#how to increase brain power and memory

[myfitnessteacher]

Brain | 9 Exercises for Brain To Improve Memory And Focus

Brain Gym exercises are activities that improve function. These exercises support learning and communication skills, improve your child's memory, academic performance and attention, and help maintain a healthy lifestyle. Read More

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 19

It's the 27th not the 28th but close enough :)))

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 19 >>next

While Nolan needed about a week to get better, Mark was fine, he was just whiny to be babied. Not like you argued. You both babied each other while the man was healing, needing it. Now, while Mark visited him every day, you only did it twice, unable to look at him for long without your blood pressure increasing and unable to stand how softly he held your baby brother, cuddling him into his side, how gently he spoke to Andressa. It was a side he never gave much to you or Mark and Debbie.

Those sentiments were of no use to you. So, you buried them and the little flashes of memories that reminded you of Bruce always being soft with the others but only giving you this cold, distant look, if even that, and began distracting yourself by using your architecture classes and starting to rebuild with the other Thraxans.

It kept the thoughts of how easy it was for men to up and have whole other families, families they took greater care of away, it kept the insecurities of you truly not being enough for anyone away- you knew those weren’t true- you did! Mark and Debbie truly loved you. Eve and Amber were great friends who didn’t shy away from showing physical affection. They loved you and you loved them all so much… But the doubt somehow was stronger.

What if they were faking? You always heard Dick and Tim complain that the kids at their school were snakes who were after Bruce’s money. But they didn’t know you still had access to his money. It couldn’t be your powers. What could they give if it couldn’t even sway Nolan enough to not attack Mark? Were you just someone not worth loving?

Thoughts over thoughts filtered through your brain. Sentiments and thoughts and memories- all bottled up, put away, hidden in favor of working. It helped keep you preoccupied, helped keep your mind off Bru- Nolan, it did. Until you couldn’t help but subconsciously add him and Andressa to one of the many murals the Thraxans insisted on.

“I think it’s crooked.” Mark said from behind you, your head snapped from him back to the mosaic mural, arms crossing over your chest as you tilted your head to the right. “Huh. It is a little crooked.” You grab a spatula and shrug. “Well, time to redo it all-” At your words, Mark immediately panicked, words spewing out of his mouth to tell you that it’s fine, a little human error, only stopping when you started laughing.

“Chill.” You hum as you use the spatula to straighten the few pieces that were askew. “I was joking. They have this slow-drying solution that only hardens immediately when water is sprayed. Nifty thing.” You turn to look at Mark, dead in his eyes. “I think it’s their vomit, to be honest.”

“Eww-“ Mark cringed, whining at the thought. “Thanks for the image.” He mutters, half-heartily glaring at you as you snicker. “Shut up.” He gently slapped your arm. “Shut up? You shut up, free baller.” You slap his arm back. “Hey- I have boxer under-“ He pouted as you mocked him, repeating his words in a goofy voice and exaggerating his movements. “Alright, you’re asking for it.”

“Alright, you’re- Hey!” Your teasing was stopped as you dodged some of the goop you had used for your mosaic pieces. Before you could say anything more, he blew a raspberry at you and flew away, yelling that you couldn’t catch him. You just huffed, smirking as you opened a portal.

Appearing in front of the laughing Mark made him let a scream as he almost crashed into you. You just moved slightly out of the way before tapping his foot. “Tag, you’re it!” Mark groaned as you flew away, the sonic boom messing his hair. “That’s not fair! You used magic!” he yells before going after you, laughing at the schemes you pulled to avoid his touch.

Nolan and Andressa just watch the two have their fun, the chubby baby on her hip cooing with gleeful wonder at the laughing young adults flying through the air. “You need to talk to her.” Andressa told him, eyes meeting his. “It doesn’t matter what you want, Nolan.” She interrupted him. “She’s hurt, Mark too. But she always gets this sad, scared look when she sees you interact with us compared to him.”

“I don’t know what you did or didn’t do. I don’t know what she went through. You’re quite secretive.” She only smiled at the guilty look he gave her. “As a whole species, we forget, forgive, and move on because of our short lives- we blink as babies and open our eyes as elders. You have eternity in comparison. Do you want her to stew with whatever she’s feeling for that long?”

“No.” Nolan sighs. “It’s just- I haven’t made the right choices-“ Andressa puts a gentle hand on his arm. “Then tell her. Not me. I wasn’t the one you wronged.” And yet, the man couldn’t help but feel like he did. Her, Debbie, his kids- the ones that actually made him feel alive, like he wasn’t just another soldier who could be replaced. He just nods. She was right, after all.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“And this is why I strongly believe you should let me go on this school trip without supervision.”  Damian finished his presentation by pressing a button on the remote to present the final slide of his PowerPoint presentation. Jon was standing near him, holding the last physical card that simply stated that Lois would also be there while smiling brightly. “Chum-“ Bruce sighs, rubbing at his tired eyes. “I don’t think-“

“Father. For years, you have made me try to fit in with the other kids, with a range of people that I initially deemed beneath me. I’m sixteen now, almost seventeen. It’s normal for others my age to crave independence. Granted, I won’t be entirely alone, not only will there be the teachers, but the Kents have also taken on the job of supervisors. Do you not trust them, or do you not trust me?”

Damian knew it was a low blow, but he was strategic in everything right down to when he asked Bruce. The man had a headache, was too tired, and pulled in all directions, from the Viltrumite problem to the Sorceress killing Joker to the rogues still not letting up. Batman was too tired to notice anything askew, couldn’t even think of the possibility.

Bruce sighed deeply, shoulders slouching as he gave a defeated nod. He did trust him. He also trusted the Kents, and he had always insisted for Damian to take in any moments of normality he could. “Alright, give me a pen.” Damian smiled at the triumph, doing as he was told. He also handed over the papers, deliberately ignoring how Jon’s smile wobbled and how his worried eyes seemed to scream at him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Nolan had been practicing for a few hours on what to say, only when Mark caught him red-handed in the middle of his speech. He wanted to talk to both of them, but talking first to Mark was better. His boy had mellowed out- somewhat. He was still angry, still hurt, but he knew you’d be the one who was having the real war. And while Mark left him to deal with his daughter on his own, he pitied him enough to give him some advice.

“She’s hurt, she’ll ask questions, she’ll say hurtful things because she is hurt by the thing I said. Be quick, be honest, and don’t dance around, she’ll take that as dishonesty, as a lie.” Nolan muttered to himself as he flew about, trying to find you. “Be careful of what you say or be ready to get punched-“ His breath caught in his throat as he finally noticed your figure high in the sky. He forgot everything he had rehearsed.

Your eyes scan around. You weren’t sure if you were trying to memorize the landscape or if you were just paranoid and looking out in case the Viltrumites were trying to test your patience. You were looking for a fight, to be honest- anything to not pay attention to the emotions boiling under your skin.

The voice of Nolan softly whispering your name made your body tense, spine straightening. This wasn’t the kind of fight you wanted. You slowly turned around to face the man, remaining quiet as the man stuttered through whatever he was trying to say. Your eye twitched. “Jesus- just spit it out.”

Nolan takes in a breath as he senses your temper rising. “We need to talk.” At his simple statement, you just huff. “What’s there to talk about? You found yourself new pets to keep you entertained. Good job.” The older man just sighs, slowly floating closer under your suspicious eye. “What I said while fighting Mark-“ you quickly corrected him and he didn’t miss a beat in repeating your words. “-while beating up your brother- was out of fear, out of doubt and fear.“

“You called mom a pet!” you yelled at him, unable to hold it in anymore. “You did that- nobody made you! What were you afraid of anyway?! The Viltrumites? You weren’t alone, Nolan. The Guardians were your friends, all you had to do was come clean- they would have helped, hell, The Justice Leagues would have helped-“

As you grew angrier, Nolan tried to remain calm. “The League ignored every tip I sent in.”  The scoff that you gave was quick. “Yeah? And I’m supposed to believe you?” Your hands were shaking, you wanted to believe him- you did- but you just couldn’t. “It’s the truth.” He kept his voice soft and even, trying his hardest not to trigger a fight. “I kept trying to contact them for weeks, I sent in anonymous tips, tried to talk to them in person, I tried everything- killing the guardians was a desperate act-“ He raised a hand when you tried to interrupt. “Let me finish. Killing them and turning you and Mark to the Viltrumites' side was the only thing I could think of that would have kept you two and Debbie safe-“

“You still could have told Cecil- You still had us!” Your yelling makes Nolan flinch- a small movement you didn’t quite notice. “You didn’t think Mark and I loved you enough to give you the chance to do better? You are our dad, we would have fought for you! What? Did you think we are like you? Fucking cowards who run away when they doesn’t get what they want?”

“Well, news flash, Nolan- not everyone does what you do- some of us like to fight for the people we love- oh, but you didn’t love us- you thought of us as pets!” Your words, hissed and loud, cut deeper than anything ever could. “I did love you, I still love you-“ Your fist meeting his jaw cut his sentence short. “Shut up, you lying bastard!” You hissed before lunging at him again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mark and Andressa watched with different levels of worry. “This is fine.” He mumbled, nibbling on his nails. “She is beating him up.” Andressa looked at the young man. “She’s pulling her punches. The first time around, she almost crushed his skull.” Andressa’s eyes just widened as she turned back to watch her lover get his ass handed to him. “And she’s not using her elemental powers, so that’s good-“ Andressa's jaw dropped at the information.

“As long as nothing starts glowing neon green, they’re fine.” Mark shrugs, barely believing himself. “I’ll… go check on your brother.” Andressa sighs, slowly turning away as Marks starts floating off the ground. “Mhm, I’ll go closer- just in case.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“-and to think you want me to believe anything that comes out of your mouth!” You growl, punching and kicking, only getting madder when Nolan just takes it. “I know, I’m sorry. I love you.” Nolan kept repeating himself after every insult, every jab, every truth you threw at him. “Stop saying that!” Your voice cracked as tears finally fell down your face, and you lunged at him once more, this time crashing him into a deserted place quite a distance from the city.

“You don’t love us! You left us all alone!” Your already weak punches grew weaker, barely making him grunt in pain, tears blurring your vision. “You don’t love me- you left me just like-“ You couldn’t finish, not your sentence or the punch you threw. Your body was shaking with sobs as you simply crumbled, covering your face with your hands to hide your crying face.

“You changed for them- why didn’t you for us?” You whimper through your sobs. “Were we not enough? Was I not good enough? I could have been- I could have changed-“ Nolan quickly wrapped his arms around you, muffling your sobs and words by burying your face in his chest.

His hold was tight, suffocating, but even as you weakly struggled to get out, he wouldn’t let go. “You are perfect. You, your brother, your mother- you are all amazing and did nothing wrong. I was the one in the wrong.” He whispers as one hand keeps you close while the other tries to soothe you. It only made you cry harder.

“I wasn’t afraid of the Viltrumites. I was afraid of you three rejecting me once you found out the truth.” Nolan’s eyes met Mark’s once he quietly landed just a few steps away. “I should have trusted that all of you love me just as much as I love you.” You grunted when Mark almost fell on top of you, one of Nolan’s arms wrapping around his eldest as he squeezed him to his chest just as tight. Nolan could wash the snot off later, this was more important. “My kids… My babies.” He hummed as he kissed both of your heads.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I’m sorry for beating you up… again.” You mumble as you snuggle closer to the sleepy baby who woke up because he was hungry. Nolan only laughed, ruffling your hair as he pressed a cold pack to his jaw. “I deserved it. Besides, it’s nice knowing some of my training stuck.” You give a half-hearted hum of acknowledgment while letting your head fall against his shoulder when he takes a seat next to you on the grand couch. After all that crying, you were just numb and tired… Your anger will still be present, you were sure, but now you just wanted a nap.

Mark pouted as you moved closer to Nolan, choosing to lay his head on your shoulder instead of letting go. “How come you get the cool armor, and I get the toga?” Mark whined, poking at his baby brother’s chubby cheek, making the little guy babble. “I’m more badass, you fool.” You stick your tongue at him, Mark gasping dramatically and placing his hand over his heart. “How dare… You wound me.”

Your eyes move to Andressa as she’s ready to feed her baby, your eyes squinting at her, making her slightly nervous. “Your antennas make a heart shape when you’re around dad- that’s cute. I’m sorry if that’s rude to point out.” The poor lady immediately relaxed at your words, relief washing over her knowing you weren’t angry with her as well. “Oh! That’s okay- Thank you. I didn’t notice.” Her antennas move around before settling back into the slight heart shape.

Mark gasped softly as he saw how the baby was fed, your eyebrows raising as you watched her feed him like a bird feeds its baby. Well… Like ants feed each other. You hoped that would not continue as he ages.

Your eyes drifted back to Nolan. It still hurt… But maybe you could forgive him… Maybe. “Is it really true? The Justice League ignored you when you tried to warn them?” Mark frowned at the questions with confusion all over his face, looking at Nolan as the older man got more comfortable on the couch. It’ll be a long night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Batman shivered as he knocked out another goon, his whole body shaking for a second while Robin frowned at the man. “What was that?” Bruce stays still for a few more seconds before looking at his youngest. “I don’t know… It just felt like something bad is happening.” Robin just gave him a look, waiting for him to elaborate. The boy scoffs as the man just moves on. Batman grimaced. It felt like he was being warned that he was losing something. Or someone. His eyes moved around as the jumble of whispers tried to get his attention. He moved on, grappling to a nearby rooftop.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams @djpuppy-kittens @wizzerreblogs @galaxypurplerose @burningkittenprince

[weebsinstash]

In your Cecil work, you mentioned how he’s seen reader naked with all monitors and stuff. But to be a little freaky/sinful, has he seen them also pleasuring themselves? I can only imagine the amount of murder he’d be willing to do for the unfortunates who decide to comment their enjoyment. If not if they have those Superman abilities, do you think they knew they were being spied on and took someone home to bone to mess with him.

You know how in the first season Cecil straight up tells Mark something along the lines of "the GDA knows everything about you, from your daily routine to the porn you jack off to". Well :)

Imagine in a "Nolan's child who hides their powers" scenario, or I guess just in general as a viltrumite/alien hybrid or someone who the government was always keeping tabs on for whatever reason, you suddenly develop your powers, but also, something more, and you can suddenly hear the buzzing and electrical hertz of the hidden cameras in your room. Like... what the fuck do you even do in response to that

God... god... remember in Death Note where Light predicted he was being watched by the police so he would do shit like read dirty magazines to maintain his cover of "behaving like a normal young man". Imagine you making the realization that like ... you had a daily or some real specific masturbation habit and you're like "oh fuck, I can't suddenly change what I'm doing or it might tip them off that I know something or make them suspicious"

Reader begrudgingly continuing to jack off like normal and you KNOW people are watching, for survival's sake. Reader having their first real conversation with Cecil as he's touring you through the GDA and you finally go "no bullshit" and hit him with the bluntness question possible, "so are you one of the men who watches the cameras in my bedroom or has it been someone else watching me masturbate" and it actually manages to make him stutter and stumble to answer

Cecil literally ordering everyone else out of the room whenever they're watching the footage and he knows you're about to jerk off, because, he's obsessed enough with you that not only does he see it as "protecting your modesty" but also he literally cannot stand knowing other people are seeing you in such an... intimate and vulnerable state. He's protecting you, obviously :) he's not a pervert, he promises--

Cecil having the utmost pokerface as he watches you pleasure yourself but his cheeks are still-- actually, he's technically covered in a synthetic skin so COULD HE even blush??? We're gonna pretend he does. Cecil trying to be all stonefaced but he can't stop his face from turning red and the way you manage to make him sweat

Ngl... I really like the idea of Reader who, upon unlocking their powers, basically becomes like, you took the fucking pill from Limitless and you become this, super memory unlocked brain capacity genius and you quickly pick up on how Cecil's heart rate increases whenever he talks to you and you compare it to, say, how he treats "equal threats" like Mark and Omniman and you quickly form the hypothesis he's got some weird crush on you. Maybe you test your theory out or try to trip him up by, say, hitting on another member of the Guardians or another superhero. Your superhearing picking up Cecil grinding his teeth from the other side of the room as you make some flirtatious inappropriate comment to a coworker or hero/alien you just met. I'd be out here giggling twirling a piece of hair around a finger, "so, is there a Mrs Battle Beast?" as Cecil then creates some diversion or reason to pull you away. "There's a mudslide in the Philippines and we need you to help the search and rescue efforts" "but you guys never ask me to help with shit like that?" "Just shut up and follow me"

Some... lose-lose scenario where you try to defy Cecil and the GDA and he won't let you and fabricates some justification for locking you away or putting some sort of method of control on or in you. You being completely restrained as Cecil tells you it's for your own good, for the planet's own good, until you "can calm down and see the light" and you can tell he's... suspiciously into it as he sees you completely at his mercy, even reaching out to touch your face, or even... other parts of you.

Donald just out here, "sir I brought you the documents you requested and-- sir do you have an erection watching the new recruit??? Are you peeping on their bedroom again??" "Shut up, Donald. Get your glasses fixed and do your damn job. I'm just watching them fight a giant alien monster"

You can't deny Cecil gets results, so everyone who has suspicions that he's being a lil... freaky... just has to put up with it or convince themselves they're imagining it, but... they're not :)

[pwettybbybunny]

𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 (Yandere! Sunday x Reader)

Gn! Reader (sub/bottom reader)

Desperate Pining series - Sunday edition

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

CW: power play, sexual guilt, desperation, mind fuck, mind break, yandere doing yandere stuff, sunday being sunday, conditioning, sunday molding reader

Play the song for best experience

You had made many mistakes in your life, joining the Iris family, your career choice, but none could compare to falling for Sunday, the Oak family's head, daring to pine for him romantically, while all you were a mere performer, hell, not even an innocent singer or actor, you were a host/hostess in a nightclub, a glorified whore.

You could never forget the day you saw the angel, in the club during your shift, as he entertained some family's guests.

The way he walked, talked, moved, breathed, it cause your brain wiring to fuse in mere seconds. He was holy, divine, just a mere look at him, caused your heartbeat to palpate an unhealthy amount.

And Xipe, in all their glory, gazed your way they day, as you were picked to serve his table, god, his melodious voice left you all tingly, breath heavy.

The way he looked at you with such softness, his pretty smile, making you to whimper unconsciously, your thighs rubbing together in your tiny little bunny suit, your pussy wet / cock already dripping pre cum.

So you found yourself moaning and inside a restroom stall, one hand inside your underwear, other in your mouth, to prevent any noise to escape, albeit you were doing a terrible job in it.

Your vision started swirlling around, purple curvy borders around you, as if you're looking at a screen, your mind entirely consumed by thoughts about Sunday, till the second you orgasmed.

It felt, dirty, dirtier than you were used to feeling, as you knelt on the bathroom floor, panting, heart heavy, longing, your body jittery and mind confused at your actions. But most importantly guilt, guilt for lewding someone so holy, a guilt akin to felt when sinning, yet, double as tempting to repeat.

And all those feeling increased exponentially, as you got out the stall, only for your eyes to meet those golden ones through the reflection in the mirror.

"You make such cute noises, there's no need to hold them back," he said, as he turned around and stepped closer to you, your heartbeats resonating with his footsteps, only for your brain to stop working as he took your hand and kissed the area you had bit earlier, staring deep in your eyes.

From that moment on, you memories remains a blur, the kisses, the touch, the luxury hotel room which you could'nt have ever afford, and the tears.

And God, did that strange guilt scare you off, you don't really remember it yourself how you physically jolted at the thought of him penetrating you, daring to refuse the leader of Penacony, making him settle for a sloppy blow job and a thigh fuck, you barely even touching him, making him do all the work.

Yet, the man was gracious enough to let you stay over in the room for the night, blessing you with the opportunity to wake up next to him.

"Won't you pay me back for this opportunity, little sheep?" He asked you, caressing your cheeks gently, his touch akin to a whisper, light, sight, barely there, reminding you how you dared to reject his affection last night.

So you stayed, helping him get ready, buttoning his shirt for him, as he read some texts on his phone, tying his tie, the way he liked, getting him some coffee and breakfast from the breakfast buffet in lounge, because he's too prestigious to mix in common folk, all while he scrutinized you whenever you didn't do the tasks the exact way he liked.

And the second he left the room, you felt hollow, as if your heart had a gaping hole in between as if he took away a part of your soul with him. So imagine the unfathomable amount of joy you felt when Sunday kept frequenting the club more and more, always picking you to serve his table, giving you that kind look, praising you, doing everything in your power to please him, putting extra effort in everything.

All that, only for your heart to break when you heard the whispers about Sunday starting to indulge in some of your co-workers in bed.

Cause, after all, your sin wasn't craving the angel's attention, but to even think you could ever deserve it.

Your weeks your brain stuck on the thought, if the Sunday will come back in club the next day, if he will ask you to serve or not, or will he ask your co-workers, the one who get to lay with him at night. Will he get disgusted by you soon, get tired of pathetic little you.

But till then, those few hours serving were enough, despite the pain and longing, you were willing to suffer if it meant keeping that damn smile in your life.

All such thoughts spiralling in your head 24/7, causing you to get anxious randomly, to the point, your friends started worrying about you. As your self esteem started dwindled down, day by day, as you kept comparing yourself with him.

So it was a shocker when one day the man showed up near the cramped dingy alleyways you live in, greeting you with the same sweet smile, as the first day, you saw him.

You humored the man for some while, best to your capabilities as your breath started to get heavier and heavier in his presence, only able to look at him with a longing gaze, his words flying over your head, till you both stood in silence for a while, your brain to gushy to realize.

"You know, little lamb, you really need to learn some from Sydney," he said, pulling you out of your daydream, gently brushing your cheek with two fingers, then using them to slap your cheeks lightly.

You winced at the name of your co-worker, the one labeled as 'Sunday's favorite',

"I-"

"Invite me to your apartment," he instructed, cutting you off "It's only polite to continue our conversation, inside, right?"

So there you were in your tiny, cramped, studio apartment, he thought of your living condition to be proud, that much was visible on his face, as you brewed him some tea, the most expensive one you had, which was probably too cheap for Sunday's taste, while he chewed your head off on speaking about random things.

But mostly instructing you how to do things properly, like pouring him tea, how to serve him, how to sit properly, and so on. Which you followed diligently, of course, Mr. Sunday, is a kind soul, teaching someone like you, how to behave.

"(Y/n), replace your black net stockings with white ones" he instructed, referencing to your work uniform, before leaving.

So you did, the next day serving him, like a "good boy/girl" those words causing your face to flush, redder than a tomato.

And you got rewarded alright, as he lead you to the same hotel room, from your first night. This time the experience was more sweeter, gentler, yet you still had a break down at the thought of getting penetrated by him.

Heart pounding hard, you got a full-on panic attack this time, getting coddled by Sunday, as he has you sit on his lap, facing him, his dick rubbing against your pretty hole, as he cooed on you, his one hand patting your back, while caressed your face.

"Darling, you had no problem, jumping on Hudson's dick, what's wrong with me?" he asked, out of nowhere, as his hand now grabbed the behind the back of your neck, causing you to whimper.

"W-who?"

"Ah, so you don't remember your clients, huh? How sweet of you, to happily lay with someone whose name you can't recall, over the man, who's been kind enough to hide you in your stupid mistakes"

He sighed, hitting your cheeks with two of his fingers.

"Tell me, my little lamb, what do you think, when you see me?" He asked, his lips laying on your Adam's apple.

"P-preety" you whispered out.

"That so, doll?" he took whispered, taking your hands, and putting it on his face, "if you think, i'm preety lay your hands on me," Sunday said, as you looked in your eyes, an desperate expression in his gold eyes.

To be continued ~

Have you longed for someone so much so, you start feeling disgusting?

Can't you tell I'm desperate? Can't you tell I'm cheap? You don't gotta love me, we don't have to speak I'll see you in the morning, if you gotta leave I'll see you when I see you You Were a Dream - Artemas

(Excuse me if this was bad, It's my first fic and I'm suffering for horrible period cramps )

[mumms-the-word]

A Birthday for Manfred

Characters: Emmrich x Rook Thorne, and also Manfred obviously Summary: Grace Thorne finds out that Manfred has never had a birthday (spirits aren't technically born, after all). While Emmrich is distracted with the ever-increasing pressures of the encounters facing them at Tearstone Island, she decides to take matters into her own hands and plan a surprise birthday party. (ao3 link) A/N: I wrote this as a birthday gift for the super talented @sorceresssundries but it is embarrassingly late for a birthday gift. So now it is simply a gift! I hope you have a wonderful day, friend!! Never forget that you're loved and appreciated and you're a fantastic, galaxy-brained writer to boot!

“Emmrich. When is Manfred’s birthday?”

Emmrich paused mid-sentence in the letter he was reading at his desk. The question had preceded the asker, so for a split second he swore he had merely imagined it. But then Grace entered his study, eyebrows lifted in a way that suggested the question, posed in her voice, was in fact not a figment of his imagination.

Question aside, she entered with a purpose, the set of her shoulders speaking of determination. She had plans in mind—perhaps even plans already in motion—and she was carrying herself forth by the momentum of those plans. It took Emmrich another second to even register her question. “I beg your pardon?”

“Manfred’s birthday. When is it?” 

“Erm…” Emmrich slowly folded the letter, a missive from the Mourn Watch about the wards they’ve cast and the precautions they have taken with Johanna’s skull, and focused on positioning it perfectly center in the cleared spot on his desk. Why did he get the sense that he was about to be in trouble? “What a curious question.”

Grace narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve never celebrated it.”

Emmrich cleared his throat delicately, finally looking up at her again. “Of course I haven’t celebrated any birthday for Manfred. He was never born at all.”

Her eyes widened. “Never? As in, you’ve never celebrated…even once?”

He sighed. “Well it isn’t as if it was an intentional decision on my part. It simply never occurred to me.”

As she continued to stare, he steepled his fingers and rested his hands on his desk, a gentle lecture already forming in his mind. “Spirits aren’t born, my dear, they’re formed,” he reminded her. “Manifested by the power of emotion and thought. If you mean to ask what day correlates with the day his spirit first formed in the Fade, I’m afraid we will never know. The first flutterings of spirit life are so faint, they’re completely obscured by the tumult of the larger Fade itself. In fact,” (he couldn’t resist adding more knowledge to the subject, as it was a source of fascination for him personally) “it’s a popular topic of debate among mage scholars, whether we can predict the first glimmers of spirit life or measure the time between a spirit’s first spark and when it becomes a wisp tangible enough to communicate, however primitively, with others.”

Grace had that expression she sometimes acquired when speaking with him where she was trying, politely, to follow his lecture but felt that they had somehow veered off topic along the way. Not confusion, but simply quiet amusement. “So…you don’t know how old Manfred is.”

“Not a clue,” Emmrich said cheerfully. “Perhaps, as his powers of speech develop, we may one day ask him. Though in my experience spirits seem to have such a ubiquitous view of time that his answer may ultimately prove unsatisfactory by our mortal standards.” 

Grace shook her head. “Okay, then forget his spirit birthday. When is his…I don’t know. The day he got his body. Or completed his body. Or…” She snapped her fingers suddenly. “His name day. When did you start calling him Manfred?”

“Well, let me think…” Emmrich cast his mind back, sifting through his memories. Manfred had been with him so long already that it was strange to recall a time he hadn’t been around. “That must have been the day he picked out his own skull.” He couldn’t help but chuckle “Ah, I remember it as though it were yesterday.”

He smiled to himself, lost in the memory. Manfred’s spirit, still a bright young wisp, had bobbed curiously from skull to skull where they had been placed along a stone table. Though he had briefly inhabited a skull or two, his wisp light peeking out from the eye sockets, it wasn’t until his current skull that he had practically sang, in the way only spirits could, with elation and joy. Emmrich had more than a few proud tears in his eyes when he fastened the skull to the rest of the skeleton he had constructed. He could have sung for joy himself at the sound of Manfred’s first hiss the moment he inhabited the body and claimed it as his own.

“Ah.” He sniffed faintly, blinking past the threat of more tears. It wouldn’t do to be weepy at such a time as this. They had more pressing troubles, like their impending clash with the Evanuris in the uncomfortably near future. “How remarkable that so much time has passed already. And yet so little.”

And to think, had he not given up lichdom, his years with Manfred would have been cut cruelly short.

He looked up again to find Grace leaning her hip against his desk, a gentle, affectionate smile on her lips as she watched him. She tilted her head, her red curls tumbling over her shoulder. “What did you call him before? When he was just a wisp.”

“Why, I called him by his spirit then—simply Curiosity. At that stage, Curiosity only really responds when addressed directly. The name Manfred came to me later, as we were selecting skulls for him to pick from.”

“Why Manfred?”

“He looks like a Manfred, does he not?” Emmrich asked, smiling. “And when I suggested the name to him, he seemed most pleased.”

“And…” She sat on the edge of his desk and walked her fingers along the surface, toward him. “What day was that, do you remember?”

“Grace, my darling,” he said, unable to resist a a smile. He set his elbows on the desk, wove his fingers together, and rested his chin on his knuckles, a subtle gleam in his eye. “Is there something you’re planning to do with this information?”

“Of course not,” she said, leaning in and letting more curls tumble around her shoulders. They were nearly nose to nose now. He could begin counting the hundreds of freckles that kissed her beautiful skin if he wished to. But her lips formed an alluring little smile, drawing his attention there. “I’m just…curious. Much like our Manfred.”

Our Manfred. How utterly charming. He couldn’t deny the bloom of warmth and pride he felt in his chest at her words.

But he was not to be totally distracted. “Why don’t I believe you?” he said, chuckling again. He hummed thoughtfully under his breath, searching his mind for the answer to her question. “The fifth of Harvestmere. Incidentally, only a few short days from now.”

“Perfect,” she whispered. She leaned even closer to brush a kiss against his lips. “Thank you, darling.”

“Anytime,” he murmured, tones warm and rich. “Now, will you tell me what—”

The door to his study slammed open suddenly. Grace was off the desk in an instant, hand reaching for a blade she kept at her hip at all times, only to relax a fraction when Harding rushed in.

“Rook,” she said, breathless, “sorry to interrupt. Some kind of ghost or spirit or something is causing trouble in the Hossberg Wetlands. Antoine and Evka want us out there as soon as possible to put a stop to it. I think it’s a…a scarecrow?” She seemed baffled by this latest bit of information.

Grace and Emmrich exchanged a quick look before Emmrich was on his feet, taking up his staff. 

“Lead the way, my dear,” he said, gesturing for her to go first, and off they were on another adventure.

———

A few days later, Emmrich was back at his desk, massaging his temple to beat back a headache that a long conversation with Johanna’s skull had generated. She was silent now, thanks to a handy ward, but he could still feel her attempting to glower at him, in her unique skull-like way, through the back of his chair. Above, on the landing, Manfred was dusting some of the shelves, quiet but for the occasional thoughtful hiss or the soft clatter of moving objects around.

Time was slipping through their fingers like the sands of an hourglass. Their excursion to Tearstone Island, wherever that was, was looming ahead of them like the daunting final battle of an epic poem, where life and death hung in the balance. But this was no poem. The end was not yet written. There were few guarantees and even fewer chances of success. Emmrich was not a man prone to despair, but…the days were beginning to look dark. 

Within the Lighthouse, they were still scrambling to prepare. Meanwhile, reports of other issues all across Thedas were continuing to make their way to them via messengers and spirits—errant demons, surges of darkspawn, venatori groups, everything seemed to be happening all at once. If he were a lesser man, it would feel as though the whole world were spiraling into madness, and him along with it.

The Lighthouse was their one safe haven away from it all. But even this sanctum could be invaded by reminders of the world outside, with letters appearing on tables at random or allies occasionally visiting through the eluvian. Some days, despite all the good they were doing and all the wonderful people he had met, Emmrich longed for the quiet of the Necropolis, sealed off inside a vault far below the surface of the earth, where war and strife and chaos could not reach. He longed for it now, despite knowing he could do so much more good here, where he was.

A soft knock pulled him from his depressing reverie. He sat up in his chair, straightening his clothing out of habit and checking that he hadn’t run his fingers too much through his carefully combed hair. “Come in!”

“It’s just me,” Grace said, already entering as he gave his response. Emmrich raised his eyebrows as she came into view. She had dressed not in her casual clothing or even her armor, but in a simple gown, similar to what she had worn on their date in the Necropolis gardens what felt like a lifetime ago. She had twisted and pinned half of her curls behind one ear, showing off a thick, gold earring she had acquired recently in Nevarra—her first bit of grave gold, she had remarked lightly, when she showed the matching pair to him. The rest of her hair cascaded freely and voluminously over the other side of her head and down her shoulders, a rich tangle of tight, red curls. Her freckled face was free of powders or creams that tended to obscure one’s complexion, but she had darkened her lashes and lined her eyes with a bit of makeup, adding a fine sheen of gloss to her lips.

“Oh my,” he said softly, and stood as if a noble lady had entered his study. Because, of course, one had. He smiled and took one of her hands, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “To what do I owe this visit from such a beautiful young woman?”

Grace smirked faintly and leaned in for a proper kiss. “I have a surprise for you. Get changed and make sure Manfred is wearing something…smart.”

“Smart?”

“Smart!” came Manfred’s scratchy echo from above. They glanced up to find him leaning over the railing, waving a duster at them.

“Exactly,” Grace said. “A nice coat. Maybe a hat. I think he’d look adorable in a top hat, don’t you?” The glimmer in her eyes suggested she was joking, but only just.

“Assuming the Lighthouse can conjure one,” Emmrich said, smiling, “as I seem to have left most of my hats behind in the Necropolis. But you haven’t yet told me the surprise.”

“That’s because it’s a surprise, darling.” She kissed him again before pulling away, letting her hands linger in his. “Get dressed. Bring Manfred. Meet me in the dining room in half an hour.”

Another date, was it? With Manfred no less. In that case, perhaps it was less a date and more of a quaint family dinner? Emmrich couldn’t help but be charmed by the idea.

“All right, dearest,” he said, giving her hands one last squeeze before letting go. “I shall see you shortly.”

She gave him a little wave and blew a kiss to Manfred before sweeping out of the room, leaving little more than her faintly floral scent behind. Emmrich shook his head fondly before turning his attention toward the task of dressing for a pleasant dinner with his beloved Rook and his skeleton ward.

Half an hour later, he finished dressing in a modest but clean set of tailored robes he’d worn at a recent Mourn Watch initiation ceremony. He was grateful to have packed it, despite not knowing whether there’d be any occasion for wearing anything formal when he first packed for his move into the Lighthouse. He turned to Johanna’s skull out of habit, forgetting that he had placed a silence ward over her earlier. “What do you think?”

The skull was silent, aside from a little flare of green light in the eyes that quickly circled the empty sockets in a clear, if dramatic, imitation of someone rolling their eyes. Johanna had never understood his taste. Emmrich pursed his lips slightly and adjusted the skull pin at his throat. Perhaps it had been too much…

Ah, but he was running out of time. Too late now. He stopped fidgeting with the pin and turned to look for his companion.

“Manfred? Are you ready?”

“Ready!” Manfred emerged from behind the stairs in a simple purple coat, his usual gloves and boots, and, yes, a purple silk top hat. Wherever had he gotten that? Emmrich sighed. The Lighthouse, probably, granting some unspoken wish in Manfred’s little mind.

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” Emmrich murmured to himself, affectionate and amused. Then, a little louder, he said, “You look excellent, Manfred. Now come, it wouldn’t do to be late.”

———

The Lighthouse courtyard was strangely empty as they crossed it. No chatter from Bellara’s room, no wisps singing or chirping from Neve’s office, no squawking from Assan, who was not in his usual place where he liked to roll in the grass and clover the Lighthouse so courteously provided for him. The Caretaker wasn’t even hovering in his little workshop, watching as they passed by. Everything was simply…quiet.

Emmrich didn’t like it. He had grown accustomed to the light clamor of living with several other living people and an adolescent griffon. Where had everyone gone?

A sense of unease began to grip him. Grace had said to meet her at in the dining room, but surely the others had their tasks or their interests to attend to. Had something happened? He tried to push it out of his mind, chalking it up to simple paranoia. There would be a logical explanation. There always was.

He reached for the doors of the dining room, only for the doors to swing open of their own accord. He paused at the threshold, a strange sense of anticipation arresting his steps. The dining room was unusually dark, almost pitch black, with no fire and no candlelight. In the seconds it took for the doors to slowly swing open, he swore he saw something moving in the shadows. 

Manfred tottered bravely on, stepping into the gloom without a single pause. Emmrich cleared his throat, somewhat nervous. “Manfred—”

Then—there was a sound like a snap of fingers and suddenly the room was ablaze with light. A fire leapt up in the fireplace, a dozen candles and magelights of various colors floated about the room, and something—some spell or perhaps some cheap-made fireworks, or both—set off a series of glittering sparks that rained down over the room in a shower of purple, green, and gold.

“Surprise!” a familiar voice shouted. A burst of applause filled the room from all corners, adding to the sudden clamor of fireworks and voices.

“Happy nameday, Manfred!”

“Emmrich! Come in, come in!”

As Emmrich blinked away the spots from the sudden lights, he found himself suddenly swept into the dining room by a couple pairs of hands ushering him in and closing the door behind him. The sight before him was one of festive joy and barely contained merriment. Neve and Lucanis stood together off to one side, Neve with magic in her hands and Lucanis lighting the fuse to another simple firework, the two of them grinning and laughing as they added more glitter and light to the dining room space. Harding and Taash guided Manfred around the table to where Bellara was placing a simple cake with unlit candles at the top. Around them, Assan pounced and bounded around their legs, his tail swiping the air, eager to play games with Manfred. It was Davrin and Grace who had ushered Emmrich in, Davrin patting his shoulder fondly as he struggled to catch up with everything around him.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Davrin said, grinning. “Didn’t you know this was coming?”

Emmrich couldn’t find the words. “I…well I…”

“I told you he’d never guess,” Grace said, leaning in to press a kiss to Emmrich’s cheek. “This team can keep a secret, if pressed.”

They weren’t alone, either. Myrna and Vorgoth were present, too, watching the festivities next to the Caretaker, who floated with hands politely folded at Vorgoth’s side. Evka and Antoine had also managed to make it, despite having only met Manfred very recently, and there were plenty of wisps dancing about as well. These wisps were not mere lights but were spirits, curious and playful, mischievous and delighted, resting on Manfred’s hat or bobbing over the table, which was laden with several dishes of various types, including plenty of vegetarian options for Emmrich.  

“Happy nameday, Fred,” Neve called as she sent another flurry of magelights over his head. 

Manfred clapped his hands together and hopped with excitement. “Surprise! Manfred! Me! Happy!”

“I knew he’d love a surprise,” Harding giggled. “Happy nameday, Manfred.”

Emmrich was speechless. To say he was overwhelmed was an understatement. He gripped Grace’s hand tightly, staggered by this open display of affection and joy—and for a spirit, no less. A spirit housed in a skeleton body, barely clothed, barely capable of speech.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He turned to Grace, holding onto her hand like a lifeline. She merely smiled at his mute, emotional gratitude and swiped away a couple of his tears with the pad of her thumb.

“What do you think, love?” she asked quietly, while Davrin tactfully retreated to try and rescue some of the dishes from being overturned by Assan’s tail. “Good enough for a first nameday party?

“Oh, my love.” He dabbed at his eyes and then framed her face in his hands, bringing her in for a grateful kiss, the love in his heart overflowing. “You beautiful, brilliant, clever creature. I couldn’t have asked for better. Thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” she murmured as he kissed her again. “It was a group effort.”

“Okay, Manfred,” Bellara said, drawing Emmrich’s attention over to them again. “We know you don’t have any lungs to blow out the candles, but you can do fire magic now, right? So we figured you could, you know, make a wish that way. So light ‘em up!”

Panic gripped Emmrich instantly. They hadn’t yet practiced controlled flame on such a small scale! “Ah, Manfred—”

But it was too late. With a ecstatic hiss, Manfred flung out his gloved hands and blasted a short burst of flame over the top of the cake. It was only for a second or two, and the candles certainly did adopt some of the flame, burning cheerfully in the aftermath—but they were also melted down to halfway and most of the icing on the topmost layer of the cake was quickly burned into dark, crystallized sugar. 

“Oh dear,” Emmrich said, while Grace smothered her laughter behind her hand.

Manfred threw his hands up in triumph. “Wish! Happy!”

“Great!” Bellara said, clapping her hands. “Well, okay, the spell needs a little bit of work, and I should probably have picked taller candles, but otherwise—”

“Next time let me do it,” Taash said, wrinkling their nose at the burnt sugar on the top of the cake.

“Oh, it’s okay, Manfred can’t eat cake anyway,” Harding assured them. “We can just eat around the black part. A little burnt sugar never hurt anybody.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” Bellara said. She turned and waved to the rest of them, beckoning them over. “Come on, sit! Let’s eat! It’s Manfred’s nameday, we should celebrate!”

Flashing Emmrich a smile, Grace took his hand and led him over to the table, where they could sit near Manfred as he examined his burning candles with abject delight.

The festivities continued well into the evening, though time in the Lighthouse was always tricky to track. Though Manfred couldn’t eat any of the food, he was content to chatter away at everyone, including the guests, and to sometimes sneak treats to Assan when Davrin wasn’t looking. The others wasted no time in filling in Evka and Antoine on Manfred’s various adventures, while Myrna and Vorgoth occasionally offered anecdotes from before Emmrich and Manfred had joined the team. After a while, Grace surprised Emmrich and Manfred with a handful of letters. It seemed that, in lieu of official visits to the party, other allies like Teia, Viago, Isabela, and Strife had sent celebratory messages to Manfred with their best wishes, which Manfred insisted on carrying in his pocket as soon as Grace read them aloud to him.

“We shall have to teach him to read soon,” Emmrich mused, watching him take out the letters for the fifth time and flip through them. 

“They grow up so fast,” Grace said, resting her chin on Emmrich’s shoulder. They had relocated to the sofa in the corner of the dining room, their bellies sated with good food, their energy waning after so much conversation and laughter. No one was willing to leave just yet, content to chat and drink or simply sit together at the table, listening to stories. The ceiling overhead was still full of floating candles and magelights, colorful and bright, but as the time wore on, the fireplace reminded Emmrich more and more of his own cozy fire in his study nearby, beckoning him to return to his room to rest. 

But he couldn’t leave yet, not while Manfred was having such a good time.

He settled more comfortably on the sofa instead. “However did you come up with this idea, dearest?” he asked Grace, one hand massaging her knee idly as they watched the others converse. “I never would have anticipated we could pull off a nameday party in the midst of all…this.” He gestured vaguely to their surroundings. “It must have been so much extra work for you, my dear.”

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Only a little. Bellara and Lucanis handled the cooking, Neve handled all the magic. Harding, Taash, and Davrin helped move the furniture and send out the invitations. The hardest part was keeping it a secret from both you and Manfred.”

“But why?” he asked. “Why now? I hate to think this has only added to your stress.” 

“It’s the fifth of Harvestmere. The day you said you named Manfred.”

“Well yes, but—” He struggled for moment, not wanting to sound ungrateful, yet concerned that all of this had been needlessly done when there were so many other things they ought to have been doing. “We could have waited until after defeating Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain.”

Grace was quiet for a moment, turning her head to lean her cheek against his shoulder. She hummed thoughtfully under her breath before quietly saying, “No. It had to be now. Even though it’s a bit chaotic right now, this is just what we do in the chaos.”

Emmrich stroked his thumb over her knee again, pondering her words. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Simple. Even when the world seems like it’s spiraling out of control, we still have birthdays, and we celebrate them. We gather together. We drink, we eat, we laugh. We live another day and celebrate another year around the sun.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze. “That’s how we win against the people who want to tear us down. That’s how we keep winning, day to day. Not every battle has to be us facing down the monsters. Sometimes a little party is the thing that keeps the darkness at bay.” She smiled, a little dry, her gaze sweeping back toward Evka and Antoine as her voice grew even softer. “I learned that with the Wardens.”

Of course she had. When you have to live each day as if it were your last…

Emmrich said nothing. This is just what we do in the chaos, she’d said. This was how people showcased their love and care for other people. It was such a simple statement, and yet…thinking of all they had done for Manfred, who was a spirit…Emmrich could feel the tears stinging his eyes again, closing up his throat. Manfred was so loved. Not just by him, not just by Grace, but by the others who had gathered together to make the food, light up the room, and tell the stories that put a smile on everyone’s faces. 

Emmrich had always wanted a family. He had always longed to marry and have children, and when those dreams fell through, he had turned his thoughts to lichdom instead. Now here he sat, with Grace nestled into his side, watching these friends he had come to grow so fond of as they celebrated Manfred, and he realized…

This was his family now. Chaotic and ridiculous, sometimes bickering, sometimes falling in love with one another, and ready to do anything for one another, whether that be laying down their lives or throwing a party for a spirit. And Manfred? He’d never felt such pride for him before as he did now, listening to him chatter away in simple words to the others. 

“To think I had almost lost him,” he said quietly. “I would never have experienced this if I hadn’t…if you hadn’t convinced me to retrieve his spirit.”

He took one of Grace’s hands, enveloping it in both of his own. “Thank you, Grace. Without you, I would never have been able to share in such wonderful blessings such as this. Surrounded by friends, celebrating Manfred…even being able to simply sit here, with you in my arms, is more precious than anything. These are memories I will cherish forever. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Emmrich,” Grace murmured, drawing closer again. Emmrich met her halfway, capturing her lips in a sweet, lingering kiss that he hoped conveyed all the love and overwhelming affection he bore for her.

He adored her. And with the precious little time they had left, before they journeyed to Tearstone Island to confront Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain at last, he would cherish every second of it, making sure she knew the depth of his love for her.

She drew away with a smile. “You won’t forget to celebrate Manfred’s nameday again in the future will you? Fifth of Harvestmere, every year from now on. Promise.”

He chuckled, bringing her hand up to his lips for a kiss. “I promise, dearest. Manfred shall have a nameday celebration every year from now on, thanks to you.”

“Party!” Manfred hissed, throwing his hands up again. “Party for me!”

Emmrich chuckled. “Precisely, Manfred. Well said.”

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm moving out of the city and I'm going to have to learn to drive. Any advice for someone (reluctantly) looking into cars for the first time?

Sorry for the late response, but I really wanted to answer this because I think I have some relevant advice.

I started driving the very day I was allowed to get my learner's permit. I took it very seriously. My dad was a mechanic, my brother literally built a car when he was 16. They were car guys and I was the goofy comedian they didn't really understand. So I wanted to be a really good driver to impress them.

I practiced every chance I got. I took driver's ed in school and got a 100% in the class. And I got a perfect score on my written driver's test and only got dinged for 1 thing on the main exam (it was bullshit, but apparently there is no way to protest a near perfect score).

But then I got sick and it didn't make sense to pay for car insurance and maintain a vehicle. So I didn't drive for roughly 15 years.

Then both my parents got sick and they became dangerous drivers and so I had to figure out how to drive again. And at first I was nervous, but after about a week of driving, I was nearly as good of a driver as when I was younger.

The reason?

Muscle memory.

Muscle memory will save your life over just about anything. The less you have to concentrate on the physical actions and habits required to drive, the more you can concentrate on situational awareness. If you don't have to think about turning the wheel, or braking, or even activating the turn signals, you can use all of that brain power to pay attention to all of the dumb fucks they let drive cars.

So my biggest piece of advice would be to break down all of the physical actions required to operate a vehicle. Even the tiny stuff like switching the station on the radio or turning down the fan on the A/C. Then find a way to practice these things over and over and over until you have that muscle memory embedded into your brain. My muscle memory was so deeply ingrained that it lasted through 15 years of not driving and a batch of mind-wiping electroshock treatments.

Find a safe place to practice and just repeat things until they feel like second nature. Especially checking your blind spots. If you can get checking blind spots to the point where you do it without even thinking about it, you will increase your safety substantially.

Other tips...

Small cheap cars are best first cars. Big cars can make you feel disconnected from the road. Almost like you are piloting the vehicle in a video game. I started on my grandma's 1987 Chevy Cavalier. It was tiny. It had no power. It was free. But I could feel everything I was doing. I could feel the turns. I could feel the road. I could feel braking and acceleration. And it really helped me understand the relationship between driver and vehicle. It was like a big go-kart but I think having that as my first car really helped me develop my driving skills.

And my last tip is to learn gradient braking and acceleration. It's mostly for the comfort of your passengers. It gives them a smoother experience but it also makes them feel safer driving with you. Basically you want to figure out how to apply pressure to the pedals in such a way that almost no G-force is felt. So you start with very light pressure and gradually transition into the max pressure you need. And you need to do it quick enough to stop and accelerate at the proper rate. If you don't transition fast enough you might not stop in time or be able to merge onto the highway. And if you transition too fast people will be lurching back and forth in their seat. But, again, practice makes perfect.

My brother is horrible at this, though mostly on purpose. He likes driving like everything is a race. And with his muscle cars, that can be fun at times. But when you are just going to the store it can make one a little nauseous. I find myself just grabbing the "oh shit" handles and never letting go.

But if you can smooth out your acceleration and braking to the point it is barely felt, all of your passengers will thank you for it.

Hopefully that helps. And maybe other folks can reply with additional advice. And if you have any more specific concerns feel free to ask. I wasn't sure if you were more worried about driving or picking out a car, so hopefully we can collectively cover both.

I wish you luck and hope you learn to love driving. It is pretty cool once you get the hang of it.

[peakyrain]

she visualized—and then she shifted *ੈ✩‧˚

this post is about how visualization is scientifically proven to be an effective method of manifestation

i've always been a big fan of visualizing–whether it's for shifting or just daydreaming before bed. recently, i've been coming across lots of videos mentioning how visualization can affect us vastly, both physically and mentally.

i did my research only to find out that this is completely fact-based.

the practice of visualization is an immensely powerful tool for the human mind. it engages brain regions that involve perception, attention and memory. it also has the ability to effectively reprogram our subconscious minds.

visualization activates the same neural circuits as actual experiences and has shown to improve performances, learning and well being. some big examples are: muhammad ali, oprah winfrey and arnold schwarzenegger - they've all recommended visualization as a tool for success.

a study has documented the positive effects of visualization and its correlation to better performance outcomes for athletes. this is because when we visualize ourselves doing something, our brains believes we've already done it, which helps build confidence that there is nothing to fear.

another study observed the effects of visualization practices on muscle power. the results showed that by simply thinking about training their muscles, participants successfully increased their muscle strength by 35% compared to those who didn't.

muhammad ali once stated: “if my mind can conceive it and my heart can believe it, then I can achieve it” this is literally backed by science.

scientists have looked into the validity and effectiveness of visualization techniques to see whether visualization actually helps improve well-being:

dr. tor wagner has stated "imagination is a neurological reality that can impact our brains and bodies in ways that matter for our well-being"

when we vividly use all five senses in visualizations, we're able to trick our minds into believing that we already have what we want. in other words: our brains can't tell the difference between imagination and reality. this is exactly why visualization is such a powerful tool when it comes to shifting.

whether you're trying to step into the best version of yourself in this reality or shift to another one, visualization empowers you w/ the confidence and clarity to align your thoughts w/ your desires.

⭒ okay but how can i effectively use visualization to shift?

it's important to note that visualization isn't wishful thinking. it's about embodying a new state of being. practicing it regularly can help rewire your mind and help you embody your DR self.

anyway, here are some tips!

-

daily routine:

-make visualization a routine. do it in the morning or before bed and try do practice it for at least 10 minutes a day to establish a consistent habit

senses:

-use all your five senses while visualizing to have the most psychological impact. focus on what you can see, hear, taste, smell and feel in each moment. subliminals or guided shifting meditations can also be helpful here (alunir!!)

also, during this part: let the scenario flow naturally. don’t force anything even if you can’t "smell" the coffee or "taste" it. it’s fine, dw. forcing the scenario can be very draining, speaking from experience—especially during the day.

writing:

-make a script of how the scenarios in your DR will play out, scene by scene. the more details, the better. also, focus on how you're feeling at each point in the scenario—you're not just imagining it, you're experiencing it.

vision board:

-make a vision board. add a collection of photos, quotes and images that reflect you DR. keep this vision board somewhere you spend a lot of time. it’s basically just a physical pinterest collection. keeping it in your line of sight can reinforce the power of your vivid visualizations

-

the more real it feels to your mind, the closer it becomes to being your reality.

shifting isn't just a possibility, it's natural when your mind actually believes that you're already there :)

[hoodlibrarian]

Inlove With the Way You Touch Me - Keith Powers x Reader

i get the a text late in the evening. the warm vibration of my phone on to my memory foam mattress engraves goosebumps across my skin. i dazedly reached over to read the contents of the message.

“yo, im pulling up pretty.” keith messaged.

the image replays over, and over in my head. he always starts the same. passionate resting his freckles lips on mine. firmly grasping at my neck as he slides his tongue in the entry of my mouth. makes his way down and caress my waist until he finds his finger tips on the softened line of my panty.

a couple minutes go by and i get a knock on my door. the moonlight reflection of la lights on my silhouette as i open the front door to the apartment. he stands before me in grey nike sweats, a grey stared sp5der hoodie and black yeezy foam runners. smirk on his face, he grabs my hand and leads me back to my bedroom. he sits first on the bed, taking me with him as a straddle on top of him and start to kiss.

the sent of dior savage floods my brain as i bask the energy orbiting the room. how did i get this man?

he starts to trail farther from my lips down to licking my neck before he sucks. he gently tucks his cold hands into the back of my silk shorts before firmly gripping my ass cheeks. pulling them up, and apart from each other spreading my pussy underneath the pants.

he whispers in my ear,” you ready?”

i nod desperately. “uht uht”, he smirks. “lemme hear you” , he chuckles moving his mussily right hand to the bulb between my thighs, rubbing his palm the head.

“i want it daddy”, i moan. he’s teasing me.

he flips me effortlessly on my back and slowly takes of my silk shorts. he put his hand back in the same spot, this time, underneath the panties. i’m wet.

he inhales in a sharp breath,” oh yea baby, you ready for me baby.” he speeds up to a medium tempo on my pussy. he quickly inserts his middle and index finger in my pussy.

i’m creaming all over his lengthy fingers. subconsciously, i start to grind back on his fingers. i’m riding him now.

“oh baaby” he smiles. “you loving this shit. uh huh. yea, yea.”

he starts to move his fingers faster now. syncing with each thrust of my hips.

i feel it coming.

he kneels one knee on the bed and throws my head onto the couching of the mattress, gripping my throat.

“we gon take you there”, he pants.

he leans into my neck, kissing my collarbone as he moves his knee to spread my legs more.

he speeds up his movements, finger fucking me faster now. harder.

“keith” i moan. i whine out,” keith oh my god”.

“open your mouth”, he tells me.

tongue first, i open my mouth. he spits warm saliva in it as i start to cream more. my pelvis increases in warmth as i have a squirting orgasm all over him.

“ouu, good girl”, he says as he rubs his whole hand along my squirting pussy.

i think i love him.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Hear me out this. Hanzo falls in love with a woman who's in the Lin Kuei.

(You can make it as horny as your brain wants)

(Please?)

Oooooooh our resident spicy boy!

Fire & Ice

Hanzo Hasashi x Fem!Lin Kuei!Reader)

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Sexual tension, pining, opposites attract, slight spanking (briefly) unprotected sex, bath sex, PiV sex, temperature play(?) wee bit of Kanon fudging

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Hanzo is just MMMMF also Raiden is Light Aligned here for a wee bit of context

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

It all started during one of the first peace talks after the budding brotherhood of your Grandmaster, Kuai Liang (AKA Sub-Zero) and the Grandmaster of the Shirai Ryu.

Once the cease-fire between the clans was initiated, it was met with mixed results. The original Shirai Ryu were annihilated (including Hanzo's wife and child) by the forces of the previous Grandmaster, Bi-Han (whom everyone later discovered was actually the evil sorcerer Quan-Chi in disguise).

However it came to light that the initial fires of hatred that were lit were orchestrated by the Grandmaster before Bi-Han himself; before Bi-Han became the void-creature known as Noob Saibot, before Cyrax and Sektor were "cyberized".

All of course, with Quan-Chi's aid...

But when Kuai Liang and Hanzo Hasashi buried old prejudices and hatreds and pursued an avenue of peace and allyship, they proposed training scenarios between the ninjas.

You were one of Sub-Zero's top members. Your flexibility and cryomancy a deadly and graceful combination.

Naturally, at some point you found yourself pitted against your complete elemental opposite, Scorpion.

Not only was he your elemental opposite, he was vastly more skilled than you. Having spent years as a revenant under the control of Quan-Chi, training others in the way of the Shirai Ryu, working with Lord Raiden... Yeah. You were a child compared to his prowess.

But you however, did get some ideas for your own weaponry from him. Instead of a normal kunai attached to a chain, you settled for a chain with blunt ends, allowing your cryomancy to shape various weapons at the ends. After all, they'd been useful for making things like spears, scythes and various others in the past...

And to say the man was floored when you used his own techniques against him--and mastering them with your own twists while you were at it--was an understatement.

It became rather normal for Hanzo to seek you out for sparring sessions, seeking to experiment with your respective powers you both created various attacks and techniques to better battle one another.

However it was during one of your sessions, where you were to be chased and he the hunter, that the two of you finally figured out that what was between the two of you was more than camaraderie, more than diplomatic friendship.

Hanzo himself realized a lot sooner than you did. The warmth in his heart (and not from his flame) and the increased rate of beats when you were around, how his thoughts would drift back to you when it was quiet, when he would pace the Fire Gardens...

It was a feeling he hasn't felt since Harumi.

He was hesitant to bring it to your attention, for fear of a repeat performance of some cruel twist of fate robbing him of the one he loved once again.

He couldn't dare hope one as vibrant and beautiful as you could feel the same.

Until that night, when he had you pinned to the tree, breathing hard from the chase.

He barely had a moment to realize how close he was to you before masks were torn from faces by your hand and lips met lips in a kiss balanced in his hot and your cold; a kiss so passionate steam wafted as your mouths parted.

It was under the snow-heavy branches of that tree where your hands first explored each other. Not in heated sexual passion, but with the desire to map out every detail you could, so when the two of you parted ways again you would always be able to mentally trace those lines, commit them to memory like a well-read book.

Kuai Liang had suspicions of a budding relationship between the two of you. If anything, you had to wager that he probably knew your true feelings for one another even before the two of you figured it out for yourselves; but he wouldn't bring it forth. He knew you two needed to figure it out at your own pace.

After all, his friend was still nursing a broken heart from the loss of his wife and child. But he knew this was still good for him, for the two of you, for both clans.

Hanzo Hasashi had finally fallen in love again.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Your first real "intimate" moment with Hanzo was when you showed him to the hot springs in the mountains. Heat, ice and snow all together in a blissful harmonious oasis.

Not unlike your love for one another, a peaceful respite in tumultuous times.

"This is... Beautiful." Hanzo said, his breath coming out of him in a cloud that swirled with the snowflakes. "But won't it still be too cold to bathe?"

You chuckled and pulled off your mask. Shaking your hair free of icy flakes. "Well, Hanzo, that's why the goal is to stay in the water. Where it's warm."

He blew out a chuckle and shook his head. "Obviously." He turned and looked around, the red leaves of the maple trees surrounding you casting a beautiful scattering of color among the white and gray.

"But it--"

His voice died in his throat as he watched you strip your uniform from your body.

You held no shame, clearly, as you stripped bare in front of him, your wonderous body on full display for his longing, hungry eyes.

You took pride in your athletic frame, muscles and soft curves in all the right places, your body a gorgeous shell for the violence you were capable of committing.

His dark eyes met yours, a twinkle dancing in their depths as your smile reached your ears. You beckon him towards you, your fingers curling in a silent request for him to come closer.

It is a silent request his body obeys before he realizes he's even moving, his blood rushing in his ears.

When your fingers wrapped around his tabards you begin undoing each bit of his ornamentation slowly, peeling it off of him like a juicy piece of fruit you couldn't wait to take a bite out of.

Maybe you would... later.

Once he was naked, you gave him enough dignity to spare looking between his legs, knowing he wouldn't be ready for you to look at him there just yet, you felt like he would set the very air ablaze; each snowflake that landed on his body melted with a soft hiss as it came into contact with his skin.

At first you were concerned that maybe he was too hot, that the spring might make him sick with the extra heat added to his body; but as you sank into the water, he didn't seem bothered in the slightest. In fact, his eyes continued to take your form as he thought you weren't looking.

Every scar told a story, and he wanted to hear them all, wanted to hear a symphony of your voices together as you breathed your love into one another s lungs as you shared scorching kisses.

You could have sat next to him. You could have.

But you didn't. As shameless as you were, you sank down in front of him between his parted knees, slowly, a soft noise escaping you as the water crept up your cold body and you pressed your back against his chest.

You pretended not to hear the sharp inhale of breath as his raging erection pressed firmly against your back, the heat from it almost hotter than the water you were reclining in.

You hummed softly as he slipped his arms around you, pressing a hot, damp kiss to your icy shoulder.

You'd swear he could probably leave burns with those lips of his.

"Hmm... How did your meeting with Lord Raiden go, Hanzo?" You ask him, sliding your hands up his thighs and to his knees, feeling the knotted muscles tighten and flex beneath your touch.

"Ah..." He said, his voice tight in an effort to control himself.

"It... Went well. Young Takeda was there, it was good to see him again."

"How is Takeda doing?"

"He's spending more time with his father, and I believe he and Jacqui Briggs are officially a couple." Hanzo chuckled.

"That's good, they're a nice match." You sigh, relaxing into him more, maybe, just slightly intentionally grinding your ass against his cock.

His arms tighten around you and he leans in, his lips at the shell of your ear.

"You're playing a dangerous game, my lotus." He growls.

"You know me... I live for danger." You purr, grinding against him once more.

He groaned in your ear and rolled his hips to meet yours.

"I have to ask..." Hanzo said, one of his rough and calloused hands rising to give your ribs a feathery touch.

"I'm experienced, don't worry." You assure him playfully.

"Good..."

Was that... disappointment you heard in his voice?

"Awww..." You reach back and comb through his ebony locks. "Hanzo... Are you sad you're not my first?"

"No..." He lied. "I'm merely content to know this will be fully enjoyable for you, then."

You gladly take a mental note and stow that information away for a later scenario you wanted to play out with him...

"Hanzo?"

"Hmm?"

You turn your head slightly and capture his mouth in an awkwardly-angled kiss, teeth and tongues grazing, nipping, and twining together in a passionate affair.

You lift your hips enough in the water so the head of his cock is squished between your thighs. You roll yourself against him, letting his cock stroke between your legs as you flex your muscles, gripping him as tight as possible.

"Agh... You truly live for danger, hm?" Hanzo groaned hotly in your ear. His hands kneaded your breasts, his fingers heating up as he pulled and twisted your nipples in time with the lazy rolling of your hips.

"Hanzo..." You keened softly.

"You need to stop." Hanzo said, gripping your hips, effectively stilling you.

You pout in protest, and look at him over your shoulder, waiting for an explanation.

Hanzo's tongue darts out to lick at a bead of water that rolls down your shoulder, and nips at the skin, there.

"When I finish, I want it to be inside you." He growled against your skin.

His voice and the way he was touching you sent a jolt of excitement racing up your spine.

"Yes." You breathe, your heart beginning to flutter in your chest like a flighty bird.

"Do you want me, my lotus?" Hanzo asked you. "Do you want me inside you?"

"By the Elder Gods, yes." You reply, your voice shaky but certain.

Hanzo quickly helped you up, turning you around so your breasts were squished against the rocks below you, your hands balling in the snow, ice creeping out from beneath your fingertips.

You eagerly spread your legs for him, water rolling off your body as his searing grip kneaded and squished the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks as his chest heaved while his eyes drank in your swollen and waiting sex and prone form.

"Hanzo, please?" You pant, pushing back into his grip.

His cock twitched at the sight of you, at the feel of your icy skin in his hands. Any normal person would be a shivering mess, being practically face down in the snow. But not you. You were Lin Kuei, a cryomancer.

His little ice lotus.

He gripped the base of his cock and took his time lining up, a small smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as you squirm impatiently.

He wasn't sure why, but something told him to raise his hand and slap your ass in a reprimand.

The squeak you made at first gave him the impression that he'd seriously hurt you, but when he noticed how demure you became, he chuckled softly.

"Behave, lotus. You must learn patience. It is a ninja's greatest asset." He said, his chest tightening as the tip of his cock slipped through your wet folds, the walls of your pussy gripping him in a greedy vice.

"Please, Hanzo..." You cried softly, trying to sink yourself deeper against him to sheathe his cock fully in the waiting velvet of your body.

Hanzo's hands prevented that, and it frustrated you, but your complaint died before it could form as he slowly eased himself inside, inch by torturous inch, until the tip of his cock just barely kissed your cervix.

He certainly had girth and length that was definitely going to make you see stars, tonight... His size complemented the roped muscles all throughout his body.

You make a deep, throaty moan as his weight settles into you, your muscles squeezing him down, trying to pull him deeper.

You feel the short coarse hairs that reached his navel brush the skin of your ass as he brought his hips firmly against yours.

He leaned in, kissing up your back and over your shoulder until his mouth was at your ear.

"How do you want me, love?"

"Fuck me hard. Please?"

He kissed your shoulder, biting down and sucking the skin, marking you as he pulled out and slammed his hips back in.

Your cries shook birds from the trees, the sensation of his balls slapping against your clit sending shivers up your spine, the pressure of his cock pounding you and pressing against that one divine spot within you, each drag of the vein running up his length driving you further and further into madness.

No other man you'd ever been with had been so precise or skilled in the art of sex.

Your previous partners were paltry compared to the sharp, angled thrust of Hanzo's hips, his cock cramming into you at such a harsh and heavy rate that you swore you were going to cum at any second, gushing around him, leaving a nice creamy ring at the base of his dick as he fucks into you like a man possessed.

He grips your shoulders and pulls you up against him, so your back is pressed against his chest.

His hands rise to your breasts, his fingertips almost glowing as he pinches your nipples, the soft mounds bouncing and jiggling in his hands with each upward thrust of his hips into yours.

"Hanzo!" You cried out, tossing your head back with a wail of ecstasy, your vision going cross as he brings one of his searing hands to your clit, rolling vigorously, the heat feeling like it set every nerve in your body alight with fire.

"Come for me." He softly commands.

And just like that, your body obeys him, clamping down, squeezing him, trying to mold yourself around him; commit his shape and size to memory so he and only he could ever fuck and satisfy you ever again.

He hisses out a breath, steam rising in waves off his body as he fucks up into you again, riding out your orgasm as he rapidly approaches his own.

Hanzo eases you back down, his hand sliding up your sweaty, chilly spine as he tips his head back, his lips parting in a moan as he cums, jerky thrusts and loud whimpers from you as his boiling hot load paints your insides a nice, pearly white, threatening to burn a hole right through you.

He lazily fucks you, some of his spend leaking out around him and dripping down your thighs as he rides out the blinding high that took over every range of his senses.

Once the two of you regain your breathing, he keeps you firmly seated on his cock as you both sink back into the water, relaxing as the heat soaks through your chilled core while Hanzo gently pours palm fulls of water on your skin, massaging your shoulders.

"Mmmh..." You sigh, relaxing against him as he kisses the top of your damp head.

"You seem content." He chuckled.

"Hanzo, I'm pretty sure you're going to have to carry me back home." You laugh. "Had I known what kind of weapon you were packing, I would have been just slightly more hesitant..."

"Only slightly, hm?"

"Just a bit." You murmur, kissing the knuckles of one of his hands.

Hanzo grins and plants a kiss over the bruise he'd left on your skin.

"You will get used to it, my lotus."

[dr-mingus]

I'm fairly new so I don't know if this stuff is already the accepted perspective among VtM players, but it seems to me that a Vampire's essence is contained within their Vitae, while the body it inhabits merely acts as a vessel for it. Rather than the corpse being "brought back to life" by the blood, the corpse is a host through which the Vitae acts its will upon the world.

Here's how I think it works, feel free to correct me:

Kindred Vitae has two basic instincts that drive its behavior: to preserve itself, and to produce more of itself. These manifest in the host as the desire to consume blood, and the desire to Embrace.

During the Embrace, a Kindred drains all blood from a mortal. This Kindred, the Sire, introduces a small amount of their Vitae into the mortal's corpse which then finds its way into its brainstem. It acts to enable motor and sensory function, but lacks sufficient Vitae to sustain the entire host body. To remedy this, it attempts to source blood from the nearest available source, causing what is known as a Hunger Frenzy.

Once blood is consumed, it makes contact with the Sire's original Vitae. It then becomes Vitae through its capacity to transmute mundane blood into more of itself. It is possible that this is achieved through a property that makes it impossible to dilute, ironically similar to that of Holy Water.

Vitae then spreads throughout the host to facilitate biological processes necessary to achieving the instinctual goals. It interacts with the host body, preventing decay but also reshaping certain tissues and organs to better function as instruments of the goals. Teeth become sharpened fangs, the stomach reshapes to allow blood directly into the circulatory system, taste buds and neurotransmitters are altered to incentivise consuming blood, etc. It also flows into the rest of the brain, where the personality and memories of the host imprint into it through its presence in the memory centres.

In the event of a threat to the Vitae's survival, such as sunlight or fire, it exhibits a response similar to the human body's response to extreme cold. To avoid loss of heat, the body concentrates warm blood in the safest and most important areas, the torso and head, leaving the extremities cold. In the case of Vitae, blood leaves the anterior of the brain and limbs, and concentrates in the amygdala and brainstem. This causes the distinctive Fear Frenzy or Rötschreck in the host as the Vitae spurs the host to flee to preserve itself.

Through unknown means, Vitae is consumed by sustaining the body or by the manifestation of Powers of the Blood. In an attempt to restore itself, it increases the host's desire to feed. In extremis it forces the host to forgo rational action in a bid to sate its primal needs. This may occur any time a Kindred exerts themselves.

Variations in Kindred Clans are possibly the result of the original "Antediluvians" whose willpower and mastery of their own Vitae were such that remnants of their personalities and powers remain in their blood and are passed down to their descendants to this day. In a similar vein, the Anger Frenzy may be a remnant of the original Kindred "Caine" whose own rage could have been passed down to all Cainites due to his immense power and will.

Fully draining a Kindred, or Diablerie, extracts the Vitae dwelling in the Brainstem which has taken on the most significant imprint of the host. This causes a conflict within the Diablerist , as two different personality imprints vie for control of the same body. Eventually the more willful memory imprint wins out and takes full control of the host.

Fin

This was a fun bit of creative writing, and has given me some ideas for more stuff about how disciplines and other vampiric traits work.

I might do some more of this stuff if people like it, or if I get bored.

Thanks for reading!

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

Hello , how are you you? I am sorry to bother you but I want to ask you something . I know about loa for 6 months now.I know that its real and everything but I never tried to get my desires . I just used subliminals but never got results from them .. And now I want to manifest my desires but I get thoughts like " I can't manifest them " or "it'll take a lot of time " and I want to manifest complete appearance changes like going from brown to blonde hair , brown to green eyes , height increase etc .and I haven't seen anyone done that (I know I can do that but my brain....) I want to reality shift too but I want to get these results first ...I also want to get photographic memory so I can do well in my academic testings....I just need motivation from you that I can do that or something like that.. (I am sorry if that dumb)

Hello! Sorry for the late reply since i'm busy with school and i arrive late to my home.

If you never got results from subliminal well that because of your Mindset, you're depending too much on the 3d.

When i first discovered subliminals i never got results or barely, why? Well that because i was depending too much on the 3d and was checking for results when in reality the 3d NEVER will give you the validation you yearn for.

I highly advice you to read this document, After Reading it i started having instant results from subliminals:

I advice you to read my post it has every information you might looking for.

And read this full guide.

I know you Can Do it! Manifestation is easy as breathing, it's a lifestyle!

You're mind is so powerful and limitless! You Can manifest the IMPOSSIBLE!

I Hope you read the posts i suggested for you and please don't overconsume soo much information.

Keep it simple and light.

I know you Can Do it.

Xoxo, Eli

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth... If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror."

Pairing: Dire Crowley and GN!Prefect/ Yuu/ MC

Genre: Yandere (platonic)

TW: Yandere Dire Crowley, crow man's delusional and literally does not give two fucks, just generally creepy vibes all around.

AN: I am so, so, so sorry for what you are about to read now lol. If you get too confused in the middle, don't worry, I was just as confused writing this but my brain just wouldn't rest until I finished and posted this so here we are. The basic summary of this is that Yuu or the Prefect is trapped in an endless cycle because Crowley overblotted. You might have to read this twice or thrice to understand the how and why <3

He knows.

From the moment he sees them, he remembers.

He remembers and he watches as they do it again.

And again.

And again.

A puppet, unaware of their being handled by someone else, someone kinder and gentler who just wants to keep them safe and sound.

Even if it means trapping them in an endless cycle.

Even if he is the only one who sees and notices and remembers.

Dire Crowley cuts an imposing figure as he stands in his office, facing an ornate mirror. Not the Dark Mirror, no. This particular mirror has its roots in mystical arcane magic, from the times of Jupiter and when the Titans roamed free. Dire has a faint memory of his mother, the Crowley Matriarch, telling him to be careful with it, to pass it down to his heir as she had, to him.

Crystal clear, it beckons to him to reveal himself. To bare himself, imperfections and flaws laid out in the privacy of his office for it to see.

A selfish, sadistic desire to pick apart every carefully constructed lie, each bejeweled facade to show the utter mess of a man that lies beneath it all arises in him; he finds himself indulging in it more often than he likes to admit.

The masked man removes his mask for what is not the first time, and most certainly would not be the last. Sharp golden eyes look on as black ink, once held within the confines of his mask, drips down his face. Times like these make him wonder and marvel at how he has not met his demise yet.

Fingers adorned with golden claws rise and touch the blot, marveling at how cold it feels as it stains his skin. Lesser mages would have been dead long ago, Crowley knows this. Slight dread rises in him at the thought, knowing that his magic reserves are long finished; he lives on borrowed time and magic.

But then again, who cares? As long as he can have them here, where they belong, safe and sound-

A knock resonates through the room, startling the headmage. He quickly puts the mask on his face again and clears his throat, saying, "Come in."

He watches as they walk in, no doubt to complain about something, or to talk about their financial situation. Perhaps he should increase their allowance? After all, it is their being, their magic that sustains him, and allows him to live through these lifetimes watching over the unassuming, now magicless human he had imprinted on and the students they had endeared themself to.

Crowley watches as they speak, unable to stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He hems and haws and lies through his teeth about not being able to find them a way back.

He sees the light in their eyes dim; it is a small change, one that doesn't stay for long. But the magicless human is precious to him, and so he observes them. He watches them leave his office silently, a stark contrast to when their impatience and indignance have them cursing his name to the skies. No outcome, no outburst of their emotions will be able to move his cold, frozen heart to thaw, however; they belong to Twisted Wonderland, as Twisted Wonderland belongs to them.

In their first lifetime, Crowley recalls with the fondness of a father thinking of his grown-up child, they did possess magic; far different in nature, but magic nonetheless. And powerful too, considering the aura of it radiated from their being even as something stopped them from being able to use it.

Crowley wonders if it was so that he could see how invaluable, how indispensable they were.

How the entirety of Twisted Wonderland was made for them.

He did try, the first time, to find them a way back home. Endless efforts were dedicated to researching the existence of universes and multiverses. Of course, such exhaustive research would take time, time which he saw them spend getting close to the students of Night Raven College and fighting overblots.

Seven overblots, in the span of one year.

A record untouched by any other being, mage or otherwise. A record they kept making each and every lifetime they spent in the loop. A record that became his new normal, so much so that he no longer gives more than a cursory glance to the overblots and their aftermath.

He knows how it all ends, after all.

In their first lifetime, his efforts had bore fruit. His studies revealed a way to connect the Dark Mirror to their plane of existence, through the use of the very mirror that was hidden behind his back. His blood had run cold at the revelation, and he spent the next few weeks? months? looking for alternatives. For other ways to be able to send them back.

Until one day, the Prefect found out.

As they angrily interrogated him for the reasons behind his silence, asking him why he would not send them back even though there was a way, he realized exactly why he was hesitant about sending them back.

Crowley had no spouse, no children. But the mirror, the mirror which had been in his family for generations, needed an heir. One who could gain control over it, rather than have it control them like it did with so many of his ancestors, including his mother.

Surely the one dubbed a beast-tamer could tame such a dangerously powerful magical artefact?

He desperately begged and bargained with them, trying to change their mind. Trying to entice them into staying forever in Twisted Wonderland, as his heir. He offered them gold and silver, riches beyond what one would expect a man like him to have. He offered them the immense honour and prestige that came with being a deity that the entirety of Twisted Wonderland bowed to.

But they... they refused to stay. The only thing that was in their mind was to go home. Why couldn't they get it through their head that Twisted Wonderland was meant to be their home?

The aftermath of that argument... Crowley's memories are hazy at best. He remembers waking up in a pool of blot, the sticky ink covering his hands and the top of his face, dripping constantly. He remembers the mirror glowing as he dragged himself to it like a mindless moth flies to the flame even with the risk of getting burned.

Words had slipped through his mouth like the prayers of the devout at the altar of their deity, the faint and familiar hum of magic accompanied by a slight crackle of dark miasma.

"Ah, my dear esteemed benefactor... My proud, beautiful flower of evil. You are truly the fairest one of all," he had spoken, not knowing exactly what spell he was casting. All he knew, was that he was succumbing to the mirror, the same way his mother had; the same way all of his ancestors had, giving into the madness that such unchecked power and magic could create.

"O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat... Reveal unto me the visage I seek.." A vision of them, standing on the other side of the mirror, had Crowley try to reach out to them. His hand grazed the solid glass, before passing through it. He watched as their eyes widened and they took a step back.

"You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth... If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror." A shiver of thrill ran up his spine as they gingerly placed their hand in his after giving his words some thought, even with all the doubt in their eyes. He curled his fingers around their warm hand, and pulled.

He later found out that, during his overblot, he had managed to trap a significant portion of their soul in the mirror that was his family heirloom. The mirror rejected their magic, foreign as it was, and somehow those powers transferred themselves over to Crowley.

The words Crowley spoke, was the way to invoke their soul and bring them back each time they left Twisted Wonderland. A reset button, if you will.

Every time they show the slightest hint of wanting to leave, the slightest glimpse of understanding that he is the one they need to defeat in order to go home, he resets. Memories get wiped and Twisted Wonderland moulds beneath his gold-plated fingertips to what it was before. They say time waits for no man, but then again, Dire Crowley is more monster than human now. And so it bends to his will, but not without taking away his memories as well.

But then he sees them.

And he remembers.

[celestiaras]

-Zander or Lucien helping you fall asleep after a really bad nightmare 😊!! (Could be angst to fluff?) —🌼anon—

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by 🌼 anon ˚₊ ⊹

ft. zander netherbrand x gn! reader — avallum, first stage production

╰₊✧ comforting you after a bad nightmare┊0.5k words

contains: nightmares, hurt/comfort, established relationship

➤ author's note: i had the most horrific body horror nightmare last night so i woke up writing this on my phone

he’s a nocturnal creature, so he’ll still be up long after you. part of his powers is the ability to connect to people via their dreams, able to peek into their unconscious, or even enter their minds if he so pleased with a simple touch of the forehead. the moment your dream takes a turn for the worse, he can sense it immediately from both the change in your aura and the physical signs: increased heart rate, closed eyelids twitching, getting sweaty, and stirring in your rest. 

it feels like a violation of boundaries to look into your dreams, so he’s just going to gently shake you awake, “oh dear, please wake up— what on earth is going on in that mind of yours?” when you finally break free from the nightmare, you’ll notice the slight panic in his tone of voice considering he has no idea how to comfort you at first. it’s the norm back in hell and he had grown numb to such things, learning early on how to brush it off and go about his day as normal. it’s moments like these which remind him how adorable and sensitive humans are. he’s actually pretty glad you made the first move of embracing him, letting him know that he should care for you like he would after a bad day,

all the cuddles you need, you will receive. he’ll rest your head on his chest and run his fingers through your hair, rocking you back and forth, soothingly telling you that it wasn’t real and that he was there for you. feel free to tell him in detail what happened if you remember in as much or little detail as you please, but he won’t force you to recollect whatever horror it was because he knows they can get confusing and freaky to think about.

he’ll do anything you want until you calm down if you’re too scared to go back to bed whether it gaming, going out for some fresh air, or chilling out with a movie on. he’ll only part with you one time to make you a hot cup of tea in your preferred flavor, otherwise he’s by your side yapping about whatever to get your mind off of it all until you slump against his shoulder and fall back asleep. he’s super careful to lay you back down without waking you up, but when you do get up again in the morning, expect to be served breakfast in bed of all your favorites.

if you give him permission to enter your nightmares in the future, then he’ll show up to get rid of whatever fear appears in your mind. his main focus will be keeping everything peaceful so that you don’t wake up from overexertion of emotions, only making sure that he leaves you with a little smile on your face as the remainder of your dream goes smoothly. you likely won’t have any memory of what occurred that night the next day, but he’ll bring it up in conversation and laugh at your face of shock when he tells you what goes on in your brain when unaware.

[srbachchan]

DAY 5959

Jalsa, Mumbai June 11, 2024 Tue 11:56 PM

🪔 ,

June 12 .. birthday greetings to Ef Suresh Jumani from Chennai .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️ greetings from the Ef ..

It closes in at around 12:48 am of the next day - June 12, 2024 and the work continues .. started at a little before, but getting done to it now .. lessons of life .. start and get going .. wait and you may miss the train .. bus or whatever the adage is prevalent .. the platitude the epigraph ..

happens now .. now more so than before .. now you look out for the Insta gems that give concoctions on how to sleep well and early , how to exercise the body and lungs , how to put the various eatable or consumables under the pillow for better shut eye , how to move the fingers of the hand for better health conditions of various parts of the body, listen to the numerous saints priests godmen who guid us through philosophical thinking on life and more .. on belief, on religion, on women , on wives, on husbands and to each their behavioural patterns .. and the acts of PR and promotions of products and films - mine inclusive .. !!!

🤣

and then to go back to them on the net to see the number of followers increase , or what number actually saw the page , and the various instructions from well wishers on how to boost the numbers ..

बाप रे बाप !

once you start sliding the page , the fingers hurt but never the desire to notice and read each one .. a disease of sorts .. because the time consumed has gone beyond, unknown to us, and by then it is too late to go back to the instruction of how to increase your memory and brain power and eyesight ..

it is in short a ruddy mess .. !!

kbye and may the night be bright and in deep slumber ..

was teaching someone a few Italian gestures - not known and heard generally .. cannot possibly share them here .. 😳

Amitabh Bachchan

[jungkoode]

THE 25TH HOUR | O4

“𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒”

"You’ve never been trained physically past the basics. Yet your body seems to know exactly how to counter every single one of Taehyung’s movements. Jimin doesn’t like you. And everybody seems insistent on not answering any of your questions."

next | index

— chapter details

word count: 3,5k

content: waking up in a stranger's room (but is it?), Jimin choosing violence before coffee, training room shenanigans with TaeKook, ability reveals that definitely break several laws of physics, and Y/N's body remembering combat moves she shouldn't know.

— author’s note

Y'ALL. I've been DYING to write this training sequence since day one because holy shit, the ABILITIES. Remember when I said everyone had their own temporal powers? No? WELL.

Let's talk about Jungkook casually breaking physics because he can, Taehyung being done™️ with everyone's shit, and Y/N discovering she has powers while getting her ass handed to her. Also featuring: Jimin choosing violence before breakfast, mysterious golden sparks that definitely aren't supposed to happen, and Y/N's body remembering things her mind doesn't (again).

Also can we appreciate Jimin's "above my pay grade" energy while deliberately withholding information? And don't even get me started on Jungkook doing that thing where he copies other people's abilities just to be annoying. The CHAOS of this team, I swear.

Special shoutout to everyone who's been wondering about Y/N's room situation because BOY do I have some spicy implications for you. That empty space in the bed? The missing personal items? The way her body keeps remembering things her mind doesn't? Yeah, there's a reason for that 👀

Fun fact: I actually had to create a spreadsheet to keep track of everyone's abilities because they kept doing cool shit I wasn't planning. Looking at you, Jungkook, you weren't supposed to be able to do that yet but here we are.

Anyway, get ready for some quality action featuring: precise measurements of ass-kicking, clinical descriptions of supernatural abilities, and Y/N's analytical brain trying to science her way through literally impossible situations. Also temporal physics continues to be completely ignored in favor of plot convenience because I said so.

— read on

ao3

wattpad

The first thing you notice is wrong is the color of the walls. 

Navy blue instead of regulation black, the shade precisely 27.4% lighter than standard temporal housing requirements. 

Your analytical mind automatically begins cataloging the discrepancies: king-sized bed versus your assigned individual unit, missing digital chronometer from the nightstand, non-regulation bookshelf filled with texts you can't quite make out from this distance.

The sheets pool around your hips as you sit up, cotton instead of the standard-issue synthetic blend. 

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 09:00:13 AM—back in normal time flow. The device's presence is oddly reassuring, though something about that feels wrong. 

Weren't they against CHRONOS? Your memory of last night fragments when you try to access it.

Most concerning is the inexplicable sensation of absence beside you. The mattress holds a phantom warmth your body seems to expect, though you've never shared sleeping quarters with anyone. The feeling triggers a 2.3% increase in your heart rate.

The door opens without warning—no knock, no announcement. You're beginning to detect a pattern in their disregard for entry protocols.

Pink hair appears first, followed by tactical gear that wouldn't look out of place in a CHRONOS security unit. 

Jimin. Your mind supplies the name with surprising certainty.

"So you finally decided to wake up." His tone carries carefully crafted disinterest as he surveys the room. "Thought you'd sleep through training at this rate."

"This isn't my room." The statement comes out more observation than protest.

Jimin's eyebrow arches as he lets out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Technically, it is. You just don't remember." 

His fingers find a bobblehead on a nearby shelf, setting it in motion with deliberate precision. The object's presence feels simultaneously foreign and familiar.

"My assigned quarters have regulation black walls," you begin listing discrepancies, falling into analyst mode. "This bed is 76.2 centimeters wider than standard issue. The furniture arrangement violates temporal housing code 7.3 regarding—"

"You know what's interesting?" He cuts you off, voice filled with mock curiosity. "For someone supposedly waking up in a strange room, you're being remarkably calm about it." His eyes meet yours. "Don't you find that... odd?"

The observation washes over you like temporal feedback. 

He's right—your response pattern doesn't match standard protocols for displacement scenarios. Your heart rate should be elevated, stress hormones spiking. Instead, you feel an inexplicable comfort, marred only by that persistent sense of absence beside you.

You don't answer. Can't answer.

"Come on, up." Jimin picks up a book from your shelf—your shelf?—and drops into a bean bag by the dresser. "You've got training with Taehyung."

"I don't require training." The words come automatically, though you're not entirely sure what training he's referring to. "My temporal monitoring certification is complete."

"Trust me," he drawls, flipping pages without looking at you, "you do. But don't worry, you'll pick it up quick. You always do." Something in his tone makes your temporal readings fluctuate by 0.4%.

His eyes flick toward the dresser. "Training gear's in there."

You glance at the dresser, then back at him. "Changing attire in the presence of an unrelated male violates temporal conduct regulation 15.2."

The laugh that bursts from him carries genuine amusement. "Now that's ironic."

"I fail to see the irony in basic temporal compliance."

"Doesn't seem to bother you with Yoongi," he mutters, still pretending to read.

Your pulse jumps 7 beats per minute at the name. 

"I have no personal relationship with Agent Min." The words taste wrong on your tongue, like reciting equations in the wrong order.

"Sure you don't." Jimin rolls his eyes, standing with fluid grace. "Get dressed. You've got 5 minutes before Taehyung starts getting impatient." He replaces the book with suspicious familiarity, then pauses at the door. "And don't worry about modesty, Noma. I don't swing that way."

The door closes behind him with a soft click that somehow sounds amused.

You stare at your Chrono-Sync Watch: 09:03:47 AM. 

Time moving normally, yet nothing about this feels normal. Your fingers trace the empty space beside you in the bed, a gesture you don't consciously initiate.

You have 4 minutes and 13 seconds until Taehyung expects you.

You wonder why that knowledge feels like muscle memory.

The sheets slide from your hips as you rise, cool air brushing against your skin in a way that feels sharper than it should. 

Your Chrono-Sync Watch ticks forward—09:04:02 AM. 

You note the time automatically, as if logging it for a report you're no longer required to submit. The absence of your digital clock on the nightstand is disorienting, but not enough to stop you from crossing the room.

The dresser is unassuming—plain wood, slightly worn at the edges. You hesitate before opening it, fingers pausing on the handle. There's a strange weight to the moment, like you're performing an action you've done countless times before but can't consciously recall.

Inside, neatly folded, is tactical gear. 

The fabric is matte black, fitted with precision you recognize as military-grade. It's similar to what you've seen Jimin wear—what most of them wear here, except for Jin and Namjoon with their white lab coats. 

Your fingers trace the sleeve uncharacteristically, following the line of the material until it transitions seamlessly into a glove.

The design catches your attention. The ensemble covers everything—head to toe. Efficient, practical. Yet something about it feels... deliberate. A choice made with more than function in mind.

You pause, catching on an inconsistency. Skin coverage isn't unusual; in fact, it's standard. Public regulations discourage unnecessary exposure under the guise of "professionalism" and "efficiency." 

But this? This feels excessive even by CHRONOS standards.

Your thoughts shift to Protocol 47.3, the regulation governing physical contact during temporal operations. 

The directive is drilled into every trainee during certification: Direct skin-to-skin contact during active temporal anomalies is prohibited unless explicitly authorized by a superior officer. The reasoning is sound—skin contact can destabilize temporal signatures, increasing the risk of anomalies or detection by hostile forces. 

But here? They’ve mentioned Protocol 47.3 repeatedly since your arrival, almost obsessively. Yoongi's gloved hands, his careful avoidance of direct contact even through fabric barriers—it all aligns too perfectly with the regulation's stipulations.

And yet...

Your fingers linger on the glove's edge as you consider what Jimin said earlier: "Doesn't seem to stop you with Yoongi." The words echo in your mind like feedback from an unstable temporal loop.

Why would he say that? You've followed every protocol to the letter since arriving here—or at least since waking up here. Haven't you?

Your hand pulls back from the gear as if burned, though there's no logical reason for the reaction. The tactile memory of Yoongi's grip on your wrist surfaces unbidden—the precise pressure of his fingers over fabric, the way his thumb shifted against your pulse point like he was measuring something only he could perceive.

You shake off the thought and refocus on the gear in front of you. Practicality wins out over discomfort as you begin changing into it piece by piece. The material fits snugly but not uncomfortably, designed for optimal movement without excess fabric that could snag or slow you down.

The gloves slide on last, their reinforced seams pressing lightly against your fingertips. You flex your hands experimentally, noting how they feel both foreign and familiar at once.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 09:07:16 AM when you're fully dressed. Three minutes and forty-four seconds since Jimin left—not quite within his five-minute deadline but close enough to avoid reprimand.

Still, as you glance at yourself in a mirror mounted above the dresser—a mirror that shouldn't be there according to housing regulations—you can't shake the feeling that this uniform means something more than just practicality or compliance.

It feels like armor.

And for reasons you can't yet explain, that thought unsettles you more than anything else about this place so far.

You gather your hair into a ponytail efficiently, the motion feeling oddly routine despite never wearing your hair this way for work. Something about the weight of the tactical gear suggests you'll need the visibility. 

Your fingers work through the strands with mechanical precision—exactly three loops of the hair tie, tight enough to secure but not so tight it would cause temporal pressure points.

09:08:49 AM. 

You exit the room to find Jimin examining what appears to be a modified Chrono-Sync Watch, his fingers tapping against its surface deliberately.

"That's more like you," he comments, eyes flicking up to your ponytail.

"I have never worn such attire," you state, the words feeling hollow even as you say them.

His lips twitch, something between amusement and irritation. Without further comment, he turns and starts walking, his stride purposeful. You follow, mind already cataloging questions that need answers.

"Where exactly are we?" It's the most logical place to start.

"Underground facility, Boston sector." His tone suggests he's answered this before. Many times.

"That's impossible. CHRONOS maintains detailed structural maps of all underground facilities in the Eastern Seaboard. This location doesn't exist in any database."

"Exactly." He doesn't even look back.

You frown, calculating possibilities. "The energy requirements to maintain a facility of this size off-grid would be—"

"Let me guess," he interrupts, "astronomical? Impossible with current technology? Breaking several laws of temporal physics?"

"Yes, actually."

"Fascinating observation. Any other obvious statements you'd like to make?"

Your jaw tightens at his tone. "Why haven't you removed my watch? If you're against CHRONOS, it seems inconsistent to let me keep it."

Jimin actually laughs at that, the sound sharp. "Remove it? You want Yoongi to be your personal temporal stabilizer 24/7? Because that's what would happen. Your signature's too unstable without it."

"My temporal signature is perfectly synchronized with the Network," you counter.

"Is it?" He glances at your wrist. "Check your variance readings."

You do. The numbers make your head hurt—0.7% off baseline. That shouldn't be possible with an active Chrono-Sync connection.

"What training could I possibly need?" you ask instead of dwelling on the implications. "I'm already certified in temporal monitoring."

"Oh honey," he drawls, "you're certified in what CHRONOS wanted you to know. Not what you need to know."

"That makes no logical sense. CHRONOS exists to maintain temporal stability and prevent—"

"Chrono-terrorism?" He cuts you off, voice mockingly sweet. "Tell me, what exactly do you know about these supposed temporal terrorists?"

You open your mouth to cite historical records, then pause. The data feels... rehearsed. Memorized rather than learned.

"And what about Protocol 47.3?" Jimin continues, his pace never slowing. "Ever wonder why skin contact affects temporal signatures so much?"

"It creates destabilization patterns that—"

"That what? That CHRONOS can't control?" His voice carries an edge. "Ever think maybe that's the point?"

Your mind catches on the way Yoongi avoided touching you, even through fabric. On this full-coverage uniform that leaves no skin of yours exposed. 

Jimin is not wearing gloves, you note.

“The memory integration yesterday,” you say, mind catching on the failed procedure. “It didn’t work. I still don’t remember anything.”

“Wow, really? Shocking. Absolutely unprecedented. Whatever shall we do?” Jimin’s voice drips sarcasm as he checks his watch again. “It’s not like this happens every single time or anything.”

“If you know it won’t work, why attempt it?”

“Because Yoongi insists.” His tone shifts slightly, almost tired. “And because sometimes hope trumps statistics. Even if those statistics are currently,” he pretends to calculate, “zero for seventeen?”

“Seventeen what?”

“Attempts. Resets. Take your pick.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Though I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually. You always do.”

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Many, many things." His tone shifts slightly, almost tired. "But that's not my call to make. Ask Min, if you're so curious."

"I don't know Agent Min well enough to ask such questions."

"Right," he sighs, continuing down the corridor. "Of course you don't."

You quicken your pace to match his stride, questions tumbling out faster than you can analyze them for logical sequence.

"The temporal dampening field in this facility—how is it maintained without detection?"

"Through the power of not telling you everything." He doesn't break stride.

"Your Chrono-sync watch. It’s modified. These modifications, they're not just cosmetic, are they?"

"What gave it away? The temporal stabilization or the fact that CHRONOS can't track them?"

"But that's impossible without access to the Master Clock's base frequency—"

"Lots of impossible things happening lately, aren't there?" His tone drips with false sweetness.

"How did I become an Outlier? My clearance allows me such information but I feel there is more to it—so what does the term actually mean?”

"It means you ask too many questions." He takes another turn.

His constant dismissals are becoming more and more frustrating.

"The 25th hour shouldn't be possible. The human circadian rhythm—"

"Is as manufactured as your temporal compliance programming."

"I'm not programmed."

"Said the robot, robotically."

Your jaw tightens. "The golden traces when Agent Min touches things—"

"Above my pay grade." 

"You keep referring to events I haven't experienced—"

"Haven't you though?"

"The temporal resistance patterns the doctor mentioned—"

“Technically not a doctor.”

“—are confusing, so I would like—”

"Still not my story to tell."

You press your lips together, not understanding why he’s so particularly snappy. But that only makes you want to ask further questions. 

"And why does everyone seem to know me—"

"Weird how that works, isn't it?"

Your frustration finally peaks. 

"You don't like me."

Jimin finally stops, turning to face you with surprising intensity. 

"No," he says simply, "I don't."

The words carry weight—history you can't access, grievances you can't remember. You open your mouth to ask why, but he's already pushing open a door you hadn't noticed.

"Training room," he announces, effectively ending the conversation. "Try not to die. Paperwork's a bitch."

The casual reference to your potential death should probably concern you more than it does.

Jimin gives Taehyung a curt nod before slipping out the door. "Hobi!" His voice echoes down the corridor as he leaves. "Your turn to make coffee, and don't you dare let Namjoon near the machine again!"

You walk further into the training room, the soft click of the door locking behind you making your temporal readings spike by 0.3%. 

"Who locked the—"

The lights dim without anyone touching the controls. You immediately begin calculating the probability of automated systems in a facility that supposedly doesn't exist.

Taehyung stands with his back to you, but something about his posture suggests he's been aware of your presence since before you entered. Your footsteps are silent against the mat, yet he looks over his shoulder with precise timing.

You remember him from yesterday—the quiet one who arrived with Jungkook. He hadn't spoken then either, just watched you with that same unreadable expression he wears now.

He motions to the mat with a slight tilt of his head. You nod, calculating that perhaps he'll be more forthcoming than Jimin.

"The temporal dampening field—is it connected to the facility's power grid or does it run on an independent system?"

He assumes a ready stance.

"The resistance mentioned multiple teams. How many sectors are you operating in?"

No response. Just a slight shift in his weight distribution.

"Your tactical gear appears to have modified temporal shielding. Is that standard issue for your organization or—"

He moves.

The attack comes without warning—a precise strike that should have connected. Your body reacts before your mind processes the movement, sliding into a defensive stance that feels impossible yet natural.

"What the hell?" The words come out sharp as you regain your balance. "A warning would be standard protocol for—"

Another strike. You deflect it automatically, muscle memory you shouldn't have taking over.

"This is highly irregular," you try again, analyzing his movement patterns. "Combat training wasn't part of my temporal monitoring certification—"

He drops low, leg sweeping out in a spinning kick that connects despite your inexplicable reflexes. Your back hits the mat with enough force to knock the air from your lungs.

"Are you insane?" You glare up at him, calculating the statistical probability of internal bruising.

"Terrible." His voice, when he finally uses it, carries no emotion. Just clinical assessment.

You stay down, anger mixing with confusion as you try to understand how you knew those defensive moves in the first place.

"Up." He steps back, ready stance never wavering. "Again."

"Fuck you."

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. 

You freeze, horror washing over you as you realize what you’ve just said. Profanity violates temporal conduct regulation 23.1 regarding professional communication standards. The vulgarity alone could result in a citation from the Temporal Compliance Office—

Wait.

Your head throbs as you try to reconcile your automatic recitation of regulations with this new, inexplicable defiance.

Taehyung just watches, something almost like satisfaction flickering in his eyes.

"Up," Taehyung repeats, his voice flat, almost bored. 

He steps back, giving you space to rise, though his stance remains ready, as if expecting you to lunge at him—or maybe expecting himself to lunge at you.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 09:23:47 AM. 

You push yourself up slowly, your muscles protesting from the impact of his earlier kick. The mat beneath your palms feels slightly uneven, or maybe that's just your frustration skewing your perception. Either way, you have a sinking feeling this is not going to be an easy feat.

The door creaks open behind you, and you barely turn your head to register the new figure entering the room. 

Jungkook. 

You recognize him from yesterday’s brief introduction—silent and watchful, standing beside Taehyung like a shadow. His tactical gear is identical to Taehyung's, though his presence feels lighter somehow, less weighted.

You don’t have time to fully process him before the floor beneath your feet shifts—not dramatically, but enough to send your balance spiraling. It’s as if the ground itself wavers for a split second, like a ripple through solid matter. Your body reacts instinctively, stumbling forward before Taehyung's hand shoots out to steady you.

The jarring gentleness of his grip catches you off guard. 

This is the same man who had been trying to knock you flat on your back ten seconds ago. You glance up at him, eyebrow raised in silent question.

"Not funny," Taehyung says sharply, his gaze snapping toward Jungkook.

Jungkook doesn’t respond verbally. He simply lifts the corners of his mouth in a faint smirk, his dark eyes glinting with something that feels both playful and calculated. The two lock eyes for exactly five seconds—long enough for you to notice the tension between them isn't hostile but... Familiarity? Understanding? 

You swear they’re communicating without speaking.

"How do you do that?" you ask, unable to keep the curiosity out of your voice.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to you for the first time since entering the room. His expression doesn’t change—still quiet, still unreadable—but something shifts in the air around him. And then—

<Sup.>

The word isn’t spoken aloud. It’s not even whispered. It’s inside your head. A voice that isn’t yours but also doesn’t belong to anyone you've ever heard before.

You freeze, eyes widening as your brain struggles to reconcile what just happened. 

“What the heck is going on?" The words come out sharper than intended, but can anyone blame you?

Taehyung frowns, his grip on your arm tightening slightly before he lets go. His attention snaps back to Jungkook with an edge that wasn’t there before.

"Stop mimicking my abilities," he says coldly.

Jungkook shrugs one shoulder with infuriating nonchalance, as if he hasn’t just violated every known law of communication and physics. His smirk widens by a fraction—a silent admission of guilt—and he leans casually against the wall like he has all the time in the world.

Abilities? Mimicking? What are they’re talking about?

The floor shifting beneath you, Taehyung steadying you without hesitation, Jungkook’s voice somehow echoing inside your head—it all feels connected in ways that defy logic.

"You can interface?" The question slips out before you can stop it.

Jungkook simply smiles, the expression holding a hint of mischief that makes your temporal readings fluctuate. You've seen that same look on children testing boundaries.

"Focus." Taehyung's voice cuts through your analysis.

Your gaze snaps back to him just as he launches forward. His movements are precise—too precise, like he's done this exact sequence countless times before. You force yourself to concentrate on his approach rather than the questions burning in your mind:

How did Jungkook manipulate the floor's temporal stability?

Why can Taehyung interface with physical matter?

How did that voice end up in your head?

The analytical part of your brain wants to calculate the energy requirements for matter manipulation, to understand the quantum mechanics behind consciousness transfer. But Taehyung's fist is already moving toward your face, and somehow you know that theorizing about abilities right now will only end with you back on the mat.

So you focus.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 09:24:13 AM.

Training has officially begun.

And the golden sparks erupting from your skin seem to know that too. 

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