The Best Shifting Tip I Can Ever Give You:

My gosh, literally.

I miss my s/o so badly, like I just need to kiss his face, play board games, bake together, go on silly dates, talk whole night, just walk through city, watch our favourite shows and movies and just be people PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE NEED THAT RIGHT NOW

You know that one saying people say all the time?? the one that goes something like “It’s not going to matter in about ten years.”

like.. Oh my gosh, they are SO right— except it won’t matter at ALL because i’m shifting to another reality anyways.

For example.. Sometimes I may find myself being embarrassing or acting a certain way (which frankly isn’t uncommon for me)

Today I was trying to get up from the floor after a whole hard lockdown occurred (drill, i’m absolutely okay guys) but my legs went limb and I accidentally slipped and fell down in front of my whole class, it got realllll.. quiet… at some point I heard some people snicker and STAREEE at me ridiculously and others weren’t really paying much mind.

So I stood up, dusted myself and instead of letting that get to me.. I shrugged it off and continued about my day as normal— I didn’t even let it cross my mind until now, why? because these people will probably forget that even happened, they’re so worried about other things that occur to them— they’re probably not gonna go like “Oh.. remember that one girl who fell down in front of the class two years ago? funny..” unless they have insane photographic memory and are absolute jerkheads

But you know the craziest part? this is one in a millionth experience, for all I know I could have fallen down in front of zombies in some other reality and I could have gotten eaten alive orr.. i could fallen down and my s/o would have caught me right as I was about to hit the ground. (corny asl ik)

However, to be honest, to me it doesn’t matter anymore, as long as I don’t fall in front of horde of blood thirsty zombies. BECAUSEEEE next time when I do catch myself falling down, it’s not going to be infront of people I don’t care about, it’s not going to be unplanned, it’s not even going to be in my cr, because I will be scripting a scene where I ABSOLUTELY AMMM going to get caught by my SUPREMELY AND UTTERLY RIDICULOUSLY ATTRACTIVE s/o 😍

^^ literally me on my way to the floor

okay bai

how shifters look when they have multiple drs:

Fucking get out of here. Go fucking shift..

NOW!

— ❀⋆˙ TOUCH TANK

mark grayson x fem!reader

tags: songfic, pretty suggestive, short and sweet, not proofread

“he’s so pretty when he goes down on me; gold skinned eager baby, blue shirt out the laundry.”

The sight before you is nothing short of breathtaking.

Mark is comfortably positioned between your knees, his callused hands firmly holding them apart. The dim lighting of your bedroom accentuates his tan; skin sun-kissed from hours of endless training. He’s wearing a blue cotton tee, fitted just enough to trace the contours of his shoulders and chest. He smells faintly of fresh laundry, crisp with a pleasant hint of lavender. His presence consumes your senses, leaving you disoriented yet unable to look away.

Pretty, you think distantly.

His gaze flickers up, taking in your disheveled state with a smile. Your hair is undone, damp strands clinging to your forehead and neck. Your lips are red, kiss-bitten and swollen. A warm flush covers your features. You’ve never been quite so bare; yet to him, you’re perfect.

“You’re staring,” you say, voice soft and hushed.

“And you’re beautiful,” he presses a soft kiss to your kneecap.

It’s strange, really. Rough hands, covered in scars of battles past, trail slowly up your thigh. Strength that could easily tear you to shreds is used instead to steady your trembling legs. How could someone made and shaped for fighting be so gentle?

The answer comes to you in waves. You see it in his dark eyes as he drinks in every sound he pulls from you; sighs, keens, incoherent slurs of speech. You feel it in the fervour of his mouth, hungry and greedy as if he were a starved man. You hear it as he breathes your name into your skin, over and over. You’re almost surprised you haven’t noticed before.

He’s gentle with you because he wants to be. Because he loves you. And God, do you love him back.

big brown eyes, big dreams, even bigger daydreamer…

welcome to a little something—

My name’s Tori if we’re feeling fancy. singer, taekwondo student, Jehovah witness (probably the first jw and shifter) and a future something and everything all at once.

currently: perfecting the art of shifting between realities, perfecting the art of law of attraction and trying to balance AO3 binges while actually getting my life together. criminal profiling, manifestation, scripting plus! a little too much daydreaming.

✧ main dr: Haikyuu!! (catch me courtside, living my best life)

✧ other drs: Sk8 the Infinity, JJK, Singer/Celebrity, Miraculous Ladybug, Nana, MHA, KNY, and probably 50 more I haven’t started scripts on yet.

Avid subliminal maker | ff writer for fandoms listed above! I take requests for both, subliminal making and ff writing, youtube channel is linked if you guys are interested ^_^

DNI ✧ if you’re a hater of any sorts ✧ anti-shifters, and close-minded people ✧ if you spread misinformation or negativity ✧ if you’re just plain mean.

INTERACT IF ✧ you love shifting, AO3 deep dives, fanfiction of your favs ✧ you believe in manifestation, glow-ups, and becoming that person ✧ you have a playlist for every mood ✧ you daydream like it’s a full-time job ✧ you get the struggle of balancing ambition with procrastination ✧ you’re here for the fun, the chaos.

Linktree

etherealtori_ | Instagram | Linktree

plausibly enough, daydreaming.

How my child self would look at me finding out I can go to any reality I want and instead of going to Barbie dream world I'm risking my life in other reality doing dumb ass shit

When I tell people they can simply shift with daydreaming and they hit me with "but I daydream all the time, why haven't I shifted?"

Because you perceive it as a daydream and not a actually reality you are living and experiencing.

If you are daydreaming and you are so focused on the fact you are "not there yet" or the fact you wish to be "actually" experiencing that daydream right now is the reason why you didn't shift through the daydreaming.

Shifting doesn't take much, and telling yourself otherwise is sabotaging yourself. Realise your dr is real and take it in. Immerse yourself in your dr and simply be there and don't overthink it.

MISS YOU MORE

── ♡ YUU NISHINOYA

"You heave yourself up a familiar hill that you were sure didn’t take this much energy to reach before. You sit yourself down under the singular tree situated. You keep your posture polite, as if invading the space meant for someone’s ghost. When the popsicle first hits your tongue, you cry."

(i)

Most days, you can shrug off the pain that comes with missing Nishinoya Yuu.

However, when it’s especially sunny out, or you see soda-flavoured popsicles being sold in convenience stores, you are reminded. When you think of your sleepy hometown, you are reminded. When you pass by children aimlessly tossing around a volleyball, you are reminded.

His grin had been infectious. His eyes would crease at the corners and his smile lines prominent. The sun would catch the brown hues of his eyes in time for you to, in that split second, believe you were graced by the presence of a wild deity. However, Yuu is painfully human, as the next minute he bites into his popsicle too quickly and gives himself a painful pause. You can’t stifle your laughter even when he glares at you meaninglessly, because he’s still smiling even at the expense of his dignity. He used to do anything to make you laugh.

When asked, you would say you were still in contact with members of Karasuno’s Volleyball Club. It’s a gross overestimation of the ‘contact’ you still have. They are accounts sitting on your phone, still following with stories unwatched and posts unliked. You were up-to-speed with the fact that Ryuunosuke Tanaka and Kiyoko Shimizu were married. You knew Hitoka Yachi works for her mother’s design company, and that she still meets with Kei Tsukushima and Tadashi Yamaguchi based on pictures together. Asahi Azumane is a rising designer in Tokyo. Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio made themselves impossible to miss, their names and photos circling the internet and live television on every sports network. The point is that you knew where everyone was, and that was a good enough connection as you can manage. You didn’t need to read the messages Yachi last sent you in 2015. You didn’t need to pay attention to the fact that there was an impromptu group meetup with a handful of alumni just a few months ago. You didn’t need to scroll through Yuu’s untouched Instagram account from a decade ago, his last photo had been a grainy and over-filtered selfie with Tanaka and Ennoshita.

Yuu had, for the most part, completely disappeared from your reach. There was the option to message someone who would know where he was, Azumane and Tanaka being the first to pop into your mind. Yet, terror fills you at the notion, an anxiety that leaves you trembling as you blearily thumbed through the interface of the social media app. You always shut your phone before your impulsive thought reached fruition, and you considered deleting the app entirely if it weren’t for the fact you found comfort in knowing where everyone is, as they simultaneously knew nothing about where you were. Most days, however, it was a rude reminder of the bottom of the rung from which you squander, and the heights they have reached since graduation.

Despite your ever-growing list of regrets, not holding onto Nishinoya Yuu had been your biggest one.

“Let’s get married,” He had said under the glow of the setting sun. The apples of his cheeks were a lovely shade of red and your heart danced in tandem with the leaves blowing past gently. The grass underneath you feels more like a cloud, and you’re lightheaded under the weight of Yuu’s declaration. Not now, you tease him, you haven’t even graduated yet. He sits up immediately, eyes wide and shining as a grin graces his lips.

“So you’re saying we can get married after I graduate?” He wiggles his eyebrows comically at you, and you bat his arm where you lay. Maybe, you had said and he followed your response with a series of kisses pressed against your heated, flustered skin while you squirm and laugh.

If you could go back to that summer evening, you wouldn’t have thought twice before following him straight to the municipal office. Anything to have him in reach, kept him where you could still love him.

(ii)

When your morning begins with the ring of your phone, you do not suspect anything out of the ordinary. Your new manager had become audaciously comfortable in abusing your number at every minor inconvenience—“The numbers just aren’t adding up” or “I have a lot on my plate, go teach the new interns”. So you wait until the fifth ring, a small act of rebellion and spite before you inevitably have to answer to a problem above your pay grade. When it’s Kiyoko Shimizu’s name that pops onto your screen, you nearly drop the device. A blurry contact photo of her Tanaka together, her contact name that is unchanged from when you were in your third year, and the way she does not call a second time. It is her, and not a cruel trick of the imagination. You count to three hundred before you hesitantly press on the call-back function. She picks up on the second ring, and her voice doesn’t burst intrusively into your speaker. Dulcet, as you remember it, with a twinge of something more merry in her tone.

She says your name in fondness and it makes your stomach sink, and when she repeats it a second time you can only nervously laugh.

“I’m sorry, I can just hardly believe it,” And that had been the truth. “It’s so good to hear from you,” You weren’t sure if you meant it. She cheekily corrects you when you tactfully greet her as Shimizu-senpai, and you pretend to be awed by her marriage and congratulate her as if the news isn’t laughably old to you. Reminiscent of old behaviours, she jumps straight to the topic after some idle talk. A reunion, she said, to get as many members of the old team together as possible. An overdue meetup. You are submerged underwater and drowning, unable to claw for air as your throat threatens to collapse. Your mind swam with possibilities, of implications, of everything that can and will go wrong. Who will be there, and what will they want to know? Your carefully crafted isolation is gone, all because you never mustered the strength to cut the last cord tying you to Miyagi. Your silence awards you with another concerned call of your name, and you manage to stammer out an excuse in half-lucidity about your work, schedule, train tickets and anything that could placate your lack of answer now. She pacifies you with a passive, understanding response before promising to check in later and hangs up. It leaves you alone with running tap water, and a glass tipped over in the sink.

(iii)

Miyagi greets you as if it had been frozen in time. You view everything from the same hazy, saturated tint as you were a teenager. The breeze feels colder, there is more life breathed into nature than the city you dwelled in, and glimpses of your memory threaten to peek as you note spots that should be familiar to you.

When your eyes scan over a certain signage, your heart sinks. From an outsider’s perspective, the idea of a convenience store overwhelming you with nostalgia sounds pathetic. Yet it is on Sakanoshita Market’s property where everything happened.

He almost forces the popsicle into your hand despite your string of protests. I owe you one, he had said in relation to last week’s cram study. Your notes saved my life, he insisted though you didn’t exactly feel too great about the fact your notes merely helped him scrape by a passing mark. You don’t rain on his parade, so you gingerly pluck the cold treat from his hand and much to your horror, he bites his own. It was like watching a snake unhinge its jaw as he finished the popsicle within two chomps. When he meets your aghast stare, he smiles cheekily. Efficient, he said and so you take extra care in enjoying the treat and he laughs at your stubbornness.

The bell above the door rings as you enter. You are almost disappointed to find that instead of Coach Ukai’s blonde head of hair, you spy a gangly-looking teenager at the counter. He had been reading something under the table, that much was obvious, but upon the alert of your arrival, he fumbles to stand up straight and shove the source of his distraction away. Whatever he finds on your face, likely no recognition of being his boss, appeases him and he relaxes all the while greeting you politely. He doesn’t bother you as you make a beeline through the aisle, stopping at the refrigerator. You pick up one cola-flavoured popsicle. The cashier boy rings it up but eyes you for a split second for your single purchase. He’s likely not used to older people buying snacks popular with school kids.

When you leave, your feet take you through the grass that cuts the street. You heave yourself up a familiar hill that you were sure didn’t take this much energy to reach before. You sit yourself down under the singular tree situated. You keep your posture polite, as if invading the space meant for someone’s ghost. When the popsicle first hits your tongue, you cry.

(iv)

Your hand hovered over the handle far longer than you wanted to admit. It was the final crossroad in which you could back out, but upon silent admission that this would render your motel costs, your nice dressing, and your taxi ride here useless, you finally push down your wave of nausea.

It’s not Kiyoko who greets you, but Tadashi Yamaguchi who had been conveniently idling near the door in wait for Tsukishima. He greets you politely, a high pitch to his voice you recognise from when he would find you before morning practice followed by the term of respect senpai. Even as your vision began to blur under the intensity of the gold lights decorating the ceiling, your attention was drawn by the pair that came to greet you. You can barely breathe when Kiyoko reaches you because she’s as beautiful as in photos, and when her arms circle around you you feel the bile rise to your throat. Too much. All too much. Yet, you muster a greeting with a smile you hoped reached your eyes, and Yachi is next to follow. She doesn’t hug you, and you don’t think you could handle it right now either, but she beams and grasps your hands without a hint of resentment in her eyes despite the fact you had essentially ghosted her all those years ago. You are led to the living room of the Tanaka household, and you manage to blearily pick up the faces of Sugawara, Sawamura and the man of the house himself, Ryuunosuke Tanaka. The teacher and the officer greet you with warm handshakes and squeezes of the shoulder, and while Tanaka has gotten up from his seat he does not go to give you affectionate greetings like the others. You were not surprised, and yet it still made you want to turn to the door and run. Your name doesn’t leave his lips like a slur, and there is no scowl on his face, and yet you know he has not forgotten. Likely none of them did, they are just better at hiding any animosity. It is when your eyes leave Tanaka’s that you finally pay attention to the other man in the room. Tears threaten to spring to your eyes when you see Asahi Azumane, even more so when the man gives you a gentle smile, but you hold back in fear of causing a scene.

“Not now, just—” You turn away from Asahi’s concerned stare as you briskly attempt to out-walk him. “Not now.”

It doesn’t take him a lick of extra effort to reach your pace, and you feel a spike of annoyance akin to blistering fire. You didn’t like this defiant show of persistence, not from somebody who is usually so gutless in the face of confrontation. You continue to ignore him despite the fact the leather straps of your school bag weigh you down like an anchor.

“This isn’t right, you know this,” He keeps his tone even and placid, even in the face of your growing rage. “He cares about you. A lot. This isn’t fair to you or him.”

You finally spin on your heel, causing the man to stumble slightly at your sudden movement. Your tears are hot, burning even, in the ducts of your eyes but you don’t dare let a single one spill. Not in front of Asahi, who will only be further vindicated that you are making all the wrong decisions. Not even for yourself, who will begin to wonder if they are making the right choice.

“It’s because I care about him that I’m doing this,” You snap and he almost flinches under the force of your voice. “I know what type of person I am. I know what I’m going to become. I can’t reciprocate the intensity of Yuu’s feelings. He deserves to have someone who gives him a high like he gives me.”

You don’t realise your heated retorts have died down to near-desperate begging, not until you're digging your nails into your skin, enough to draw blood. Asahi tries to pry your grip away, but you move before he can reach and he lets his hands fall limply to his sides.

“Don’t you dare say he deserves to be stuck with me just because he happens to care. He’ll get over it, and he’ll find someone better. I’m not ruining his life by dragging him alongside the monotony of mine,” You finally meet the brown-haired man’s gaze from when you hung your head, and your glare burns and the fire spreads. “Do you get it now?”

You are seated down, sandwiched between an almost-doting Kiyoko and frantic Yachi as snacks and conversation are passed around. You are asked the expectant questions—How are you, what are you doing, what’s changed? You answer the questions to a degree that should tame any further curiosity, though take care in leaving out unsavoury details. This was only an impulsive trip. After this, you will go home, delete their contacts and finally free yourself from Karasuno, Miyagi, Yuu and all the memories left behind.

The door opens and you suspect Ennoshita or the like to arrive, as Hinata and Kageyama already confirmed their absence due to their busy schedule. Nothing could have prepared you for when Nishinoya Yuu walked in as if he owned the place. It’s the same spiked hair that your hands used to find purchase in. The same slanted brown eyes that would make your heart quake in your chest. Worst of all, the same grin that haunted your memory. When his eyes fall on you after his loud greeting, you can feel the earth cave in.

(v)

The universe, unfortunately, did not end upon Yuu’s arrival. His gaze had quickly shifted from you to the remaining attendees in the house and the lack of acknowledgement made you feel like a first-year again, standing with your back to the gymnasium wall as your sense of person is reduced to dust in the face of much fiercer personalities. You don’t know what you had expected. He wasn’t going to kick up a fuss in the middle of a reunion, and that’s assuming he even cares about you anymore at all.

Which answer would have been more satisfactory? The one where your teenage self got what they wanted—a Yuu who has moved on and no longer cares for them? Or the one present you guiltily wished for—that he cares, that he thinks of you as often you do him, that he hasn’t gotten over you?

With the last guest’s arrival, you all are moved to the dining room, where dinner is prepared. The delectable smell wafts in the air, and excitement grows. You momentarily perk up at the prospect of a homecooked meal that wasn’t your subpar cooking, but you are immediately tense when Yuu brushes past you with a brisk “whoops, sorry.” This is a casual interaction. There is no tremor in his voice, no avoidant glances. It’s akin to two strangers passing each other on the street.

You want to go home. You want his attention. You want to run. You wish he’d say your name again.

The conversation picks up as everyone eats, and you are still kept in between the two ex-managers while Yuu sits on the opposite side but from the furthest vantage point from you. Judging by the passing glances you had gotten when he arrived, you had a feeling this seating arrangement was purposeful. You don’t tact on to the discussions but try to smile and laugh when appropriate so it doesn’t seem like there is something totally wrong with you. At least you managed to gather that Yuu is currently travelling, and you have to bite back your smile when you recall the nights he used to call you and explain his dreams of seeing the world.

Within the hour, ceramic dishes and steel utensils clink together and everyone begins to disperse with the grand idea to watch a few films together over drinks before ending this event. Tsukushima quietly gestures towards his departure with a curt explanation of morning practice when Tanaka hounds him. You realise this is also your only chance at escaping without too much awkwardness. You arm yourself with a list of excuses—sorry, I have to check out early tomorrow. I have a morning work call. I’m still a bit light-headed from the train ride.

Nobody questions you further when you say your general, tentative goodbyes along with an extra minute of gratitude for the Tanaka household’s hospitality (Ryuunosuke’s gaze even seemed to soften when you turned to thank him). You are out the door before you can make selfish eye contact with Yuu, your coat tossed over your figure as you depart with nothing but a sheepish wave.

The night chill hits you in full force, and you shiver as you quickly attempt to find warmth in the rapid friction of your palms. You are not more than just a few steps out the front lawn when your name is shouted, the syllables rolling off a familiar tongue with so much nostalgia it feels sickening. Nishinoya Yuu is broad-shouldered with a sports jacket messily pulled over his figure and calling for you as if you both are seventeen and he’s letting you know one more time that he loves you before walking his half of the way home. You pause where you stand, you let him catch up, and you let him stand close enough that you can recite every minute detail of his face. A decade wasn’t enough, you realise somberly, to shake away your utter adoration for him.

He grins and asks if you want to get popsicles in the middle of the cold. Crazily enough, you agree.

(vi)

He regaled you with stories of his travels under that tree, from when he lost his hotel keycard in São Paulo and had to spend the night on the lounge chair because the staff couldn’t replace it in time, to when had gone fishing in Colorado River and fell of his boat when he got too excitable about his catch. You couldn’t stop your laughs, and he was only encouraged to continue with an eager beam. By the time you catch your breath, you find him leaning back on his hands with a smile so earnest that it makes you feel like you are seventeen and in love again. You grow nervous when he proclaims it's your turn to fill him in on the details of your life and the peace of the moment crumbles under his expectant stare. With the way you left him and the way he’s treating you as if you didn’t break his heart all those years ago, you felt obliged to be honest.

Shuichi Toyama began as your co-worker. He didn’t enter your life in a hurricane like Yuu did, but he did leave behind a disaster once he closed the door.

He asked you out and with you having been off the dating scene since high school, you agreed with some reluctance. The first date turned out fine, better than the awkwardness you first expected, so you let him take you out for a second. Then a third. He asked you to be his, and you agreed without paying note to the premonition behind his wording (Yuu always used to brag that he belonged to you).

It was comfortable. Stable. On good days Shuichi felt like a friend, and that was your first warning that you mistook security for love. He proposed a year later during a fancy dinner date, the restaurant overflowing with patrons. When the pastry chef brought out a slice of cake, moist and carefully decorated with your name, all you could think about was the eyes on you and how much money Shuichi must have spent on this proposal. You agree and something prideful crosses your now fiance’s expression.

A few months after you are wed in a fanciful ceremony with your attire to the decorations hand-picked by your mother-in-law, the cracks in your relationship begin to show. Late arrivals home, heading straight to bed after work, no ‘good morning’ or ‘I love you’ uttered. A year later you catch him in bed with his co-worker he swore to you not to worry about. It’s a sight to see when he struggles to pull up his pants, racing after you as you lock yourself in your car. He keeps a firm grip on the handle as he pleads for you to reconsider. He’s sorry. He didn’t mean for it to happen. It was a lapse of judgement. You listen to the excuses bemused, but you can’t help the tears that sting your eyes. Time with Shuichi had been wasted time, and you could have done so much and been so much without him. Yet, your mind tracks back to Yuu. This must be how he felt when you left, and it comes with a realisation of shame that you were no better than Shuichi. When your neighbour’s young children emerge from the front door to play, you unlock your car and follow your husband back home to spare them the sight of a half-naked man begging in the driveway. Maybe this is what you deserve.

He only kept his promise for two months, then while doing the laundry you find a lipstick stain on his collar that did not belong to you. A normal person would have packed their bags and tossed the stupid shirt at him without looking back. You toss it into the washing machine and go back to the rest of your chores. You don’t bring it up even when he comes back home almost four hours late, drunk and smelling unusually floral. You tell him his food is in the oven, and head to bed.

You let the cycle run its course for another few months until he breaks a plate during an argument about one of your neighbours catching him leaving a woman’s house in the early mornings. You had yelled at him to at least keep his infidelity under warps so that you aren’t embarrassed in the process, and he screams about why you aren’t angry that he’s cheating and more concerned for your reputation. When the ceramic dish hits the kitchen floor and shatters, you go quiet and stare. He’s the one who packs his bags this time, and you don’t implore him to stay. After that, you do not see Shuichi without a lawyer and you eventually lose rights to the house and most of your savings you mistakenly put into a shared account. You quit your job with no available living accommodation and no friends whose couch you could crash on while you try to pick up the remnants of your life. You find a job in another city after several nights at a cheap motel and begin to live in a small apartment in a place unfamiliar to you. Your new job pays less, is more demanding and your coworkers don’t take to you. However, it puts a roof over your head and food on your table. Within the silence, all you can contemplate are regrets.

By the time you are finished, there is a fire in Yuu’s eyes that blaze, fraught with rage. He curses your ex-husband without sparing a breath and you have to bite back a smile because it was just like him to get angry on your behalf.

“That sounds rough, I’m so sorry,” He says quietly and despite his awkward wording, he’s practically melting in sincerity and you only shake your head. You almost wished he felt vindicated by hearing this, but that’s simply an insult to the type of person Nishinoya Yuu is. He is never happy in the face of someone else’s misery, he is earnest and sincere, and he cares for others loudly and passionately. You are free-falling, a pit in your stomach that lurches to reach your throat, weightless and doomed. The words leave you before your mind can catch up.

“From all of this, it’s just a constant reminder I fucked up the moment I left you,” His eyes widen at the sudden confession, lips pressing into a straight line as you gaze at him with glassy eyes. “Yu—Nishinoya, I’m so sorry. I know my words can never make up for my actions.”

“Don’t,” His breath leaves him in a shaky exhale as he closes his eyes, “Don’t call me Nishinoya like that. I’m always Yuu to you.”

Tears now freely roll your cheeks and you know you don’t deserve it when he reaches out to briskly wipe them away with calloused hands. They warm your face and he lets his touch linger longer than appropriate even when your sobbing has died down to quiet sniffles.

“You and I were dumb kids. Sure, back then I wanted to scream and chase you down until you changed your mind,” He moves his hand to grasp yours, intertwining your fingers together as he gives you a reassuring and tight squeeze. “But I didn’t hate you for it. I don’t think I’m able to even if I tried.”

His grin takes on a little more sheepish twinge, a contrast to a teenage Yuu who would have urged you to stop taking things so seriously and to get over it. With maturity, he has the patience to sit down and actually talk with you. However, curtness is integral to his personality so he adds on.

“Even though you’re in the habit of catastrophising everything,” His sly remark earns a look of offended bafflement from you, causing him to laugh loudly in return. He brings you to stand alongside him, tugging you from the hill and onto the street. He insists on walking you back to your motel, and promises to pick you up the following morning. Nishinoya Yuu is cementing himself into your life again. You make sure to take extra care of keeping him.

WITH INFINITE REALITIES, THERE ARE INFINITE WAYS TO SHIFT

There's never one way to shift....

You don’t need to follow other people’s shifting methods or adopt their approach to the Law of Assumption or have the same 'mindset' at them in order to shift. Shifting is entirely personal, and it's whatever you want it to be. What will work for you is based on your beliefs and assumptions.

If certain techniques, like visualisation for instance, don’t resonate with you, don't pressure yourself to do them. Find what feels right to you instead, what you're most comfortable with. Maybe you prefer entering an altered state of consciousness and shifting from there. Or perhaps all you need is meditation and/or intention is all that's needed.

There are no rigid rules, no methods. What you assume, will work for you. Just because something works for others doesn’t mean it’s the only way.

There's no formula to shift. Think about it. People shift differently...at different times, using different 'methods', in different ways like sleeping, awake, in the shower, while in the car. SO IT DOES NOT MATTER HOW YOU GET TO YOUR DR

There are so many approaches to shifting. Don't limit yourself to only doing whatever the "norm" is or copying other people just because.

Get creative with it!!!