#this suit is superior I don’t make the rules

[hidarkidarian]

I’m not an artist but I think that Titans!Superboy deserves 90s!Superboy’s costume.

[vivmaek]

MARS SIGN OBSERVATIONS

♂ Pisces Mars - I think Lennie Small from “Of Mice and Men,” would have this placement. This is a person who is seemingly harmless, and yet they still managed to cause harm and destruction through indirect action. When looking at someone with a Pisces Mars, their innocence and an assumed lack of strength is noticed first. These are kind people. They would rather harm themselves over another person. Their first instinct isn’t to attack, but to defend. When angry, they appear to be caught up within a panic. A Pisces Mars is driven by their big dreams. They might not always know what they want out of life, and their goals and ambitions may change frequently. This does not mean that they are incapable of finding success. If anything, their unwavering belief in themselves and their ability to achieve the impossible is what takes them to great heights. Hope is everything for someone with this placement, it’s what gets them out of bed in the morning. 

♂ Aquarius Mars - It's hard to pin someone with this placement down. Their actions don’t make sense to other people. Aquarius does a good job showing its eccentricity through Mars. The rules of society and the opinions of others do not dictate their actions. These types are constantly surprising people, and they like this. The public will often speculate about those with an Aquarius Mars. Theories are formed about them, no one can guess what they’re going to do next. In my opinion, this is the most rebellious Aquarius placement. They live their life in a manner that is truly unconventional. People with this placement are not aggressive, but they are clever. They like outsmarting people. A sense of superiority can sometimes act as a driving force. They go out of their way to make the people around them feel stupid if they’re in a foul mood. Their need for independence will never be forsaken. 

♂ Capricorn Mars - Hard work doesn’t scare these people off. They’ll put in whatever energy is needed to complete a project or endeavor. A strong sense of ambition and an excellent sense of focus are traits commonly seen with this placement. They’re quite secure in themselves and exercise self control through all their actions. Discipline motivates them. They take their responsibilities seriously and expect others to do the same. A Capricorn Mars goes above and beyond what is expected of them. They do this through a step-by-step process and practical planning. Cutting corners or taking the easy way out is something you’d never catch them doing. These types want to maintain control over every aspect of their life. They become angry when plans are thrown into a disarray through unexpected events. “Going with the flow,” is not a strong suit of theirs. Their need for security is what motivates them. 

♂ Sagittarius Mars - People with this placement are incredibly restless. They lack patience and need many different outlets to pour their energy into. They are easy going but are also quickly overtaken by passion. Crossing their moral beliefs is a good way to get them riled up. They like to believe that their opinions are more intellectual than they are emotional. When angry they like to get up on a soap box to lecture people. When people don’t agree with them, it can sometimes feel like criticism. They also don’t consider how their tendency to dish out brutal honesty may actually be more hurtful than it is impactful. They often act as a spark that ignites fire, in both a positive and a negative way.

♂ Scorpio Mars - The definition of “moving in silence.” Lots of people claim to do this, but a Scorpio Mars wouldn’t be caught making such a claim. They’re smarter than that. They know that hardship and struggle are inevitable. This does not scare them, but they also don’t fight against the natural currents of life. During certain points, their sense of ambition is so relentless that it becomes obsessive. But, this can only last so long. Rest and recuperation is a process they embrace. After acting on an immense level of concentration for a long period of time, they will need to take a step back to reassess goals. Rather than just accepting things for the way they are, a Scorpio Mars would rather make changes. If they feel that a path is ill-suited for them, they’re not afraid to change directions. Starting from zero is not discouraging and it is something that motivates these types. They have the power to turn nothing into something great. 

♂ Libra Mars - Mars is uncomfortable being in Libra. People with this placement often struggle with taking action and are as indecisive as they come. They get caught up in what's fair and what isn’t. They have a strong need to strike equality and want every situation to be as balanced as possible. Some might be surprised to know that the ultimate desire for these types is to garner a sense of peace. They might unintentionally stir the pot through their inability to take a strong stance on something. They want to weigh all the options possible and can become stressed trying to do so. Being passive-aggressive is also something that's frequently seen with this placement. These types think they’re being nice when in reality they’re making people uncomfortable through their fear of being direct. They’re sneaky when faced with conflict but also good at leading people into a resolution. 

[cursingtoji]

ᥫ᭡ — EXECUTIVE AFFAIRS: In a cutthroat world of boardroom battles and power struggles, you must navigate ambition , corporate intrigue, and unexpected love affairs.

✧ PRELUDE

— contents: CEO!reader, construction worker!Toji, lawyer!Nanami, therapist!Geto, ex-husband!Gojo; power imbalance, sexual frustration, manipulation, use of 'darling', 'baby', 'dear' & 'boss', 4k words, on-going series

— note: osha is the occupational safety and health administration agency in the USA, even tho i'm not american seems easier to just say osha (also a fun word to pronunce)

A young man opens the rear door of the Jaguar as soon as your driver stops by the construction site, “This way ma’am” you accept his hand, touching the cement with your stiletto first before getting out of the vehicle.

As scheduled you are heading to a meeting with the architect responsible for this particular project, a big one. Normally the CEO wouldn’t be involved in such routine visits like this, but you definitely don’t want to be like the previous CEO, who barely stepped out of his office for anything.

Besides, you have to make a good impression with the other directors that would be there today as well, and what better way to do that if not going to the construction site yourself, even though you clearly do not belong there given the way your heel wobbled as soon as it touched the uneven ground.

“Excuse me, miss” you’re stopped by a man twice your size — horizontally and almost vertically — extending a white helmet in your direction, “I’m sure that hair costed a lot and you don’t wanna cover it, but every person on site, even the ladies, ‘gotta wear it.”

You stand a bit shocked at the man addressing you like it’s not your last name on his uniform.

“Mr. Fushiguro, I should inform you that it’s your CEO you’re talking to” the boy beside you speaks up, he’s wearing a white helmet and the unknown man a yellow one.

“Great, so you are able to afford the OSHA fine if they decide today is a good day for inspection, but I’d rather not have another pointless safety training just ‘cause no one had the balls to tell you to protect your pretty ‘lil head” his expression doesn’t change a bit with the new information. You find that respectable, especially having so many people stuttering when talking to you.

If you were to say that you don’t get even a little bit amused by people being nervous in your presence Nanami would have to warn you about perjury. 

It’s quite a change to have a blue collar employee sticking to the rules and not batting an eye when the highest possible authority of the company is standing right in front of him, especially when that someone looks like he just got out of a sexy construction men calendar… not that you have ever seen one of those. That’s just what you think they might look like, plus that scar only adds up to fantasy.

You clean your throat, “I appreciate your work ethic, Mr. Fushiguro” you repeat the name so you won’t forget, “I wasn’t aware of the rules” you side-look the young man beside you who’s now staring at his own feet embarrassed since it was his duty to inform you.

“Call me Toji” you take the helmet and put it on, “By the way, you’re supposed to wear trousers too and… literally anything but that” he points with his chin to your high heels thinking how that alone was a safety hazard not just on a construction site. Toji leans closer “but I’ll let it slide, ‘cause you have quite beautiful legs.”

You are left mouth agape, internally appreciating that he didn’t say that out loud — after all being sexualized when you are trying to impose respect would require you to put a show and fire the man — but also makes you question if he was straight forward with you because of his work ethics or because he does not respect you as his superior. 

Not that you wouldn’t let him do disrespectful things to you, but still!

You’re taken to where the rest of the directors are, they’re easy to spot — a bunch of men in suits that clearly don’t belong to the place — surrounding a table with the blue prints. They greet you and you realize this is the first time you see all of them around a table and not sitting, poor guys must be dying for a room with AC right now.

It’s not like you belonged there either, with your tailor made beige suit that had a pencil skirt instead of the newly-discovered-necessary trousers and how-the-fuck-you-thought-that-was-a-good-idea high heels. But in your own defense you did visit a lot of construction sites when you first started at the company all those years ago and that’s much more than the white collar men in front of you can say.

The main architect starts to give you all an status of the project being interrupted by the senior engineer every few minutes, the last one clearly thinking he’s better than the first even though neither of them lifts a finger in this ground.

Your sight is drawn to the man that scolded you before, while the architect is pointing to something on top of the construction and everyone else is shielding their eyes from the sun to find it, you’re looking straight ahead to Toji who’s currently lifting an apparently very heavy sack of cement on his shoulder and taking it all across the site. God, he’s strong.

His handsome face shines with sweat, you’re sure the wife beater he has on also violates some OSHA code, but who would be crazy enough to report that? Not you for sure, the view is worth the OSHA fine.

Especially when he drops the sack with a grunt and uses the shirt to wipe his face, revealing a torso you’re sure Michelangelo would die to use as inspiration to sculpt into marble then having people saying ‘whoa that’s real art’. 

You wonder if someone would scream at you for touching that piece of art.

Unfortunately you don’t expect to get caught ogling by the subject himself. So the best thing you can do is find whatever the architect is pointing to and pretend to pay attention like you should have from the beginning instead of eye fucking one of your employees.

“Hey, boss” you hear on your way out of the site and back to your cozy office where you wouldn’t get your ankle broken that easily. You turn around and see Toji catwalking his way to you.

“Technically I'm out of the hazard zone, mr. Fushiguro” you justify your lack of a helmet which you ditched a few seconds ago.

“Toji” he corrects you, taking his own helmet off “and I’m not this uptight, unlike some people here today” he mutters the last part looking behind him to some of the directors that seemed to be looking for tiny errors on the project so they could fix it and justify being there.

“Well, what can I do for you?”

“I’m pretty sure you're being robbed.” 

“What?” you look around, “What do you mean?”

“You’re paying for double the stuff that’s actually being delivered” he took a sheet of folded paper out of his pants, you reach for it but he pulls it back, “I have proof and I can say names.”

“Did you say that to your field supervisor?”

“Please, who do ya think it’s signin’ under this?” he rolls his eyes.

“So you came to the CEO instead? You’re going behind some big backs here, sir.”

“Look, miss, I want a promotion, I know a lot of big shots will go down for this and I’m the only one capable of handling the people here. Besides I stand by what I said before, no one has the guts to do this so I’m taking a big risk and I deserve compensation” he hands back the paper and this time he let you take it. You stare into his deep green eyes suspiciously, the man has the looks of a fantasy villain with his sharp features and dark eyelashes, you're not entirely sure if you should believe him.

“Give your number to my assistant, we’ll schedule a meeting in the office, you tell me everything you know and I see what I can do about it.”

“In the office? Didn’t know you allowed commonores in your castle” he smirks.

“Only the pretty ones” you wink and his smile grows wider. 

“How long have you known about this?” Nanami questions.

“Not even 24 hours” you sit on your white couch signing for him to take the seat in front of you.

Your lawyer does that thing you find really hot where he unbuttons the coat of his five digit worth suit before sitting down. You admire Nanami’s elegance while he roams his eyes through the paper, he has a vest between the coat and the dress shirt. Navy blue suits him so well, matches his eyes. He makes you think every man should wear vests, but of course not every man can pull it off. Honestly, you find it hard to believe there's anything Nanami can’t pull off, but you haven't seen your lawyer without a suit… ever. 

Maybe he looks bad with a plain T-shirt? 

No way. 

Perhaps with an overall and cowboy hat? 

Mmm the image makes you wanna ride something. 

What about emo hair, eyeliner and a band tee? 

No, you can’t imagine Kento with emo hair, no chance he had a rebellious phase except if his parents wanted him to be a surgeon and he became the best lawyer in the city just to piss them off. 

“I’m glad you came to me first, but we’ll need to involve auditing and probably internal affairs. That’ll probably put the project on hold for some weeks, also I’ll need more evidence than this” he shook the one paper sheet that was merely a quotation of supplies even you could understand is way too much for a single building.

“I got the guy for that, say the word and Yuuta will arrange a meeting” you pointed to your assistant sitting outside.

“Tell me, dear” he put the sheet aside, taking that posture that intimidated you a bit, “A blue collar worker just saw your pretty self on the site and handed criminal evidence? Just like that?”

You open your mouth, thinking what to say that won’t sound like you are being taken advantage of, and failing.

“Oh darling” he says a bit too condescendingly for someone that technically works for you, “Thought I told you about being too naive” he leans on the couch, making himself comfortable like you’re about to have The Talk.

“Kento, is not like that” you cross your arms defensively, “He said he wants a promotion, how risky that would be?”

“Thought you would say that” he takes his phone and hands it to you, “So I did my own little research.”

“What’s this?” you find yourself looking at a picture of the man you met yesterday. 

Only now you could see tiny numbers behind him indicating his height and he held a plaque with his name. He looks way younger, still very handsome, you wonder how popular he used to be in his youth, with a face like that and the implication he was arrested was enough to make every girl’s bad-boy-dream come true.

“What was he accused of?” you ask out of curiosity.

“Not relevant, also sealed records” he breaks eye contact and that’s enough for you to understand he actually knows it and he did not get this information by any legal means.

“So what? The man got a bit of trouble with the law when he was young” you shrug, remembering even your ex husband had a little rich boy “criminal” file, if you can even call the dumb shit he did outta spite for his parents an actual crime.

“HR will find out about this, then you’re going to have to justify why you’re recommending a filled man for a managing position.”

“And I’ll tell them he actually found out about a theft scheme and whatever public-pissing crime he did will surely be overlooked.”

“Darling, you have to start thinking about your image, we’ve been through that before” he tilts his head.

“You don’t like my image?” you question playfully twirling your hair, Nanami smiles for a brief second.

“You know what I mean: your image towards the board, you barely made the votes necessary to be where you are today.”

Indeed, you owned the company and no one could take that away, but the CEO position needed to be voted and you only got the necessary votes because your ex-husband had the strongest voting rights and part of the divorce agreement was that he voted for you, so his, plus a few more other members of the board's votes and you made chief executive officer.

“Fine, then write a contract, he tells everything including testify if he has to in exchange of the supervisor position and I’ll pitch it to the board before any decisions are made” you uncross your arms raising from your seat.

Bringing the board into the conversation made you nervous, most of them don't like you and you’ve been trying to prove yourself for months. Even though you worked your ass off way before marrying the owner all they saw was a hurt ex-wife making pretend.

“Atta girl” Nanami raises too, buttoning his coat back and placing his hands on your tense shoulders. Nanami smells like what you think it should be every handsome lawyer's trademark scent, cause damn that smell would make you sign anything he gives you.

“Don’t worry much, you’re doing great” he presses a bit and you melt.

“Take me out to lunch?” you pout.

“I would love to” he lets go of your shoulder, “Unfortunately I have a hearing, but I'll be back for that meeting soon, okay?”

You sigh in defeat, getting even a few minutes of Nanami’s time for yourself is as hard as it can get, only a corruption scheme to get him to come to your office in such short notice.

“Ma’am” Yuuta says from the speakerphone, “Your ex-husband is calling” you groan, throwing your head back.

Of course he would want to interrupt your moment with Nanami.

“I can get you a restriction order” your lawyer offers jokily (or not).

Aside from being the company's lawyer, Nanami Kento was also your divorce attorney, which you managed to get only after agreeing to give him your company's account if he managed to land you the CEO position. Like everything in this merciless corporate world, it was give and take, you got what you wanted – not surprisingly so, afterall Nanami, even though is not a divorce specialist, is the best. Still, you like to think of him being more than another contractor of yours.

“I appreciate the offering” you smile tiredly, Nanami kisses your hand like the gentleman he is before leaving your office, “Yuuta, I’ll take him– it. I’ll take the call” you sit back behind your desk massaging your temple “Put him through.”

“Hello, beautiful” he greets over the speakerphone in that always so cheerful tone.

“Satoru, what do you want?”

“No chit-chat? It’s the least you could do for me after I gave you the company” entitled as always…

“You didn’t give it to me, you gave it up for the rest of your assets” you remind, already sick of this same discussion over and over.

When the divorce was officially on the table you told Kento exactly what you wanted: the company. The one thing you knew your ex husband would hate to lose, but also didn’t love as much as his lifestyle – which would be brutally affected if you decided to go for the 50% you were entitled to.

So through a carefully written agreement you accepted way less than you were owed in the form of full ownership of the respected construction company and title of chief executive officer.

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. How have you been?”

“Fine. Just tell me what you want, I actually take this job seriously and have important things to do.”

Oh god, he would tease you so bad if he knew about the corruption scheme, and the worst part is that, eventually, he will know. Gojo has ears everywhere around here.

“Nanami” he says simply. You start to look around your office, wondering if he has cameras there.

“You… want… Nanami?”

“Yes, beautiful” he confirms slowly like he's talking to a kid that has just learned the alphabet.

“Why? You know what? Nevermind, I don't want to know. No, you can’t have him” you lean on your chair, denying Gojo gives you great satisfaction.

“It’s not for any bullshit reason, alright?”

“I don’t care, Satoru. Besides, I don’t own Kento, you can approach him anytime” you smile knowing he would never be able to do that without you.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” condescension drips from your phone and onto your desk, “He won’t represent me even if I run for president.”

“So you need legal representation? You’re not calling me from jail, are you Satoru?” you mirror his condescending tone, surely he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Thought you didn't care, or would you bail me out? Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t have the money for that” he laughs, arguing was never a thing with him, he would mock you and find a way to make you doubt your accusations. Gaslighting is it? “I’ll give it a shot, just so you know, but this is a great opportunity for you to ask something in return.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Think about it, baby, I’m sure there's plenty of things I can do for you” his tone is lower, more seductive.

“Doubt it” you roll your eyes hearing his chuckle.

“Yeah? When was the last time you had–” 

You hang up.

Then sigh loudly and press the button to talk to Yuuta.

“Yes, ma’am?” you scrunch your nose, still not used to being called that, Nanami said you should let your sweet assistant call you ma'am or madam at least in front of others since you could use the recognition of your authority.

“Please put Geto on the line.”

“Certainly” you wait, stepping out of your heels and digging your toes on the fluff carpet under the table.

“Hi, doc” you salute your psychologist.

“Sugar, I told you there’s no need to address me like that, hurts my feelings” his honeyed voice is everything you need to hear in such stressful times.

“It does? Maybe you should see a therapist to talk about that, I have a great recommendation” you can’t help but smile like a little girl when talking to him, being playful is a way to cope with your harmless crush.

“Just great?”

“He’s the best, I can assure you” he laughs, “Do you have a few minutes?”

“For you, absolutely” your face warms up then you remember the subject of the call and cools down again.

“It’s Satoru.”

‘It’s always Satoru’ Geto thinks.

“He just called wanting something, I told him no and he made that same old joke about me not having money” you huffed.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Helpless? I don't know, he must think I’m poor now or something” which is ridiculous, you’re not nearly close to his patrimony as you used to when you were married but what you have is still fuckload more than what it takes to be considered poor.

“He’s trying to remind you of what you lost when you left him, this is just another manipulation technique, my love. Don’t let him get in your head” you need this as a mantra to hear every time your ex-husband calls, “Did he bring up sex this time?”

“No, but he was about to.”

“And what did you say?”

“Hanged up” you hear him snorting.

“Well, that can work on the phone, but what if you were talking face to face? What would you have done?”

Geto knows a lot about you. Obviously since you pay him to listen while you ramble and complain. Still, feels overwhelming having someone recalling your previous actions, especially the ones you're not exactly proud of.

“Tell him to shut up, throw a stapler on him, call security, threaten him with a restriction order.”

“Would you really?” Geto likes to take a joke you make and dig on that.

“Well, probably not the last two…” 

“Have you been looking up restriction orders?”

“No, that was a joke my lawyer made early. A restriction order would be too… bureaucratic? Also unnecessary, afterall Satoru he never physically hurt me or threatened to.”

“That would be a good way of making him leave you alone for a while since you're not able to fully detach from him” you sat up.

“That's not true! I’ve been doing everything by myself lately, don't even have time to think about him! I’m detached, doc.”

“Wanna know what I think you would have done if he made that sexual comment face to face with you?” you gulp and Geto takes your silence as consent to continue, “I think you would let him go forward with it.”

You make an offended sound but don't fight his statement, “And what would happen next?” he tones the question like a professor trying to make the class complete a sentence, you keep your head down and mouth shut, “You would’ve let him sweet talk you into sleeping with him again.”

“You don't know that” you murmur.

“It’s a pattern, love. This is how abusive husbands keep their wives from leaving them or even telling anyone about the abuse. They use sex to make them think how good it is to be with them despite everything else.”

“Satoru was not abusive.” you defend your ex-husband firmly, “And I already left him!” you defend yourself less firmly.

“And he still thinks he can have you back! You know why?”

“Because I’m a catch that he shouldn’t have cheated?” Geto stays quiet for a few seconds and you feel a lump in your throat forming. The comment was supposed to sound more like a joke but you're still too hurt for that , clearly.

“That as well, but you really think he regrets it?”

“He seemed pretty sorry in the divorce mediation” you murmur recalling his lost-puppy expression.

“The meeting where he signed a paper that would make him lose his company and his wife? Gee I wonder why” the little sarcastic remark made you smile and shake your head, your psychologist using sarcasm against you is quite funny, “My point is, if you really want to be independent from him you ‘gotta stop letting yourself be attracted back like a magnet” you let his words sink in hearing some papers being ruffled on his side.

“I’m giving you homework.”

“Oh no…”

“Find your sexuality by yourself, you can watch porn, masturbate or even better: have sex with someone. Anyone but Satoru, because right now that’s what he’s using to control you.”

“Geto, I don’t know about this. Porn is too gross, masturbation is too ineffective and sex is too…” you trail off.

“Vulnerable?” he completes.

“I guess…”

“It’s been a few months since you last slept with Satoru, right? What’re you feeling?”

“What do you mean?” you rub your face.

“You know what I mean” he's strict and you let out a long sigh.

“I feel frustrated, sometimes stressed and distracted” all caused by the men you have to deal with including the handsome psychologist putting some sense in you. Not exactly what you wanted him to put in, but oh well…

“Exactly, in your current state it’s only a matter of time until you end up on his bed. You gotta decide if you are willing to: find porn that is not gross, masturbate more effectively or let yourself relax and be vulnerable.”

Is easy to like Geto Suguru, he’s handsome, has a sweet voice, he listens without interrupting (manterrupting is a big no-no for this job thankfully). Though sometimes it’s easy to hate him too, you have to remember he's saying what you need to hear not what you want to, even if your ears could use some tickling from time to time.

“Still with me?” he asks after you remain quiet.

“Yes, doc” he says your name in a warning tone, “Sorry, Suguru.”

“All good for our appointment next week?”

“Hm” your thoughts go to the newly found out corruption scheme that will need your attention the following days, “I’ll ask Yuuta to confirm with your secretary alright?”

“Whatever works best for you, love.”

“Bye, Suguru.”

“Don’t forget your homework.”

🏷️ @rinntvrou @sakurasimppp @sad-darksoul — to be tagged in future works of this series please comment “@ me” in this post.

note: i’m not sure if tickle the ears is a known term worldwide but means “saying or suggesting things to please even if untrue”. also i have some big plans for kinktober so next chapter might take a little while to be posted, let me know your thoughts <3

© all content belongs to cursingtoji; do not repost!

[eamour]

all about techniques.

there are so so many techniques and methods that people have come up with to make manifesting easier and more entertaining. so, let’s talk about the most important points when practicing those techniques!

manifestation techniques.

a technique in terms of manifesting is a method to make you experience the satisfaction of your desire within your imagination. it does not only make manifesting easier and more enjoyable for you but it also helps you to shift your concept of self. you can use any technique to help you embody or identify with your desire.

techniques don’t manifest.

the problem with techniques in manifestation (such as visualisation, affirmations, sats, the "i am/void"-state) is that people tend to assign power to these techniques — more power than to themselves.

again, a method is supposed to HELP and ASSIST you. it’s not doing any of the creating-your-reality work, unlike you. YOU are indeed manifesting things into your reality, with or without a technique. remember. you are manifesting at all times, you are occupying all sorts of states throughout the day, making your current state of consciousness manifest. are you scripting for each state which you NATURALLY shift to? no matter what technique you do, its only purpose is to help you create experiences you would like to have mentally. that’s where all manifestations take place first — in the MIND. not because you have written it down on paper.

all techniques are equal.

when i say "equal", i'm not saying that each technique is the same in terms of what you're doing and how you're doing it. no, all techniques are equal because they all FUNCTION equally and guarantee the same results. no technique works better than the other. no technique is either superior, or inferior.

here's the thing: the reason why people say "this technique works so much better and faster for me!" is because they favour it. they enjoy doing it. doing the technique feels natural to them and doesn’t require a lot of effort. it’s not something that they have to bring themselves to do with force — they LIKE doing it. that’s because we are all different. i know people who could write a fucking novel with the scripts they have in mind. then i know people who love to affirm whenever they can because they think it’s convenient for them to do. and then there is me who loves to listen to music and visualise my desired scenes. what we have in common is that we do all these techniques because they suit us and we can choose to try any other technique whenever we want. we aren’t tied to one technique only. sometimes i end up writing a whole list of things that i want to have, accept it as mine, and go on with my day. works JUST as well as visualising.

please, do not …

... force it · for example, the scenes you could visualise when trying to fulfill yourself or let yourself experience a scenario you desire should come to you naturally. the affirmation you would like to use should feel natural to you. a technique is always something you choose to do voluntarily. it isn’t a rule you need to follow. you're not obligated to do this exact technique for this long and that many days, and so on.

... perfect it · when you do a technique, it’s not your goal to do it as perfect and as accurate as possible. you don’t have to visualise a picture perfect scene, nor will you fail to manifest if you miss to affirm the rest of your affirmations-list. you can forget details when scripting, be as detailed or vague in your visual scenes, or only affirm one single affirmation — that’s perfectly fine! your perfect scene in imagination or your affirmations aren’t what makes it perfect in the physical world, it’s the FEELING you get from it. if you can perfectly FULFILL yourself, then it will be perfectly reflected back to you in its physical form. inner acceptance is what creates fulfillment, not the perfection of a technique.

... complicate it · a technique cannot put you into a spiral and make you question your whole reality just because you think you haven’t done it "correctly". there is no right way to do a technique and no fixed way to practice it. do whatever you like and however you like it!

... follow others · now, you can definitely try a technique that seems interesting to you, that has been introduced to you by others or that you think will be enjoyable. nevertheless, a technique that feels normal and natural to others doesn’t have to feel normal and natural to you. don’t commit to doing something because you think or you've been told that this is the technique you need to do in order to manifest your desire.

no have to's, only want to's.

the premise of each and every technique is that you WANT to do it. there is no forcing, no pushing, no "need to" or "have to". it’s personal, it’s something YOU like doing, not what the bigger collective seems to be practicing. this is what i always remind myself of when practicing anything loa related: you cannot commit to something you dont love, you’ll cheat. meaning, you won’t be able to do a technique properly (as in, having and being), therefore won’t change self and remain the exact same.

if you like visualising, do it! if you like affirming all the time, do it! if you like counting your affirmations, do it! if you like scripting, do it! if you do the lullaby method before going to bed, do it! if you like rampaging after you wake up, do it! again, you are the creator and you choose which technique(s) suits you the best.

what to do.

when manifesting with the help of a technique, focus on inner acceptance. accept your desire as factual. make it a present, undeniable fact. because accepting your desire to be true means to identify with it in imagination, therefore you BE or HAVE it. that’s your goal, that’s your priority.

with love, ella.

[villainintern]

... is an upcoming Choicescript interactive fiction game! You can follow development updates on the dev blog here, view the forum page here, and play the demo here.

Villain Intern is currently on Chapter One: Onboarding as of 9/8/24, sitting at just over 30,000 words.

[FAQ Here, for the newer villains!]

Play as an aspiring supervillain interning at UnderHand, a legacy criminal corporation. Start from the bottom and navigate a world where everyone has it out for you, leveraging your strange superhuman abilities and your knack for manipulation. Make a name for yourself as an executive villain (with your own swanky corner office!), or turn against your higher-ups and usurp the company,…or throw away your promising career for the greater good, I guess...

Powers and Customization:

Choose from two different ability trees. Play as either a homemade cyborg with (painful looking) mechanical augmentations of your own design, or a genetically mutated freak with mysterious, bizarre abilities derived from animal genes. Choose 3 of the 9 unique abilities available for each power type, which update (or mutate) to scale as you get stronger. Climb walls, perfectly mimic any voice, rotate your head 360 degrees, talk to the AI assistant in your brain, etc etc! As a rule, you start out villainous, but whether you’re charming or sinister, sniveling or demanding, and backstabbing or frontstabbing is up to you.

______________________________________________________________

Key Characters and Relationships

Relationship progression tracks two major stats- your connection with a character, and your rivalry, which are not mutually exclusive. So you can romance your greatest nemesis, backstab your closest friend, that kind of thing. Or both at once, with the same person, even..

Fellow Interns:

👾 Peter Hyde is your cubicle neighbor, a geeky slackoff who’s fond of novelty ties. Unlike you, Peter doesn’t really want to be here, but he seems for some reason unable to quit. Laid-back, conflict avoidant, and generally easy to manipulate, he’s easy minion material for the MC- but his attitude belies a volatile, monstrous secret. Which can be a great asset or a major risk, depending on if you can maintain your control over him.

🤖 T9-670 is a seven-foot tall ex-war machine. Once a military member conscripted to UnderHand’s private security decal, its contract didn’t end when it died- the soldier’s brain was transplanted into a humanoid steel frame with a dark glass plate for a face. T9 is doing some soul searching- it’s not totally sure if it even has one left, but it would like to have a purpose beyond fixing printers and mowing down UnderHand’s enemies with its plasma gun.

🔬 Dr. Dr. Elaine Foster is an up-and-coming mad scientist, assistant to the esteemed Dr. Shrink. Don’t bring up the fact that she has two doctorates and is still an intern. She’s a genius prodigy, but otherwise has no superhuman abilities, which causes her to be overlooked by your superiors. Passionate and inscrutable, she’s obsessed with making it to the top her own way, and will remain one step ahead of you if you aren’t careful.

🧪 Reid/Reney Sullivan (gender selectable, nb included) is your nemesis, or at least they think so. They’re employed by OverSight, the subsidized hero-corporation that works in tandem with the government. An interning hero with impressive telekinetic powers, they are nonetheless as much of an amateur as you, and so you find yourself on even footing with one of the most promising superheroes in the business. Earnest and witty, they genuinely just want to help people. Eventually, they become fixated on “figuring you out”, which can lead to them getting sucked into your schemes. That, or their meddling could be your downfall. Worst of all, they might even succeed in reforming you.

There’s also 👁️ Blink, a rogue superhuman- some say vigilante, others say independent villain. Completely anonymous, they wear a unique suit of tactical gear that allows them to turn completely invisible, the first of its kind. Their ultimate goal seems to be killing The Man, but maybe not for noble reasons; they want to BE him, to step into the role of The Man themselves and take over as CEO. Quippy, chipper, and sauntering, they tend to use their powers for ridiculous, showy things like popping up behind newscasters on TV. An invisible superhuman that loves the spotlight, Blink is full of contradictions. And secrets, big ones, that pertain to you.

… plus a cast of older, more established villains and heroes- including The Man, UnderHand’s enigmatic CEO. A faceless, hollow man in an empty suit. Actually, nobody’s ever seen anything but the suit, so he might just be the suit.

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FURTHER READING: 🌃THE PINTEREST BOARD 🎧THE PLAYLIST

TAG ORGANIZATION: VI Updates - The big stuff, new demo content VI Info - The info posts, development news VI Asks - Anything coming through the inbox VI Characters - Character related info/bonus content VI Sketches - Doodles and concept art I've done

[elizabethemerald]

Gala Daze DPxDC

AO3

“What a great idea Vladdie!” 

“I don’t know Jack…” 

“Oh I assure you, my dear Maddie that Daniel will be perfectly safe with me. I won’t let him out of my sight for a moment.” 

“Come on Maddie, it would be a perfect opportunity for our Danno to bump elbows with some rich bigwigs!” 

“Well maybe he can talk to them about getting some funding for ghost extermination. Very well Vlad. You can take Danny to Gotham.”

Danny was disassociating. While not entirely a new state of being, a dissociative episode had never lasted this long for him. He had been fully checked out from his body ever since the flight from Amity Park to Gotham. He had been thinking about turning intangible and just letting the plane fly through him so he could go home, when Vlad had leaned over to him to whisper in his ear. Vlad said if Danny stepped even one toe out of line, or did anything to embarrass him, Vlad would overshadow as many people as it took to ensure that Jazz was turned down by every college she applied to. He would ruin her entire future if Danny did even one thing wrong. 

Danny had started disassociating after that. 

His parents had done a lot to hurt him and Jazz. Usually the harm the elder Fentons did to their children was either accidental or unknowing. Like when Jazz was sick for days after the Thanksgiving dinner where Dad tried to fry the turkey in ectoplasm or like when they shot Danny when he was out as Phantom. 

However this time there was no excuse for them hurting their kids. If they ever listened to their children they would know that Danny hated Vlad and Jazz didn’t trust him. The kids had said over and over again for years that they didn’t like Vlad, but no! Uncle Vladdie could do no wrong! Danny and Jazz were just making things up for attention. 

Ancients, Danny hoped that he could keep his nose clean for the trip, he didn’t want to be responsible for Jazz having to give up her dreams of getting into an Ivy League school. He had lost huge swaths of time. He barely remembered leaving the airport and the next time he was cognizant they were heading to the gala in the tailored suits Vlad had ordered. 

Fortunately Vlad loved nothing more than the sound of his own voice, not even Danny or his mom. So he was more than happy to talk to the people around them about Danny and any time someone asked Danny a question he would be the one to answer instead. Vlad kept his hand either on Danny’s shoulder or on the back of his neck at all times so he couldn’t even slip away. 

Now he was talking to some rich fruitloop who kept trying to engage Danny in conversation. Brucie? Wait? Bruce Wayne? Yeah the guy was rich but why would Vlad go out of his way to introduce Danny to this airhead? 

“Well, yes, my son Damian does have many interests, but I can’t say that any of them have to do with NASA's latest satellite.” Mr. Wayne was saying in response to something Vlad had said. Ah. That made sense. Vlad wanted to brag, shove his superiority into Mr. Wayne’s face. Brucie turned to address Danny. “Tell me Daniel, what do you know about NASA's deep space satellite?”

“Uh, I prefer Danny actually, Mr. Wayne.” Danny said. Mr. Wayne’s eyebrows rose marginally considering those were his first words during this conversation. “And I-”

“Yes, Daniel really is attached to that childish nickname, isn’t he?” Vlad spoke up again. “Really Brucie, you would think children would grow up at some point. We should discuss this more over a game of golf next week…”

Danny let Vlad’s words wash over him again. The worst thing about Vlad was he really knew how to push Danny’s buttons. Of course he would bring up the new satellite only to show off to his rich rival, then not even let Danny talk about it. And then insulting him for his name! Prick!

He tried to avoid looking at Brucie’s concerned face. Obviously he was a socialite and knew all about the proper behavior for galas, and Vlad probably wasn’t meeting those social rules. There was a small part of Danny’s chaos-gremlin brain that wanted to say something seemingly innocuous but super sus if you thought about it. Nothing would make Danny happier than getting Vlad investigated for something stupid like tax fraud, but he couldn’t risk Jazz’s career just for spite. Or gremlin urges. 

Vlad moved his hand from Danny’s shoulder down to his lower back. Danny did everything he could to keep the snarl he wanted to make at that action from coming out. He still couldn’t help the full body shudder that shook his frame for a fraction of a second. Vlad shot him a look filled with malice and promised pain so Danny reigned himself back in and put his attention firmly on the floor in front of him. 

Danny clenched his fists, driving his nails into his own palms. He was sure he was bleeding, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t do anything. He hated feeling powerless. You would think that after the portal accident and him gaining actual real powers the feeling would be far more rare, except it happens far too often and he hated it. His hands were shaking with rage and suppressed desire to punch Vlad right in his smug, manipulative, fruit-loop face. 

He chanced a glance up just in time to see a girl melt out of the shadows near the wall. If he didn’t know better he would say she was a ghost with how easily she was able to appear. But she definitely wasn’t a ghost. Perhaps a touch liminal, but not a ghost. And she was watching him. 

Danny tilted his head slightly to get a better look at her and she tilted her head to match. Her eyes flicked to the two adults for only a fraction of a second to confirm they were still engaged in whatever conversation they were having, then her hand came up and she signed for letters in what Danny recognized as ASL. 

“R U O K.” 

She merely looked the question at him. He risked a peak at Vlad, but he was focused on trying to strong arm Brucie into meeting for a golf match and some private drinks. Other than his thumb rubbing circles into the small of Danny’s back he wasn’t paying any attention to him. Danny looked back at the girl who was watching him intently. He gave the smallest shake of his head he could, hoping that Vlad wouldn’t notice. The girl nodded and slipped effortlessly back into the shadows, all but disappearing from view. 

Several more minutes went by of mindless conversation with Mr. Wayne seemingly had given up on trying to get Danny to answer questions. He let his mind drift again to his beloved stars as he began naming the stars in biggest constellations visible in the night sky. 

For a while Danny thought that nothing would come of the mystery girl who had checked on him, until a crash echoed across the hall from the entrance of the gala hall. Vlad finally released Danny’s shoulder to whirl to face the noise. Then to his surprise, Mr. Wayne turned as well to put himself in between Danny and the crash, effectively hiding him from Vlad. At first he thought that was just serial adopter Brucie Wayne’s first gut instinct in a crisis, putting his body between a threat and the nearest black haired kid. 

However, immediately after Mr. Wayne stepped in front of him, two kids appeared out of the crowd, grabbed Danny’s shoulders and started to drag him away. He recognized the asian girl who had signed to him, and the other was, even more surprisingly, Damian Freaking Wayne! That meant that the other girl must be Cassandra Wayne! Sam had made sure Danny knew all the Waynes before the topic of the gala had even come up. Apparently the Waynes were the only people who made the events her parents dragged her to worth it. 

Damian and Cassandra maneuvered through the crowd so effortlessly Danny had to take a moment to check if they were using intangibility. The trio weaved through as the noise behind them got even louder until they pulled him into a back room of the hall where a very tired looking Timothy Drake-Wayne was already there on his laptop. He looked up at Danny in confusion for a second before returning his attention to the computer in front of him. 

“Don’t worry, that noise was just the chandelier in the entrance hall falling. Apparently it couldn’t take Dick’s weight.” Timothy, actual real CEO of Wayne enterprises said. Tucker would be losing his mind right now. 

Cassandra settled Danny into a chair while Damian marched up to Timothy. Danny could finally take a moment to look properly at the Waynes. All three of them wore elegant, likely name brand suits. Timothy was wearing a plain white shirt under his suit jacket while Cassandra and Damian wore black on black suits, though Damian’s did have some green highlights at the lapels and pockets. Timothy looked like his eye bags had eye bags, which Danny could relate to. 

“Father ordered you not to work for the night of the Gala.” Damian snapped. When Timothy didn’t dignify that with a response the youngest Wayne turned back to face Danny. “Vladimir Masters escorted you to the gala tonight.” 

Danny couldn’t help but snort. 

“What a polite way of phrasing that.” He said with a dark chuckle. 

“Would it be more accurate to call you his hostage?” Timothy asked from his chair, where he was still focusing on his computer screen and whatever it was he was working on. 

That brought Danny up short. He tried to stutter out a denial, but Damian quickly spoke over him. 

“Has he hurt you? Threatened you or someone you care about?” Damian demanded. 

“N-no!  He would never lay a finger on me!” Danny was quick to say, trying to project as much confidence as possible. Cassandra moved her flat hand in line across her face. Damian glanced at her and his eyes narrowed at Danny. 

“You don’t have to lie to protect him. We can protect you, our family has resources.” 

Danny shook his head over and over again. 

“I can’t talk about it. I can’t talk about it. I can’t talk about it.” He had to repeat himself, the phrase trapping themselves in his mind as he kept saying it over and over again. 

If he told them what Vlad had done to him, Vlad would ruin Jazz’s entire life. He already regularly tried to kill his father, but there was no telling what he would do to Jazz. Danny couldn’t tell them about being thrown into walls during his fights with Plasimus, or the clones Danny had watched melt in his arms under Vlad’s uncaring eye. He almost jumped out of his skin when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. 

While he was panicking, Damian had withdrawn, visibly uncertain about how best to approach him. Cassandra and Timothy had come closer, Cassandra had her hand on his shoulder providing a calm, steadying presence. Timothy had closed his laptop and scooted forward his attention now fully on Danny. He made some motion to the others that seemed to symbolize that he was going to be taking point. 

“You’re not from Gotham originally, is that right?” When Danny nodded he continued. “We have some heroes here in Gotham. Believe it or not, we Waynes get kidnapped a lot, get rescued a lot. We know some of the Bats, they could help you.” 

Danny was already shaking his head again. 

“No, no no! That’s even worse. The worst thing that can happen if you Waynes help me is Brucie gives Vlad WE for pennies on the dollar and Vlad gets even richer. But if you get Batman involved, then he could have a man inside the JL. He could turn them against the people, use them as a tool to take over whatever he wants. He could overthrow the Ghost King…”

Now Danny was really panicking. He had muttered the last bit, terror carving its way through him. It would be like the absolute worst of the fight with Pariah Dark and Dan all over again. Danny would have to fight, and maybe kill the Justice League to stop him. If he won, he would have to eradicate Earth’s heroes, and if he lost Vlad would become King of the Infinite Realms. 

“You are talking about mind control.” Damian said, his eyes wide.

“No! Not mind control. Overshadowing. Humans call it possession.” Danny was rambling now. Desperately trying to convince these silly rich people not to get involved. Danny was a lost cause, he couldn’t be helped. All he could do was keep his head down long enough for Jazz to get into her college of choice. The Waynes glanced at each other nervously for a moment and Damian pulled his phone from his pocket. 

“I think I need to make a call.” 

Danny snapped his head up, his attention on the far wall as his breath came out in a foggy puff, like he had just walked into a freezer. He didn't know it but his eyes were blazing green at that moment. 

“It’s too late now.” 

The Waynes all step back or slouch against their chairs. Only a second later the door to their room snaps open, Vlad furious, his once spotless suit now covered in red wine and assorted finger foods. His eyes burned red with rage as he locked onto Danny. Timothy immediately stood to his feet. 

“Ah, Mr. Masters.” Vlad pulled himself back from his rage with difficulty to acknowledge the young CEO. “We were just coming out to look for you. Your ward was grabbed by our security team. Small case of mistaken identity. It's standard procedure during these sorts of events to get my brothers and sister to safety in the event of another terrorist attack. Or worse a Joker attack. Thankfully it seems everything is under control. You may take your charge now.” 

Timothy brushed past Vlad without another comment. Damian glared at him, but he glared at everyone, while Cassandra just stared at Vlad, unblinking, like some kind of demonic cat. Her complete lack of reaction obviously weirded Vlad out even more than Damian’s aggression. 

“Oh I’ll do that.” He grabbed Danny’s arm hard enough to bruise. “Come Daniel. We’re leaving.” 

Danny turned away from the Waynes as he was dragged out the door. He didn’t want to face their pity. At least he did a good enough job convincing them that they can’t help him. Now he just had to last long enough to get back home again. He let himself checkout, ignoring Vlad’s crushing grip on his arm as he dragged from the gala and back to the hotel. 

When Danny next checked in with his body it was to Vlad screaming in his face and burning pain in his body. In Vlad’s furious race out of the Gala after his humiliation he had pulled Danny’s arm out of his socket. And to emphasize his points Vlad would hit him with ecto fire, each hit destroying more of his once nice suit and leaving burns on his body. 

“You think you can just toy with me in front of these richest elite? I will make your life hell! I will make your sister’s life hell! She’ll be lucky to make a living on the street corners of a shit hole like this!” He gestured out to the window, which Danny belatedly realized was open. “I just don’t understand why you make me do this to you, Daniel. Little Badger, you are forcing my hand and I-”

He shrieked as a batarang whipped from the open window. The lights in the hotel room flickered for a second and Batman, Robin and Orphan were standing in the room when the lights returned. Vlad turned to them, furious that they would interrupt. 

“Vladimir Masters. We have some questions for you.” Batman growled. 

“No! I think you’ll find Batman, that I have some questions for you!” Vlad’s eyes flared red. Danny tried to stop him but he was backhanded away

Vlad floated into the air as his ghost transformation rolled over his body. He reached out to grab Batman but before he could several things happened at once. First and most shockingly, Robin drew a katana and cut off Plasmius’ hand at the wrist. Then several voices shouted out at once.

“Azarath Metrion Zinthos!”

“Dnib siht tirips ot sti ydob!” 

“Puer iste spiritus maxime!”

Chains of gold, purple and blazing fire wrapped around Plasmius again and again. The chains dragged him down to the ground even as he snarled and swore at them. A man in a trench coat, a woman in a long black cloak and an actual stage magician appeared in the room, magic sparking at their fingertips. Cassandra had bypassed the battle completely to come to Danny's side, though she did still have her weapons in her hands. Batman turned to address him, ignoring Vlad’s continued vitriol in the middle of the arcane trap. 

“You’re safe now Danny. You don’t have to worry about him hurting you ever again. This I swear.” Batman said, his voice just as serious as it ever was, and for the first time in his life, Danny felt like he could actually believe it when someone told him he was safe. He collapsed to his knees, shuddering sobs shaking his body. He was safe, Jazz was safe from Vlad’s machinations. Maybe this nightmare could finally be over. 

[sangwooooh]

Why won’t you speak?

“As I am standing over your dead, rotting body, I wonder: are you cold?”

Story: between Dick and Jason, Bruce adopts another hurt boy. M/n was around before Dick left, so he really considers him his older brother. When Jason comes around, M/n can’t help but feel jealous. After all, M/n is weak. He can’t be Robin.

Warnings and additional notes: M/n is using crutches to walk because of a car accident in which he took part at the age of twelve, the car accident that killed his parents. Bruce Wayne takes him under his wing, making sure he gets all the medical support he needs, making sure he is cared for. M/n is envious of Bruce’s soft spot for Jason. Major character death. Canon compliant… ? There are things added by me, of course.

—. —

The large doors of the library open with a burst of uncharacteristic storm.

“When has Batman died and put you in charge.” Jason’s shoes make an almost soundless approach in M/n’s direction.

M/n chuckles, “Oh my, aren’t you an opinionated little brat?”

Jason’s tongue clicks. No. He ain’t doing this shit. He takes a few more steps towards his tormentor.

“ I am Robin.” He points towards his chest. “Me. Not you, M/n. I should be in charge, not you.” He might not be in his suit, but he is Robin. And not even this bastard could take that away from him.

“Yeah, yeah. Listen here, you little asshole. You need to calm down. I don’t like you getting in my face. You annoy me. ” M/n rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms, leaning on the windowsill. The library is getting too crowded for the both of them. “Well, you don’t really have a choice. I’m older, more responsible. Don’t you have to listen to me or something?” Jason locks eyes with his fake brother, watching the words fall from his lips like boredom in the wind.

“You’re only two years older. Don’t act superior just because you’ve been here a little longer than me.” Jason wants to scoff, instead he draws back. Only to rethink his decision and bite. “Even so, I am Robin. And you’re just sickly prickly M/n. Nothing special there.”

There is a crack in M/n’s smile. Small, but noticeably there. Almost makes Jason regret it. Almost.

M/n scoffs, hiding the hurt, “You need to calm down, little asshole. It’s Alfred who holds the rule anyway. Don’t even know why you’d think it’d be useless, little me.” M/n tilts his head tauntingly, picking up his crutches and making his way out of the library. “Congratulations though. You’re pathetic.”

Jason rubs his eyes in exasperation. They will never get along. Never.

“Master M/n, is everything alright?” M/n tries to calm himself, almost bumping into Alfred. He feels like he’s gonna burst, but he can’t let the tears fall.

“Oh, Alfred… Sorry. I didn’t see you there.” M/n forces a smile. And he is sure it doesn’t fool Alfred. The elder man always knows.

“It’s quite alright, Master M/n. My question stands, however. Is everything alright?”

M/n averts his eyes, “Of course.” He stumbles a bit with his crutches as he tries to pass Alfred.

“You should try and get along with Master Jason. He is family. You two are family now, Master M/n.”

M/n doesn’t even feel like protesting. This Jason boy came after Dick left, almost as if their father was trying to replace his oldest son. And M/n can’t bear the thought of that. Of course he doesn’t like Jason. They’ll probably never get along.

“Alright then.” Alfred smiles and helps M/n down the stairs. “How about some tea?”

M/n relaxes slightly in the comfort of Alfred’s warm arms, “That sounds great, Alfred.”

Going down the stairs is becoming harder and harder for M/n. It’s like his legs are becoming lazier and lazier, which is normal considering the doctors already informed them about the changes waiting to happen. M/n doesn’t dwell on it most of the time. However, there are those moments of silence in which he can’t help but want to hit his head with something or accidentally drop one of those candles onto his own clothes. Jason had caught him in one of those moments in the library earlier. M/n gets nastier in terms of behavior around then, and truly he doesn’t have any interest in insulting Jason that much (just a little). The little prick just knows how to find his moments.

They get to the bottom of the stairs, but Alfred doesn’t let go. The man really knows everything.

When Bruce gets home, things haven't necessarily changed in any way. Alfred meets Bruce in the foyer, as it usually is when Bruce comes back from business. And then there is Jason who runs ahead of his brother and forcefully throws himself at Bruce with all his young years and fire thrumming in his veins, like he owns the world and Bruce, as well, with it. The man once young boy himself remembers owning the world once, it was not bare then. Behind, with struggle unfit for a child, M/n staggers forth with his ebony crutches. Jason does not let go of his hugs easily, in fact he holds on as if Bruce would disappear if he ever dared to let go earlier than he should. Thus, the man lets his son hug him tight. Moments later, Jason reluctantly lets go, making way for his older brother, who visibly stumbles on an uprise in the carpet.

M/n yelps as one crutch gets caught in the crimson material. He falls in front of everyone's eyes, but is caught by Alfred who is nearer to him. Bruce wants to reach out, he would've reached out. Yes. If, just so, he were closer to his son. Alas, distance is great in between them.

They head into the living room where Jason tells Bruce all about his exploits around the manor and how Bruce’s bedroom is actually haunted when he isn’t there. That gets a smile out of the man, rare as they are. His life has become increasingly livelier since Jason became part of the family. After all, the quiet of Dick’s departure was sadly difficult for one little M/n to fill, though the efforts were there. Bruce just… couldn’t make himself meet his son halfway.

After dinner Alfred corners him in the emptiness of Bruce’s study (not his, his father’s study). The older man wears that look on his face, the one he shows only to Bruce and especially when he ‘s done something bad, like stealing a cookie when he was younger, or choosing to dress up as a bat.

“You should talk to him more.” Alfred keeps his eyes on Bruce and the man once boy under that gaze doesn’t know if he should look away or try to dominate the stare down. It’s an automatic response, he reckons. It would never work on Alfred, either way.

“Jason is fine, he talks to me now.” That gets another smile out of Bruce. He fears these days he is getting stiffer, body hardening with the darkness and the years. Maybe he is actually growing softer?

“It’s not Jason I’m worried about, sir.” Alfred leans forward and places a tray with two cups and a teapot on it. It smells good, roses and camomile?

“M/n? Should I think there’s something wrong with him?” Bruce raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, sir. Should you not?” Alfred continues to look at him, almost as if his eyes harden. It’s hard to tell, even with the bat’s experience.

“Is something wrong with him?” Bruce takes a seat on his father’s old leather chair that was once black but now tints to brown. The chair sighs underneath him with tiredness becoming of age.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself, sir?”

Bruce would ask. He really would. He should… but it’s late. The boy probably sleeps already. “It’s late, Alfred. Some other time, perhaps?”

Alfred scrutinizes him, yet ends in a half concealed sigh. He wasn’t going to tell his Bruce, the stubborn and with years worth of guild child he so much wished fulfillment to about how his son still stands at the dinner table, ashamed to ask for help and beating himself down over how he would never be good enough to help his father the way his younger brother does. No, Alfred shall deal with that himself, as he always does. Foolish master Bruce. He ends with a, “You know best, sir.”

Bruce doesn’t know best. He’s never felt himself as holding the power of knowing whats and ifs and what ifs. The ‘what if’ of the situation, it always arises at the time when his weakness fills him with the dread of what has been. What if he’d said “let’s stay for another movie” the night his parents died. What if he’d spent more time trying to talk with Dick instead of arguing foolishly and towards nothing, like the boy wasn’t the son he so cared for, like he hadn’t been the only once. What if he’d listened to Alfred and talked with M/n more, mended the disruption between him and Jason. What if he’d protected Jason the way he should’ve protected him, the way his soul screamed to keep the boy safe because how can you let someone else suffer when it is you who should have been? It should never have been Jason. Not his Jason. Not his boy. Not his hope and his dreams and the one he holds as if he were holding his younger self. Not the Jason who laughed so hard whenever something remotely funny came to light. Not the Jason who ran to the door to welcome Bruce, jumping into his arms with all his young years and fire thrumming in his veins, like he owns the world and Bruce, as well, with it. ‘Welcome home, dad.’ Not… Not Jason. Not Jason, God, please, not him. Don’t let it be like this, Bruce’s soul screams as it trashes and shoves and splits, stabbing and scratching and killing to get out.

Jason Todd, beloved son and brother, full of fire and full of life

with all his young years and fire thrumming in his veins, like he owns the world and Bruce, as well, with it

The morning Bruce has to come home and let Alfred and M/n know that Jason won’t be home for dinner tonight or any other night, the sun shines on a clear sky. It smiles upon the Wayne lands, over the gardens and the pond. M/n is there with the flowers, reading a book. ‘The three musketeers’ the title reads. Does M/n enjoy reading? Maybe he does. Bruce isn’t around enough to figure out a pattern.

M/n’s eyes raise from the pages, smile a bright one, as the sun above them with a glint in his eyes and hair tussled with sleep and the ends of dreams.

Bruce must look all the wiser and the better and the all powerful because his son’s smile becomes smaller with what Bruce can only read as surprised… a little concern as well.

“Welcome back, dad.” The boy speaks, voice carried by the breeze and the petals of the flowers.

Bruce says nothing. He can’t bring himself to. Because how can you ever begin. How… How do you tell your son his brother has died before they even had the chance to make up after an argument? How do you let your son know, he will be in a quiet house yet again? How do you tell your son you’ve killed his brother?

M/n’s smile falters yet again. And he must sense something because he looks around. Behind Bruce, to the gate, to the flowers and to the door where no one but Alfred stands.

“Where is Jason?” His smile is gone by now, replaced by something akin to curiosity. “Did he get lost?” A small laugh bursts at that.

M/n locks eyes with Bruce again.

Bruce isn’t smiling. His lips haven’t even twitched. In fact, Bruce thinks he is getting worse by the second and it must be showing in some way because M/n forces himself to keep a smile on as he struggles to get up with the help of a crutch. He almost falls twice, but stands almost straight soon, book closed in hand, a finger inside to keep the page. The boy is pretty far into the book. Bruce doesn’t know if it’s the first, the second or the third volume.

“Dad… are you alright?” His son asks him with those alight eyes that speak the language of the sun and the moon. He looks around again, maybe he hopes to see the brother he so is annoyed by. There is no annoyance in his eyes. “Where is Jason, dad? I didn’t see him go inside.”

There’s a shake in Bruce’s eyes, a tremor of the lips. M/n pushes himself forward on the crutch. It gets stuck in the grass for a second, but it does not stop the son from approaching the bat with no suit, no protection.

A shove closer, half a stumble backwards.

“… dad?” Bruce lets his son see his head fall down, down, down, looking at the grass next to his shoes. Bruce thinks he shook his head somewhere in between the burn of the sun on his neck and the thud of ‘The three musketeers’ by Alexandre Dumas, fallen to the earth. For a moment, Bruce imagines the volume as his own head, rolling on the too green grass, blood dried and burned by the sun.

“M/n… Why do you hate me?”

“…”

“Have I… done something that wrong? I know I can be annoying and loud and sometimes want attention, but I don’t mean what I say to you. I never do, not the bad stuff at least.”

“I… I don’t hate you, Jason. How could I? You’re everything I wish I was.”

“Why?”

“Aha… I think I say all I say and blame you all the time because, not so deep down, I’m envious of you.”

“Envious? How could you possibly be envious of me? You’re older and you’re smart… and you don’t get into trouble with the teachers.”

“Ha, well, I suppose I’m envious because dad is close to you, the way he isn’t with me. And… and because you are with him the way I could never manage.”

“But… it’s really not that hard. Just talk to dad, I’m sure it’s gonna be alright.”

“Aren’t you wise.”

“Ha ha. I’m serious, M/n. If you want something, just do it.”

“See? That’s why I’m envious of you.”

… or maybe I admire you for it. Is what M/n imagines late at night, a conversation that could have been between Jason and him, especially close after the funeral, when Dick drinks in his room and their dad drinks in his study and Alfred cleans up the dinner none of them really taste any more, but only eat as unfeeling corpses coveted in a quiet house.

Part 2:

[hestella]

Hannibal Lector x reader: A new face part. 2

A/N: Someone teach Tumblr to me. It's too complicated. I'm not done watching Hannibal cause it's too hard to watch and I'm not smart enough!

Warning: Blind reader, depiction of violence, sexual violence, cannibalism, well it's Hannibal, A lot of mistakes, etc, etc.

Part 1

“Humans have constantly, somehow, throughout the entire history, made some being, or even beings, that were superior than themselves and called them God. The existence of a ultimate power has been created in all known civilizations that sustained long enough to have a written language, and for even those we don’t know had a language, we assume, that there was some type of god within their society, only they couldn’t afford writing it down.” 

Y/N’s voice echoed around the lecture hall. She was wearing a classy, somewhat antique 3-piece suit that had a dark blue color, which went well with her leather shoes too. 

Hannibal sat in the corner, watching and listening to her lecture. He didn’t see himself as much as a philosophical guy, but to be honest it was quite interesting. Her aura and her appearances made it more interesting, more mysterious along with the fact that she was lecturing about philosophy.

His thoughts were similar to others. Other students seemed to be fascinated by the subject. There seemed to be students of all backgrounds, one wearing a lab coat, one who looked like an art major, he even saw some older people who looked like other professors too.

She did not walk around the room like Will. She stood still in a podium, not even using a slideshow to teach. 

“but then, how, one might wonder, and why, could all these pre-historic people collectively think to make ‘god’? Perhaps, it has something to do with evolutionary theory?” She paused. “Any guesses?”

A few students raised their hands, but Hannibal internally tilted his head, how could she possibly see who raised their hands?

“..wow, nobody? I must be blind,” she made a joke, causing the students to laugh. “Don’t be afraid to speak out, please, I may not be able to see, but my hearing’s fine.”

“Apologies, professor. I..I think the essential part of that question is whether or not the pre-historic people knew what they were making was a real God. It may have started from scratch, like, you know, the things adults tell children to explain natural disasters and so.” A student, a bright girl, said. 

“Great. And your name is?”

“Marissa Schurr, professor.” She answered.

“Marissa, do you have any personal beliefs? I’m not asking about religion, just anything.” Y/N looked towards Marissa, her white eyes staring at her. 

“..I..I don’t know, professor, well I’m an atheist, but probably,” 

Y/N smiled faintly. “I understand. Who believes the ‘3 second rule’ here? Or even, who believes the number 13 as unfortunate or, related to death? 7 as the lucky number?” She asked the whole. 

The vast majority of the people whispered among themselves and nodded, few raised their hands.

“I assume most of you guys do believe those. None of those ‘beliefs’ I mentioned are true, we know that, but why do we believe in it?” She paused once more. 

“It’s because us, as humans, and other intellectual animals, find comfort in things that make sense. Myths can be seen as complete lies, but they are logical, sometimes because the majority of the people say it’s logical. For example, the number 13 was the amount of people that had the last supper with Jesus Christ the night he was betrayed, according to the Bible. That is why we think 13 as bad, or unlucky.” The students nodded and jotted down notes as she spoke.

“If I were to say, the reason why it rains is because someone living in the sky cries, and the rain is their tears falling, most of you will obviously, not believe me. But, if you were primitives, and knew nothing about how rain falls, you would have believed me, and the person in the sky would be your God.” 

“Would it, though, professor? I mean, just because you’re a primitive doesn’t mean you’re stupid, or dumb,” another student pointed out. 

She smiled. “To be honest, we don’t know. Why? Because we’re not primitives. We can’t unlearn what we learned. So, I’ll give you a project to find this out. Everyone take notes on this.” 

Everyone shuffled to get their papers. 

“Find a young human, a child, or someone, that doesn’t know how it rains, and also an atheist. Explain and persuade them that it rains because of some other reason, involving a deity of some form, and tell me how it goes. I’ll cold call anyone, so be prepared.” 

She held her hands together. “And that’s the end, ladies, gentlemen, and everyone else in the middle, see you next time.” 

All the students stood up, thanking her. She nodded and waved everyone good bye, reaching for her white cane, which was folded inside the podium. 

Hannibal waited until everyone was out, and headed towards her, purposefully making little noise. 

“That was an impressive lecture, Ms. Y/L/N, or should I say professor?” He suddenly spoke. 

“Dr. Lector! I felt someone familiar,” she looked towards him, a light chuckle coming out.

“How did you know it was me?” Hannibal asked. 

“It’s hard to forget a charming yet profound voice like yours, doctor,” she gave him a smile.

“Ah, you flatter me, Ms.Y/L/N.“ Hannibal’s eyebrows were raised at the unexpected compliment.

“What do I have the pleasure of hearing it again? Another case?” She asked, packing her simple bag.

“Not quite. Agent Crawford wants me to evaluate you too. Take a close eye.” Hannibal said, everything not entirely truths, but also not a lie.

“Ah. Crawford.” She muttered as she held her white cane. 

“I wish that’s okay with you?” Hannibal asked. 

“..Agent Crawford seems quite desperate for my help,” she muttered. “..don’t you think? I’m just not sure if I can be that much of help, despite having you analyze me,”

“You don’t think you’re worth a eval?”

“I don’t think I’m worthy to use taxes, to be exact. The payment is from the FBI, no? Funding of the FBI is from taxes…” she tapped her walking cane as she got off the podium. 

“You’ve done plenty, maybe more than plenty for the FBI in return, Ms. Y/L/N. And not every fund from the government necessarily comes with a return, either.” Hannibal followed her from a respectable distance. 

“Will, maybe. Me? I don’t think so.” she chuckled lightly. “It’s somewhat unethical, you know, wasting money. Especially the money collected by the government, from the people of this country…” 

Hannibal listened to this elongated philosophical rant, about the duties of a democratic country. She was more talking to herself rather than talking to him, not letting him get the upper hand of the conversation. 

Autism? His mind thought of it. But she didn’t seem to have trouble communicating. ADHD? maybe. 

Or, she just was ranting unrelated stuff to avoid him analyzing, not knowing he just did.

She tapped her cane to began to leave the lecture hall, except that there was a slight height difference between the podium and the floor, causing her to stumble. 

Hannibal rushed over and gently placed his hands on her arms to steady her. 

“Careful.” He said. 

“Thank you, what is it?” She asked, feeling the floor with her feet. 

“There’s a step down between the carpet floor and the podium.” 

“..there wasn’t one on the other side,” she muttered, slowly stepping down. 

“Yes, there wasn’t. Must’ve been a mistake,” Hannibal confirmed. 

“…well, thank you again. But I have another lecture to give today, unfortunately,” she said facing Hannibal. 

“No worries. I’ll book your session whenever you’re comfortable, Ms. Y/L/N.” 

=-=

“Wildlife hunters tend to hunt within a narrow limt. They don’t hunt the younger ones, or their parents, they don’t use extensive traps to find them, and they don’t kill endagered species. If they do, they tend to honor their bodies, at least to pay for the nature’s lose and its effects.” She told to the people performing autopsy on Cassie Boyle. 

“Since when did you become a wildlife expert?” Beverly Katz asked. 

“Last night,” Y/N shrugged. “The point is that this isn’t what the Shrike would have done to his victims. This is simply disgrace. He even put the last victim’s body back as an apology. That man would take the girl’s lungs while alive and stick her body to deer antlers? I don’t think so.”

Will nodded, satisfied that she was able to back up his point. 

“Then who do you suggest did this?” Jack asked. 

“Why are you so afraid of admitting there’s a copycat?” She asked. 

There was silence. The people who knew Jack felt their own hair stand up at her question, sensing some sort of nervousness.

“Oh, I’m not afraid, it’s just that there’s 2 killers out there instead of one!” Jack replied with heavy sarcasm.

“The copycat won’t kill another like this one. It’s a…one-time thing.” She answered. 

“And how do you know that, exactly?” Jack asked, clearly annoyed. 

“If the copycat wanted to kill to confuse the FBI into thinking there was only one killer, they would have done it already. But it’s too different, and they know it.” She replied calmly. 

“Why would they do that?” 

“…curiosity,” she replied. 

“A dare,” Will answered. 

“Hold on, you two are telling me that the copycat killed a person just to try it out?” Jack looked at them both weird. 

“..that’s what I think,” she muttered. “The timing’s strange. It’s right after the case was posted on tattlecrime, the copycat might have been interested.” She shrugged. 

=-=-

It was very early in the morning when she heard a ring on her door. 

She spent the night with Will at the motel in Minnesota, and she had to go back to Baltimore to continue her job. She just had the time to change and sleep a few hours before having to wake up and go give a lecture again. 

She stirred awake, not entirely sure if the doorbell was her imagination or not. 

But the bell kept ringing, so she reluctantly got up from the couch and grabbed her robe from where she remembered she had put. She leaned on the door. “..who is it?” She asked in a quiet voice.

“Y/N? It’s Hannibal.” 

At first she thought of who this ‘Hannibal’ was, then she realized and quickly opened the door. The scent of the morning dew and a faint smell of raw meat was the first thing she felt. 

“..is, is it not,” she touched her wrist braille clock to check the time. “..4 in the morning?” She asked, confused. 

“It is, Ms.Y/N. I came with breakfast. Thought it would be a good way to start.” 

She was still processing. “..okay, come in,” her mouth moved, however.

He stepped in, looking around. Her house was clean, nothing on the ground or visual accessories. 

“…why, um, why did you come here, again?” she asked, still sumbfounded. 

“I brought you breakfast, a little ‘get together’ time. I cooked it myself.” 

“You cook?” she muttered and hurried to turned on the kitchen lights and get out forks and knives. 

Hannibal comfortably sat on one side of the island table, taking out the things he brought. “I take extra caution on what I put in my body. A simple salad, with eggs and roasted salmon to cover the protein.” 

“..oh, actually, um..” she hesitated to say. “..I’m quite strictly vegan, so I don’t think I can eat it,” she said. “…I’m truely sorry,” 

“Are you know? That’s unfortunate. Luckly, I’ve made a simple vegan Ceasar salad too,” Hannibal took out another container and gave it to her. 

She looked surprised but got the container anyways, her nature being unable to refuse. “o,oh?” she studdered. 

In reality, it was Hannibal’s plan to test her. He wanted to see if she was really vegan, and how strictly she was vegan, acting like he didn’t know her appetite at all. The ceaser salad wasn’t even vegan, it had anchoive, well, which she didn’t have to know that.

“Please, feel free to eat it,” Hannibal insisted, not giving her time to refuse. 

She reached for her fork and hesitantly started to eat it. “…it..it’s good. Delicious,” she admitted. 

“My pleasure,” Hannibal said. “..forgive me for my curiousity, but do you cook? And if so, is there anything different, considering that you’re visually impaired?” 

“I don’t really cook, not really. If I used to cook before…before I went blind, I probably would have continued, but…I just never found food to be that worthy of spending my time.” She replied. 

“Ah. Do you drink, then?” Hannibal asked, planning what kind of wine he should give her in case he wanted to invite her to a dinner party.

“uh, I drink water, that’s all. Not really…alcohol,” she replied. 

There was silence, and then a laughter. 

“Sorry, I just…I’m so sorry.” She laughed, eating the salad. 

“Don’t be, it’s not like all people drink,” Hannibal didn’t smile, but Y/N, who could only hear his voice, assumed he was smiling. 

“I do have wine, and some whiskey, I think, if you want them.” she cleared her throat. 

“Why do you have wine if you don’t drink?” Hannibal asked. 

“Well, I get gifts, even though I tell them I don’t need them at all,” she muttered, standing up and heading towards a wine celler. 

“Really? They send you wine gifts?” Hannibal asked, while he took out a vile of GHB from his pocket and covered the sound of it unscrewing with the sound of him clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s what they can give to me without getting awkward, you know?” She chuckled. 

He made a chuckling sound, but his face was still. He reached over to her salad and spread the clear GHB equally on it, before she returned with a wine bottle. 

“Do you know what this is? That’s the newest one, I believe.” She said, handing him the wine.

“A Chianti, italian wine, One of the best. I’m surprised you have it,” he looked at it, observed with quite genuine amazement. 

“Is it? Oh well, that’s my gift for this amazing salad,” she smiled and sat back down.

Hannibal stared intently at her, seeing her every movements when eating the salad with the extra ingredient he just put, GHB. He couldn’t help a smile creep up his lips as he saw she ate, her plate getting empty each second. Sep.24 edit: Asperger’s —> ADHD

Tag list:

@wolfgirl-205

(the urge to just write non-plot smut.....is the way I know I'm ovulating)

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Thinking of Ganondorf being from an all female race of Amazonian warriors. Thinking of the sheer environment he grew up in affecting him. How, as a Gerudo, he would naturally be a huge feminist because he looks at his sisters and daughters and KNOWS their strength and endurance. He knows how powerful a woman is. Then he looks at the Hyrule and sees how comparably weaker the women of that country are, how they're expected to stay at home and tend to children while the men fight, how even though it's a matriarchy by nature of the goddess blood that flows through the daughters of the Royal Family, the Kings are looked to with more esteem than the literal goddesses in human flesh that make of the more feminine side of the family. Can you imagine how infuriated that would make Ganondorf???

Get comfortable, lovely, I have a lot of thoughts on this.

First, I think you’re right in that Ganondorf would respect and understand women’s abilities. 100%. I also think growing up in an all female society would have several effects on his behavior, such as making him more physically affectionate and nurturing than most men, because that’s the only example he’s had (assuming, of course, he ever was close enough to anyone to do that - I feel like being the Gerudo king kind of separated him from the others so he might be aloof). But I also think that, given their tradition of crowning the sole male as king, and given their seeming Othering of men (at least in botw/totk time, where they have to take a class to figure out how to deal with men, where girls can’t even look at men, where families are ripped apart because they disapprove of men so much - none of which I find remotely feminist or healthy), he’d have a bit of a superiority complex as well. Not over women specifically so much as everyone, but it would definitely include his own people.

As for how women are treated in Hyrule and his opinion on it… based on his behavior and words in TotK—based on the fact that, at least in most eras that Ganondorf lives in—he comes from a warrior culture, I don’t think he’d be insulted for the Hyrule women so much as insulted by them. Like, his thought would be that if they’re supposedly oppressed why don’t they fight back?? Why are they acting so weak and pathetic and docile?? He might dislike the culture altogether if it prevents women from fighting, but he’d also just… be insulted that they all just think, including the women, that they are incapable of fighting (which I don’t think is ever specifically actually the case. Like yeah, there aren’t tons of female fighters out there but nobody disapproves of it either - there are plenty of women adventuring in botw, Ashei is certainly an exception but isn’t seemingly ostracized, there are female knights aplenty in Skyloft culture, which was the foundation of Hyrule, Zelda herself wields a sword in several games). I don’t think he’d care about the idea that women are nurturers or better suited to care for the home and family, because frankly he has nothing to go on in terms of are men better at this or whatnot. He recognizes his own physical strength is greater than Gerudo women, but, due to the Othering of men anyway in Gerudo culture, it’s hard for him to know if that’s a general thing or if he’s just special. Because dude does have an ego, so he’d definitely think he’s special. But he’d also see that these Hylian women are naturally weaker than Gerudo women and would likely just view all of the Hylians as lesser anyway.

As for the royal family, it’s definitely matriarchal as you said, but I don’t think there’s an emphasis on kings being more important. It’s just that we’ve never seen the queens alive, and that’s a story choice rather than a reflection of the culture. Zelda is almost always underage, and her mother is nowhere to be found. You could assume she just isn’t ruling, I guess, but the only time a queen is specifically mentioned is to say she had died, devastating the whole family. When Zelda is of age, even though the game still calls her princess, she is very much in charge (such as in Twilight Princess and Hyrule Warriors). I think part of the reason Rhoam had such a stick up his butt in botw was because he was serving as king regent, essentially, out of his element, stressed as hell in an upcoming apocalypse, trying to keep his daughter alive, and preparing her to rule once she reached adulthood. His whole rant about her being heir to a throne of nothing would be more poignant (still awful, btw, but more poignant) if he was emphasizing that she was rapidly approaching age of adulthood, about to ascend to the throne, and the kingdom had no faith in her and could likely outright rebel against her as a result.

[cassiefromhell]

Clairvoyant: Visions (pt. 2)

Nanami Kento x International Sorcerer!Clairvoyant!Reader

Prologue (heavily encouraged to read this first.)

wc: 2.3k

warnings: mention of blood/gore (brief descriptions), very short sexual cues, SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS you MUST be finished with season 2 please & ty

a/n: requests are always open, submit shit, im bored <3

“Nanamin,” Yuji calls, finding his teacher standing in the back of the assembly hall, his face pale. “What does this mean?”

“It means we’re getting a visitor,” Nanami frowns, hands tensed at his sides. 

“Then why is everyone so worried?”

“Because,” Gojo joins in, grinning, having appeared out of nowhere. “Everyone here is a worrywart. Nothing is going to happen.”

“Did you not receive the code?” Nanami raises a brow. “The damned Reaper Repeller is coming. The kids don’t deserve to be lied to.”

“…What’s the Reaper Repeller?” Yuji tilts his head to the side. “Some weapon?”

“I met her a couple times,” Gojo’s smile widens. “She’s pretty damn cool. She’s part of the International Squad and can see the future, so when she shows up it either means that our superiors deemed that a mission needed an extra hand, or that she saw something and is coming to change what she saw. Last time, she saw that I was gonna make a building fall or something, so she gave me a certain set of rules, like what to not do. No buildings fell, so she’s pretty legit.”

“That was an 18C18 code,” Nanami grumbles. “That didn’t even require an assembly. This is an 18J18.”

“…What’s that one, again?” Gojo gives a sheepish smile.

“I’m so lost,” Yuji mumbles, looking between the two. “18?”

Megumi walks up, followed by Nobara, and joins the conversation. “This is a J?”

Nanami nods.

“How do you break down the codes?” Nobara adds.

Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The eighteens are for R and R, due to her nickname. The letter in the middle represents what she saw. For example, she showed up to Canada a few months ago on a code 18A18, which meant a battle would cause some sort of dispute that would stir trouble. B means she saw a civilian or two die. C means she saw mass civilian death. And so on, until J. It’s the maximum letter.”

“And?” Nobara pushes, raising a brow. 

“It means she saw something very bad, and everyone has been gathered to be told who is set to die.”

Stepping off the jet, you haul your suitcase behind you, and are immediately greeted by two men. You know them both — you studied the entire Japanese Sorcerer database on your way here.

Kiyotaka Ijichi, clad in a suit with a grimace on his face.

Masamichi Yaga, principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High and teacher to one of the students you watched die.

“We would welcome you, but we know you aren’t here with good news,” Yaga says with a sigh, straightening his uniform. “Please, follow us. Ijichi will take your bags.

The pilot of your jet is already helping Mila unload the twenty-three suitcases you brought, all full to the brim with weapons and necessary training items you handpicked to make sure you turn the gate of Shibuya.

“My associate will get them,” you gesture to Mila, who is currently hooking all of the bags onto her extra limbs, leaning back a little from the weight. You grip the handle of your singular personal suitcase.

The two men nod, not bothering to even try arguing with you. Why would they, when you’ve come with death biting your heels?

You slip sunglasses off of your forehead and over your eyes, following them as you approach three cars, sleek and black with a subtle Jujutsu symbol on the back license plate. 

It’s a short car ride over, one in which you and Mila sit silently in the back of a limo, while Yaga tries to ask you questions. Nobody gets a private briefing, that’s just how you operate. You avoid all his inquiries with vague comments, crossing your legs and sipping a glass of sparkling water. International sorcerers are known for kind of being hardasses anyway, so 

You pull up to the school in no time, and Yaga escorts you and Mila through the building, down hallways and around corners. Eventually, he stops outside a large set of double doors and turns to face you.

“This is the assembly hall. All of Japan’s sorcerers are gathered behind these doors,” he gestures to the entrance. “Please remember that we have children in there.”

“I know,” you whisper. “One of them dies.”

Yaga goes very still, and you walk past him, opening the doors and immediately finding yourself on a slightly elevated platform.

A massive crowd of dark blue uniforms stands before you, all falling quiet at your entry.

You step forward, approaching a podium. Mila has her spider limbs tucked away, as to not appear threatening. She hands you a stack of papers, and you gather them, placing them on the podium as you lean forward to speak onto the microphone.

“Good Evening, sorcerers. My name is (Y/n). I won’t stretch this meeting to be longer than needed. My technique is Clairvoyance, and I am here because I have seen the future of a battle here in Japan. It will take place in Shibuya, on October 31st.”

A murmur goes through the crowd, but you clear your throat to recapture their full attention.

“I do not want you to be afraid. My visions can be changed. Without me, there will be sorcerer death, irrevocable damage, and the snuffing out of thousands of lives, including civilians. But I am here to help. To do so effectively, I will call forward the names of the affected. I will save your lives. Stop you from losing limbs. Prevent disaster. Do not be afraid.”

The room goes deadly silent.

“Nanami Kento.”

And just like that, the crowd erupts once more.

A man in the back of the crowd — the blond that you saw burnt and ultimately exploded — nods to the pink-haired boy at his side and starts making his way through the crowd.

With a sharp raising of my hand, the crowd goes silent once more, as Nanami passes soldiers who give him solemn nods.

“Kugisaki Nobara.”

You continue calling names, until you have at least a dozen sorcerers in front of you. Too many are children. There are managers, too, and other people in suits. 

Your eyes skim the crowd, then fall back to your paper, which has crumpled in your grip. You call the last name, knowing what reaction you’ll get.

“Gojo Satoru.”

The crowd erupts, the room filling shouts and surprised cries and confused discussion.

The Untouchable.

You take a steadying breath at the rowdiness and gesture towards a private briefing room to your left, raising your voice to a shout.

“I will now ask for those who have been called to follow my associate here into a separate room. You all will be privately briefed. The rest of you… you will get the minimum details from your superiors.”

With that, you step back from the podium, and even more of the gathered sorcerers start shouting, demanding more details. You ignore them — you have to. Mila guides the called ones into a side room, just as you approach a small group of superiors and give them the very basics: there will be a city cratering, and the start of many bad, bad situations. You inform them that you will be making ideal teams for the mission, which you will release in a few days’ time.

With dragging feet, you force yourself to walk to the side room, where all of the ill-fated sorcerers are.

So far, at least.

Dealing with the future is a tricky business. Changing one thing, even so simple as this meeting, will cause different futures, which you will see and have to adapt to. 

You swing open the door, and find everyone already sitting at a long, oval table.

“I’m sure you’re all not happy to be here,” you take a corner of the room to stand in, crossing your arms and attempting to look as non threatening as possible. “Unfortunately, this meeting is necessary. I’ll call you each one by one into a private space, to be told what will happen without intervention. From there, we’ll talk about options—”

“(Y/n),” Gojo interrupts, leaning back in his chair like this is all just a game. “You know me. I don’t really need to be here, do I?”

“You do.”

“What’s gonna happen, I get a scratch? Lose a limb? Shoko will fix all of that,” he drawls, putting his hands behind his head.

“Gojo, you’re going to be sealed in a box, and then a shit ton of people are going to die or be injured trying to save your ass,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. “You need to be here.”

No more arguments come.

You step forward, softening your expression, and your eyes land on the blond man, sans goggles — Nanami Kento. He’s handsome, even if in the back of your mind you still see that burned half of him. You decide he’ll be the first.

“Kento, right?” You drop the formalities — which you’re happy to do anyway, since you usually struggle with those when you’re in Japan. “Please, come with me.”

His jaw tenses as his eyes flick over you, and then he stands. You escort him into a small private room, closing the door behind you. There’s three comfortable chairs and a little coffee table, which has tissues and a pitcher of water with glasses on it. Comfort items, because people often cry.

Kento sits in one chair, and you take the one across from him. He’s exactly as you imagined in your vision. Tall, muscular, with a sharp jaw to match. He smells like vanilla and cedar. Except this time, the putrid scent of burning flesh is left out. He’s so… lovely.

“Lay it on me,” he clasps his hands together in his lap, after pulling his goggles off. 

You chew your bottom lip. You usually don’t have issues with this part of the process; the bluntness is part of your job. But something about this man is putting you off, making your mind stagger behind your duty. Typically, there’s a sniffling/worried/sobbing/angry person in front of you. But Kento? He’s so… ready for this. Not upset at all.

“You would die a hero,” you whisper.

Then you blink, realizing what you said. There’s no need for comfort here. Excessive sweetening of the truth is just counterproductive. And yet, something in you is screaming at you not to stop.

“In your current fate, a curse burns half of your body. And yet, you still fight. On death’s door, you would be noble. A good mentor for your students. One they would miss dearly,” a tear pricks at the edge of your eye. “The curse by the name of Mahito is the one to finish you off. But we will stop that path. You will live, that I can be sure of. I’m sure your future has already changed, just because this conversation is setting the base for the weeks of prevention training to come.”

If anything is going through his head, he doesn’t show it. “Does your technique show you when the future changes?”

You scratch the back of your neck. “In a way. My technique has a mind of it’s own. I can typically foresee imminent death a few moments before it happens, but I can also get mass visions like I got of Shibuya. If I need something more specific, like to see if your future changes, I would have to touch you, and then see what my technique gives… me…”

You trail off as he holds out his hand, eyes focused with intent. 

“Please,” he murmurs. 

You nod, slowly sliding your hand against his—

“Oh my gods, that’s a lot of roses,” your jaw drops, eyes widening at the sight before you. 

Your bed is littered with roses. The floor is covered in its petals. It’s beautiful, and the scent fills your nose with a loveliness like no other.

“You deserve every last one,” Kento grins, coming up behind you and kissing the nape of your neck. His arms slide around your waist. “For honoring me in being my wife.”

“Wife,” you giggle, tossing your head back to gaze up at him. “I’m never gonna get used to that. Mrs. Nanami,” your tone becomes sing-songy as you admire your engagement ring.

“Always and forever, my love,” he leans down, claiming your mouth with his. His thumbs rub against your hips, then move inwards, moving up and down the seam of your jeans crotch, as you feel him against your ass—

You pull your hand away quickly, blinking as you snap back to reality. You look to his hand, then to his face, but all you can see are his lips, those lips that kisses you better than you’ve ever been kissed in that vision—

“What did you see?” He asks, leaning forward. “What did you see?”

You open and close your mouth. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Well…” you start, chewing your lip. “…You live past Shibuya, that I’m certain of.”

Relief crosses his face, and he relaxes, all as your heart pounds harder.

You glance down at your left hand, the hand that now feels too light without a diamond on it. Then you glance back up to him, and even though his expression gives nothing away, you know from that vision that something else is brewing in that beautiful, beautiful head of his.

Because this man? Nanami Kento?

He’ll be your husband.

taggies: @vxmethyst @techs-ass @gasp-a-homo @doubtsanduncertainties (me when tumblr isn't showing you as a user when tagging: ) @vee-ai

want to be tagged on the next part? comment and ask!

[mxtxfanatic]

Heyy ✨ hope you're having a good day. I wanted to ask:

What are your views on lan qiren and the so called "righteous" lan sect?

Their hypocrisy baffles me SO MUCH especially if we see the parallel drawn between the situations of madam lan and wwx. Without even knowing the full story or giving them a chance to explain their actions they just serve their judgement upon them. They spend their whole lives conforming to a set of strict rules but then go on and break those same rules (which they punish and berate others for) when it suits them .They go on about rules to not be prideful, to not be arrogant but ARE prideful borderline arrogant about the fact that they are righteous, that they are elegant, that they are the LAN sect . Again, They have rules for forbidding gossip and to not make assumptions but all the judgements they laid about wwx were based upon rumors. The RUMOURS they didn't even bother to check. Moreover, after the siege when they were all proved wrong, they (and all of the jianghu) just kept silent. They didn't even acknowledge their mistakes and wrongdoings. They didn't correct the false assumptions about the wen remnants. They kept on willfully being blind. They fucking portrayed the history with THEM being the beacons of justice and then have the AUDACITY, the NERVE to call themselves righteous, moral and good. I recently read a post comparing wwx and the lan righteous and I couldn't agree more with it.

I'm sorry I'm new to Tumblr idk how to attach it here (I think I was successful at adding a link). Basically it was drawing a parallel between Hindu religious texts like Bhagwadgeeta and Mahabharata with MDZS pertaining to morality and righteousness, and the parallel drawn between Lord Krishna and Wwx's character.

""  The lesson is - don’t do good deeds out of pride or with the desire to win God’s favor. Do it because being righteous is its own reward. That is the distinct difference between the Lan righteousness, which has become performative - done to preserve reputation and save face, and WWX’s righteousness, which is done simply because it is the right thing to do. The former is a slippery slope that can lead to mistakes and an unrighteous path. The latter is a difficult but ultimately the superior path."

Pheww... I'm sorry.😭 I got carried away and started ranting 😅 but it just makes me so MAD. it was so unfair what happened and the jianghu didn't got any punishment neither did they repent. I bet, post canon, even after the whole truth is out, they wouldn't treat my boy wwx as he deserves.

So coming back to the question what is your take about the lan sect and lan qiren?

Btw I love your blog 🥰especially your takes on MDZS. Your arguments and opinions are very concise and factual it leaves less to be desired.

This is a very long and engaging exchange I once had with @/ladyqueth on the topic, and with a few small changes to my view on Lan Xichen (I said he "isn't shown to have learned" by the end of the novel when I should have said he's still processing; the former makes it sound like he pulls a jc or lqr) and a caveat that there is validity to wangxian choosing to leave the Cloud Recesses to enter seclusion elsewhere and I just couldn't find it during that convo, this is pretty much how I still feel.

Idk who said it or if this would even apply to a translation of mdzs since I do not know the language breakdown, but someone once said that it was a mistake that cultivation sects/clans got translated as "righteous" instead of "orthodox," because "righteous" holds a connotation in English that doesn't necessarily carry through to what is meant when used to describe the clans/sect in cultivation cnovels. Can't say that you are a "righteous" cultivator in a world where it is perfectly acceptable and expected of you to kill someone on the street and steal their stuff just because they're weaker than you. That's like the opposite of righteousness as English speakers use the word lmao!

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There are Exceptions

(Part 2 of There Are Rules)

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

A/N: Not sure why this was suppressed from search the first time around. Trying again, this time without the tag list because I don't want to spam you guys.

Summary: Your Top Gun instructor continues to condemn your reckless behavior - this time out of the cockpit - while simultaneously being drawn to you against his better judgement.

CW: age gap (20-25 years), angst, swearing, some fluff, fairly mature content so please read at your own discretion. I'm gonna say this is a mature read just to be safe, not really sure where the line is, y'all.

WC: 2000+

Twenty minutes after your encounter with Maverick in the locker room, you walk into the debriefing room to find Cyclone pacing back and forth in front of the whiteboard with his hands in his pockets. When he sees you, he shoots you a stern look before shaking his head and turning away in disgust. You glance at Maverick who is standing to the side, watching you uneasily.

“Tell me what she’s still doing here,” Cyclone says through gritted teeth.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Maverick responds resolutely.

Cyclone looks over at Maverick sharply. “Excuse me?”

Maverick reciprocates his unyielding expression. “She made a mistake. I’ve already spoken with her.”

“You’ve spoken with her?” Cyclone raises his eyebrows in astonishment.

You make your way further into the room, waiting for an opportunity to communicate your version of events. Your call to land your aircraft despite unilateral engine failure was not a mistake, and you intend to voice that opinion.

“It’s my decision,” Maverick says, eyeing you grimly. “And my decision is that she stays.”

Cyclone watches Maverick bitterly. “Get her out of my sight,” he says dangerously.

Maverick’s gaze remains fixed on you as you let out a sigh, prepared to defend your actions. Maverick shakes his head slightly, cautioning you against it, so you press your lips together forcefully. Fighting to keep your anger at bay, you salute your superiors and proceed to storm out of the room before you could make the situation worse.

…

You head out into the parking lot in a fury without even checking to see if perhaps Maverick has followed you out. You toss your bag into the backseat and slam the door so hard that your car shakes. You start the engine just as Maverick steps out of the building, glancing around. Putting the car into drive, you hit the gas aggressively, pulling out of your parking spot with excessive momentum. He watches you wearily as you speed past him and you see him shaking his head and heading for his bike at a run in your rear-view mirror.

You find yourself hardly caring how he feels about your theatrics. You’re so furious that you know you’re not thinking clearly. If your rage makes your driving reckless, then so be it. You swerve between the sluggish cars, cursing every driver for not getting out of your way fast enough. Behind you, Maverick is following suit, so you clench your jaw and push down on the gas pedal, pulling a sharp turn at the intersection.

Two seconds later, you see Maverick appear on your left, signaling with his arm for you to pull over. You obstinately look straight ahead, ignoring him. You don’t want to see his stupid face any more than you want to go back to Top Gun and see Cyclone’s. You can’t tell if you’re more pissed off that Maverick walked out of the locker room before the two of you could resolve whatever the fuck it was that happened, or that he let Cyclone dismiss you without even giving you a chance to stick up for yourself. Either way, you’re not in the mood to be chewed out for a third time in one day.

You glance over at him again, noticing that he’s yelling something at you from the neighboring lane. You look back at your speedometer and realize that you’re going 30 miles over the speed limit. You let out a frustrated sigh and ease your pressure on the gas, letting the car slowly decelerate. You pull off to the side of the road, a cloud of sand lifting off the shoulder as you hit the breaks. Maverick pulls up right in front of you and hops off his bike before you’ve even unbuckled your seat belt.

He walks around the front of your car and slams his palm on the hood. “Do you have a death wish?” he yells so loudly that you hear him even with the window rolled up.

You stare at him mutely through the windshield as his jacket flaps in the breeze. The wind is messing up his hair and flattening his t-shirt against his abdomen and you’re irritated that you find him attractive even when you’re this mad. He’s in his aviators so you can’t see his eyes, but he looks livid; his jaw is tight, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

He steps around the side mirror, leaning down to peer into your window. “Open the door,” he orders.

You give him a flat look and turn away, so he knocks on the window.

“Y/N,” he calls. “I’m not leaving until you open the door.”

You sigh, wondering what he wants from you now, considering where you left things not even an hour prior. His knuckles rap on the window again and you look over at him coldly. Maverick takes off his sunglasses, hooking them into the neck of his t-shirt, and his eyes betray his concern despite the hard set of his jaw.

“Are you okay?” he asks through the window.

The fact that he’s concerned enrages you. How dare he presume to care now? Yet his troubled tone paired with the agonized lift of his eyebrows weakens your already volatile composure. You feel the sting of tears behind your eyes and you shut them tightly trying to hold back every last one. You turn away from the window, lowering your gaze.

Maverick leans his head into the glass, trying the door again even though he knows you haven’t unlocked it. “Talk to me, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, knowing that sooner or later you’ll have to face him again. You reach for the lock and, the moment it clicks, Maverick pulls the door open. You’re still not looking at him, however, because you’re too busy trying to neutralize the sudden onset of emotion, a condition with which you’re not too often afflicted. Your efforts fall short as several tears escape, dropping into your lap.

“Hey,” Maverick says, lowering himself into a crouched position by the side of your car. “Hey,” he repeats, laying a hand on your leg. “Please don’t,” he says, curling his fingers around the hand in your lap. “Don’t cry,” he whispers.

You lick your lips, glancing down at him with eyes full of tears, and his tortured expression crumbles further.

“Y/N,” he whispers, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek. He moves his thumb under your eye, catching a tear.

You let out a small sigh, leaning your face into his hand. Maverick furrows his brows, trying to mask the look of longing on his face. He pulls on your hand that’s still firmly in his grasp and brings it to his brow as he lowers his head.

“What do I do here, Y/N?” he mutters. “Tell me what to do.”

You have a few ideas but you decide to keep them to yourself. He’s too stubborn to listen to anybody but himself anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry that I crossed the line today.”

It seems impossible that words could elicit this much hurt, and yet his words inflict an agony you’ve never experienced. Your only solace is that he looks just as broken as you feel.

Your extremely competent, confident instructor is falling apart right before your eyes and you’ve never wanted him more because it’s you who’s affected him in this way. You pull your hand back, taking his with it, and he glances up at you defeatedly. You twist your fingers out of his grasp and place your hand on the wheel. “I should go,” you say, wiping your face resolutely.

He nods, grabbing the door and lifting himself up. He sighs, glancing in either direction before patting the roof of your car. “Go slower,” he requests.

You let out a wry chuckle. “That’s not my style.”

Maverick shakes his head with a grim expression. “Please, don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re indestructible.”

You stare ahead at his bike a few feet away from your car. “Where’s your helmet, Captain?”

Maverick scoffs, a smirk materializing on his face. He nods, pursing his lips. “I am a terrible role model,” he admits.

“Kind of an unfortunate trait considering your profession,” you note.

Maverick laughs, lowering his head to peek into your car. “I’ll get a helmet if you slow down,” he offers.

“Not like you to play it safe,” you say, a hint of disappointment in your tone.

He sighs. “There are road rules for a reason.”

“Again with the rules,” you say rolling your eyes.

He watches you quietly for a moment and you know you’ve hit a nerve. “Some rules don’t have exceptions,” he says.

You meet his gaze. “And others?”

Maverick’s expression darkens. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” he says, and pushes off the car with a heavy sigh, shutting your door.

You watch him walk back to his bike, his jacket flapping in the wind. He stands there for a moment, staring at the seat somberly. He hesitates for several seconds, then lifts his gaze to look at you through your windshield. He shakes his head slightly and sets his jaw, glancing upward as though he’s cursing whatever higher power has made him feel the way he does about you. His mouth twitches and, as though he’s made a split-second decision, he’s suddenly turning back, stuffing his keys into his pocket as he marches toward your car.

You stare at him in shock as he pulls your door open forcefully. The next moment, he’s ducking his head into your car. His mouth is clamped shut as he tries to compose himself, but he’s breathing so forcefully, his chest is heaving with each inhalation. His eyes are sweeping over your face with such ferocity that it feels obscene in the most amazing way. His jaw remains taut as his face hovers just out of reach, and you want more than anything to pull yourself closer, to kiss away the worried crease between his eyebrows.

He releases another heavy sigh, his hand sinking into your thigh. “If you think that this has been easy for me,” he says steadily. “That your face, your voice” – he inhales slowly – “your smell has given my mind a moment’s respite, you’re wrong.”

His other hand finds its way up your neck, curving around the back of your head. You shudder as his thumb brushes over your lips, nearly vibrating with desire. You want to ask him why he’s fighting it if you’ve been occupying his thoughts as much as he has been yours. But all that escapes your mouth is a hollow gasp as his thumb pulls down your lower lip, parting it from the top.

“First day of your training, you walked in with your hair down,” he says. “You stood at your desk, twisting it back up before taking your seat, pen between your teeth. You were laughing at something and I” – he closes his eyes for a moment – “I was gone. I knew it right then.”

You gulp down what feels like a solid bubble of air because your mouth is so dry. “Captain Mitchell,” you say quietly. His hand tightens on your thigh at the words. “I was standing because I wanted you to notice me.”

Maverick’s gaze softens, his mouth curving upward in a warm smile as he watches you fondly. “Oh, I noticed you,” he says ruefully. His gaze dips to your mouth as his thumb continues sweeping across your lip.

You pray that he kisses you soon because otherwise you might just erupt in flames right under the midday sun. “I noticed you too, Captain,” you breathe over the tip of him thumb.

Maverick groans slightly, inclining further into the car as the side of his head comes to rest on your forehead. With his eyes closed, he rolls his face slightly, until his nose connects with yours. “Good god, I want you.”

The words ignite something inside of you and you reach out to grasp a handful of his t-shirt and pull him forward. Maverick comes willingly, his mouth crashing into yours as his knee lands on the seat between your legs. His hand drops to squeeze your shoulder on its way down to support you as you lean back over the console.

Maverick catches your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling on it gently as you let out a soft moan. His hand moves higher up your thigh until you can feel a soft pressure between your legs. His tongue drifts along your jawline as he kisses your face on his way to your ear and then down your neck. You let out a whimper when his hand starts gently stroking you over your jeans. Maverick opens his mouth over your neck, bathing your skin with his hot breath. “What I am doing?” he whispers, his grip tightening on your leg.

“Please, Maverick,” you pant, grabbing a larger chunk of his t-shirt to keep him in place. “Don’t stop.”

You feel another gentle kiss on your neck. “Couldn’t if I wanted to,” he replies breathlessly.

Part 3

A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it :D I may be adding one more part to this story so you can look out for that in the near future!

[audrinawf]

Channel your future self to manifest all your desires

To understand this post you need to understand and be open to the multiple realities theory. the theory is this, the past, present and future are happening all at the same time. on top of that there’s endless realities and timelines happening as we speak. to manifest anything you’re going to to have to align to a reality and or future where you get to have those things.

So how do we connect with our future selves and why is this a superior manifestation method?

Let me give you guys an example, When I want to manifest money I don’t need to watch 59394 videos on how to make money. The only thing I have to do is ask the universe to show me how ai can make money the way that’s suited for and the way that will make me the happiest and sometimes I get my answer immediately.

How does that work?

Whatever you are looking to attract and manifest, there’s a way to get it, even if there’s not the universe will rearrange the whole world to make a path for you. Just accept this as fact.

I can’t tell you the amounts of times I’ve manifested things that were “impossible” to manifest and yet somehow I was always the exception to the rule. Somehow it worked out for me even when there was no explanation as to how.

You can do this too. You just need to detach from the how and stop trying to do 48384 things to get your manifestations. Once you decide what you want.

1. You quiet your mind.

2. You kill any doubts.

3. You quiet the part of your brain that wants to engineer a plan and figure out exactly how you will get your manifestations step by step.

Remember that step 3 is about quieting our ego brain. The brain that thinks out of a place of desperation, lower vibration and fear. We are not trying to quiet our creative brain (aka our higher selves)

4. and then you just listen.

Once you enter that deep meditative state or just a state of awareness and high frequency you are open to receive guidance from the universe. The wisdom and guidance you’ll receive will feel like what we call “intuition” and you have to act on it, or at least write it down. That’s the only instructions you’re going to follow.

You don’t need a business coach to tell you how to make 4837373 dollar a month cause they don’t know your talents and strengths, they don’t know you the way your higher self does. A future version of you that has everything you want right now knows exactly how you got your manifestations and sometimes when we get to the state of flow and awareness we can hear our future self try to guide us towards that future.

[daidonzo]

I guess any thrill will do

You felt like a fish out of the water since you arrived at The Beach.

Granted, it was much better than being on your own playing those deathly games every four to five days, struggling to find food and warmth and not sleeping more than one hour at a time because you had to keep one eye open, never feeling completely safe.

Here, at least there was electricity. Potable water, enough food for everybody.

And people. And parties. And alcohol, and drugs.

The place, however, felt artificial, staged. For some reason, if you allowed yourself to have fun, you thought it would feel as if you were lying. Denying the reality you were in.

That was the reason why you had yet to socialize with anyone, sitting sideways awkwardly in a stool in the bar area by the pool in a very tiny bikini and a knitted see-through dress that left nothing to the imagination. You had finished the fancy cocktail you were served some ago, now playing with the straw, biting its end while you observed those around you.

You were thinking what the best way to approach a group of people would be when a girl, in a blue bikini and dreadlocks appeared next to you, ordering a drink for herself. She sat down, her knees bumping into yours as she did.

‘Oh, sorry! Mind if I sit here?’

‘Not at all.’ You tried to smile at her, but it was all teeth. How long had it been?

‘New to The Beach?’

‘Yep. I just arrived a few days ago. Is it written all over my face?’

‘A little.’ She giggled, grabbing her drink and taking a little sip. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Lucky for you I’m here now.’ She extended her hand. ‘My name’s Kuina.’

You told her yours, shaking it firmly. You had a lopsided grin, and this time it was for real. Eyes included.

───⋆☆─────────────

The next day you woke up late in the afternoon, extremely tired, but you felt better than ever since arriving at this wasteland. You had made a friend, Kuina.

You had always been a people’s person and a party goer, and yesterday had found out that maybe temporarily pretending you were in an extravagant club in Tokyo where the dress code was beachwear was not that bad. Especially if you had no more days in your visa and you needed to play a game today.

You brushed your hair and teeth, put on a different bikini and the same dress and went to the lobby of the resort, where your new-friend said she could most likely be found. And there she was, in all her shining glory, accompanied by a blonde man in a white hoodie.

She seemed as pleased to see you as you were to see her. Your savior.

You were finally starting to feel like yourself again.

She introduced you to the man, whose name was Chishiya. He was… nowhere near as nice as Kuina, had an air of superiority about him that in any other situation would have made you raise an eyebrow, but now you didn’t particularly mind.

You talked for a bit, about the events of last night, Chishiya only intervening to make sarcastic remarks here and there.

Then, Kuina switched to explaining how The Beach worked.

‘There’s the Hatter, he is the leader.’ You nodded, giving her your full attention. You had met the Hatter when you had been accepted – he had only asked for whatever cards you had up until that point. He had mentioned there were three rules: always wearing a bathing suit, living your life exactly as you wished (you hadn’t been complying with that one up until yesterday night but you hoped things would change) and death to the traitors, meaning you had to give all of your cards to the resident with the highest number. In this case, the Hatter. ‘But there’s a lot of tension with another group, the militants, the ones with the weapons. The three main members are a scary-looking man who was actually part of the army in the real world, another with shoulder-length dark hair and piercings and a creep with a katana and tattoos. Have you seen them yet?’

You thought for a second, then shook your head.

‘No. I think I would know it if I had encountered them. Specially the creep wielding the sword.’

‘Yeah, I agree. Lucky you, then! Best to try and avoid them, if you want to live peacefully.’

You made a mental note. You didn’t want any trouble, not when things were starting to finally look up.

───⋆☆─────────────

It was time for the game.

You were waiting by the car with some others players – two young girls and a man about your age, wearing a cap. All of you were nervous, some more than others. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, that being the only thing to actually betray how you were feeling, because you were smiling, trying to ease things up a bit for your teammates.

‘So…’ You clapped, attracting their attention. ‘We are going to play today, on the same team! What are your names?’

They introduced themselves and you were about to do the same thing when one of the best-looking guys you had ever seen approached the car. He was tall, very muscular, wearing a set of camo trousers and a black sleeveless shirt. He had a military haircut and a scar over his eye, which in your opinion just made him even more attractive.

You blinked a few times, trying to focus, and then turned to the newcomer. You were so invested in ogling at him that you didn’t notice the others looking frightened all of a sudden, the girls even taking a step back to try and make themselves seem smaller so as not to draw any attention.

‘Hi!’ You flashed him a half smile. He looked serious, but almost all guys that looked like him did and then they were all big sweethearts. You knew the type. It was your type after all. ‘We are telling each other our names to ease the tension and get to know each other a bit before the game.’ You mentioned yours, realizing just then you hadn’t said it, quickly adding some nicknames they could call you by since you didn’t really like your own name very much. ‘What’s yours?’ You finally asked.

He just stared at you, not saying anything nor showing any emotion. Without responding, he moved towards the driver’s seat, opening the door and nodding towards the vehicle so that the rest of you would do the same.

Turns out you were wrong about there being a little teddy bear below that façade.

‘Well, fuck you then.’ You raised an eyebrow, focusing your eyes directly on his.

He looked… surprised? You didn’t give him time to answer, because you opened the door of the back seat and smiled at the others, who were looking at you as if you were some sort of religious apparition, with a kind of newfound reverence. ‘Come on guys, get in! We are going to do great.’ You sat on the front seat, turning so that you could keep speaking with the others.

You were good at calming people down. You were good with kids, and animals, and the principles applied to them could be easily applied to adults too.

But the hot (and rude) man was running all your efforts. You finally had realized how his presence affected the others, but you couldn’t really understand why, and you were stubborn enough to keep trying.

You saw that he was looking at you from the corner of his eyes a couple of times while he drove the five of you to the game arena, but you had decided you wouldn’t even give him the time of the day, no matter how handsome you found him.

───⋆☆─────────────

Kuina was waiting for you when you arrived.

‘I am so happy that you are fine!’ She threw her arms around you, in a massive bear hug that almost made you trip and fall to the ground. You hugged her back, smiling.

‘Yes! It went well, it was an easy game. No deaths, and five more days to live. So, not bad. Only…’

‘What?’

‘There was this man who was just really… rude. He had a gun with him, I realized later on, so he must be part of that militant group you talked about. Anyway, he didn’t speak, he just looked at me weirdly after I told him to fuck himself. Probably shouldn’t have but I was trying to calm the others down and he just wasn’t helping.’

‘No, not really. But if he was just a low-ranking member it’s pretty much whatever… Who was he, do you know?’

You looked around you, trying to find the man who had played the game with you. It was not hard, he towered over the others, and he was… again, extremely good-looking.

‘That one.’ You pointed with an index finger.

Kuina’s face went pale, as if she had seen a ghost. She looked at the man, then at you. Then at the man again. She opened her mouth, and closed it, and opened it.

‘That’s Aguni.’

‘Well, glad to know his name now, since he refused to tell me when I asked…’

‘No, no. He’s Aguni. The leader of the militants.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘Nuh-uh.’

‘You told me he was a scary-looking man!’

‘And he isn’t?’

‘Honestly? I found him quite hot.’

Kuina exploded with laughter, bent over, a hand on your shoulder to stabilize herself. Her outburst attracted the attention of Aguni, who looked over at the two of you, and found you staring back.

‘Now he clearly knows we have been talking about him, look what you have done!’ You scolded the woman, but a smile danced on your lips. The situation, you had to admit, was quite funny.

‘Let’s get out of here before he decides to shoot us.’ The woman with dreadlocks said, wiping a tear from her eye, grabbing your hand and taking you both somewhere else.

───⋆☆─────────────

You were sitting by the pool with Kuina and with the new friend you had made in the game, Tatta, who was telling her the story of what you had said to Aguni for the third time that night. The three of you had had a couple of drinks to simply celebrate you were alive, and Tatta and you had even taken two or three shots, to celebrate having escaped death.

‘Stop, it’s not funny. I wanted to try and get to know him because he is my type and we could have died at any moment, so why not act accordingly?’ You had given the same explanation about twelve times, using different words. The other two still found it funny.

‘Look, there comes your boyfriend.’ Kuina pointed out, looking behind you, suffocating a laugh. Aguni was there, followed by the two guys she had described – the one with the piercings and the spine-chilling one with the tattoos.

You had promised to yourself you would never ever tried to speak to him again, because he was very impolite and he had annoyed you. But the you who had said that had been sober and clear-minded and before you even realized, you were standing up and walking towards him, ignoring Kuina’s and Tatta’s warning and futile attempts to keep you seated and away from danger.

‘I know your name already.’ You said to Aguni once you were in front of him, his eyes opening up in surprise, if only just for a second. ‘A little bird told me.’

The man with the piercings, who now you could see had a big, scary gun resting on his shoulder, opened his mouth to say something, but Aguni lifted a hand, ordering him to remain silent.

‘So?’ He was, again, as expressionless as ever.

‘Nothing. I just wanted to let you know.’ Suddenly coming up to talk to him was not such a good idea. ‘And, just so you know, the only reason why I wanted to speak to you is because I think you are hot as fuck.’ You said, chin held up high, with as much dignity as possible, before turning back.

You felt his hand grabbing your wrist before you could start walking.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

‘What’s your name?’

‘I said my name before we left for the game. If you didn’t catch it, not my fault. Good night, Aguni.’

You kept your voice as stable as possible, but there was a slight tremor in it by the time you pronounced his name. You shook his hand off and went back to your friends. You wished you had a way to take a picture of them – their faces were worthy of framing.

───⋆☆───────────── You opened the door to your room the next morning to find the leader of the militants starring at you.

‘Oh God!’ You screamed, jumping on place, clearly startled. ‘You could have knocked! How long have you been standing there?’

‘Not long. I didn’t know if you were sleeping.’

Thank you, still weird, you thought to yourself. ‘And what the hell are you doing here?’

‘The little bird, your friend with dreadlocks told me your name.’

‘So?’

Oh, how the tables had turned. You would have to apologize to Kuina later on. She probably was scared to death now.

‘It is… refreshing to find someone who is not scared of me.’

You were a little bit after the events of last night, but you were not going to tell him.

You frowned. So that was it? You crossed your arms over your chest, examining the guy while leaning on your doorframe.

‘The other one, the one with the big sword. He is much scarier.’

‘You mean Last Boss?’ Aguni had the littlest smile on his face. It suited him. You couldn’t help but grin back.

‘Oh, you have to be kidding me, that’s not how you call him.’

‘It is.’ His smile grew wider.

‘Well, you see? Point made.’

You stood there, in surprisingly comfortable silence, just looking at each other for a minute or so.

‘Do you want to come in or are you comfortable in the corridor?’ You finally asked, earning another one of those smiles.

You hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

[ryuichirou]

I wanna know more about your prison au like who are the inmates and who are the guards. Not to mentioned the story and their crimes.

+

Anonymous asked:

OKAY NEED MORE PRISON AU TWST BECAUSE IT'S MY FAVORITE AU OF YOU GUYS

I need to know who is exactly prisoners and who are the wardens...

And the esetting for the au... Please...

SPARE THIS POOR 💙 ANON THE PRISON AU MEAL!!

--------------

(This reply is written by Katsu uwu)

Thank you for your keen interest in this AU, Anons! <3 As we’ve already mentioned in this reply, it’s actually just a setting for any characters to be either the inmate or the warden, so they can be switched any time for flexibility. However, I think that now there’re certain circumstances that make characters lean towards their specific role + it’s just easier for me to imagine them in this universe, so I can name their positions and reasons for being in jail more confidently. I guess I just got inspired enough to write something. Still, there might be a chance where we post a fanart of this AU and it’s totally different from what I’ve written here lol Sorry

Let’s start with Heartslabyul. All of them are wardens, because they’re here to follow Riddle’s orders. It just suits them, you know? So weird. I wonder why... They also look so sexy in a uniform, all of them.

Riddle is the main reason this AU exists because nothing suits him more than being a warden. The way their whole dorm is about discipline just makes them perfect for this setting. He is that strict... upper warden?? idk, their (other warden boys, I mean) superior, so he is especially pressed about keeping order and having a good reputation. No one is allowed to break the rules, be it inmates or wardens, and if he catches you, he’s going to be mad. Everyone is informed of his temper, and his punishments are severe, although always in line with the existing rules. He never oversteps boundaries.

Trey is another warden, but he also might be a cook? Idk. He’s good at handling prisoners and can actually scare them off quite easily if he wants to, but he tries to keep the appearance of a nice guy. One time he joked about looking so intimidating without glasses, that if anyone other than inmates saw him, they might confuse him with a prisoner and put him in jail lol

Cater is just your typical warden, there’s nothing to see here... or is there? Sometimes he gets in trouble for uploading photos to Magicam, because those are selfies from the restricted areas.

Ace is an asshole and pisses Riddle off by accidentally fucking something up sometimes. He’s also one of those wardens that help prisoners out by smuggling things and bringing items to prison in the first place. Not for free, ofc. He’s an annoyingly sly guy, but he’s rather harmless even by Riddle’s standards.

Deuce is like the opposite of that. He’s so happy and proud to have such an honorable job that his mother is certainly happy about so he can’t make mistakes at any cost. Unfortunately, his partner is Ace, who’s hiding his shenanigans from Deuce, so Deuce is about to learn a lot of new things. Deuce is also pressured by his previous life, like “Wow, I could’ve been on the opposite side of the bars”, so he’s extremely conscious about it and feels ashamed of himself quite often. He really likes it when inmates regret their mistakes and genuinely want to start a new life after being released.

Leona is that guy who’d fuck you over so you get sent to prison for his crime... right, Ruggie? But he’s nice enough, so you get a sentence not so bad as the crime Leona’s actually committed. Which is stupid, because he’s a prince and can bribe himself out of almost any situation. That’s why he’s not in this AU at all – that and because we don’t care about him lol But he’d be an inmate, and his crimes would have been (attempted?) murder of his brother and, if you feel extremely violent today, attempted murder of his nephew. Not only that, but he’s the mastermind who organised both of those things and involved a bunch of people, so his punishment is going to be extremely severe.

Poor Ruggie is sitting in jail for some dumb shit and is going to be released soon. It’s not his actual crime, he’s done plenty of other things, so this sentence is like a cakewalk for him. A vacation from Leona, you can say, plus Ruggie gets bonuses from him when he’s free again! Ruggie mostly does stuff like stealing, pick pocketing, trespassing, selling and buying illegal stuff, smuggling, this type of things. So he’s in jail for one of those things, and thank god the judges didn’t know about the rest...

Jack is a very diligent prison warden. He’s insanely strong, very acute to what’s going on, so you need to be very quiet around him, otherwise he’ll hear about your escape plan very easily (same happens if you try to dig your cell with a spoon or something). The amount of times he caught inmates on the verge of escaping is the biggest one in the prison. He takes his job seriously and believes in law, which is the worst combi for prisoners. Even though he’s a very nice guy, he would be sus if any of the inmates tried to talk to him out of nowhere.

The next bunch is very interesting, because the entire Octavinelle is mafia. There’s no way around it, they’re all criminals, but it would be stupid of them to get caught and not get away by any possible means, right?

Azul is the mastermind behind everything that’s been going on outside. He surely wouldn’t be in jail, because hell, his plans are so calculated that it’s almost impossible for him to be caught off guard. He’s cautious, planning, and his schemes almost achieve perfection. Even if after so many years of his “business” he’d get a sentence, pretty sure he would spend it in the luxury of his own mansion. He’s a criminal, who, if luck is on his side, is going to gain some useful influence inside the jail – both among directors/governors/wardens and inmates. There’re many notorious names in this prison that he’d like to help out because of his benevolence. That’s his role in this AU.

His right hand Jade is there to help him out, of course. One time because of his love of chaos he’d get sentenced to a couple of years instead of Floyd out of his own desire. Plus, it’s nice to take a rest from Azul from time to time and explore new locations and people and learn about this prison from inside out. His sentence would sound very innocent compared to the things that he actually does on a regular occasion, and he’d love to see mortified faces of people on the trial if they found out... Such a pity he can’t tell them. So for now he’s there for... let’s say stealing. Innocent enough.

Floyd is Azul’s go-to for quickly getting rid of some annoying investigation before he figures out how to halt it completely and, if possible, bribing and buying new people into his net of influence. Floyd expected his first experience in prison to be terrible because of the curfew, the rules, those annoying commands all the time, but he found tons of interesting stuff, so he had a pretty good time there. His sentences are always something light, so when people hear what he’s for, they never believe it – Floyd looks like a bloody murderer, there’s no way this guy just stole a couple of hundreds of madols and didn’t kill anyone in the process. Sometimes Floyd gets captured simply because he’s not in the mood for running away from the police, and it pisses Azul off so fucking much. He fucks up almost ten of his plans at once by doing this.

Kalim is a prison warden. He’s very friendly, easy-going, naive and ready to listen to anyone’s worries and concerns. He believes everyone is here to become a better person and definitely to start a new life after their time is over, so he’s easy to fool. He’s that perfect warden to smuggle stuff around without him noticing anything, and if you get caught by him, there’s a high chance that he’s going to let it slide a time or two, but you have to be very convincing with your innocence act and say that you regret your actions. He clearly doesn’t belong in this position, and him being in prison is off for everyone who knows him. Why is he there?

Jamil, on the other hand, is a perfect inmate. He’s sly, he’s cunning, he looks nice and cute in front of the wardens and the way he behaves is almost too good to be true, which makes more intellectually gifted wardens uneasy. They’re right, because the amount of things in Jamil’s power in prison is insane. He’s probably one of the most influential people among inmates, and most of that is anonymous, so he’s safe. He’s cautious and manipulative, and that makes Kalim a perfect, although a very easy victim for that, tbh. He’s in jail for something trivial, but his crimes are worse than that.

The other plot for Scarabia boys is Kalim fucking something up and Jamil taking the blame to protect Kalim and his name. Then he can also take a break from his hard life as a servant... wow people go to jail as a vacation in this au lmao

Pomefiore... huh. I guess I can see them in both scenarios, but I’ll start with the one we drew a comic about.

Vil is an inmate. His sentence? Poisoned a guy. He’s actually poisoned many more, but then his sentence would be way too long if people found out, and this terrible dry air and not so great conditions are going to contaminate his beauty beyond repair. He was caught by accident, he didn’t plan to go to prison unlike a lot of guys on this list, but he’s going to escape pretty soon. He doesn’t really talk to many people and prefers to spend his time alone, reading and being as unapproachable as possible, but a lot of guys are charmed by him, and he has minions here and there who are ready to obey any of his orders. Even some wardens can’t escape his charm...

... like Rook, for instance. He’s one of the best prison wardens, being able to sense anyone’s escape attempts just as well as Jack can, which says a lot. He’s very attentive, but very secretive, and you never know what’s going on in his head, so inmates try to avoid him. He loves it when they try to escape though because of his whole hunter shtick. However, he miserably had a crush on Vil when they transferred him to the prison, and now Rook is completely at his mercy. He’ll quit his job the next day Vil is free to follow him to the end of the world.

Vil’s seriousness and attitude would make him a perfect warden who can control inmates not only by his harsh orders, but also impeccable looks. A fuckton of inmates want to fuck Vil, tbh.  Rook is one of them, for example. He’s that wild, uncontrollable beast who’s going to be tamed by Vil’s gorgeousness. Upon hearing that, Vil isn’t going to be happy, but he’ll be surprised by how non-barbarian and educated Rook actually is. It’s so weird for Vil that he chose the life of a criminal, but Rook can’t suppress his desire for hunting. He was caught red-handed killing someone, but his murder count is insanely high in reality.

Epel is somewhat tough to decide as well, but his situation is going to mirror Vil. So if Vil is an inmate, so is Epel, and the same with wardens. He’s a very diligent warden who has troubles with making inmates listen to him because of his appearance and cute looks, and he often thinks that this job is not for him. He used to yell at prisoners and threaten them, but when Vil became his superior, Epel had to start ordering people around more gracefully, and he’s not happy about it. Vil thinks that Epel can’t act the way he used to and that as a prison warden he needs to set an example of a proper, lawful citizen for the inmates, but Epel’s troubled past and his complexes don’t let him let go of that part of himself. Something similar happens when Epel is a prisoner – just because he’s in jail doesn’t mean he can act any way he wants and behave like a spoiled child and cause troubles. Epel’s crime is probably hooliganism, public disorder, property damage/vandalism or something along those lines.

Idia is the prison’s technician. He’s somewhat of a prison warden, but he usually spends all his time inside his room with a bunch of monitors and computers, from which he watches anime, plays videogames, and serfs the net monitors inmates’ activity, of course. Sometimes he allows himself to eat cup noodles, he doesn’t hoard them there at all. He’s quite comfortable in his little safe space and doesn’t like to leave it, but he has to from time to time – he’s not only responsible for the surveillance (he’s obviously not the only one with this job), his task is also to code and check the security system in the prison. So gates, alarms, notifications, lights, servers and other stuff are also on him. He prefers to work distantly, so these conditions are almost perfect for him, and he doesn’t have to go anywhere that much. He’s pretty scared of both the inmates and his fellow wardens and doesn’t want to talk to any of them. However, because he tends to sneak out of his room at night to work in the server room and walk around, inmates can instantly recognise him because of his glowing hair. Nevertheless, he’s such a rare sight that for most prisoners he’s more of a rumor. Some people had been in this prison for years and haven’t seen anyone even remotely resembling Idia.

Ortho is there to support his niisan. Mostly mentally and so that he wouldn’t feel alone. We can play with Ortho in this AU, as his pre- and post-chapter 6 selves are slightly different, and in the first case he’d just be that robot boy who can shoot you on sight and is technically his own alarm system and a little flying prison warden. In the second case, Ortho will be much more into the role of a proper prison warder, taking his own shifts and patrolling the cells and stuff. He’s more dangerous than Jack and Rook despite his innocent look and seemingly naive disposition, which is a common mistake for new arrivals. He sent quite a few people in the infirmary for breaking the rules and trying to attack a prison warden (this warden is him, of course). In both scenarios he would bring Idia stuff he’d asked, so people would actually see Ortho more often than Idia. Idia doesn’t feel comfortable with leaving Ortho alone with those brutes, though.

Malleus... doesn’t really fit in this AU at all. He’s a king, so he should be put into something more appropriate than that. Since there’re characters who don’t really appear either as wardens or prisoners, I think it’s okay to say that he’s one of those. However, he’s closer to being a prison warden, easily making every cellmate tremble at the sound of his name. He’d actually quite enjoy that, maybe he should try being one sometime :)

Lilia is an inmate. I’ve been talking about how a lot of wardens are very dangerous, and, well, Lilia is the most dangerous inmate in the prison. His sentence is lifelong (heh), his crimes are blood chilling, but what the court doesn’t know is that they didn’t even scratch the surface on his trial, judging him rather lightly in Lilia’s eyes. He’s so much more worse than that. He’s a war criminal, a general, a fae, and all of those things together make him the worst being ever. Inmates usually learn very fast that his cute face is very misleading and that his “mass murder” sentence is not a joke. Wardens are also wary of him, although he never attacked anyone and has been very nice and playful with them. And the best thing? He can leave the prison any time he wants. He literally can escape so easily it’s almost a joke that would put Idia’s security system to shame, but we can’t all be winners. He can, though. The fact that it’s a magic prison wouldn’t even help to hold him down. He can kill every single person in the prison within ten minutes, if he wants to. Why is he in prison? Because it seems fun to him, at least for now.

Sebek is such a prison warden. I feel like I can just leave it at that, and we all can envision his behaviour perfectly without me describing it. His constant yelling, his annoying orders, his condescending view on the scum of the earth just work themselves nicely into his prison AU self. Other wardens aren’t his huge fans, because Sebek has his own idea of how wardens should behave, and most of the other wardens fail to hold this image, so he constantly gets on their nerves as well. He’s rather unlikable.

Finishing up with Silver, another obvious warden. Responsible, serious, but slightly with the naive type of guys that we have. He’s closer to Deuce in terms of thinking that committing a crime is a shame, but he wants everyone to realise their mistakes and come out of the prison as a better person. He’s also very stunning to look at, so that inmates can joke that some of the wardens they have can be models, and he’s surprisingly strong.

How does this work with Lilia being his father? No idea, honestly...  Might think of something later.

[glory-boxxxxx]

A god and roo fan fic bc I saw one on ao3🎀

|-2| |-1| |1(coming soon!:)|

————————————————————————

God let out a huge sigh as he sat in his office with piles and piles of paperwork. He stared down at the current paper he was working on.

Usually God doesn’t need sleep. I mean he’s God why would he? But these past few weeks Years. He’s been overworking himself like crazy.

Life without his light was just miserable. Ever since the other angels threw him out of heaven it feels like his life is getting worse by the second.

‘Maybe she was right… I am to soft…’ he thought to himself before getting out of his office chair and walking slowly to the door.

Click

Click

Click

His shoes taped against the floors as he started to open the door and walk for a mile to make it to his room also passing by a very familiar family picture. God opened the door to his very massive and empty room.

He flopped onto the bed and with a snap of his fingers he was in his pajamas and ready to sleep.

Knock knock knock

‘Who the fuck could that be!’ God rolled his eyes and opened the door. “Oh hello, Uriel.” “Heavenly Father.” She bowed to him. “I’m sorry to be a nuisance father but you are needed at in the meeting room.” She said looking down. “Why? I thought Sera, Adam, and Micheal had it under control?” “That’s why you are needed. Adam is dead.”

“What.” “Adam is dead.” “I-im sorry but you mean MY first man is dead?” “Yes, he was killed during the extermination.” There was a long pause before God broke the silence. “Thank you Uriel. I’ll be there soon.”

As Uriel walked off God snapped his fingers into his usual white suit and summoned a portal to the meeting room. There he saw most of the archangels, Sera, and an exorcist with a horrible bob…

“Heavenly Father.” They all got up and greeted him with a bow. “How did Adam die?” He said practically cutting them off. The exorcist stood up and spoke “he died because of the demons retaliating against exterminations.”

“Sera what is an extermination and why are they in hell?” Sera stood up. “You told us to handle the demon population while you worked on your creations.” “Yes I told you to redeem them. I gave you a fat stack of papers and told Adam to give it to Lucifer. “

Michael then spoke up “we figured since most demons are to prideful, and the overlords trying to go against heaven we would exterminate them.” “Yeah but I told you to REDEEM them. Not kill them! Why do you think they’re going against heaven! And why are you worried about anyone attacking heaven! IM RIGHT HERE!”

Sera began to speak again this time with more worry in her voice “Well… it would’ve caused a.. major problem for the winners. We just wanted to keep the kingdom and your cre-“ “The people you’re killing down there are ALSO my creations. Why do you think I want to redeem them? To send them back?”

“Father we were only doing this for the winners. They are your creations too and just think of how they would act up here!” Azrael stood up and put his hands on the table making him bend a little. “They would act like a winner? Do you think I’ll just let all the sinners up here without going through ANY type of process?”

“We not have gone my your rules father but we still have a say in most of the stuff you do.” Gabriel stated. God rubbed his head and summoned a glass of wine. “I don’t want to start a problem with you Heavenly Father but these demons need a punishment for their actions. They killed the first man!”

“I agree. We need to take some kind of action. These demons including Lucifer might think they just do what ever they want! We need to show they who’s the superior realm.” Jophiel butted in. God didn’t reply instead he let everyone agree on something while he closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“I think this meeting is over with. We will talk about this another time.” God announced. As everyone got ready to leave God decided to pay someone a special visit.

———————————————————————-

It’s kinda bad but like… is it good for my first time?

Roo is being introduced next!🩷🩷