grabbing his to cease his quick-witted endeavor). The cookies were chocolate flavored, something Phainon insisted, saying it's 'valentine' coded, and sprinkled with specks of pink sprinkles, in Phainon's eyes—they look like heaven sent offerings from the goddess that you embodied.. maybe an exaggeration. 

⟡ "Say ahh." You held a cookie to his face, to which he immediately beamed, opening his mouth as he awaited the dessert to be delivered to his mouth, when it did, he instantly smiled—if Phainon did have a tail, you imagine it'd be wagging right then. 

⟡ In a moment of unfocused haze, Phainon cupped your cheeks into his much larger palm, pressing his (chocolate infused) lips onto yours, in turn, making you nearly shriek in surprise. You tasted a faint chocolate savor against his unexpectedly soft lips, you're only left still dumbfounded when he pulled away.

⟡ "C'mon, yer gonna watch me eat, or will you eat your own phenomenal cooking, too?" Phainon grinned, a boyish smile overcame his features as he slid a hand through the tufts of his white hair.

⟡ ".. Yeah yeah, alright." Perhaps this valentine wasn't actually that bad, you hummed to yourself, tasting a cookie, relishing in your boyfriend's cheerful expressions. The cookies tasted saltier than they should, but you found yourself not minding. 

⟡ Still.. you make a mental note to keep Phainon out of the kitchen.

ᝰ.ᐟ MYDEI — arcade date !!

(wc: 1174)

⟡ "Try to beat me." Mydei grinned, a competitive look rose in his eyes, you almost scoffed, your hand tightening on the console handle. 

⟡ Currently, the two of you were situated at an arcade. Now, you’re not sure what Mydei’s idea of a fun valentine’s day is, but apparently to him, it was a competition. For goodness’s sake, doesn’t he get enough competition in his basketball matches? But despite all odds, you were still swooned by the competitive man, and you really can’t lie because Mydei being competitive also makes you competitive in turn. 

⟡ “Please, indulge me, o strongest of all.” You beamed back, a combative shine coating both of your eyes, neither of you broke eye contact. Only when the game’s ‘ancient’-like machine erupted a small, distorted, “game start!”, did you and Mydei consecutively locked in, eyes fixed on each’s little pixelated character. 

⟡ The valentines date, turned out to be one big, competitive game to you both—and to no one’s surprise, Mydei kept tally of each wins he got. “I win. (name), it almost feels as if you’re letting me win on purpose, don’t go easy on this boyfriend of yours!” Mydei grinned, his arm slung over your shoulder casually, a shit-eating smirk painted over his face as he made absolutely no effort to conceal the pleasure he attained. You could only stare at the ‘GAME OVER!” words on your own arcade machine (indubitably, a bit pouty). 

⟡ However, once he noticed your sullen mood, Mydei quickly panicked, a rushed ‘oh shit’ nearly escaped his mouth, but he was quick to shut it, he mentally scolded himself inside of his head, before ushering you for one more game, this time, he wanted to raise your mood, rather than anything, as fun as it was winning for him, it was much better when he sees you smile. 

⟡ When you do win, you swiftly whirled to Mydei with the brightest smile on your face, finger pointing at the screen that showed Mydei’s pixelated character in a defeated position, while yours did some tacky emote dance with 90’s music singing from the machine. He smiled, ruffling your hair in leisure, ignoring your slight protests of “don’t mess up my hair?!” 

⟡ “C’mon,” Mydei held up the arcade card between his pointer and middle finger with a smirk visible on his face, bringing his gaze to the other arcade game machines, ”You wanna miss t’day and all the money I spent on you, or you wanna play more?” He leaned closer—leaving your heart stubbornly speeding up. 

⟡ Thus, the two of you spent your valentines in the arcade game spot for around 5 hours at best—creating pompous feuds and rivalry for the sake of it, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but notice Mydei lost more times than you’d think he would, I mean, no offense, but he play games like anytime he’s free, surely he should’ve won each feuds easily? Before you could rack your mind on his foreign behavior, the air hockey immediately slotted itself into your goal as you let your mind wander, causing you to lose a point, much to your horror. “Hey! My eyes are up here! Ya losin’ already, (name)?”

⟡ You sent a glare to his direction, picking up the hockey from your goal to immediately fling to his direction with your mallet, only for the hockey to (somehow??) fly up and hit Mydei square in the face, so, you technically did achieve a headshot, just not in the goal. 

⟡ “Holy shit—I’m sorry! So sorry! Mydei, are you okay?!” You spluttered, hand hovering in all directions over his face as he rubbed his palm on the area where the hockey quite literally pounded him, Mydei raised a hand to stop your stuttering, a grin broke out of his (pathetically) kind of painstrucken face, obviously, it was bound to hurt. 

⟡ Putting aside the rough. . encounter, Mydei only brushes you off, “It’s okay,” he’d said, before adding, “but I don’t know . . a kiss might make it even better?” good to know that Mydei’s brain, on the contrary, hasn’t changed. You thought. 

⟡ The rest of the day went on without any further casualties, basketball games (to no one’s surprise, Mydei surpassed the original highest score, earning himself a spot in the leaderboard), racing games (you somehow won this one, where you immediately hopped up and down with Mydei’s hand in yours, you didn’t look back then, but if you did, the sickly love struck face on Mydei’s face looking at you fondly would’ve probably imploded you from the inside out), dancing games (Mydei slipped and nearly fell on you–but with his muscular stature, he caught himself and you from falling in public, thank god no one was there to witness), and . . claw machines, which personally, agitated you.

⟡ “.. Move over, let me try.” Mydei groaned, weary of watching you fail time and time again to get a pink-ish red cat from the claw machine that just kept bouncing further away from the blissful exit everytime you moved the claw, to the point where you were one touch closer to crashing out in public, given your.. shortcoming. 

⟡ For some sicken reason–as if the gods were taunting you, Mydei was able to grab the cat plush toy on his first try, your mouth agape as it jeeringly falls into the exit slot, where Mydei took it into his hand to dangle the plush in front of your face with a shit-eating grin, a look of triumphant curled on the tips of his attempted nonchalance. 

⟡ “I hate you.” Grumbling, you still took the plushie into your arms.

⟡ “Say that all you want, darlin’, I know you love me.” 

⟡ ... as the two of you left the arcade, hand held in each other's, intertwined, some imaginative cupid floating around bow in hand, as a small (delusional) cacophony of choir song hummed, an unexpected popped from behind a counter.

⟡ “See, Aggy, they do get along well!” Tribbie’s cheerful voice rang, as they hid behind a counter–not in a conspicuous location at all, Castorice nodded, hopeful for her friend. 

⟡ “.. I suppose I was worried for naught. (name) is in good hands, then.” Aglaea smiled, despite the 3 girls still being hunched under a counter. Without context, they looked more like stalkers, than friends ‘passing by’ and deciding to spy. 

⟡ “Mydei is. . strange. But I believe he really does like (name).” Castorice hummed, her voice, soft and delicate, in contrast to Tribbie’s cheerful tone, and Aglaea’s calming timbre. 

⟡ “Well, since we’re here already, Aggy, Cas, let’s go play some games!” 

⟡ (PS. word has it that you gave Mydei handmade chocolate earlier during the day?! Also, Mydei was practically shaking, the tips of his ears a burning red when he received the chocolate you so delicately made and packaged in a red-tinted heart box. Don’t tell anyone–but I heard from a little bird that this same man giggled to himself after the arcade date ( ꈍ◡ꈍ) !)

© 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms in any way, shape, or form without my permission. if found, you WILL be blocked.

NOTES:

- 43 rmb chinese yuan - $5, or wtv currency you have - kevin kaslana sucks at cooking (read: made kitchen appliances run for their life), therefore, phainon fucking sucks at cooking, no debates you take what you can get. - it is REALLY hard to write Mydei in modern au, considering like literally what would this guy be agitated about? But i consider him to be someone that yearns for the normalcy, rather than the chaos he shrouds himself in, similarly to kalpas from hi3. I think of Mydei as someone who is more suited for a modern life, no fights, violence, just peace - but he is always destined to end back at the aggression of the battlefield. haha!! - Phainon is so stupid i love him he's like a kicked puppy LMAO

❝ i blinked, and suddenly i have a valentine . . ? ❞ 

[thistleation]

I feel like there's some form of misunderstanding happening here, either on what the Hays code was, what OP was talking about, or likely both, but also potentially on the nature of art criticism.

So like, first off, the Hays code was largely self-censorship by the film industry, because actual government censorship (which was looming on the horizon) would've been even worse.

But probably more importantly, there is the fact that the Hays code reduced complex engagement with art down to blunt rules that can be used for making things palatable but cannot meaningfully engage with either art or ethics.

So like, to take an example and make this more concrete, we could take a hypothetical hays code-like rule that says "fascism in stories should always be punished."

Now, with an individual work, you can criticize it along the lines of "I think this story glorifies fascism and it's trash," and that can be a perfectly valid take. But if you ban all stories where fascists don't get punished, you immediately also remove the opportunity to tell the very real historical stories about fascism that didn't see an immediate repercussion for the perpetrators, and so you destroy a lot of the ability for art to have a meaningful role in the conversation about it.

And it might not be censorship since you yourself aren't the government, but if you're saying "depicting [X] in art without the perpetrator being punished for it is always morally objectionable and therefore wrong," you are kind of saying "if the government banned instances of these, I would like that," and while you're not doing censorship, you are kinda arguing in favor of it.

Circling back to my example, again, on individual work, you can (and often should) absolutely criticize. You also need to be prepared for your criticism to not always be 100% correct. You might for example argue "this work glorifies fascism," while someone else goes "no it doesn't, it reads more like a dark satire to me, and any supposed 'rewards' for fascism in the narrative are hollow and horrifying," and then you might counter "well, if that was the work's intention, then I feel it's poorly executed." And then you can both go more deeply into the nitty and gritty of it, and maybe you never fully resolve it, but you both staunchly agree that fascism is wrong and this entire exercise only affirms that, and with any luck you both only deepened your understanding of the subject matter by going into detail and hearing contrasting viewpoints.

That's how art engages with the larger social and ethical conversation, even when the work in question might not be that good and have deep flaws to it.

And again, all that kind of critique and dissection is totally fair game.

No one said you had to condone everything every artist ever wrote, I'm not sure where you'd have gotten that, but it's definitely not what OP was talking about.

So again, "I have serious issues with how this work handles [X]" is perfectly reasonable, but "I think depicting [X] in fiction is always morally wrong," is arguing for the side that will try to censor or otherwise silence artistic expression.

now say it with me: authors/artists dont owe you moral purity. an author/artist job is not to hold you by the hand & tell you exactly what is Good™ & what is Bad™. you should be able to think for yourself

[shimmershifts]

an open letter to those who have not yet shifted.

i don't know how many of you will see this, let alone how many will read it entirely. this letter is for those who have been trying to shift for two years, five years, more. those who cannot give up, and those who will not give up, and maybe even those who already have. to preface, this letter will not rehash everything you already know. you've scrolled every forum, you've seen every method, you've read every tip. you've trialed, and errored, and persevered... but you're still here. law of assumption, manifestation, belief, intention. but you're still here. you've been told all about shifting... right? you already know what shifting is... right? you should already know how to shift... right? but you're still here.

this letter is not intended to debase or invalidate those who do already believe in those things and who are satisfied with that. this is for those who have been trying that way for 2 years, 5 years, and more, and still haven't shifted. this is for those who might want an alternative perspective.

what you've been told

in my personal opinion, the online shifting community as it currently stands is very... rigid. narrow. there are a few dominant views, and then the many who drown out any possible dissent or disagreement. i do understand why this happens. reality shifting is already a marginal belief, hounded by anti-shifters and disbelieved and debunked on all sides, so it makes sense that people feel the instinct to close ranks at any sign of an outsider. unfortunately, this has led to a community that raises its hackles at even other reality shifters who simply don't believe the exact same way that you do. law of assumption. manifestation. intent. (and dare i say it, the multiverse.)

i don't believe in any of that, in the context of shifting.

now, wait! don't go yet, stay with me. it's okay if you do. i'm not intending to change the minds of those who already believe in these things. i'm not going to go at anyone and say "i'm right, you're wrong, and you must change your mind to agree with me!" that would be silly, and counterproductive. let's lower our guards, and extend an olive branch, please. if you feel these things serve your journey, then carry on. you're allowed to disagree with me, i won't be upset. you're allowed to think i'm wrong, if you want. literally no worries at all.

but i am a little tired frankly of certain ideas being treated as the only options, and often in a rude or hostile manner. if you are someone who has spent five years trying to shift, and you see yet another post that boils down to "all you have to do is want it hard enough" does that not hurt your soul? the following sections of this post are for those who these ideas have not been working for. for those who have not yet shifted. it's been two years. five years. more. and you're still here. are you open to another possibility?

what is reality shifting?

i've told you what i don't believe, but what about what i do? i'll try to keep this as concise as possible for the sake of brevity and comprehension, knowing i could potentially clarify in future posts. but please continue with the understanding that im a chronic overexplainer, and my curse is the fact that the extra words don't always actually increase understanding. bear with me.

reality shifting: broadly speaking, this refers to shifting your linear experience of reality from one, to another. this has been known by many other names in the past, across continents and cultures, even in pre-agriculture societies. i'd include ideas like persistent realms, quantum jumping, focus 21, etc. language is subjective, and people may describe or understand the same experience in different ways.

i believe reality shifting is a haphazard side effect of our limited ability to perceive and comprehend reality. let me explain. space, as we understand it, is three dimensional. but reality isn't. it's our bodies and minds limiting our perception and understanding that makes all of reality seem that way to us at surface level.

1D: let's consider a hypothetical one dimensional existence. everything would a straight line, and the only way to perceive anything else would be as a single point directly in front or directly behind you. forwards and backward. the 2D and 3D are beyond your limited ability to physically sense or feel, let alone to comprehend. Forget about the 4D (time). due to your lack of comprehension, you cannot move at will in two dimensional planes, let alone three dimensional space or even time. you are static, a single point.

2D: let's consider a hypothetical two dimensional existence. it would be a flat, infinite planar expanse. you might be a square, or a circle. you can move freely in two dimensional directions (forward, backwards, side to side), but not in the 3D. No up, no down. If you tried to perceive a three dimensional object, you would only be able to comprehend it as linear, a line on the horizon where it intersects your 2 dimensional plane. you would perceive the 3D as moving around or within you on its own, without the ability to direct it. the 4D, or time, if you could perceive it, would be static, a singular point at a time.

3D: what about our three dimensional existence? congratulations, you now are a form, such as a sphere, or a cube. you can move freely in a voluminous, infinite three dimensional space. Forward, backwards, side to side, up, and down. if you *try* to perceive the fourth dimension (time), you can only comprehend it as linear, a line where it intersects your 3 dimensional space. You perceive it as moving around or within you on its own, without the ability to direct it yourself. any dimensions higher than that, if you could perceive it, would be static, a singular point at a time.

quick 4D sidebar: clearing this one up now because this will confuse some of you who are involved in other communities. in many law of assumption and manifestation communities, "4D" has been used to refer to your imagination, inner world, a bridge to "higher vibrational states", etc. i don't use it that way. i use it in the sense of the mathematical concept, or linking three-dimensional space with time. 4D=time.

4D and 5D: so, time is the fourth dimension. that means it is four dimensional, yet due to our limitations as 3D creatures, we can only perceive it as linear. we perceive it as moving around us, without our direction, forwards, (or backwards in some cultures). what about the 5th dimension? the static one? the one we can only perceive one point of at a time? let's call this 5th dimension... reality. due to our limited perception, it may not seem like it, but time and reality are just like space in that all of it exists at once. if you were a 5th dimensional creature, you wouldn't see a bunch of different realities, you'd just see one the way we just see one 3D universe around us right now.

tip: think of it this way, if a three dimensional creature moving through time is only able to perceive it linearly, it may think that each point of time exists separately, passing by in chronological order. this would be like a character in a book, the character experiences each page one at a time as we turn the page. but we know that actually, the entire book exists all at the same time, and already did exist before we picked it up and started reading it, and continues to exist even when we set it down. the same is true of time, and reality. even if we perceive it as linear, or a point, all of it actually exists simultaneously, like space.

still, we can only perceive one point of reality at a time. i believe when we reality shift, we are by some freak of nature (or nurture) finding a way to trigger a "movement" in this "5th dimension," and therefor shifting our linear experience of time and our singular perceptual experience of one reality to another. ("movement" is a bit of an abstraction here, as movement generally refers to 3D space. you're not actually moving anywhere, you're already there, you just... can't see it at the same time as this.)

ok, so how the heavens do i shift?

if you read through all of the above, i assume that's what you're asking by now. "get to the point shimmer! how do i shift?" if you don't need intention, belief, assumption, manifestation, three gallons of water, crystals, or anything else then what do you need to shift?

if we boil shifting down to its absolute core, all you need to do in order to shift is to shift. (put down the pitch forks, and the flaming feathers and tar. i'll elaborate.)

shifting involves finding a way for us 3 dimensional creatures to trigger a shift in a dimensional direction that we do not have the capacity to perceive. so what i mean by "all you have to do to shift, is to shift" is that there is no physical movement, or secret password we can whisper that makes us shift, not inherently. it's sort of like being told to find your invisible and non corporeal primordial tail, and then swish it in a direction that doesn't spatially exist. find your "move in the 5D button", and then press it. except, there is no button.

so how do we "move" from one point of reality to the other? well, the first clue to this is in noticing what part of us is actually doing the "moving".

you don't make it happen with your three dimensional form. there is no body part or mass or motor function in your 3D body that triggers a shift. there's nothing that allows a three dimensional form to move in five dimensional directions... you just can't. your body stays here. that's good news actually, in my opinion. there is no need to force yourself into strange bodily positions, or chug water, or whatever else. your 3D body is irrelevant, because it's not going anywhere. you don't have to do anything with your body to shift. some people can shift awake, asleep, in the shower, walking around, etc.

you also don't necessarily do it with the fourth dimension, time. there is no specific amount of time that you'll shift after. it might seem you've spent a lot of time trying to shift, but the actual shift itself is instantaneous. some people shift their first try, and some of you might be on your second decade of attempts. again, the time factor being irrelevant is good news because this means it doesn't have to take time.

i also don't think we do it with just intent or belief. the intention word gets used so much it basically means nothing, but the general idea is that intent is the driving force that manifests your desired outcome. in the context of shifting, people use it like "set your intention to shift, and you will" or "intent makes you shift." or the dreaded "you just have to believe harder." personally, i don't think that's true. i don't think intention makes you shift. if it did, you all would have shifted by now, right? i think looking anyone who's been trying to shift for 4 years dead in the eye and telling them they just haven't intended to shift yet is honestly a bit cruel and unusual. some people who intend to shift will shift, but in my opinion, its a case of correlation, and not causation. there are also people who shift without intending to, or who intend to shift but don't.

it's also not really our thoughts that shift. or our mind as a concept, or our entire self. we know this because you don't turn into a comatose vegetable when you shift to a different reality. your thoughts, mind, and self here are unaffected by your awareness shifting away from it. if you successfully "permashifted" to hogwarts tonight, your self here would still wake up in the morning and go to work.

so what does shift? only our linear experience of our own awareness. so in order to reality shift, we just need to find a way to trigger our awareness to shift from one point of reality to another in a non linear fashion, and then integrate that into our linear experience. aha! you think. great! now how do i do that...? unfortunately, this is not an exact science (yet.) once you begin shifting regularly, i think it gets "easier" in some regards because you get a sense for how your awareness "feels" and what works for you. for those who haven't shifted, i can't say "take three deep breaths and recite the secret words, and then you'll shift." there is nothing specific you can physically do that will for certain make you shift. there's no secret passwords.

there is no key to shifting. the good news is, this means there is also no lock.

what we can do is get ourselves primed, into a state that increases the chances our awareness is triggered to shift. ie, find the "move in the 5D" button, (you know, the one that doesn't exist) and learn how to press it. and because it is our awareness that shifts, my "methods" have to do with priming your awareness for shifting. you don't need to believe, which is a good thing because it means doubts won't hold you back. you don't necessarily need to intend, which is a good thing because it means there are no secret blockages in your way. no "subconscious", no "reprogramming", no "delusion is the solution." you don't need any of that. you also don't have to do anything specific with your body or space unless you feel like it and want to. you don't need a script, but you can make one if you want. it's whatever, it's irrelevant darling, it's non-consequential.

these three methods below basically encompass all shifting methods out there. i might expand on techniques for these methods later, but for now i'll go over the basics.

method one: pure awareness

it basically boils down to two steps. get into a state of pure awareness, and then shift.

the first step for this method is actually a simple one, sort of, but i think it's unkind to call it easy. it can be easy, if you just happen to have a perfect technique that works for you on your first try. if so, congrats! if not, don't despair. it comes more naturally to some than others, at first. you can probably build the skills and try different techniques necessary for you to get there.

but what is pure awareness? it's currently very often being called "the void state", but i'm not using that term for a few reasons. one, i think using the term "the void state" or calling it "the void" is making people think it's some sort of place that they're trying to go. it's not. it's not a physical place at all, and that's kind of the point. most of the time, your awareness is perceiving reality through the confines concept of 3D reality, because that's the data input it's receiving from your brain and body. that grounds you in this reality, and allows you to go about your day to day life. your goal with the pure awareness method is to focus on just your awareness, absent of all 3D distraction data and input. that way, your awareness is primed to be triggered to shift its focus to the 3D perception of a different point of reality when you come out of that state.

i might make a post about techniques for getting into the state of pure awareness, but this post is already long enough.

method two: destabilization of awareness

this method gets over complicated, but it basically boils down to two steps. destabilize your awareness, and then shift.

honestly, most shifting methods i see online are in some way doing this. lucid dreams, the hypnogogic state, SATS, self-hypnosis, "symptoms", and also all those iterations of the "raven method" the "staircase method" the "alice in wonderland method" etc are all basically ways to destabilize your awareness from the linear perception it is so used to in this point of reality, offering the opportunity of triggering a shift to a different one. they're all sort of either distracting or subverting your focus on the 3D here in this point of reality.

basically, you'll be trying to discombobulate yourself to the point your awareness is not focused on 3D reality, and trigger a shift.

method three: absence of awareness

sleep method gang, rise up. i'm serious. this method involves reducing your awareness to zero, or as close to it as possible, another potentially prime state to trigger a shift. (and by sleep method, i don't mean lucid dreamers or SATS, i mean simply going to sleep here, having a period of complete unawareness, like totally dreamless sleep, and then waking up in your DR.)

this absence of awareness during sleep is (in my experience) the most common cause of accidental or unintentional shifts, but you might be one of those who can trigger a shift to desired realities with this too.

sleeping is not the only way to get to the state of the lack of awareness. i'd say total distraction methods also count for this. you're not asleep, your body is awake, but you're so "zoned out" (or alternatively in a meditative state such that) you're absolutely not aware of the 3D experience of this point of reality anymore.

this is completely different from the state of pure awareness by the way, because in the state of pure awareness you are aware. like, in pure awareness you have a full train of thought and total control. the absence of awareness is the opposite. it feels sort of like a "blip" where reality time and space passed you by and you were not aware of it.

[joeyfranchise]

conversation hearts

part one: cya l8r!

uo!justin herbert x uo!reader

summary: what happens when your academic rival and sworn enemy starts acting like he’s sweet on you?

word count: 2k.

warnings: none really, some angst and fluff for this part! minors still please dni with my work!

note: part one of a lil something cute for v-day! 💘 i’ll have part two up so soon! also special shoutout to my wifeyyy @joeyburrrow, thank you for always keeping me motivated and being in my corner. ily 😭

the bell on the door chimed softly as you pushed it open and stepped inside the coffee shop. the rich aroma wafted through the air and surrounded you immediately as your favorite barista called out a quick welcome to you. you pulled your tote bag closer to your side as your eyes scanned the shop, and you smiled when you located your friends at a booth near the back. you made your way over to them quickly, immediately chuckling at their conversation.

“so i told her to put a sock in it! like seriously, nobody cares!” your friend alice giggled, her saccharine sweet voice filling your ears as you sat. she was gesturing with her hands as she spoke, and though you didn’t know the subject matter just yet, you laughed along too. next to her, your roommate laura was nursing a very large iced vanilla latte as she propped her head on her hand.

“i agree,” laura stated, glancing around the table. “also guys, this iced latte is the bomb diggity.”

clara, your other close friend and alice’s roommate, laughed at their conversation as well before turning her gaze toward you. “why the long face?” she asked, reaching across the table to grab your hand.

the gesture was sweet and provided comfort, something you appreciated about her. “just pissed about biology again,” you replied, looking around the group. your friends made sympathetic sounds as they looked you over, knowing how hard it’d been for you this semester.

the barista walked over seconds later with a large iced matcha and sat it in front of you, smiling as she placed it on the coaster. “looked like you were having a rough day,” she tutted, patting her hand on your shoulder softly. “this one’s on the house.”

you thanked her profusely before she walked away, and then you turned your attention back to your friends. “was justin pissing you off again?” laura asked, a concerned gaze spread across her features, “you seem so flustered.”

and she was right. you were flustered. he’d been making your life so miserable lately… but the problem was that he wasn’t really doing anything at all. you couldn’t stand him because he always seemed to know the right answer, he was so smart and the only person who seemed to truly rival you academically. it was frustrating, infuriating that a quarterback who’d most likely end up going pro was beating you out of academic achievements, especially when you wanted to make this your career.

you cleared your throat and looked around the group before beginning to tell them about your very strange morning, and your very awkward encounter with justin.

—

the day started innocently enough. laura had an earlier class than you so she was gone when you woke up, but she’d made sure to leave you a note behind with a muffin sitting next to it, and you made sure to thank her while you were telling the story. she nodded in response, engaged with what you had to say. 

you had taken a quick shower and gotten dressed, packed your bag and grabbed your water bottle and headed off to class, all normal parts of your day. all three of the girls focused their attention on you while you spoke, excited for what you had to say next. 

once you got to class, things started to take a turn… but not for the worst. your eyes immediately found justin, already seated at the front of the room, and that had always pissed you off. his much larger frame made it difficult to see sometimes, but you had to pick your battles and today you’d decided this wasn’t one. you took a seat a few rows behind him and grabbed your computer and notebook from your bag before placing them on the table. the lecture was short and you tried to focus on the busy work your professor had assigned, scribbling thoughts into your notebook mindlessly as you scrolled through the documents she’d sent over on your computer. 

it wasn’t hard work by any means, but it seemed to be tripping up a few people in the class based on how many students you’d seen trot over to her desk to ask questions in the last half-hour. after about the fifth or sixth student, she stood from the desk and walked to the podium to address the class, something you knew would end up angering you. 

“since we are having difficulties with the assignments,” she began, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, “you’ll do it as partners. you may pick your partner, but i don’t want to see or hear any playing around. and it’s still due tomorrow by 11:59p.m.” 

you sighed heavily. you didn’t know hardly anyone in the class nor did you want to do partner work with anyone. suddenly, you heard a deep voice speak to the professor, asking her “can we work alone?” and you knew it was justin. 

you watched her shake her head no and justin tipped his head back in frustration as he realized he’d have to pick someone. he gathered his things and stood from the desk, towering over the rest of the room as he walked slowly toward your table and sat down next to you. 

you looked him up and down as he took up most of the space in your area, disgust evident on your face. “i figured we could work together,” he said, rubbing his hand over one of his biceps, “at least this way there’ll be no cheating and we can both do an even amount of work.” 

as high-school as it sounded, he was right. to this day people still tried to get you to take over and do most of the work in projects. you shrugged reluctantly before answering him. “fine, we can work together. which sections do you want to do?” 

you watched him scroll through the information on his computer before telling you that he could do sections 1a through 12c if you’d take 1d through 12f. 

“okay,” you softly mumbled. justin’s eyes lingered on you for a few moments before he turned back to the work, and you wondered what he was thinking. 

he didn’t know why you hated him so much. he admired you, he admired your brain. justin didn’t think he was a naturally smart person, he had to study really hard all the time to get the grades he did, and for you it came so naturally. he could kinda tell you saw him as competition, but he never understood why you’d always been so cold to him. 

he watched you as you worked quietly, but he could sense the agitation that was bubbling up inside of you. 

“why are you staring at me?” you finally asked him, your eyes shooting daggers in his direction. “sorry,” he replied, looking back at his computer screen. there were fifteen minutes left of class, something you were both silently thankful for. 

you began writing answers down in your notebook again as you watched him slowly stick his hand into his bag, grabbing something softly before pulling it out. his large hand obstructed your view from what he was holding, but whatever it was sounded a little noisy as the tiny box shook from his movements. 

he placed the small pink box on the table and slid it toward you and you slowly realized that it was a package of your favorite valentines day candy, conversation hearts. you gave him a look as if to ask “for me?”, and he nodded softly. 

you picked the small box up and popped it open, dumping a few of the candies out on to the table. your eyes scanned the silly messages on the tiny hearts before you picked up a pink one and popped it into your mouth. the sweet candy immediately began to melt on your tongue and the corners of your mouth turned up slightly into a smile. 

“how’d you know i liked these?” you asked justin, a pleased look adorning his features. “i overheard you telling laura you loved them the other day in the coffee shop. i just wanted to get you some because… well, just because,” he replied. he was lying, but you didn’t need to know that yet. he got them for you because he had a huge crush on you, and even if that didn’t phase you at all, he still wanted to be your friend. 

you were confused but you still mumbled a quiet “thank you.” 

the last bit of class went by quickly, and once you were dismissed you grabbed up all your stuff and quickly shoved it in your bag, ready to head over to the coffee shop to meet the girls and debrief this whole situation. justin packed his things as well, and before he turned to leave he quickly asked you, “are you free tonight? o-only because we have to make a powerpoint for this as well.” 

he was nervous, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t too. his question had almost made you panic, you thought maybe he was trying to ask you on a date. “yeah, i’ll be free around six, does that work for you?” you replied, rubbing your arm sheepishly. 

“six sounds perfect, do you wanna come to my dorm? my roommate will be out so it’ll be quiet and we can focus,” he added. 

you shook your head yes as you slung your tote over your shoulder. “that sounds good to me! laura will be home but she’ll just be watching reruns of friends while she does her work,” you laughed. 

“i love that show,” justin smiled. you exchanged numbers quickly and justin fired off his dorm number to you in a quick text.

you looked down at the table and saw the box of candy still sitting there, so you picked it up and began to place the pieces you hadn’t eaten yet back in the box. justin was examining them as you did so, and before you could grab the last one he trapped it under his finger before sliding it across the table to you. 

“well, seeya later!” he smirked, lifting his finger off the candy and turning toward the door. you watched him walk away before you looked down at the little green heart that sat on top of the wooden tabletop, its yellow lettering staring back up at you. ‘cya l8r’ was printed boldly on top of the tiny confection. 

— 

all of your friends stared at you with wide eyes before alice squealed, doing a little happy dance in her seat. laura and clara giggled at your confusion. “what’s so funny? i’m upset that i have to do this project with him and you guys are laughing?” you asked, feeling slightly offended. 

“oh my god, don’t tell me you’re that oblivious, y/n!” alice joked before taking a long swig of her iced chai. you took a hefty drink of your matcha before replying. “oblivious to what exactly?” you questioned.

“oh my god, earth to y/n!” clara jested, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “he likes you!” 

you grimaced as the three of them giggled again. “he doesn’t like me. why would he like me?” 

“hello?” laura laughed, “he literally got your favorite candy just because he overheard us talking. and he wanted to be partners with you so you wouldn’t have to do all the work for your assignment. anddddd the little joke with the candy was so cute and corny it’s like it came straight from a rom-com.”

maybe laura was right… maybe they all were. you had never thought of justin as more than anything but an academic obstacle that stood in your way of being the best in the class… but maybe he did like you. 

“it doesn’t matter if he likes me or not,” you finally spoke, trying to keep your tone calm. “i mean, thinking about it now… he is kinda cute…” you mumbled, staring off into the distance. it was no lie that justin was handsome, but something in your head was telling you to snap out of it! 

your friends all eyed you suspiciously before you spoke again. “anyway, it doesn’t matter if he likes me. i’m going over to do a project and that’s it. after that, we go back to being rivals.” 

alice cocked an eyebrow at you before she answered. “it sounds like the rivalry is pretty one-sided.” 

that couldn’t have been any more true. 

photos and dividers used are not mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989 @slimshiesty @fourburrow @wheresdylansoscar @heartforherbert @joe9cool @itsjustjackie55 @emsdevs @a-whiterose

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

The whole conversation with Bad and Foolish really did solidify the fact that Bad is baffled by Foolish's lack of accountability and care for his subjects. He points out the fact that Ros is a danger to herself, Owen almost chased out another faction member under his rule, Sneeg is unaccounted for most of the time, Clown seems to only be around just to kill people, Tango is a hotdog and Fit walks around with no armor and is at constant risk of death. These are all things Bad seems to think Foolish is somewhat responsible for. I don't think Bad just means it in the way a king is responsible for his subjects either.

We know Bad sees mortals as possessions, he has literally referred to Ros as Foolish's. Bad doesn't think Foolish is looking after his possessions as well as he should. @magnecalliope made a very good post highlighting the differences of how Bad and Foolish treat mortals and how it relates to their factions here. Bad believes in building his mortals up. He puts a lot of effort into the few he has and works to help them become stronger over time. He may not be that openly affectionate but he will do his best to keep his mortals safe because he feels they gain more value over time. He does have some sense of responsibility for them. Foolish on the other hand, mostly lets people do whatever they want for better or worse. He doesn't really have much care for safety and will happily let his own people risk their lives if it's entertaining. He's very impulsive and is easily swayed into encouraging dangerous behavior. He got the idea to see what happens when you infect someone with corrupted crystals and he ordered Ros to try it. It almost killed Ros. He didn't want Ros to die but it was his actions that put her in danger. He knew it was a risk but curiosity got the best of him and that is a common theme for Foolish. He doesn't try to kill people like Bad does but people tend to be disposable to him if curiosity or boredom get to him. It doesn't matter if they're his own people or not, they're all the same to him.

Bad finds Foolish's lack of responsibility for his mortals to be careless. He doesn't understand why Foolish isn't keeping tabs on Sneeg or why he lets Fit walk around armorless or why Ros doesn't seem supported enough. Bad seems to especially be upset with how he perceives Ros to be treated by The Kingdom. He doesn't think she is appreciated or looked out for enough. He really does care for her and it seems the only thing stopping him from taking her under his wing is that she is already Foolish's. Foolish ends up defending the craziness of his kingdom by claiming them to be a 'fun family'. Bad, being a person who cares for family, says that is respectable but he also adds on that if Tina licks one more eyeball they're back to being in crazy town. It's a joke but it still puts that responsibility of preventing Tina from doing that on Foolish.

[veesidesandrarities]

Being creative and even silly in a new language really does help it stick, too!

My now-spouse and I took Japanese together, and he used to come up with bizarre, often nonsensical phrases as soon as we were introduced to new vocabulary words or grammar, and listen, I'm woefully out of practice, but the parts I'm least rusty in recalling?

are almost all inevitably stuff from those silly phrases.

I can't forget that you turn a noun into a verb with adding "wo shimasu", because the goofball started saying "haambaagaa o shimasu", which roughly translates to "hamburgering" and it's just. so stupid! so silly!! what does that even mean?? Lol

I only recall the word for "window" is mado, or how to say "that thing over there", because he used to proudly (and deliberately nonsensicallly) declare "ano mado wa boku no desu", which literally means: "that window over there is mine" (with, if you are curious, a youthful masculine pronoun vibe, because Japanese is way more interesting and nuanced with first person pronouns than English; boku is used by young boys and men, and sometimes by tomboys and butch lesbians, apparently, as it's got a kinda butch energy to it that the gender neutral polite watashi doesn't)

part of the reason i recall the verb hanashimasu so well and the only reason I recall the words for "hospital" (byouin) and "corpse/dead people" (shinin), or that the grammatical particle equivalent to the English preposition "at" is de.... is because he came up with the absurd question:

"what language do dead people speak at the hospital?"

(Which, iirc, is something like: "shinin wa byouin de nani go wo hanashimasu ka?", or, most literally: "dead people [subject marker] hospital at, what language [direct object marker] speak [optional question marker at end of sentence]?", because Japanese as an agglutinating language has VERY different grammar from English lol)

(btw we jokingly decided the only "correct" answer to that would be: "ratingo", aka... Latin. Because, you know, it's a dead language? Har! Yeah, we're dorks lol)

(but also that's the only reason I recall how to say the word for "Latin language " in Japanese either, which also helps me recall the pattern to referring to languages in that language, soooo...)

Anyway, POINT IS

Both he and I remember way more random bits of vocabulary and even crucial bits of grammar, because of those "silly, nonsense" phrases!

So, tldr:

Go ham!! Make up silly stuff in the languages you're studying!!! It's fun AND shockingly helpful!! And to language teachers out there, keep in mind that not only does this practice encourage deeper and more permanent understanding of the language, it ALSO means they have enthusiasm for it... and a good reason to add more and more of the language to their repertoire. Like??

I don't know the German for "my hobby is tax evasion" (because I never studied German) but

boy, that is absolutely a construction of the kind my spouse would have come up with

and if he had, I would definitely remember the Japanese terms for "hobby" and "tax evasion"...🤣

I told my students they're allowed to be creative and don't have to be factual when writing about themselves in German because I keep getting questions like "what if I don't have roommates or what if I don't have hobbies" and I'm like guys just make something up! Have fun! I won't fact check you!

So now I am grading homework where a student is claiming to be from North Korea and his hobby is tax fraud

[rindreamery]

nishi's thoughts ─ mikage reo x reader ─ royal!au

“prince reo, we should not be doing this. i’m sure his majesty has noticed your absence by now—” yet, despite your complaints, you’re met with silence. 

reo’s footsteps never falter, his grip on your wrist firm, and pace still as brisk as ever as he leads you through the garden maze. the chatter and loud music playing from the ballroom starts to slowly fade into the distance, muffled by the tall hedges that surround the two of you, until all you can hear is the crunch of the grass underneath your feet. it’s now just you, him, and the silence of the early night. and, for a second, concern overwhelms your mind; now at the aspect of being caught alone, together, and the idea of potentially becoming lost. 

as if sensing another complaint, he throws you a quick look over his shoulder, looking quite blasé— unconcerned, indifferent, completely at-ease as opposed to you. he doesn’t smile at you, he doesn’t try to provide you with any verbal reassurance, but the subtle squeeze of his hand against your wrist is all you need. “you know, you worry way too much,” is all he says.

“because you make it difficult not to,” you shoot back, your lips curving into a faint frown. “if i must remind you, his majesty is throwing this ball for you. i’m sure the guests are wondering where you are, by now.”

he misses a beat in his steps, stiffening momentarily at the mention of him, but you don’t notice. 

“i don’t care about them,” reo’s response after comes rather quickly, and there’s a slight agitation in his voice as he speaks. tense, but in a way that’s so subdued that it almost flies over your head. almost, because you know better, and the inflection in his voice has you glancing at him through your peripheral. “this ball is my father’s way of searching for marriage prospects for me.”

you can almost see it; the way his mind clouds over in a dark fog at the idea, the word ringing like a haunting bell amidst the fog. the idea of an arranged marriage, you understand, has always been a touchy subject for him. obvious in the way he runs away from it, both metaphorically and literally, effectively dodging any and every opportunity given by his father. 

it’s also obvious in the way his fingers dig into your pulse point, fingers clenching around your wrist as marriage slips from his lips. you wince at the sensation, an elusive frown forming between your brows, but you don’t speak on it. instead, you rack your mind with things to say to him— words of comfort, maybe advice, or maybe a simple way of telling him that you’re there if he needs a shoulder to lean on. 

but, what could you say? you had never been in this situation before. so, all you could think of is, “oh.” 

“i don’t want to get married.” reo continues, honestly, voice distant and trailing off. you ignore the dull pang in your heart, that this isn’t about you, so you purse your lips and offer him your silence. “— to them.” he quickly adds, looking over at you as he says it.

your eyes meet his in the dark, only the moonlight illuminating the earnest glint in his eyes. your breath hitches at the idea, at the possible insinuation, behind his words. but you try not to get ahead of yourself, emptying your mind of fanciful delusions, and simply asking, “to them?”

“to them.” he simply repeats, and then he looks away. 

your gaze lingers on the side of his face for a moment, watching the way his hair billows in the gentle breeze that flows through the maze. it’s silent now; you choose not to add onto the conversation, leaving the uncertainty of his words to be lost in the maze behind you.

maybe not to them, but to you. a hopeful, distant thought persists in the back of your mind.

© rindreamery, 2025

note. i was supposed to post my situationship hcs or sae angst drabble but... i haven't had motivation to finish either of them. so have this draft that's been rotting here for a month 😞

[isuggestforcefem]

Forcefem February story: Nicole saves Ethan

Part three - Nicole

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 -

It's sometimes said that art is a conversation of sorts, between the artist and the viewer. In that way, forced feminization is kind of like art, too. There's a conversational element to it. Femnization is in conversation with itself, and both subject and perpetrator are, with each other.

Of course, that's not literal. It's always best to keep the subject in the dark, have her powerless, guessing as to her fate, unable to fight back. That said, when Ethan chooses to put on the strange magical ring with no second guessing, it can be understood as "Please miss Nicole turn me into a girl!". Nicole chooses to understand it that way.

Of course, that's not what Ethan says. That's not what he would ever ask. He doesn't want it, will speak his mouth. He likes himself as he is. But as for all arts, it's important to look beyond the text. To see beyond the "boy"'s words. For each of Nicole's victims, she reminds herself that she must look at actions, that it is important to look beyond the posturing, and into your subject's heart. What does Ethan's heart say to Nicole? If Nicole listens, she can hear it, swaying, yearning to be something else. Something lesser.

Usually, prey would be more suspicious. Refuse her gift, or put it in a drawer and forget about it. Usually, they would put up a fight. This little resistance pushed Nicole to want to play with her food, so to speak.

There was a simple plot one could enact, here. A magic weaved itself around the boy, through the ring, an net of thinly weaved spells, which would soon be ready to enrapture his mind. Standard procedure, then, was to wait until he was ready, able to be entirely consumed by the powers Nicole wielded. Yet, the thrill of the hunt clouded Nicole's thought. She yearned for more. She knew more could be obtained.

The threads as they currently wove themselves were soft, easy to bend. It would be so simple to Nicole, to reach into the magic, and reshape it into something more thrilling. Yes, it felt to her like the finest of temptations, truly, a fruit of taste unparalleled. She had to seize it.

She had no choice but to act.

This morning felt to Nicole like she was upon the brink of something great. She could smell change, the tide of a new world in becoming in the air.

Having put on her most innocent face, she headed outside, towards the place Ethan usually found himself, in fresh mornings. The inn was empty, in the early hours, safe for a dying fire, and a lost boy. Gathering herself, she approached him like she was a frail bird. She had a face to keep up.

The boy turned to face her, his face shining with joy and surpise. "Nicole! I did not expect you here today," spoke the boy. Nicole smiled kindly. This was where it began, she could feel it. Her heart raced with anticipation, her lip let out the question. "Ethan, could you meet me at the clearing in an hour? I have something to confess." Nicole's face grew red with anticipation. Ethan flushed softly.

"Oh- of course!" answered the boy. This was it.

The stream was quiet, today. It had not rained in a while, though the clouds indicated this would not last. Nicole had been pacing for a moment, now. The boy was late. There was a worry and a doubt, in her mind, that her true intentions had been uncovered by the village. That she would have to run. That doubt made itself quiet, however. She was hardly in danger.

Her plan was trivial. She had thought it over a hundred times, in her pacing. The boy would arrive. Pretexting some thing -- anything at all -- she would touch her ring, send him to sleep. With the boy unable to resist, she would be free to cast her magic. Then, there was only to wake the boy, and send him back to the village, and watch the magic unravel.

The only question that remained was of the magic to use.

The first thing to enrapture her temptation was the thought of wrapping the magic around Ethan's brain, to snuff him of any independent thought. He would not even notice it, for as long as Nicole wished it so. She could then return him to the town as a sort of pawn, moving around on her whims.

On the same thought, she could allow him the inependence he so deeply craved, while editing his desires. Make him yearn for things brand new, with a strength unparalleled.

However, she could instead weave the spells around his body, and thus begin a swift reshaping of it, into that of a pretty little girl. He would be a girl by the end, no matter what happened. But she could make it happen faster, and begin today.

Finally, she could instead attune the boy's body to the ring's aspect, allowing Ethan to turn into an obedient, pretty, porcelain doll, to be commanded around.

Temptation gnawed at her.

[gay-dorito-dust]

‘What’re you doing chipmunk?’ Jason asked softly when he saw that you had rested your head on his chest, ear pressed over where is heart is as you gradually closed your eyes in order the listen to it beat against your ear.

‘Listening to your heart.’ You responded sluggishly, finding comfort in his warmth, in his presence and his arms that tightened on your waist or the hands that rubbed up and down your back soothingly.

‘Does that old thing still work?’ Jason jokes but the idea that despite he had came back, Jason thought that his heart stayed dead and cold within his chest, rotten and broken like he should’ve been buried six feet underground.

‘It works and more.’ You tell him as you pressed several kisses to his chest before going back to listen to his strong heartbeat in your ear, reminding you that the he was far too stubborn to die, even if he did come back against his own will Jason still made his life his own after a few trips and stumbles. To you Jason had truly come into his own and you couldn’t help but love the man who held you like you were either porcelain, or like you were his personal comfort teddy bear, bringing you so close to his chest you swore you would become one with the heart within his ribcage.

‘It reminds me of me that you’re alive, that you’re here, reminds me that you’re still my Jay birdie.’ You whispered to him as your fingers crawled up his hoodie, caressing the bare skin beneath it as your fingers traced over the autopsy scars that took Jason a while to show you, scars that you loved unconditionally as you did the rest of Jason, peppering the scar on his check with comfort kisses and reassurance of your love for him.

For a man like him you wouldn’t think he was insecure with how he held himself, but he deeply was insecure and conflicted with himself and even thought lesser of himself for it.

‘Corny.’ Jason snorted but his heart never failed to show just how he’d be affected by your words or how his whole body seemed to have gotten just that little bit warmer.

‘’You say that but you love it just as much as me.’ You teased as you felt Jason laugh beneath you, a sound that was light and full of love, of warmth and a sweetness of him that only made him more beautiful in your eyes. Jason kisses your head and smiles into it as he closes his eyes, wanting to stay like this for the rest of his life, to stay with you listening to his heartbeat that he thought was dead for a long while.

‘Yeah I do, yeah I do.’ Jason murmurs in agreement, happy to finally have someone to call home, someone to bring him back from the ledge, and finally someone who wasn’t going to treat him like he was going to snap when approaching tough subjects.

[phoronopsis]

Oftentimes I see people just make shit up about bugs and other invertebrates. People will say stuff like "actually it's been scientifically proven that insects are physically incapable of cognition" with no source, and then you look it up and in fact there is tons and tons of literature reporting results on this exact thing. A while back after getting into an argument with people online about wasps, I decided to try compiling sources on invertebrate cognition out of spite and I had to take a break at some point because there is so much literature out there, it is actually overwhelming. Just with fruit flies alone, there's studies on how they form stable social networks and fight to establish hierarchies; how they make group decisions and act differently in crowds; how they pay attention to what other flies are doing and teach and learn from each other, even with other species. When subjected to pain out of their control, they can develop depression and respond to SSRIs to the point that they are literally used as animal models to study how to treat depression in humans. And that's just like, one animal!

Even with all the research there is though the truth is that we just haven't studied things like cognition, perception, behavior, sociality, etc. for the vast majority of invertebrates (i.e. the vast majority of animals). Most behavioral research (honestly, just bio research in general) is focused on vertebrates -- particularly mammals -- and the research that has been performed for invertebrates has still only been done for a small handful of species and lineages. Fruit flies are one of the single most studied organisms in the world (and there's still a lot we don't know about them). If idk, clams felt emotions, do you think you would be able to tell by just looking at them? (I have no idea if they do or not, I don't think anyone has studied this. we do know scallops can see.) But absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, and given the small glimpses of insight we have gotten into the vast world of unknowns, I think yeah it's pretty obvious that there is way more going on with a lot of animals than people think. Scala naturae my behated

It's always so weird to come down from the biology heavens to see what the average person believes about animals, plants, ecosystems, just the world around them. I don't even mean things that one simply doesn't know because they've never been told or things that are confusing, I'm talking about people who genuinely do not see insects as animals. What are you saying. Every time I see a crawling or fluttering little guy I know that little guy has motivations and drive to fulfill those motivations. There are gears turning in their head! They are perceiving this world and they are drawing conclusions, they are conscious. And yet it's still a whole thing if various bugs of the world feel pain or if they are simply Instinct Machines that are Not Truly Aware of Anything At All????? Help!!!!!! How can you look at a little guy and think he is just the macroscopic animal version of a virus

[nmhdreamscape]

stumbling hearts ✧ n.jm (valentine's gift series)

pairing | friend!jaemin x fem!reader

content | friends to lovers, fluff, jealousy, suggestive

word count | 647

request | jaemin + 13

notes | struggled a little with this one, hope it's okay!

you stumbled into your apartment with a laugh, stumbling over your heels as you entered your hallway. the alcohol had long worn, and you were now left with a terrible the pain in your feet, instant relief coming as you shucked them off. jaemin stepped into your apartment after you, shutting the door behind you. he had demanded he walk you home after your night out, wanting to make sure you got home safe in your inebriated state.

jaemin had opted to stay sober, he wasn’t really feeling it. that feeling only got worse as the night progressed, being subjected to watching you go off with every guy who had approached you. wishing it was him who had the courage to come up and ask you for a dance. wishing that he could get the chance to hold you like that. it all left a sour taste in his mouth that he knew would only be made worse with alcohol.

you had picked up on jaemin’s mood on the walk home, not greeting you with the same warmth and kindness he usually did. he was ignoring you, something that was very out of character for him. that resulted in most of the journey being spent in silence, that continuing as you entered your apartment. when you looked over at him, you saw how his gaze rested on you. at this point you were done, sick of his attitude. you needed to know why he was acting this way.

“you’ve been acting weird all night, are you okay?” you asked with your eyebrow raised. he didn’t even bother to respond, simply moving to put your shoes on the shoe rack next to the door. you let out a scoff, that catching his attention. he finally turned to face you, but still no response. you stormed over to him.

“you can’t just keep ignoring me!” you yelled, staring straight into his eyes. jaemin’s eyes fell to your lips before looking up into your eyes again. he was about to do something he would probably regret in the morning, but at least he could say he tried. gripping you by the waist, he pulled you into a kiss, lips pressing harshly against yours as he took you all in. 

you simply stood there in shock. had you hit your head on the way home? there was no way this was real? months of subtle touches, flirtatious comments and shameless pining had done little to get his attention. you had all but given up on the prospect of him being interested in you. and yet here you were. by the time your brain had caught up to your body, jaemin was already pulling away, much to your disappointment.

“watching you with all those other guys tonight, it was torture. it made me realise i just need to let it all out and tell you. i just... i want you, all of you. and that might be selfish, but i don’t care.” jaemin whispered, staring into your eyes as he cupped your cheek. your face lit up with a bright smile at this, hand coming to rest on top of his.

“you have me.” you reassured, squeezing his hand. “plus, they meant nothing. the guy i like wouldn’t dance with me, so somebody had to” you joked, rolling your eyes. jaemin looked down at you with his signature bright smile, still somewhat in disbelief at how things were turning out. 

“well, let me make it up to you then.” jaemin smirked, lifting you up off of the ground and into his arms. you let out a squeal, legs instinctively coming to wrap around his waist. he once again joined your lips in a kiss, whisking you off to your bedroom. he had thought of many different ways to make it up to you, and he couldn’t wait to show you them all. 

valentine's gift masterlist

[taniamunson]

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 ; ex-boyfriend!eddie x fem!reader

summary: After rehab, you return to Hawkins to find that nothing has changed… except you. And Eddie Munson.

warnings: Substance abuse, depression, mental health struggles, rehabilitation, family tension, past relationship drama, possible triggers for anxiety or trauma.

‼️ I don’t speak English perfectly, my native language is Spanish, and although I’ve taken many classes, my English is not perfect. I’m sorry if it sounds too “formal” or if something is unclear, please feel free to correct me. Thank you. ‼️

━─━────────━─━━─━───────

The first breath of air in Hawkins hits you with a weight you didn’t expect. There’s something about this town that feels dense, as if the air is mixed with memories you’d rather leave buried. Everything here is steeped in what you were, what you did, what you lost.

As your mom’s car stops in front of the house, you feel like time has frozen in this place. Nothing has changed. The paint on the fence is still peeling, the mailbox is still crooked, and the window in your room still has the small crack in the corner they never bothered to fix.

The only difference is how you feel seeing all of it.

Your mom turns off the engine and looks at you, a smile that’s a little forced.

“Ready?”

You don’t answer. Not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t know what to say. Ready for what? To pretend everything’s fine? To face the stares of people who think they know who you are? To return to the place where everything fell apart?

You grab your backpack from the back seat and get out of the car. The house smells the same as always: old wood and a hint of cheap perfume your mom insists on spraying everywhere. It’s a familiar smell, but instead of comforting you, it makes you feel like you’re in someone else’s house.

Your brother is in the living room, playing with the chain of his lighter, though he’s not smoking. He looks up when you enter and studies you for a second before letting out a dry laugh.

“Wow, you survived.”

Your mom smacks him on the arm, but he just shrugs. You don’t react. It doesn’t bother you, not even a little. He’s always been like that: indifferent, a bit of a jerk, but not with bad intentions.

“Are you hungry?” your mom asks, changing the subject too quickly.

He shakes his head, and you head upstairs, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappear down the hallway.

When you push the door to your room open, the smell of dust hits you like a punch. Someone made the bed and put some of your things away, but not enough to make it feel different. You still have the same blanket with a small cigarette burn in the corner, the same lamp on your nightstand with the busted bulb you never replaced, the same shoebox under the bed with memories you’d rather forget.

You sigh and drop your backpack to the floor before lying down on the bed.

You’re home.

But you don’t feel like you belong here. A small part of you would’ve preferred staying in that stupid hospital, though another part of you hated it.

The center had white walls, that clinical shade that made you feel like you were in a hospital instead of a recovery center. Each day had a strict routine: wake up early, group therapy, individual therapy, activities to “reconnect with yourself,” bland meals, more therapy.

The first weeks were unbearable.

Withdrawal hit you like a train, with headaches, insomnia, and an anxiety that made your skin feel like it didn’t belong to you. You cried more than you’d like to admit. You hated every second. But the worst part was the loneliness.

There was no noise to distract you, no way to escape your own mind. And when there was nothing else to focus on, you realized how much you’d ruined your own life.

It wasn’t until one of the therapists asked you a simple question that everything clicked.

“If you went back to Hawkins tomorrow, what would you do differently?”

You didn’t know how to answer. Because you weren’t sure you’d do anything differently.

Your family? They’ve been acting strange. They look at you too much, as if they’re waiting for you to do something. Your mom tries too hard to be affectionate, your dad is showing interest in your life, your brother is holding back from making “too cruel” comments.

It’s not that they didn’t pay attention before, but it was never like this. They were never the type to ask questions or try to get involved in what you were doing. Before, you could go days without exchanging more than two words with them.

Now, suddenly, they’re acting like a normal family.

And that’s what bothers you the most.

Because it means they see a problem with you now. That they think they need to watch you. That they feel guilty.

They don’t mention what happened. They don’t mention the overdose in the school bathroom, the ambulance, or the weeks you spent in that chlorine-scented center. But every word, every gesture, every glance is filled with something that was never there before: caution.

As if you were a ticking time bomb.

And as if that weren’t enough, you can’t sleep.

You toss and turn in bed, but your mind won’t shut off. Tomorrow, you go back to school. To the hallways that felt like a prison. To the same faces that saw you at your worst.

To the possibility of seeing him.

You squeeze your eyes shut, as if that could push the thought away.

You don’t want to think about Eddie Munson. You don’t want to remember his voice shouting at you that night, the last time you spoke before everything went to hell. You don’t want to remember the expression on his face when he realized you were pulling away, and you definitely don’t want to remember the cassette you left at his house, the one he probably threw away the second you disappeared from his life.

You force yourself to take a deep breath. To calm down.

Tomorrow will be the real test.

Tomorrow, you’ll know if you can really do this.

Or if Hawkins will drag you back.

[monster-disaster]

A) have access to a facility with an unlimited budget and staffed with the most highly trained scientists, geneticists, surgeons, and wizards ( yes wizards as this is a theoretical fantasy) that can change or augment your body in any way you can imagine.( Temporarily or permanently)

Or

B) the same type of facility similarly staffed and equipped, but they can engineer or clone any type of being(s) or creatures(s) you can imagine with the mental instincts to fulfill your deepest desires.

lizardman!Rask x human!Reader Warning: tease but no smut

A/N: My answer is B) and I will bring the smutty second part tomorrow under your other request. :)

_

"I… I did something." Rask’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet in the stillness of your office.

The lizardman stands awkwardly just inside the door, his hulking frame still wrapped in a lab coat. Underneath, his crispy white shirt is buttoned all the way up to his thick neck.

"What did you do?" you ask him, eyes scanning his meek posture; hunched shoulders, head tilted downward, his yellow eyes avoiding yours as they stare at the hard metal floor.

Rask hesitates, his claws fidgeting with the edges of his coat. "I… I tried the cloning machine."

Your brow furrows further. "So?" you ask, trying to make sense of his guilt. "We use it all the time."

"No." He shakes his head sharply, his yellow eyes flicking up for the briefest of moments before dropping again. "I mean, yes, but… I used it on myself."

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "What?" You lean forward in your chair, hoping that you misheard him, but the way Rask shrinks further into himself confirms your fears.

"But why?"

"I was curious," he admits, wincing at his own flimsy excuse.

"Rask," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers.

"I know," he says quickly. "I was stupid. I shouldn’t have-"

"Where is your… clone now?" you interrupt. His tail flicks behind him at the sharp edge of your voice.

"In one of the cells," the male replies. "I didn’t know what to do with him."

"You should have thought of that before you tried something so reckless. We work by strict protocols, Rask. How am I supposed to explain to the board that one of my employees used himself as a test subject?"

"I’m sorry."

You let out a long breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. What’s done is done. You can’t undo his actions, and while his apology won’t fix the situation, there’s no point in berating him further. You’ve worked in this facility long enough to know that curiosity often walks hand in hand with chaos. Scientists push boundaries, sometimes too far. It’s the nature of this place.

You stand, closing your laptop with a click. "Go home, Rask. And I want a detailed report about your… experience on my desk first thing tomorrow."

His head snaps up, yellow eyes wide with worry. "Will you fire me?"

Shaking your head, you reply; "No, Rask. You’re a good worker, and you’ve proven yourself time and again. But this... this can’t happen again. I’ll figure something out."

Relief flickers across his face, though his tail continues to swish nervously behind him. "Thank you, boss."

You walk him out of your office, closing the door behind you. "Come to my office first thing tomorrow morning. And make sure that report is ready."

"Yes, boss," Rask repeats, nodding earnestly.

As you watch him walk away, his shoulders still hunched, you can’t help but shake your head. This job was never going to be easy, not with the kinds of minds you worked with, and now, you had Rask's clone to deal with.

The building is almost empty. Most of the staff have already clocked out, leaving only the guards for the night. The long corridors stretch before you, their silence broken only by the soft scrape of your shoes against the floor. Above you, dimmed fluorescent lights flicker occasionally, following you up to the upper floor, where long rows of cells stretch out before you. From behind the thick metal doors, you can hear the creatures stirring. Some shuffle restlessly, the faint sound of claws scraping against walls or floors reaching your ears. Their growls and snarls are low and guttural, but muffled by the walls of the cells. You catch glimpses of them through the small, reinforced windows set into the doors, sharp eyes watching, shapes shifting in the shadows.

The cell of Rask’s clone lies at the very end of the long, dimly lit row. Through the narrow window, a pair of sharp yellow eyes meet yours, the slit pupils unblinking and focused. He doesn’t move as you stop in front of his door. His posture is unnervingly still, almost statuesque, and for a moment, you’re frozen, unsure of what to do next. What Rask did was reckless, a line no one had seriously thought to cross. And now, you’re face-to-face with the fallout; a creature that is, in every way, Rask and yet undeniably someone else.

How are you supposed to handle this? How can you possibly sweep something like this under the rug?

Damn it, Rask.

You exhale slowly as you reach for the security pad beside the door. Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you punch in the code. The soft beeps echo faintly down the hall, followed by a sharp hiss as the door unlocks. Your hand lingers on the handle, your grip tightening as hesitation creeps in. This isn’t a decision you should take lightly. You know better than to step into a confined space with an unknown entity, especially one born of such uncharted science, but as your mind races with all the ways this could go wrong, you push the door open and step inside.

He’s still watching you, his body eerily motionless save for the slow, deliberate rise and fall of his chest. His yellow eyes track your every move as you carefully step further inside while the door seals shut with another hiss.

Every thought you had about safety, protocol, and caution evaporates as you take in the figure before you. He is Rask, but he isn’t. The shade of his scales is identical, a familiar blend of muted greens, catching the dim light in the same way you’ve seen a hundred times before. His broad shoulders, the line of his jaw, even the way his tail hangs behind him. It’s all unmistakably Rask. And yet, there’s something else. Something off. It’s not just the uncanny stillness or the way his eyes seem to pierce through you. It’s something deeper, something that sets your instincts on edge.

And he is naked.

Your gaze flickers downward before you can stop yourself. His lean, muscular form is undeniably Rask’s, only now seen in a way you never have before. Every ridge, every scale, every taut line of his body is familiar, yet it feels foreign. That dissonance gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you force your eyes upward, meeting his sharp yellow gaze again. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift to cover himself, and shows no sign of embarrassment or awareness of his nudity. Instead, he simply stands there, watching you with an intensity that feels almost predatory.

"Do you understand me?" Your voice comes out steady despite the unease coiling in your stomach.

For a long moment, the clone says nothing. His eyes remain locked on yours, unblinking, unyielding. Then, slowly, he tilts his head. "Yes," he finally replies, carrying the same cadence as Rask’s but with a subtle, unnerving edge.

You nod, a small motion that feels heavier than it should. "Good." You lick your lips, suddenly aware of how dry they’ve become. "Do you know why you are here?"

His gaze slides over you, unhurried and deliberate, lingering in places it shouldn’t. It sends a ripple down your spine.

"Yes," he says again, his tone measured.

You exhale, nodding as though to convince yourself that things are still under control.

Cloning is still new and its outcomes are unpredictable. It’s why the facility operates in secrecy, why every precaution is taken to avoid the public eye. Clones may appear identical to their originals, but there are always differences. Some emerge feral, untamed and violent, while others manifest traits that were either latent or entirely unexpected in their originators.

But Rask’s clone…

At least he seems to understand you. His speech is coherent, his demeanor calm, calmer than you anticipated, given the circumstances. Yet that knowledge brings you no comfort, only questions.

What are you supposed to do with him? What can you do?

"Are you here to mate?"

The sudden question shatters the momentary silence, making your breath hitch and your eyes widen. You snap out of your thoughts, staring at the lizardman who stands barely a few inches taller than you.

"What?" The word escapes your lips in a rush, half disbelief, half reflex.

"I can feel your desire."

Your mouth opens, but words fail you for a moment. "No, I-" Whatever you wanted to say dies on your tongue when your gaze falters, and you see it: his hard cock emerging from its sheath. Heat blooms beneath your skin as you force yourself to look away.

"Do you want my original?" he asks with a slight tilt of his head.

"No," you snap as if it could get back the control into your hands.

The slits of his pupils narrow as he studies you, his unblinking gaze like a predator locking onto its prey. "You are lying," he says with unnerving certainty. "You find him attractive… and you find me attractive too."

Your breath catches in your throat, and by the time you force yourself to exhale, he’s already in front of you. You didn’t even register the space between you closing, but now his presence looms, overwhelming and steady. The scales of his chest glint faintly under the dim light. His scent, metal and earth, curls around your senses, making it impossible to focus.

"I’m not lying," you manage, though your voice is quieter than you intended.

"You feel one thing… and say another."

You step back instinctively, but your back hits the cool wall of the cell.

"You can’t hide from me," he says, his breath warm as it brushes against your skin. "I can feel it."

"We have more important matters than-" You try to deflect, the words tumbling hastily from your lips, but before you can finish, they falter into a sharp inhale. His head dips, and you feel him at the crook of your neck. The heat of his proximity is dizzying, but it’s the sudden, wet flick of his tongue against your pulse that sends a shiver rippling through your entire body. You gasp, your breath catching as the sensation floods your senses. His tongue glides over the sensitive skin, deliberate and unhurried, as if he’s savoring every beat of your racing heart.

"You’re thrumming," he murmurs against your neck.

"You need to stop," you whisper.

"Do I?" he asks, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze is intense and unwavering. "Or is that another lie?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and challenging, as you struggle to steady your breath.

There’s a choice to make, and despite how obvious it seems, the words refuse to form. Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

You shouldn’t.

He is a clone. A being created from the mind and body of someone you trust. Someone you work with. Someone you’d even call a friend. But he’s not Rask. Not entirely. Yet, he looks like him, every detail painstakingly identical. The same sharp yellow eyes, the same strong jawline, the same deep voice that carries a hint of warmth and familiarity. But this clone is different. Where Rask is often a whirlwind of restless energy, his thoughts spilling out in frantic tangents, this version is steady. Calculating. Confident.

"Another lie." Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, yet it cuts through the charged air between you.

You can’t deny it. The ache and curiosity you feel are too overwhelming, too raw to deny.

A slow, confident smile curls on the corner of his lips, one you could never see on Rask's face. And his hand settles on your hips like Rask's never would. You can feel his claw grazing over your skin where your shirt has ridden up.

"You don’t need to fight it," he says. "I'm here to fulfill your desires." His breath brushes against the sensitive skin of your neck. It’s warm, teasing, and far too intimate.

The heat of his body radiates against yours, and before you can react, his thigh presses firmly between your legs. The hard curve of his muscle nudges you through the thick fabric of your jeans just enough to make your breath catch. He moves slowly. He doesn’t rush. Every shift of his body, every subtle press of his touch is deliberate as if he’s testing you, learning you. His sharp pupils narrow, catching every flicker of your reaction, and a self-assured smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m not him, but I can give you what you’ve been denying yourself." The words cut through your hesitation, leaving you exposed in a way you weren’t prepared for. Your hands press against the cool wall behind you as if it could somehow anchor you, but his presence is everywhere, drawing you in despite yourself.

"I can give you what my original can't."

The words are bold, unapologetic, and hit far too close to home.

How does he know? You are sure Rask doesn’t. You’ve never said anything, never let even a hint slip about your silly little crush or the urge to climb him every time he rambles on about something you don't even understand.

"N-not here," you stammer, your voice trembling as the burn in your core spreads, impossible to ignore.

His movements stop, and you catch the faintest twitch of his lips. He is trying not to smile, but his smug satisfaction is undeniable.

"Will you take me out of here?"

It’s a crazy idea.

It’s reckless, absurd, dangerous.

You shouldn’t.

"Yes."