#since it will be a solid hour on the train to get to her anyway

[shekeepswriting]

A Little More Heart

[Syverson x Reader]

Word Count: 3977

Summary: On a night out with an old friend, Sy meets a woman who catches his interest.

Warnings: Just cursing and a little bit of alcohol

A/N: This could become a series? I’ve got little bits and pieces and some fun ideas. Let me know if you’d be interested in that. I’m new to this part of tumblr and very nervous...

Sullivan’s was pretty barren that night, not that anyone could expect much for this late on a Thursday night. A few regulars warming their usual barstools, making conversation and laying out their woes to a characteristically haggard Billy Sullivan as he filled the pretzel and peanut bowls. A duo of middle aged women talking gratuitous shit at a table near the middle of the room with frequent smoke breaks. A  group of four guys, barely on the right side of 21, trying to boost their cool kid points by getting good at pool. One woman sitting at the end of the bar with a notebook, leaning heavily on her forearms in a way that read more fatigue than alcohol consumption. Looked like she was drinking lemonade. 

Everyone who had been there when Syverson and Danny walked in two hours earlier was still holding steady.

They’d made their way through the stages of conversation people usually had drinking with old friends. The short term catch up, funny argument over something stupid, brief foray into more emotional territory, shared memories, hypotheticals. Their night, at least, was starting to wind down. 

When Sy came back from the bathroom, Danny was staring at the woman at the bar, finger tapping idly on his glass. Having known him since he was fifteen years old, Sy knew that face very well.

“Not gonna go your way,” Sy said mildly, with a hint of a smirk.

“No? How d’you figure?” 

“She’s sitting at the very end of the bar with a notebook and pen. She didn’t come here to make friends or get hit on.” 

“She could’ve stayed home to write,” Danny argued, but his face was thoughtful as he watched you.

“We could’ve stayed home to drink.”

Danny rolled his eyes.

“Alright, take it easy. I’m not gonna harass the woman. Just gonna introduce myself. If she’s not interested, I’ll go. Not trying to be an ass.” 

“Nah, you don’t gotta try. You’re a natural.” 

Danny squinted, snatching at Sy’s glass and downing the rest of his drink in retaliation. 

“You go then. Looks like you’re running empty anyway.” 

“I don’t do that shit anymore.”

“Oh, I know it. Old man Syverson ain’t known the touch of a woman in fifty years,” Danny said, exaggerating his accent and wiping away an imaginary tear. 

“That’s enough of that now.”

“Come on, man. Look at her. Frowning and drinking alone. She’s your soulmate.” 

Sy shot him a frown, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Not drinking alone though, am I?”

“You talk to her or I will.”  

Sy gave an unconvinced grumble, but the look on Danny’s face made it clear it was no idle bluff. Now, there was nothing wrong with Danny. He wasn’t aggressive or pushy; he knew how to take no for an answer. But he’d give it a solid effort, and he was the most extroverted person Sy had ever met. 

If you were uninterested in company, the way that he was almost certain you were, it would be easier to avoid the whole process entirely. And if Sy took up the bar stool two spaces to your right, Danny wouldn’t have a clear view to know whether or not the two of you actually spoke a word to each other.

He stood up from the table with a deep sigh, making sure his annoyance over the disruption of his night was fully documented.

“Happy hunting, Captain,” Danny said with a stupid grin and a sloppy salute that had Sy rolling his eyes as he turned towards the bar.

As you noticed his approach, your shoulders tensed up, lips slightly pursed but eyes still trained on your journal. Sy gave you space, careful to only observe you through his peripheral vision as he claimed a stool a fair distance from you, leaving a buffer seat between you.

Billy approached as he sat, brought him a beer with minimal conversation.

You fidgeted, clicking your pen three times in rapid succession. 

There wasn’t much more Sy could do to set you at ease without blowing the whole operation, but he set his phone on the bartop, scrolling absently through contacts and pictures to give himself something to do, something to help you feel less observed.

Your leg started bouncing and you glanced at him, quick as humanly possible. 

There was a silent standoff for a few minutes, one Sy was trying very hard to will out of existence. But you were still tense on your barstool, expectant.

You broke first.

“No pitch, huh?”

You were looking right at him this time, fully turned to face him, eyes intense but not unfriendly. 

“Pitch?”

“You left that cozy corner table to come drink by yourself on an uncomfortable bar stool. Usually the kind of move that’s followed by an introduction, maybe some pickup lines. A pitch of some kind.”

Sy turned his head just enough to see the table he’d been sitting at out of the corner of his eye. Danny turned his head away too fast, feigning interest in the record cover art hanging on the bar walls. Idiot. 

“Saw me over there, huh?”

“I’m a woman drinking alone in a dive bar, and you are literally the largest threat in the room. Of course I saw you.”

Sy frowned.

“Not a threat to nobody.”

You raised your eyebrow, reaching out with a speed that had Sy struggling not to tense up as you looped your pen under the chain barely peeking out of the neckline of his shirt. 

“You don’t strike me as the necklace type. Military, right?”

“Retired.”

You hummed, letting the chain drop back against his skin as you retreated from his personal space.  He reached up, patting the shape of his tags as they resettled against his chest beneath his shirt. It felt strange, wearing them again. He wasn’t used to it anymore. Normally they lived in the back of the top drawer in his desk, out of sight and as far out of mind as he could manage to keep them. But anniversaries were psychologically significant. He’d learned that in therapy. So he’d decided to honor this one, the anniversary of his initial enlistment, by putting them on again. Going out with a friend from before… everything. It was why he was here. 

“Military,” you repeated quietly, your eyes back on your notebook again, still tilted out of Syverson’s view as you flipped the page, stared at the blank expanse for a moment before giving your pen two thoughtful clicks. “Always a threat.”

Sy’s stomach lurched uncomfortably.

“Not to you. Not to anyone in this bar,” he said firmly, tilting his head to add as an afterthought, “Long as they mind their fuckin manners.” 

Your mouth curved up at the corner, just the hint of a smile, the first he’d seen from you all night. Not that he’d been watching. Much. It disappeared after only a few seconds, replaced by a focused frown that traced a crease between your brows as you put pen to paper.

His eyes flicked down towards the bartop, but the cover of the notebook still shielded the page from his view. He was tempted to drop it, leave you to your work, whatever that might be. But your body language gave him pause. You had shuffled around on your stool during your brief conversation and remained that way even now, shoulders and hips pivoted slightly in his direction rather than running parallel to the bar in a position more comfortable for writing. He fiddled with the label on the bottle of beer the bartender had brought him, the corner peeling back easy under his thumb before he smoothed it back into place. 

“What’re you doing?”

You glanced up at him, flashing that little smile again, though this time it looked a little sharper, caught somewhere between self-conscious and amused.

“Chasing the muse, I guess.”

Sy raised an eyebrow, gave a neutral hum.

“Not sure I know what that means.”

“Sure you do,” you said quietly, eyes tracing thoughtfully over his face before you turned your attention back to your notebook. “It’s a pretty universal concept, I think.”

“Maybe.” He took a sip of his beer. “Just figured most people don’t come this far south looking for it. More of a New York and LA kind of thing.”

“Just because those are the places most people look for inspiration, doesn’t mean those are the only places you can find it.”

You were some kind of artist then. Interesting. 

“Can I ask what you’re looking to inspire? Or is that too personal?”

That earned him another look, something quiet and appreciative. Two quick pen clicks. 

“You can ask. I kinda want to hear you guess though.”

He looked again at your notebook. It wasn’t the tiny kind, but it wasn’t full sized either. Leatherbound or something like it, not spiral. He couldn’t see the paper to know whether it was lined or not. Could be for writing small amounts. Drawing maybe. You could even be writing song lyrics in there. He hadn’t been around enough artsy people in his life to know a damn thing about it. 

But he was observant, good at cataloging behavior, pretty decent at reading people. When he had first approached, your hand had been gliding in straight lines across the page, but now it was moving more erratically. There was something different in your glances too. Slow, almost too intense to be polite, analyzing. Maybe you were drawing him on that page you kept so carefully hidden from his gaze. Or maybe you were still deciding whether or not he was a threat to you. Sy wasn’t totally comfortable with either option, but he’d prefer to think that the current turn of the conversation was proof of you softening just a little towards him. 

He hedged his bets a little, just in case.

“Don’t see any paint on ya. That’s about the best I can do,” he said mildly.

“That was an awful lot of thinking for ‘don’t see any paint on ya,’’' you said, tilting your head. A bit too gentle to be an accusation, but you still wanted a better answer.

“Alright…” Sy shifted on his bar stool, angling towards you. “Looked like you were writing before I got here. But now you’re either scribbling or drawing. Maybe even drawing me by the way you keep looking at me. Unless you’ve got another reason to be staring like that.”

Right answer. You were smiling again, a little freer than last time.

“I’m not staring.”

He shrugged. “Studying, then.”

“I’ll take studying,” you said with a slow nod. “Is it making you uncomfortable?”

“I’ll live.”

“Of course you will, but that’s not an answer.”

“Sure isn’t,” he said, taking another drink.

His own lips curved up into a smile, almost against his will, when you laughed. Bright and open. You were fully facing him now with the kind of smile that was impossible to ignore, genuine and joyful and inescapably contagious. 

“Let’s try this then…” you said, trailing off into soft humming sounds as you added a few last hurried lines to your notebook before setting your pen down.

You ripped the page out as cleanly as you could manage and set it on the scarred bar top, giving it a little push towards him.

And it was his face looking up at him from the paper, rendered in wild pen strokes of blue ink, but no less detailed for the messy style. The close cut of his hair, sharp furrow of his brows above focused eyes, the beard that had needed trimming for two days at least. Neither unflattering nor romanticized, just honest. The way you saw him. A little intense, a little rough around the edges, but not harsh. There was kindness there somewhere in the lines of his face, but he couldn’t pin down exactly where.

Sy hummed, gestured toward your pen.

“Borrow that for a minute?”

You slid it down the bar to him with a raised brow. 

He nodded in thanks as he took it, snagging an unused napkin as well. With an excessive slowness, he sketched out his very best stick figure, looking up at you with an evaluative stare when he heard a muffled laugh. You dropped your hand from your mouth, meeting his gaze with a playful smile, tolerating the long look with amusement dancing in your eyes.

He dutifully added two dot eyes, pausing for a moment before drawing eyelashes and eyebrows, trying not to tear through the napkin. A very geometric nose followed, and a wide open smile. After another long look he added your hair, actually bothering to get the shape right since it seemed much more attainable even with his limited art skills. 

You were still smiling as you watched him sign the corner. 

“Those your initials or is that your name?” you asked, tilting your head to read the tiny letters.

“My name,” he answered, sliding the napkin and pen back to the bar space between your two stools. 

“Sy,” you said slowly, as if testing the sound of it. He smiled too, just a little, not remembering when he’d last liked the sound of his own name so much. 

“You didn’t sign yours,” he reminded you, and you squinted your eyes at him, knowing full well what he was after. 

Still, you took up the pen and signed the loose sheet of notebook paper. Probably exactly as you signed everything else: mostly illegibly. He could decipher the initials, but not much else.

You let out a snort at the unimpressed look he leveled at you. 

“Now you’re just causin’ problems on purpose.”

“It’s not my fault that you write like a caps lock keyboard and I don’t.”

He sighed. 

“And here I drew you a real pretty picture,” Sy said slowly, tapping the napkin. 

“You did,” you said with a smile. “But I’m still holding out for the pitch.” 

“I still don’t have one.”

“Come on, now,” you said, a challenging spark in your eyes. “I’ve never met a man who didn’t have a pitch. A line. A move. You’ve got something.”

“Haven’t done none of that since I was a teenager,” he said. “I’ve got no use for that shit.”

“Sure you do. Because I’m asking. And don’t tell me you haven’t flirted since you were a teenager. I don’t believe that for a second.”

Sy shifted in his seat.

“Didn’t say I never flirted. Just said I don’t use lines.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully at the distinction, resting your chin on your hand. 

“Come on now. You want to know my name, that’s the price. And I expect your best work, Sy.” 

He let out a deep sigh, rubbing at his forehead. This was about to be real fuckin embarrassing. 

“Alright. Not promising anything good, here. I only ever had two.”

“Efficient,” you said with an approving nod.

“They’re not good,” he repeated.

“But they worked?” 

“Mostly. God only knows why.”

“Stop stalling,” you said in a stage whisper.

“First one…”

“I’m ready.”

He cleared his throat, looked straight into your eyes. 

“Wanna make out later?”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise before stretching into a wide smile. 

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “I wasn’t ready.”

Sy shrugged, took a sip of his beer while you stared at him in awe.

“That worked for you?”

“Yep,” he said with a small smile. “What, you don’t appreciate honesty?”

“I… do,” you answered slowly. “Okay, I guess I see it. What’s the second one?”

“Excuse me, ma’am, I don’t mean to bother you, but I can’t seem to find my phone number. Could I borrow yours?”

“You turned your accent up for that one,” you said with a delighted laugh. “Full force southern charm. My God, what a little heartbreaker you must have been!”

“Now you’re just bein’ mean,” he said, turning back away from you.

“No, I’m completely serious. I fully believe those worked for you, and now I kinda want to see pictures.”

“Now, you’ve gotten more than enough outta me for one night.”

“Fine, fine,” you sighed. 

You picked your pen back up, wrote your first name in small block letters under your artsy scribble, your best approximation of his own handwriting.

“Bullyin me,” he muttered even as he committed your name to memory.

“Imitation is the highest form of flattery,” you said breezily, laughing at the look he shot you in response.

“So, what, you’re some kind of artist then?” he asked, changing the subject. “Draw and paint and all that?”

You shook your head.

“Not really, no. That’s just for fun. I like drawing people.”

He looked at the paper again.

“Well you’re damn good at it. If that’s not the muse you’re chasin, what is?”

“Umm,” you sighed, like you were preparing to give an explanation that you’d given dozens of times before. “I write online for a magazine. It’s… kind of like a travel blog, but it’s less about the places and more about the people? Here…” 

You reached into your pocket for your phone, tapping around for a bit before handing it to him. There was a picture of you at the top, a profile view of you driving, but it was so strongly backlit by a late afternoon sun, that it left your features mostly indistinguishable. Smart. Probably safer that way. Below that, a US map covered in multicolor pins, a calendar view, with dots on days you’d posted, and finally a list of posts. Abbreviated views of each one showed a first name and city, a pen drawing like the one you’d done of him, and the first two sentences of your story. 

He nodded slowly.

“You gonna write a story about me, then?”

You fussed with your hair, shifting uncomfortably on your stool. 

“Probably not. Unless you want me to. I always ask permission first.”

“I’m sure you do. Didn’t mean nothing by it.”

You sighed again. Sy frowned.

“So what’s the problem then? Looks like there’s a lot here. Doesn’t seem like you need a lot of help.”

“I didn’t think so either,” you said with an unhappy smile. “But my editor has decided that I need to attract more dedicated readers. People who check the website every day, not just when they think to. Subscribers. And to do that, I apparently need to add a little more heart.” 

“What’s that mean?” Sy asked.

“Good fuckin question,” you said, lifting your glass as if in a toast. “I guess some sort of emotional buy-in. Something personal and specific so the readers get invested in me specifically, not just the people I talk to.”

“And that brought you down here?”

You shrugged.

“My grandma lives here. Seemed like as good a plan as any.”

“I’m sure she’s glad to see you, whether it helps with your writing or not.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your eyes softening. “She really is.”

“How long you think you’ll be staying?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got two weeks of posts queued up, so I bought myself at least that long before I have to figure out how to… do the emotion thing.” 

“That damn emotion thing,” Sy said, shaking his head, smiling a bit when it drew a soft laugh from you.

“Yeah…”

“Maybe I’ll see you around again then,” he ventured, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s a tiny ass town,” you said with a smile. “So probably.” 

“You’d be okay with that?” he checked.

You laughed again, nudged his shoulder.

“Yeah, I think so. Long as you mind your fuckin manners,” you said, taking on an overplayed surly tone as you repeated his earlier comment back to him. 

“I always mind my manners,” he said matter-of-factly, glaring playfully at you when it elicited a snort from you. 

“Oh, sure you do,” you laughed, checking the time on your phone.

You took a deep breath in the companionable silence that followed, reaching down to drag your bag up from where it had been tucked safely between your feet. The napkin with Sy’s drawing curled your lips into another smile as you closed it between the pages of your notebook and stowed it in the main zipper pocket along with your pen. Your phone went back into your pocket. 

Looked like his time with you was almost up.

He leaned back on his barstool a little, glancing back at Danny who was now schooling the young guy at pool with a self-satisfied smile. 

When he returned his attention to you, you were giving him that searching look again. 

“About that time?” he asked.

“I think so, yeah,” you said. “It was nice meeting you, Sy. Sorry for giving you a hard time.”

“Nah, you’re not.”

You laughed, shrugged your shoulders.

“I’d like to think it did you some good. But seriously. I had fun talking to you. Thanks for the company.”

He nodded, gave you a smile.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Hope so.”

You took another breath and slid off your stool. Billy came to collect your glass, mostly melted ice now, and you gave him a polite smile. 

There was a moment of hesitation, like you wanted to say something else but weren’t sure what. You settled for a little wave as you started to turn towards the door. Then it was Sy’s turn to feel it, the suddenly urgent need to say something, to drag the moment out just a little longer.

He called out your name, a plan forming in his head when you turned quickly back to him.

“Yeah?”

“Well, ‘fore you go, I figure I should ask you...”

“Ask me what?” 

If you had any idea what he was about to say, you were hiding it extremely well, just staring at him curiously, head slightly tilted and smiling softly. Almost made him change his mind. Almost.

“You wanna make out later?”

Your eyes lit up, a laugh barely kept in check, locked behind a widening smile. 

“Oh, I see. I get it now,” you said, taking a step closer. 

Sy raised his eyebrows.

“It’s the eyes that do it. You weren’t doing the eyes before.” 

“I’m not doing nothing with my eyes,” he argued, but a smile slipped free when you took another step closer. 

“Yes you are,” you laughed. “You’re smoldering.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t smolder.” 

“It’s more lighthearted than most,” you admitted. “Dare I say even playful. But it’s still a smolder.” 

He shrugged easily, eyes scanning over your face.

“Still ain’t answered my question.”

“Did you mean it?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in challenge.

“Said it, didn’t I?”

You looked him over, humming thoughtfully. He didn’t move, kept right on looking until your eyes returned to his.

“I’ll think about it and let you know,” you answered with an unreadable expression.

“And how are you gonna manage that?” he asked, spinning on the bar stool to keep his eyes on you as you moved towards the door.

You clicked your tongue, patting at your pockets with increasing concern until you finally met his eyes with a despairing frown.

“Oh God, you’re right! I totally lost my phone number. Any chance that I could borrow yours?”

Sy shook his head with a sigh, holding his hand out for your phone as you approached him again, an inescapably smug smile on your lips.

“Think you’re real cute, don’t you?” he muttered, biting at the corner of his lip to keep a smile in check.

“You certainly think so, or it wouldn’t have worked.”

He handed your phone back to you, watched you send him a wink emoji before you turned to leave again with a parting flutter of your fingers.

He shook his head again when the door closed behind you and saved your number as “Trouble.”

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

A/N: I’m very nervous. Please let me know what you think and if you wanna read more! Thanks for sticking with me this far

#syverson x reader #captain syverson x reader #syverson fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #sandcastle fanfiction

[probablyhuntersmom]

Thinking out loud...I'm both relieved that Hunter wasn't singled out by The Collector to go through these horrors...yet ofc curious what it may've looked like.

Nonetheless, his mind would be unleashing nightmares upon him even after Belos's death.

C-PTSD nightmares seem to have three flavours (going off my own experience..this isn't textbook or researched, as a disclaimer).

There are two kinds that have the theme of immediate danger.

First is the type where you yourself are being physically threatened. I don't want to choose the more graphic violent ones for this post but an example I can cite is being arrested and thrown into prison. Those got me on pretty high alert and idk, it was like this I guess:

Second would be the ones where you can't save someone else. Those hurt and yes, they pack a nasty punch. I've only had this type once as far as I can remember. But poor Hunter would have it worse since Belos could literally puppet him to be the one to harm the best friend he loved most:

The relational ones, though? That involve being blamed and/or abandoned, with no physical threats? Those are where you are in touch with the shame, which in a way makes it the worst of all three in my opinion. Because the deep sense of shame is the aspect of the condition which you can't reason your way out of using impersonal logic...in the way that you can e.g. come up with an escape plan or hold off an assailant.

The most memorable one was being in a dark room, almost entirely pitch black, seeing my 5 or 6-year-old self looking at me like this:

and because you just know stuff in dreams, I knew she was demanding an answer from me, as to why I wasn't there for her to protect her.

And holy smokes this was freakier than the first two categories. Because I had no adrenaline in my system, and somehow this third kind of dream always takes place in narrow spaces where I can't sprint and run elsewhere. Brainnnn, whyyyy?? Therefore I couldn't even give myself an adrenaline rush from fleeing anyway if I wanted to. (Idk if anyone else experiences this?) The first two kinds always took place in wide spaces e.g. underground parking lots and forests.

A similar nightmare involved an abusive family member whom I was trapped on a small boat with, and I had to listen to him demean and minimize me all over again while I was stuck, and I somehow didn't make myself just jump off the boat to swim away.

This type of nightmare is the one that can get me upset for hours after I wake from them, while with the others I get out of the shock a lot quicker for some reason.

For Hunter...it would involve Belos, other Grimwalkers, his friends and others such as those he previously worked with in the Castle, blaming him and judging him in his nightmares. Worst is if Flapjack does the same to him and rejects him. And I apologize for this angsty train ride but...but...he might see those poor lost palismen all over again, since it points towards the profession we see him thriving in, during the epilogue sequence...:

*drags this lost child to therapy sessions*

So yeah. The first two kinds are a more straightforward fit with how C-PTSD changes a person's neural networks and primes them to act relatively calmly in actual physical crises. The high price paid is, the person therefore struggles once things become safer (e.g. arguing with someone who is actually a safe presence), in some twisted unfair form of compensation. This is seen in how Hunter's triggers properly emerge once he's actually physically distanced from Belos: Labyrinth Runners and For the Future are the main examples.

It is painful and difficult, only becoming easier once the person has built a solid support network and can repair their own relationship with themselves.

In fact, my body sometimes feels as though I strangely want such a thrill e.g. riding in an ambulance all over again, a re-enactment of those times of high alert, because they are still more 'comfortable': rather than having no choice but to experience and accept that ingrained sense of shame, process it, and ride the wave instead of simply throwing a punch at it or evading it. Wanting that thrill is our equivalent of wanting a "fix", I guess.

Safe to say, this is why the canon Watching and Dreaming moments that hit hardest are the (false) blaming statements that Luz's friends direct at her. Because the ultimate test is whether the dreamer believes those or not.

#toh hunter #hunter's cptsd #the owl house #okay to reblog. I was just rambling #get the boi all the hot cocoa

[scrollll]

Lemme leave this here.

Nuth, nope.

I echo @ppeonppeonhan post, and don't trust Nuth AT ALL anymore. I was willing to trust him. I really was. And a small part of me still is.... But. There's something wrong.

Not only in his stories, but above all, in how he portrays Nant.

Let's look at the facts i gathered in between breaks and working hours:

Who all had flashbacks with Nant or contact with him?

Soong (when he raped and attacked Nant),

Teena (when he saved Nant from Soong),

Jump (got a bj from Nant, more on that later),

Prom (of course),

The baddie bunch (Zouey, Captain, Porsche, First)

and Nuth

Did I forget anyone? I don't think so.

So, because I am insufferable, let's go through these flashbacks and pay attention to how Nant is described.

Soong:

Nant was on drugs/alcohol,

they slept together (without consent)

aaaaaaand Nant stole Soong's drugs. Bad idea in general. (Side note, what's up with that? Was this an attempt by Nant to retrieve the discarded drugs?)

Welp, anyway, Soong got angry.

Nant was crying, he was panicked, he was scared. And here lies a nice underpoint:

! He didn't even try to fight Soong. He was freaking out, but not aggressive. He was fucking desperate !

Teena:

Held Nant in his arms to protect him from Soong.

Nant clung to him, still full of panic and fear.

! He tried to find protection with Teena instead of attacking or freaking out himself !

He clung to the first thing that promised safety, no matter how foolish it may have seemed at this moment (bc fr, if one guy is beating you up, there is no guarantee that his flatmate/friends are not the same brand of asshole)

Jump:

Encountered Nant in the same situation as Teena and Soong (he hold Soong back)

BUT then one more time where they had sex or at least oral sex since he commented on Nonts bj skills at the party as "Twins are just so fucking identical"

(side note: could this be the point he brought up with Porsche? About not wanting to get in anyone's sugar daddy's way?)

Okay, but to get things straight ('cause these guys ain't):

! Jump encountered Nont without flinching or faltering, suggesting that at least Nant didn't bite him in the dick ! (still, very little is known about the encounter of these two)

Prom:

Confirmed to Nont that Nant loved aftercare, so mostly the cuddling and hugging and talking afterwards.

He also told Nont that Nant never became violent or manipulative towards him.

! Further evidence for the statement is that Prom was very shocked when Nont took out the knife in their first scene. So SM contractually, injuries are also taboo. !

The baddie bunch:

They liked Nont.

They were worried about him, missed him. (Btw does Zouey just strike me as having a damn guilty conscience?)

Captain took advantage of Nant, yes, but none of them seem to have had an active fight.

! They were more shocked at Nant's hurtful behavior when Nont had acted him out. !

So. After this long text, a little brain training, what impression do we have of Nant?

=> He's solid as a soft-boiled spaghetti and seems to have the aggressiveness of a teddy bear.

Except with Nuth.

Only with Nuth does he seem to have been violent.

And that makes me wonder, is that true?

Is the scar really from Nant loosing himself and stabbing Nuth?

Or would it make more sense, if Nuth himself held the knife and confronted Nant about sleeping with other people, like in the dream frequence with Phop we saw already?

That Nant tried to avoid Nuth with the knife and ending up stabbing him on accident? And this ending in Nant apologizing in his "suicide"-video, because he felt guilty for it?

So yeah, lots of more questions than answers but still... Nuth you are yet to come clean my bro.

Edit:

Don't read this as excuse for abusive behavior, if Nant turns out to be an asshole... welp, gotta admit then that I was wrong XD

I just have very much space to think about Nuth and although he seemed like a red herring... whyyyyy the dog mask??? Where is the corpse??? Who stopped the video??? And why are you not talking Nuth???

(Can't get over him being the bad guy, the writer framed him too well for this XD)

#liar liar pants on fire #playboyy the series #playboyy #playboyy theories #nant #let me go insane for a bit #also be prepared for an honest fucking apology if Nuth really is a cool guy #and for an applause for the writers because oh lawd they had me fooled...

[arcplaysgames]

Man do y'all remember when I was sad at the start of P4G because the game did not adequately pat my head and feed me soup and give me friends on day one like P3P did

that was fucking little leagues. I'm gonna light everyone in this game on fire.

Anyway, we are in the tutorial stages so lemme sum up except with there's weird shit I wanna pontificate on.

Reverie missed a bunch of school on his first day with frankly doesn't look amazing for him. We met Ryoji GODDAMN RYUJI on the roof, because all Persona games love the school roof, and he wants to go back to the App World so he can poke around on Kamoshida.

There is palpably some Beef between Ryuji and Kamoshida. There is some fucking t-bone 3-inch cut that I have seasoned in mushroom salt and fresh ground pepper and left to air-dehydrate for three days, there is soooo much beef between them.

In the Not-Velvet Room-- Look, I am gonna start calling it the VR for efficiency's skae but be aware I do not think this is actually the Velvet Room, or if it is then someone has booted Igor and is pretending to be him.

But yeah Notigor says our rehabilitation can begin and I just wanna claw my hair out. What's funny is I know for a lot of fans, Persona 5 was their entry point. Did they know this was as severely fucked as it is? I feel like the game is pushing Fucked As Hell vibes pretty well, so maybe it was obvious even to the initiated.

Oh so Notigor is the one pushing the unauthorized APK onto my phone. I think Reverie is rocking a Samsung, it's got that Chonk to it.

Also, I dunno what it's called in the Japanese... hang on, to google!

Isekainabi, or "Otherworldnavi" that's pretty good. Which, the adjustment of "navi" to "nabi" reminds me that Japanese doesn't use 'v' does it? Or.... wait.... R is also a no, right?

(That is shit I learned from fucking Metal Gear Solid 2 actually, because my beloved Problematic Fave Kojima called the big villains the La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo, because they were 'invisible', they weren't even a part of the language, metaphorically speaking, which when I understand that I thought was fucking smart as hell, though I imagine the original voice actors who had to say it a lot and rapidly did not agree.)

ANYWAY I AM GETTING DISTRACTED, POINT IS, I picked a hilariously un-apt name with Reverie Vantas. That is a tongue-twister and I am sorry.

what the fuck was i even talking about OH YEAH Netscape Navigator, yeah. That's our Dark Hour/TV World, the Metaverse. I find it cursorily interesting that Persona has many different manifestations of the whole Jungian Collective Subconsciousness. P4's TV World was fully separated and impossible to access without the power of Persona. But Reverie and Ryuji stumbled like idiots into the....

wait, that cutscene from the start, that was Reverie's awakening to Persona. So what caused it. Also: Is that relevant to the mystery here like it was in P4, because in P4 that was super important, and I would prefer it wasn't Super Important again lmao.

God the Izanami thing was dumb. ANY FUCKING WAY.

I briefly meet THAT ONE GIRL FROM THE INTRO on the train, and her personality traits seem to be "worryingly doormat-ish" and "thin'

Like man, P5R is not hitting me over the head with DIET SODA ADS but we are still fatphobic, don't forget! BTW if you want a Persona game that doesn't do that shit, P3P Girl Route baybeeeee best Persona.

I am apprently ribbon girl's senpai and she bows to me twice nad runs off to school. Later, gator.

holy shit this game doesn't fuck around with its classroom questions, are you kidding me

also I am sitting behind Moot in class. how's your life been since relinquishing 4chan, moot? I hope it's better.

Mitsuru would use her rapier to carve you like a chunk of roast.

Kamoshida's influence over everyone is kind of baffling to me. It's a VOLLEYBALL TEAM. Oh is that the Japanese equivalent of a football team? Because then I TOTALLY GET IT, CARRY ON.

Like, I understand sort of academically that having sports teams is good for students but also I fucking hate school sports culture. Dunno if its as vile in Japan as in America but if its even half as bad, yeah, abolish it.

Ryuji is so far not the brightest bulb on the tree, bless him. He keeps trying to locate a castle and getting frustrated. Finally, we put him out of his confused misery and use the app to make castle happen.

HE IS JEALOUS! In almost every jock there is a theatre kid's soul, crying to get out.

Ryuji has like no indoor voice, Morgana, I am sorry.

Also, I have so far zero indication of Morgana's gender, which I do like. 8) Gender don't matter, just don't call me a fucking cat.

There is a huge tutorial section, and I immediately understand why this game is +100 long, these sequences are much more complicated now. There's psuedo-stealth mechanics? Blurgh.

Ryuji wants to save the volleyball slaves and Morgana explains that these aren't actually them, they are cognitive copies that are.... essentially the projection Kamoshida has of each person in the school.

I don't wanna be a jerk Persona but this is adding more and more complexity to your already complex world. But maybe I am still in P4G mode, where every aspect of how the Midnight Channel worked was a clue. At this point, there is no central mystery.

hey yo what the fuck

Somehow Kamoshida broke Ryuji's fucking leg?????

What the fuck happened there? Also yeah, Ryuji, I don't know you super well yet but I'm with you, we can wreck this guy. Holy shit.

boy howdy getting your persona stings a bit in this one huh

Ryuji has Captain Kidd as his, with is pretty fun NGL. So our theme is literally Various Types Of Thieves in this game, huh? I'm cool with that.

#p5 #persona liveblog

[thewayshedreamed]

A Symphony

a/n: Happy Nessian Week! This is for Day 1′s prompt (and clearly I’m very late), but I’m really excited to share this with y’all!

This is a follow-up, set 200 years post-mating from my fic Death Dance. I’ve wanted to write this for a long time, and @nessianweek​ 2022 inspired me to finally write it and share it with y’all! (I also included a few details to make it a bit more canon compliant since I wrote the original 2 parts before acosf was released— and since the prompt calls for ‘what happened after’, this can be read as a stand-alone one-shot set 200 yrs post-acosf).

I know I wrote Death Dance forever ago, but it holds such a special place in my heart as one of the first fics I ever shared. I’ll include the links here in case you want a refresher or would like to read it! 

>> Death Dance | Death Dance, Part 2 | ao3

——————————————————————————

"...that’s what battle is. A symphony.” — ACOWAR

Cassian loved watching the sunrise atop the House of Wind. He often retreated to the roof earliest to start his warm-ups and prepare for training. He had a solid routine of assessing the weapons, setting any broken ones aside for repair, and making sure adequate water was on hand. The fewer interruptions to their sessions, the better.

His blade sang as he pulled it from the rack nearby. It wasn’t the sword he opted to use in battle, nor was it the finest piece of steel he owned, but he favored it in training nonetheless. The weight was perfect, and his hand had formed the leather around the hilt to fit perfectly after years of use.

Perhaps superstition played a part in it, too. Anytime he deviated from it, he made multiple errors. He decided it was the fault of the blade rather than the warrior having an off-day.

Footsteps sounded nearby, and his eyes landed on his favorite opponent. She had come so far over the years in her technique, and she rivaled him in focus and determination. There had never been a challenge she didn’t rise to meet.

Her cool blue eyes, bleary due to the early hour, assessed him as usual. Cassian huffed a laugh at her serious expression and nodded to an open area nearby.

“Go ahead and get warmed up. I’m ready when you are,” he goaded. That knowing glint shined in her eyes, and it was so familiar that his chest tightened.

“Already did.” Her voice was even, almost bored. Not that it bothered him, considering it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. “I did some stairs inside the House before I came up. I’m waiting on you.”

Her smile was as sharp as the blade she selected from the rack. Cassian eased his feet apart and braced himself for when the session would start, but she strolled over to another table before meeting him in the ring. Her delicate hand hovered over each dagger until she decided on which two to tuck into her leathers.

“Doesn’t hurt to have back-up,” she stated, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“No, it doesn’t. I’ve taught you well.”

“You could say that.” Her smile turned feral, her eyes flashing a brighter blue as she lunged for Cassian.

Deflecting her blade was child’s play, but she hadn’t truly expected to surprise him. Not yet, anyway. Cassian knew her to be more calculated— and far less transparent— than one rush attack. The Illyrian steel clanged loudly upon contact and whistled through the air at Cassian’s counter attack. Her block caught him off-guard a little in both speed and technique, and he didn’t fight the warm pride flooding his chest.

They danced that way, a nearly choreographed push and pull of steel and delicate footwork. Her breaths sounded through the training ring first, but he didn’t dare comment on how she lost her rhythm moments prior. The only thing that would produce was an additional waste of breath in telling him to mind his own business. Best to cut out the middle step.

Cassian disarmed her artfully in a similar way he’d succeeded in the past. He made a mental note to run through the maneuver during their debrief so that she wasn’t vulnerable to it in actual combat. With a swiftness characteristic of the High Fae, she had a dagger in each hand and went immediately on the offensive. The determination made him smile, but her responding scowl let him know that she likely took it as a taunt.

He schooled his features as he’d trained to do his entire life, eliminating any tells and masking any weaknesses in his form. Sometimes, an opponent’s face was their weakest asset. They told a multitude of stories if one knew where to look.

Cassian defended the attack successfully and was vaguely aware of another presence walking toward the edge of the ring. It wasn’t uncommon for the Valkyries to support one another during drills, especially with how they coordinated their attacks, but this lesson was private. He couldn’t afford the lapse in focus to bark an order along that vein.

“Remember your breath,” she prompted.

Cassian’s eyes slid over of their own volition, nearly allowing one of the daggers to drag along the skin of his bicep. He dodged it in the half-second before contact, but it was too close for comfort. He chose to ignore the unwelcome coaching from the sidelines in favor of his sparring partner who was quite content to use any error in his judgment to her advantage.

He should have expected as much. It was what he taught her to do.

“He has too much access to your blindside.”

A growl erupted from Cassian’s chest. “Stop coaching her. It won’t serve her in the long-run.”

He spun away and recalibrated, using his wings to lift and propel him forward. His sword came down and met both daggers, crossed to hold his blade at bay.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she blinked it away. Cassian noticed how her chest heaved, the way her jaw clenched. She was losing steam and quickly. Hundreds of drills and sparring sessions, and she still didn’t know when to call it.

“It’s over,” he murmured, his tone final but not unkind. The reality was that he was only using half of his force, so even if she aimed to dig her heels in to defend herself, it would only take his full might to compromise her form.

“You don’t know that,” she gritted out, pushing against him with her remaining strength.

Cassian pushed harder against her, and a frustrated snarl sounded between them. Her nostrils flared in her desperation for breath, but the way her arms shook was the true sign of her exhaustion.

“Listen to me,” he instructed, firmer that time. “It’s over. Don’t let your pride get you killed.”

With a roar, she threw her weight forward in an attempt to throw Cassian off-balance. He held his sword steady with one arm and used his free hand to flex against her forearm and stripped her of the dagger. In a blink, he discarded his sword on the ground and spun her around, using the remaining dagger at her throat to pin her against his chest.

To her credit, she held her head high. “Was that really necessary?”

Cassian tossed the dagger aside and released her. She whirled around, fire in her eyes and what he knew was a loaded temper on her tongue. That was fine. He had a temper of his own.

“You tell me,” he argued, his voice louder than before. “I told you it was over, and you pushed anyway. That’s how you die.”

“So, you want me to give up?!” Her voice met and exceeded his own, growing more shrill by the second.

“No! I want you to know your limits and identify them before you get there. I want you to stop playing the damned hero and retreat when you should. Listen to me for once, for fuck’s sake. I want you to do what you need to survive!”

When the silence fell, Cassian realized how loud he’d been. Her lip quivered, and his temper evaporated as quickly as it had come. His heart crumbled in his chest watching her take steps away from him.

“I’ll be back before lunch,” she said, her voice trembling. “Nice talk.”

With two beats of her beautiful, umber wings, she was airborne. Cassian squeezed his eyes shut to gather himself and decided it was better to face the music sooner rather than later. He turned toward Nesta, still planted at the edge of the ring and her silver eyes swirling with contempt.

Fuck.

He heaved a breath and finished it with a firm warning. “Nes, don’t.”

Nesta stepped forward, her glare still fixed on his face. “Why did you have to push her so hard?”

“I didn’t push her any harder than I pushed you or any of the other Valkyries. She’s talented, Nesta, but she’s proud as hell.”

His wife blinked at him, and he didn’t have to be daemati to know her thoughts roared with the word hypocrite. Perhaps those were his own thoughts screaming at him.

“I know, I know,” he continued. “I’ll talk to her once she cools off.”

A murderous laugh sounded from Nesta, and goose flesh erupted over Cassian’s spine. He would never admit it, though. “Oh, no you won’t. You fucked up. You’re going to find her and talk to her right now.”

His brows came together in irritation. “Cynane gets her temper honestly— from both sides, might I add.” Nesta had the good sense to look a little sheepish. “She needs time.”

She crossed her arms, unsatisfied with his reasons. “Maybe so, but we have no idea where she’s headed. For all we know, she’ll get plenty of time with how long it will take you to find her.” It was Nesta’s turn to escalate and allow her temper to run free, he guessed. Her voice was venom made sound. “You will get your ass in the air. You will find our daughter, and you will bring her home.”

It was a shame how beautiful Nesta was when she was at her most angry. The only thing to keep Cassian’s wits about him was the layer of desperation beneath her anger, the way he knew her heart couldn’t rest without knowing Cynane was safe. It didn’t matter that she was approaching her 21st birthday in the coming months. She was forever their baby in Nesta’s eyes— and Cassian’s, if he was being fair.

He stepped forward and took Nesta’s hand, raising it to his lips. He let them linger against her skin and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

A smile threatened Nesta’s composure, but she schooled it quickly enough that Cassian didn’t feel right calling her on it. “I’m serious, you brute.”

“I know,” he murmured.

Cassian pressed his lips to her forehead and brought her hand to his chest. Nesta traced the middle siphon mindlessly.

“You were hard on her today. I know you’re used to pushing her, but she’s been having a rough few days.”

He tensed, all of his instincts roaring to life. “What happened?”

“Cassian,” Nesta warned, but her tone was softer than usual. “She’s okay. She and Nyx are fighting, and it’s getting to her.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” He couldn’t help the incredulity in his question. Cynane talked to him about everything.

“She was worried you would overreact.” Alright, Nesta had a point. “They’ll work through it like they always do. They’re young and hard-headed, but they’re best friends. She didn’t want it to cause issues between you and Rhysand.”

He hummed in response, and his wings grew more restless by the second. Nesta was right in that it may take time to find her, and with the threats they knew to exist in their world, his brain insisted on painting worst case scenarios.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he whispered, pulling Nesta against him. “I just— I worry she’ll push herself beyond her means for the greater good, and I couldn’t live with myself if I lost her.”

Nesta was quiet for a moment, then, “Who does that sound like to you?”

The wind circled them, but the chill was negligible in comparison to the realization Nesta prompted.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “This is my fault on so many levels.”

Nesta’s laugh kept him from spiraling completely. “You two are cut from the same cloth, Cassian. She looks up to you, but it’s confusing to her when you chastise her for emulating you.”

“Yeah.” His voice was all grit, his emotions like a hand around his throat. “I’ll fix this.”

“Bring our girl home.”

—

Cassian flew for about an hour before he noticed his daughter’s silhouette at the edge of a cliff. His chest squeezed at realizing she sought comfort in that location. Cassian had taught her to fly there, and they frequently used it as a spot to rest when they flew laps around Velaris together. The fact that she was so angry, yet yearned for a closeness to him nearly brought tears to his eyes.

He landed nearby but far enough away to avoid startling her. Her sniffles echoed along the wind, and it took every ounce of his will power to avoid crushing her to his chest. It didn’t matter that she was 6 feet tall with wings as mighty as some of the strongest Illyrian warriors. She was his Cynane, the light of his life, and he’d hold her as long as she would let him.

Approaching on silent feet, he eased himself into a seated position next to her and fixed his gaze over the horizon. She wiped at her eyes, and for some reason, it hurt that she was trying to hide her emotions from him.

“Hey,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Come here.”

He expected her to resist, maybe to argue that he shouldn’t baby her anymore. Instead, her head dropped heavily to his shoulder, and her body shook with a sob. His instincts itched to eliminate any threat to her, but he had no clue what to do. Ultimately, he decided to wait it out and let her pour her pain into his lap if that’s what she needed.

When she quieted a bit, he tucked his free hand beneath her chin and lifted it to look at him. Her beautiful blue eyes, identical to Nesta’s, were red-rimmed and swollen. Cassian pressed a long kiss to her forehead and pulled back to look at her again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to cry like that.”

He released her chin and brought his wrist toward his mouth. Using his teeth, he pulled a strip of linen he’d used to wrap his wrists prior to training and offered it to her.

Her nose scrunched. “It’s sweaty.”

He flicked the offending nose and held the linen closer to her. “No, it’s not. It’s from the top.”

Cynane glared at it, no more impressed than before.

“Would you rather have snot freeze to your face on the flight home?” he challenged.

She blinked up at him and snatched the strip of fabric out of his hand. Cassian chuckled at her flare for drama, but she retaliated swiftly by pretending to wipe her nose on his tunic instead.

“Heathen,” he teased, leaning away from her and removing his arm from her shoulders. Her laugh made his breathing a bit easier.

She took a moment to blot at her eyes and wipe her nose, heaving a long breath before she gathered the nerve to talk. The sun turned her dark skin almost golden and reflected off the three amber siphons mounted along her collarbone. Females didn’t usually receive siphons, but almost none of them held the power that his daughter held, either. The scary part was that they still didn’t quite know the breadth of it.

“Talk to me.” It was foreign to ask because she almost always brought her troubles straight to him. Sometimes, she turned to Nesta first depending on the subject, but she had never run from him rather than talk something out. “Your mom said you have some things on your mind.”

A few beats passed in silence. “I shouldn’t have forced that sparring session so much,” she admitted, her voice a quiet rasp. “I think I was trying to work through some stuff, but that’s not the place for it.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, turning his body to see her face better. “We can work through it now. Together.”

She offered a small, pitiful smile and dropped her head to his shoulder again. Cassian used his free hand to brush some of the dark waves that escaped her braid away from her face. “Nyx is pissing me off.”

A laugh bubbled out of him without warning and encouraged one from Cynane, too. It felt good to laugh in light of all the tension. “Yeah? What’s he doing?”

“He doesn’t listen to me!” she exclaimed. “Ever— for anything. He doesn’t listen to me in training, he doesn’t listen to me in social situations. He doesn’t even listen to me about what suit he should wear, and half the time, he’s the one asking in the first place.”

Much like his father, then. “He’s young, proud. I’m—“

“Dad, he’s 200 years old.” The exasperation in her voice made him smile. He tucked his cheek against her head.

“Yeah, well,” he trailed off. “It took his father longer than that to listen to me, and that’s still not a guarantee.”

Cynane chuckled, and the sound was so reminiscent of Nesta that his heart inflated beyond the available space of his ribcage. “Give him time. He’s had a microscope on him since birth, and some lessons, he’ll have to learn on his own.”

“Maybe,” she sighed. “When you put it that way, it makes me feel like my expectations are off. If Nyx is young, what does that make me?”

“My baby, for one,” he said through a smirk and felt her wing flick against his own with a quiet slap. She hated when Cassian made a production over her. “You have the same old soul that your mother does, so you tend to put more pressure on your shoulders than is yours to bear.”

The echo of Nesta’s earlier words ricocheted through his brain. He knew Cynane’s and his likeness. It was nearly impossible to be around the two of them and not see it. The way she entered any room with a casual confidence, the same sideways smile. How she lifted a brow when challenged or skeptical of someone’s motives.

So much of Cassian presented in Cynane, and as much as it warmed his heart to see it, he knew the sense and burden of responsibility were of him, too.

Her voice was quiet. “Sometimes it makes me wonder why I do all this, you know? All the training, trying to prove myself a worthwhile ally to Nyx.”

“It’s your sense of purpose,” he offered. “And for what it’s worth, you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. You and Nyx are best friends, and his behavior has more to do with him than it does with you, I’m sure of it.”

Cynane sniffed, and Cassian’s instincts roared to life in a way that still managed to startle him. She had cried hundreds of times in her short life, but his hackles always rose within milliseconds, anyway.

“It just— it feels like there’s no place for me right now, or maybe if there is a place for me, I don’t live up to it.”

Cassian squeezed his eyes shut and forced his emotions to a more placid level. The pain in her voice was unmistakable, and nothing hurt worse than her pain. Nesta’s pain. He’d take an ash arrow to the chest ten times over.

“That’s not possible,” Cassian insisted, and he meant it.

Cynane was years ahead of many of her Male counterparts in training, and she had been born with the mind of a strategist. He knew it in her earliest years of life when she managed to delay bedtime for months before he and Nesta caught on that it was no accident.

She heaved a breath. “Well, even Nyx doesn’t take me seriously if he can’t be bothered to consider my opinion. My mother literally wields death, for the Cauldron’s sake. Half the Illyrians I train with either hate that I have siphons or think they’re all for show.”

Cassian suppressed a growl, quite skillfully in his opinion, and focused on the lilt of her voice as she continued. “The Males look at me like I’m a joke if I lose to them in training, but if I win, their ego is bruised. That, and they make it a point to talk about how I should be winning more often ‘considering who my dad is.’ No matter what, I’m too much, or I’m not enough.”

If his chest had tightened before, it was nothing in comparison to how he felt hearing her words. Cassian had made it his life’s mission to ensure others found him worthy of his rank, that he was more than some bastard that they left in a field to die. He had pushed himself to every limit, willingly entered the thick of battle to prove himself a worthy leader. In hindsight, the naysayers hadn’t been eradicated by his actions, anyway. Now, that legacy he fought so hard to establish caused more issue for his daughter than it helped.

No one had prepared him for such a particular phase in parenthood.

“And then today, when I pushed our training session, all I did was make things worse. You knew I couldn’t win, and I should have listened to you when you tried to call it. Losing to you— yet again— proved them all right, you know?”

Cassian nudged her cheek away from his shoulder and folded one of his legs in to face her. “No, I don’t know. You’re way too hard on yourself. You haven’t even made your 21st year.”

Cynane shrugged and opened her mouth to respond, but Cassian silenced her with a lifted hand.

“I didn’t call our session because I don’t think you’re capable. If that was the case, I would go easy on you.” She growled at the implication. He suppressed a smile in order to carry on. “I give you my all in training because you’re further along than even I was at your age, and I know there will come a day when you best me. When that happens, it will be because you’ve surpassed me, not because I’ve favored you.”

Her eyes glassed over, and Cassian made a mental note to tell Nesta she had to handle the next tearful conversation with their daughter. He’d met his quota, and his heart couldn’t take much more.

“Okay,” she rasped, nodding her head as if to convince herself that he told the truth. Then, with a mischievous smile, she added, “Better than you, huh?”

Cassian laughed, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “I should have never told you that.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Her piercing blue eyes lifted to meet his own. They were creased slightly at each corner, and that small hint of a smile eased some of the tension from his shoulders. Cassian stood from the ground and offered his hand to the pride of his life.

“Come on.” he ordered, stretching his scarred wings. “I’ll race you back.”

Cynane quirked a brow. The way her wings flitted behind her told him she was going to accept his challenge before she said a word.

“You sure you want to do that?”

Cassian bit his cheek at the clear taunt. Cynane was fast, and it was possible she could very well beat him in a short burst. The flight home was longer though, and Cassian wasn’t above using a shortcut or two that he knew from his many laps around Velaris over the years.

He smiled at her, broad and unrestrained. “Of course, Little Wing,” he drawled, allowing himself an internal celebration when she scowled at the nickname she’d rejected for some time. “Unless you’re not up for it.”

He made two steps toward the cliff until, “You know,” she said, the drip of her voice identical to his own. “I don’t know why you still call me that. Mine outgrew yours years ago.”

Cassian rounded on her and grabbed her in a loose headlock. She shoved him away with a laugh and flexed her wings broadly behind her, tilting her head to assess the wind. He turned away and made his way toward the cliff once more.

“The longer it takes me to get you back, the more likely your mother is to kill me.” He beat his wings, his toes poised at the very edge of the rock. Before he could take off, Cynane’s voice froze him in place.

“I don’t think she could.”

Cassian preened internally, yet he allowed a glance over his shoulder and a smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth. His daughter had faith in him, and that was all well and good, but he wondered how Nesta would respond.

In the spirit of self-preservation, he said, “Appreciate it, kid, but it’s no contest.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sure she could.”

Cassian bared his teeth in a half-hearted snarl. From revered to humbled in no time flat with Cynane, he thought.

“But she won’t,” she murmured, her footsteps approaching from behind. “She loves you too much.”

His throat tightened, and as casually as possible, he turned toward the horizon in his own assessment of the wind. Cynane’s footsteps picked up speed and intensity, and she playfully knocked Cassian’s shoulder with hers as she launched herself over the cliff’s edge.

He laughed freely, watching her barrel roll through the sky and circle back to hover a few feet in front of him. The change in tone and the mirth etched into her features were welcome shifts from the heavier atmosphere of before. Cynane lowered her brows in dry challenge.

“Try to keep up,” she taunted.

Cassian smiled and turned around, throwing himself backward into free fall before his wings flared wide and caught the wind. He flexed them a few times to warm them up and made his way toward his daughter’s waiting form above.

“I’ll be sure to let your mom know you’re on your way,” he replied, angling into a sharp turn in the House’s general direction.

An incredulous shout echoed through the valley.

Served her right, he thought.

—

Apparently, Cassian had forgotten that he’d shown Cynane many of the shortcuts he knew through their particular mountain range. They emerged on either side of the rooftop, her feet touching down mere seconds before his own.

His chest heaved with the effort of catching his breath. His 700-plus years were showing, and he wasn’t as good at hiding it as he would have liked. When he glanced toward Cynane, he realized he wasn’t the only one who had pushed beyond their limits if her own panting was any indication.

A book snapped shut nearby, and they whirled around to see Nesta walking toward them. She’d lowered herself to a training mat, her back against the wall, while she waited for them to return. Her face was neutral enough, and Cassian took it as a good sign that she poured each of them a glass of water from the pitcher nearby.

“I assume the two of you worked through things,” she said, her tone apprehensive.

Cassian leaned his elbow heavily on Cynane’s shoulder, ignoring her growl of irritation. “Never been better, really.”

He turned a smile toward Cynane, but the look in her eye was trouble. He’d know it a mile away considering it usually took residence on his own face.

“Yeah,” she agreed, pausing to take a long pull of water. “Dad explained that the only reason he pushed me so much was because you thought he was babying me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and offered an amused grin toward her mother. “But I understand that you want what’s best for me, so no hard feelings.”

Nesta’s eyes were more silver than blue when they snapped in Cassian’s direction. He muttered a low curse at his daughter’s betrayal and dropped his arm from her shoulder.

“Your kid is full of shit,” he joked, and Cynane’s features lifted into a broad smile. “But we did talk, and we’re okay, Nes. Promise.”

Her face softened, and she moved forward to wrap her arms tightly around Cynane’s waist. She returned the hug immediately and dipped her head to place a kiss to her mother’s temple.

“I know you needed space, but don’t leave it so open-ended when you’re upset,” Nesta asked, her voice even, yet soft. “We’ll always give you what you need, just let us know where we can find you if something were to happen.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

They released each other, and the look of exhaustion on Nesta’s face was too much for Cassian to bear after such a heavy morning. He tugged her against his chest, earning a deep sigh from Cynane.

“That’s my cue,” she began, walking toward the door. “I’ll make us some lunch since I worried you.”

“The House can provide lunch if you want to rest a little, maybe take some time to yourself,” Nesta offered.

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m in the mood for Dad’s Illyrian stew. I’m going to whip some of that up.”

“Remember,” Cassian called to her retreating form, “don’t cook it too fast or—”

“The vegetables will be soggy, and the meat will be tough,” Cynane finished. She looked over her shoulder to make eye contact with Cassian over Nesta’s head. “I’ve got it.”

He heard the double meeting, and his pride in his daughter’s resilience threatened to devour him whole.

“I know.”

With a small smile, she disappeared inside. He and Nesta clung to one another for a few seconds of contented silence until it was time to give credit where it was due.

“You were right to make me go after her,” he admitted, pulling back to look into her face. “She needed to talk it out.”

Nesta blinked up at him and traced his jaw with her fingers, lifting onto her tip toes to press a kiss to his lips. “She needed her dad.”

Cassian’s throat bobbed. When his eyes fluttered open, Nesta’s raw admiration hit him square in the chest, just below the spot where she’d traced his siphon earlier on. “Yeah, I think she did.”

He kissed her again, firmer that time but nothing more than seeking comfort in their intimacy. Everything settled, down to the ever-present buzz beneath his skin, with Nesta’s strong and steady presence.

Pulling away, he asked, “Unrelated, but could you find out who Cynane has been sparring with these last couple of weeks?”

Her glare was a clearer warning than anything she could have said. “Unrelated, sure.”

“Only slightly,” he lied, not bothering to cover it well, either. “She mentioned some struggle so I thought maybe I could give her some pointers for next time.”

“Or, you know, maybe select them at random for a training demonstration?”

Cassian laughed, kissing her again. “If you think it’s a good idea, sure.”

She scowled up at him. “You know I don’t. Cynane would kill you.”

He pulled the late morning air into his lungs and let it out in one long whoosh. “Yeah,” he admitted, albeit begrudgingly. “I’ll leave it.”

Nesta released him, and he missed her warmth immediately. Sliding her hand into his, their calluses from years of training skimming over the other’s, he felt a sense of belonging he would never take for granted as long as the Mother allowed him time in their universe. He tugged on her hand to spin her around and wrapped his arm tightly around her waist. Nesta gripped his shoulders for stability and pressed tightly to his chest.

“I love you,” he murmured against the skin of her neck, taking delight in how she shivered against him.

“Love you more.”

——————————————————————————

Shout-out to @bookstantrash for letting me use Cynane (kee-nah-nay) as their daughter's name in this fic. She wrote me a beautiful one-shot (Bilingual Family) as a Secret Santa gift last year, and I absolutely loved it. It seemed fitting to use the name here!

Here's a copy of the name's origin, listed on her post— "Cynane was the daughter of the Illyrian Princess Audata and King Philip II of Macedon, making her the half-sister of Alexander the Great. Following the Illyrian tradition of women as warriors, her mother raised her in the martial arts, also teaching her how to hunt, track, ride, and fight better than any men. She was also raised with the belief that she was equal of any man. Before she was 20yo, Cynane was well known for these skills and became famous for her courage and brilliance in battle."

Thanks again to my incredibly sweet friend for letting me use it! Love you, Babi ❤️ 

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta x cassian #acotar fanfic #acosf #nessian week 2022 #nessian week day 1 #nessian fluff #death dance #200 years later #twsd fics #twsd writes

[greyias]

On @thievinghippo's recommendation for a Stardew Valley-like game with more plot, I picked up "My Time at Portia" like... months ago. Put off playing it for a while, launched it once and enjoyed it... then I made the mistake of deciding to launch it this weekend because "the ruin diving is fun and relaxing"

Several lost nights of sleep later, and a long weekend/vaction days I had planned on using to write... I'm in deep. I've been regaling @grumpyhedgehog with the tales of how between awkward timing on my part, randomized in-game events how one NPC who is probably supposed to be dashing and competent is coming off as the biggest damn dork and it's incredibly hilarious and endearing.

Poor Arlo here keeps trying to be this suave and competent savior, promising to save my builder from conmen trying to shake her down, and track down thieves, to arrive to every situation fifteen minutes late with Starbucks as my character is dusting her hands off, having already handled everything. And then he gets frustrated and starts telling me how he's supposed to be the one beating people up and saving the town. Which of course means he brings her along on a stakeout, I guess so he can keep an eye on her since she's getting into trouble anyway?

A Running List of Possibly Accidental In-Game Arlo Shenanigans:

He was the only person to remember my character's birthday -- including ME. I was so intent on fixing the town's water supply I forgot until he comes sneaking by at 7am to drop a gift off without even waving hello

The gift has battle stats -- so I put it on, and ironically get stuck in the hardest little dungeon crawl of the game with no healing items brought along (because I had no clue), and only his gift (and another NPC) to keep me alive

I finally get through the plot and stagger out to him and he's like "Oh hey thanks for fixing the water problem" and proceeded to pretend like he hadn't snuck a gift on my doorstep before the ass crack of dawn

He wanted me to make him a bag, with a time sensitive delivery that if I missed, I'd lose relationship points and reputation. So I rush to finish it. Then the game decides to lock him in eternal battle day and night, because of plot, and he refuses to talk to me to take his gd bag that I worked really hard on, and just shouts at me to go get supplies to fix the hole because enemies keep spawning every five seconds.

So I have to work day and night to get the items to fix the plot thing, so he doesn't hate me because he WON'T TAKE HIS BAG THAT I'M WAVING MADLY AT HIS FACE and then once the plot is advanced he's like "Oh hey thanks bag looks great, sure we can go on a platonic buddy date" and walks off

Shows up five hours early during a festival at the platonic buddy date spot to ask me to make him a training dummy, runs off

Comes back for the platonic buddy date, happily takes the spicy spaghetti I learned how to make just for him because he wouldn't stop talking about how much he wanted spicy spaghetti. Then he's like "I have stuff to do" five minutes into our buddy date and just leaves

I get fed up and challenge him to combat in the street. Despite being several levels lower than him, somehow manage to kick his ass in front of the entire town

This apparently is an extremely attractive thing to do. He shows up on my doorstep at 7am the next morning to ask ME on a platonic buddy date. I guess we'll see if this lasts a whole ten minutes this time.

Anyway, this game is now sucking up every last braincell, in the exact same way Stardew Valley did until I got my fill. So I guess this is just what I'm doing until something distracts me (probably the swtor 7.3 update, whenever that happens, because that usually derails my brain for a solid week)

#in my infinite wisdom #i have decided to woo this dork #who is the only npc known to glitch and sometimes simultaneously date a different npc #if you don't do things in the proper order according to the wiki #so after all of this #knowing my luck with bugs #this is going to be a doomed romance #like i THINK he's supposed to be this confident sheriff archetype #but from me maybe choosing the wrong dialogue options and randomized events etc #he's coming across as a little bumbling and its incredibly endearing #mtap #long post #because i don't feel like putting anything under a cut #sorry #grey's my time tag

[elch-im-ausland]

well I feel bad for neglecting this account so I'm going to keep a little log of my trip to berlin just for fun

Saturday Feb. 17 2024

I wake up in Tübingen in Helia's dorm room because Fiona wanted the Deutsch Kompakt Kurs to hang out again at the end of the semester on Friday and Helia still had to return my book (Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata) to me and the party was in the common area of her building. So anyway I spent the night in her room since she has an extra mattress and when I woke up she made breakfast (hot milk and muesli... don't ask) and then I took the bus to the Tübingen Hauptbahnhof and from there I got to the Stuttgart Hauptbahnhof at 11:30 am. I should mention that I'm a chronic overpacker and my bag was so fucking heavy but I made it.

Then I went to Yorma's and bought a Butterbrezel (I wanted the thick one with the green onions but apparently I didn't order the right one so I got the tiny Brezel with a measly swipe of butter so that was fun) and also a mozzarella and tomato sandwich (also not the one I wanted and also all the lettuce fell to the bottom of the bag 🥲). But if you were me at a busy train station and there was a long line behind you, you would also just take what you were given without complaint. I also bought an apfelschorle and Haribo gummies cuz I like to get a little silly with it.

So anyway then I check my email and find out that my train to Berlin got switched so my seat got rebooked so instead of sitting in front of the luggage rack (to make sure no one stole my stuff) I sat in a normal seat like a normal person. Luckily though the guy from Mannheim who was supposed to sit next to me decided to sit somewhere else :D yay!

Train ride was about 5.5 hours long with stops in Mannheim and Frankfurt. Free WLAN and I got some solid knitting done. the sky was very pretty.

Arrive at 19 Uhr and the woman who is hosting me sends me very long directions on how to find her place. She is a friend of a friend of a friend of my parents. As it turns out. I get stopped by a guy doing a survey? I think? outside of the Berlin Hauptbahnhof but I slithered out of that interaction by answering all of his questions and being very unassertive.

I arrive at the apartment building my host lives in which is covered in very cool graffiti and is just so German idk, she rings me up and I get to discover just how many flights of stairs my poor body can handle. Remember how I overpacked? I do always regret it in the end, yet I never learn. The apartment is on the top floor and it's covered in very cool art and vintage posters and maps and things and full of very luscious plants it's so rad.

My host is really nice, she is also studying art (I think her Master's program?) and she invites me to this party she's going to tonight that's a 50th birthday party for a woman she knows. So I take a shower and go there and it's also on like the 5th floor (my asthma is loving this). There is music, live experimental jazz and EVERYONE is smoking inside and it is also decorated in a really cool cluttered artsy way. The music was really good, but there were a lot of people there and my german isn't exactly at the conversational level so I only stayed a couple hours until 1 am and then took the train back to the apartment because I was also really tired.

Overall it was a nice day, I wish I could have left for Berlin when my last class ended on the 14th so I could go to clubs but that can wait until next time and I was happy to see my Tübingen buddies again.

My room here is sort of small but there's a really cool lamp and the window looks out onto the courtyard of the apartment building which is very sexy.

#germany #study abroad #travel abroad #berlin

[theforgottendaydreamer]

Dumb vent post, like, super dumb I swear, ignore this.

Not to talk shit about my housemates, because I love them, okay?

But I wish they were more house trained.

Why is it that I'm the only one who washes the waste bins from time to time? Or the shower mat and oven mitts? Why is it that if one of them leaves the bucket full of dirty mop water in the middle of the corridor, I'm the only one who actually goes to empty it? 'Cause one of them mopped the floor and left, for like a week, to go back to her parents'. And she didn't bother emptying the bucket. And I always do that for her, and for the others, because apparently I'm the only one bothered by a bucket of dirty water and it's better to just- leave it there instead of wasting thirty seconds to empty it right away? But anyway, I told myself "Mh, let's wait and see." I gave up after three days.

Or- the trash. God. We take turns, okay? We take turns as in, like "this week it's my turn to clean the bathroom" etc. And so yes, turns for taking out the trash too. But I always do it because they just- keep stuffing the bins until they're full to the brim and things start to fall out of them.

Not to talk about the countertop, or the table. Please. Please, how long does it take to grab some kitchen paper and degreaser?

Or... hair. Hair!! Sometimes I find lil balls of hair that is defeinitely not mine and I'm like mh. who's gonna pick it up. Who's gonna whip out the vaccuum cleaner? Nobody. It's horrible. I'm not squeamish when it comes to hair, at all- I'm actually the one who pulls it from the drains (we have the lil thing you put on the drain but it just doesn't work?) but come on.

Please. Like okay, yes, my mother is a clean freak, I have always always been taught to be pristine all the time and to leave my house spotless. Always. As in going to bed at one am even if you have a plane at 6 because the house has to be spotless before we leave for holidays (I always joke "wouldn't want the robbers to rob a dirty house").

But like, I don't think I'm asking for much.

We mop once a week only (shoes must come off the moment we step into the apartment so it's less gross than you'd imagine) and we do the dishes once a day only- on a scale of one to five, one being pigsty and five being "Alfred Pennyworth was here", this house is a solid 3 ½ most of the times. But... it's mainly thanks to me.

And I hate it. I hate it because "omg you don't need to do that" no, no, I do need to do that because nobody else will.

And while I could hypothetically tell them this, I cannot tell them "Please check if the toilet is actaully clean after you go n #2 and also clean the toilet brush before putting it away." because that's- no. Can't bring myself to.

Earlier I went to my room right after dinner because something came up with a uni project so i left my two dirty dishes, fork, and glass on the table "I'll be right back, sorry!" And? Three hours later what do I find? Everyone's dishes in the sink but mine. Left them right there, on the table. so, naturally, now, at 00.42 am, I'm going to wash only my shit, out of spite, yeah.

Come on. I get it, they're all younger (the youngest is 19 anyway so yeah, still old enough). But I didn't learn to clean after myself only after moving here.

I've been doing that for over a decade. Not as in "I was a slave" but as in "a 10 yr old can absolutely load and unload the dishwasher, set and tidy the table, put their (already folded*) clothes in their closet, wipe the sink after they brush their teeth, ..."

Under supervision and without consequences if I decided not to, one day, but I was house trained since I can remember and it's the best thing to do to help your child grow into an adult who can actually adult.

* I have sensory issues so folding clothes and touching cloth in general makes me want to puke and makes my teeth hurt (I'm serious, don't ask). Even with gloves, it's the sound too. Thinking about it made my teeth hurt. But I promise I can fold clothes.

#ignore

[ralfstrashcan]

Heads Up, Seven Up!

Look who's showing her face again around here after almost a year of radio silence XD this smashing comeback is thanks to the one and only @silver-lily-louise who tagged me in a little writer's challenge.

(Before I get into that though I need to yell about your post for a sec because it sent me into a giggling fit. Not only the genius wordplay with Seven's name in the beginning but also the fic snippet itself because damn, you really nailed the characterization of both of them! I can see Seven's doubtingly raised eyebrow and Harry trying to play it off and being all breezy even though he is a cinnamon roll and can't fool anyone into thinking differently... I enjoyed every second of that!)

Now, the Challenge!

Share the last seven sentences you wrote.

Well, let's see. I'm currently (=since February) working on my German Attack on Titan fanfic (which is why I've been MIA on ao3, if anyone's been wondering...) Fun Fact, I've already mentioned that fic once on here a loooong while ago and the line from then doesn't exist in this form anymore, hahaha! Anyway, back then was chapter 3, what I'll share now is from chapter 18. I decided to leave it at six sentences because they form a unit of meaning and since they're German sentences they're still more than 1,5x as long as Louise's 9 - and almost twice as long in English, because of course - so I think we're good XD Here goes!

Levi examined his charges who were lined up in front of him like organ pipes. With their vastly differing level of knowledge it wouldn't make sense to provide Eren and Mikasa with the same training. Mikasa had already mastered much more than just the basics of self defense and if Levi recalled his little sparring session with Eren in the waiting room of his studio and Eren's subsequent performance on the punching bag then there was no doubt that Eren braved any fight on enthusiasm and overflowing anger alone, not on any kind of understanding of fighting techniques. Armin at least had a solid grasp on the essentials but nothing more. It was now around six thirty so there were roughly two and a half hours left until the Titans would likely tell them the place for the hostage exchange and they'd discuss their plan of action. He would make the most of it.

And of course, here's the German original:

Levi musterte seine Schützlinge, die aufgereiht vor ihm standen wie die Orgelpfeifen. Bei einem so unterschiedlichen Wissensstand war es nicht sinnvoll, Eren und Mikasa dasselbe Training angedeihen zu lassen. Mikasa beherrschte bereits weit mehr als nur die Grundlagen der Selbstverteidigung und wenn Levi sich an sein kleines Gefecht mit Eren im Wartezimmer seines Studios und auch dessen anschließende Vorstellung am Boxsack erinnerte, war klar, dass Eren jeden Kampf allein mit Enthusiasmus und überschäumender Wut bestritt, nicht aber mit irgendeinem Verständnis von Kampftechniken. Armin hatte zumindest ein solides Basiswissen, mehr allerdings nicht. Es war jetzt ungefähr halb sieben, also hatte er noch etwa zweieinhalb Stunden Zeit, bis sich die Titanen mutmaßlich mit dem Ort des Geiselaustauschs melden und sie ihr genaues Vorgehen besprechen würden. Er würde das Beste draus machen.

I'm pretty sure the expression with the organ pipes does not exist in English but I decided to go with a literal translation anyway XD

Thanks for reading, if you made it through all of my rambles ;D

#you don't visit tumblr for a year and suddenly everything looks different #go figure #and new features cool cool cool #editing tags is a+ #i literally forgot any tags i ever used #uhhhh #tagging game

[alpona]

Link click: Theory & questions:

*all spoilers for season 1 !*

Just What how why everything? Lol. Every question I can ask will be deliberately left out plot point, meant to be slowly revealed. But let's get on with some anyway.

Most of my theories will be surrounding Lu guang, as he's the one mc shrouded in mystery. And he's totally not my favourite character and absolutely not pretty 😝

1. Lu guang is hiding something, or more like a lot of things. Duh. Everyone knows that.

He radiates this aura as if he's already... Guilty of something? And certainly carrying some burden (the burden of knowledge for sure, But more than that.)

I feel like he's on a mission of some sort. The business they're doing can't simply be for business. It's like.... A training session....? Is Lu guang training Cheng? In Preparation of a bigger, dangerous, life altering mission?

2. Is Lu guang somehow connected to Cheng xiaoshi's parents disappearance, at least knows something about it? I'm theorising this because of the guilt I sense from Lu guang.

What happened to the parents is a big question already, duh, very likely related to the timey whimey stuff (hey I'm still using the term! Hehe it's too perfect)

3. Ahem, what, I mean who is Lu guang anyway? (Or really what) sometimes I feel like he's already time traveling. Him being from the future is a popular theory.

His age is weirdly left unknown, thats also a big point.

He's possessing his younger self??

From Alternate timeline?

Is he actually xiaoshi (and qiao ling's) son from the future?  😂 it's almost scary how it kinda makes sense to me. Maybe xiaoshi died or disappeared or got lost in a dive.

4. Power mechanism. Still don't know how their powers work, since when, rarity of such ability, etc etc.

Lu guang probably can do more than we've seen.

5. What are the odds of 2 people with complimentary powers randomly meeting each other?

From the little we've seen of their backstory, I feel like Lu guang purposefully came to xiaoshi, their meeting wasn't any coincidence. Ties in with the mission theory.

6. Someone on YouTube said that 'maybe our protagonists knew each other beforehand in a different timeline, but something happened that caused only xiaoshi to forget everything. Thus lu guang's reason for being more knowledgeable. - very nice theory! I'd like to extend it, maybe xiaoshi died or disappeared in another timeline, thus Guang feels guilty. Thus his protectiveness and understanding behaviour. Hesitant to approach xiaoshi n start this business but couldn't help it either.

And not just to Xiaoshi, he's also quite protective of Qiao ling. Maybe something happened to her too... (Future son theory intensifies!!!)

7. Lu guang is seen to get tired while using his powers, right? When he's guiding xiaoshi for hours. He often takes naps on the couch at random times and sets up alarm to wake up at right times. Ok, I of all people should consider this a totally normal thing to do, do u need excuse to nap ahem ahem... And especially when you're 'watching a mundane movie through your mind's eye', of course it's tiring. But sadly (and fortunately) not everyone is Opshee, so the way it is shown, this can also mean that using luguangs powers are taxing. Low energy high intelligence.

8. The villain/antagonist, red eyes. Yeeeaah, so who that, what that? Should I even ask such obvious question, that's what season 2 will be about 😆 but I can state my theories beforehand.

That's not just a person, but more like....karma? Time police? A supernatural force that punishes everyone who messes with time? A being without even a solid body.... Woooo that'd be hard to deal with!

- wait, he did say something like being an 'agent' in last episode? Wonky translations, so not sure. But the original title of this show literally translates to 'time agent' apperantly, so......? Actual time police possible??

- or in simpler case, another person with similar powers to our mcs. Who's just a psycho. Wow so simple.

How his or her powers work is another question.

- is that person time traveling? Or just possessing people in present time? It should be time related to make it cooler n match our protagonist's powers, but there were scenes where it can be intercepted as just normal possession ability.

But then he can't be time police type....nah. I'll stick with 1st theory.

9. Obesvation: in episode... 6 maybe, there's a little scene at the police station, one of the serial killer victim's file/page went missing.

That has to mean something later. Maybe.... A police is related?

The assistant police, forgot his name, could he be the main villain? Dun dun duuuun!

10. Lu guang's watch. ...just, something seems to be there about it. It's highlighted more in the chibi shorts. That is related to something of his backstory.

11. Lu guang's platinum blonde hair, actually kinda stands out considering most people has the natural brown/black. Well, I wouldn't even think anything of it cuz, anime world! 😄 Multicolor hair is soooo common to us, especially when Lu guang n Xiaoshi are designed with complimentary black-white aesthetic. It just makes sense. But it kinda caught my attention from their university flashback scene... Lu guang was wearing a hat. It just felt like he was sort of embarrassed about his unnatural hair...?? Then my galaxy brain thought this has something to do with his mysterious background as well. A side effect of time travel? Future theke আসতে গিয়ে? Time travel makes your hair white? Lol

(Eeeeeeverything about Lu guang is sus. What's next opshee? Lu guang's shoes are suspicious too? His white shirt too?)

12. ..... I'll just clearly state my wildest n craziest theory here - Lu guang is Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao ling's son from the future. 😶

I have no reason or proof or argument for this, and I'm embarrassed, but it just keeps making sense somehow?!

( this note has been sitting on my phone for almost a year, but now that we have season 2 airdate, I better post this now, and let's all brainstorm about these!)

#shi guang dai li ren #link click #lu guang #cheng xiaoshi

[waywardxrhea]

Part Twenty-Five: Lagos

[slow burn romance between Steve Rogers and SHIELD agent Emma Baker]

Warnings: 18+, contains humor, fluff, mental health, family trauma, romance, angst, language, violence, (potentially smut later on).

installment list

Word count: 4.5k

The team finally gets a lead on what Rumlow may be up to so they fire up the jet and head to Lagos to stop him.

[With an Emma and Steve moment before]

After a couple more months of group training and continued snide comments from Sam and Natasha, Steve and Emma decide to do some training on their own in the mornings together before the team did their group exercises to avoid the distractions. One morning Steve wakes up and makes his way to Emma's room, knocking on the door gently when he gets there. From inside, Emma rolls over in her bed and calls, "Five more minutes?"

Steve chuckles as he cracks the door open. "Those five minutes could potentially cost you your life, Em. You said it yourself, you wanted to train more so you can be up to par with the rest of us."

Emma sighs but starts to get out of bed, asking, "Can I have a couple minutes to get ready?"

"That you can," Steve replies.

Emma smiles and rubs her eyes as she gets out of the covers. "Here, throw on a record or something while you wait," she offers, "it's my day to choose the music we train to anyways so you might as well choose something you like before my playlist is on."

"Fair enough," Steve replies as he grabs a vinyl from Emma's collection to put on her record player.

Emma grabs some athletic clothes to put on before she brushes her teeth. When she's ready, she grabs her tablet and tells Steve, "Let's go."

"You know, I like doing this in the mornings, just us," he tells her as they walk to the training area.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve says with a smile, "it reminds me of DC."

"Oh yes when you completely outran me every morning?" Emma teases with a smile.

"That was the time," Steve laughs. "Things were a bit more simple those days."

"You're telling me," Emma replies. Gaining a bit of confidence as they reach the training gym, Emma adds, "I really did miss one on one time with you, so I'm really glad we've started to do this."

Steve smiles as his mind races to find something to say back, but he only comes up with, "Me too." He mentally kicks himself for saying something so lame while Emma sets her tablet up to the speakers in the gym.

After Emma gets SAM to cue up her playlist she starts a warmup to the music. A few minutes later, she jogs in place while asking Steve, "Ready to get your ass kicked old man?"

"In your dreams, Baker," he replies with a laugh, "but I'll go easy on you today since I woke you up so early."

"Why thank you," Emma says with a sweet smile as they begin their workout. After a solid hour of weight training and cardio, Steve tells Emma it was time for combat. She leans against the wall, out of breath, and says, "Okay give me like two seconds to recover Mr. Super Soldier."

Slipping into Captain mode, Steve tells Emma, "Em, in a battle you won't have two seconds to recover before an enemy attacks again."

Emma takes in a deep breath and nods. "That's fair. Okay, I'm ready. What move are we working on today?"

"Taking someone down from behind. You've gotten good at defensive moves if someone already has you pinned, but you need more work on your offensive moves. I've noticed that in training and on the few missions we've been on, you rely on your drone a lot for offense. You won't always be able to use your tech so you need to know how to effectively get the jump on an opponent without it."

Emma nods. "Got it. Where do we start?"

Steve takes Emma through multiple exercises for a little while before she gets a grasp on them. "Okay, now that you've got those down, let's combine what you just learned with what you already know. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Emma replies with a nod. Her body is exhausted from the training, but she knows she can't give up so close to the end of the session.

Emma and Steve square off for a few minutes, taking it easy before Steve kicks it up a notch. She dodges his punches skillfully and turns on the offensive moves she learned in return when he backs down. When Emma blanks on one of the new moves Steve taught her, he takes that as an opportunity to grab her arms from behind. Instinctively, she dives into a move Natasha taught her to get out of Steve's grasp. Emma plants her right foot between Steve's feet and spins her body into his, knocking him off his balance. While he's off his balance, Emma reaches down and takes a leg out from under him which knocks him to the floor.

Emma straddles Steve's body and pins his arms to the mat and smirks. "Gotcha." Both of their chests heave from the need for oxygen and their hearts race due to the closeness of their bodies. The way Steve looks into her eyes puts Emma in a slight trance and her grip on his arms loosens. At that moment, there was no one else in the world but them.

"That was great, but there's just one thing," Steve says, breathlessly. Emma scrunches her eyebrows and Steve takes the moment of confusion to effortlessly flip Emma to the mat and pin her himself. "You're distracted." When he says this, Steve gets impossibly close to Emma and it makes her heart skip a beat. The pair stare into each other's eyes, not sure what to say nor what to do with the tension building between them even though they both know what they want at that moment.

Emma tries to control her breathing, the room spinning a bit from the effort of the last hour and a half of work coupled with the fact that she and Steve were so close. Meanwhile, without thinking, Steve starts to lean in to close the gap between his and Emma's lips. Steve's lips are just about to meet Emma's when suddenly there's a voice in the gym. "Oh, I apologize. Am I interrupting something?" The voice belongs to Vision who had phased through the wall unannounced.

Steve lets go of Emma's wrists he had pinned to the ground and stands up, quickly telling Vision, "No, not interrupting anything. We were just finishing up our training for the morning."

Steve offers a hand to help Emma up and she takes it, getting up and walking over to where she had sat her water bottle earlier. While she gets her drink, Vision says, "Oh, well I just thought because of the undeniable chemistry you two have I may have been interrupting...a moment as some call it."

Emma almost chokes on her water as she hears this and Steve's cheeks ignite in a pink tint. "I-it wasn't like that," Steve says, scratching the back of his neck. "Just some training."

Vision looks between the two who were clearly flustered in regards to the situation and decides not to prod any further, saying instead, "Okay, whatever you say Captain Rogers. I just came in here to inform you that Miss Romanoff and Miss Hill were requesting your presence in the intelligence quarters of the compound."

"Thanks, Vision, I'll meet them down there as soon as possible," Steve replies with a nod.

After giving him the message, Vision leaves the room, through a door this time, leaving Steve and Emma alone once again. The room finally gets back to not spinning and Emma turns to face Steve. They share a look, neither sure what to say, but neither one breaking the silence. After a few more seconds of racking their brains trying to figure out what to say, Steve finally speaks. "Good work this morning, Em. I'll be sure to tell Nat how easily those defensive moves are coming to you without any assistance anymore."

Emma smiles. "Thanks. And thank you for training with me this morning. It was nice. Exhausting, but nice."

"Same time next week?" Steve asks.

"You'll know where to find me," Emma replies.

"Great," Steve nods before heading to the door. "I'll see you later."

"See ya," Emma tells him. Before Steve can get out the door, she calls out to him, "You really should watch your legs more in a fight, Rogers."

Steve laughs and nods in response, "I'll try and keep that in mind."

As Emma grabs her things from the other side of the gym, her mind races. Was her mind playing tricks on her or did Steve just try and kiss her? As she makes her way to her room to shower, she makes a mental note to tell Maria about what happened, hoping it wasn't too good to be true.

One morning after team training, everyone is taking a little bit of time to rest, but Emma and Steve sit in the living area trying to find any sort of breadcrumb trail that could lead them to a mission. Emma types away into the software on her computer following a hunch she has while listening to Steve with half an ear. After a few more keystrokes, she finds what she's looking for. "Son of a bitch..." she whispers to herself. She looks up with a smile on her face and says louder, "Steve, look!"

"Did you find something?" Steve asks, wandering over to stand behind her and look at her screen.

"Did I find something? Yes, yes I did. I found where Rumlow is going to be. This afternoon. Lagos, Nigeria."

Steve smiles as he leans over the couch back to see what she found. In the heat of the moment, he gently kisses the side of Emma's head and whispers, "You're amazing." Joy and relief flood his body knowing they now had a chance on taking down Rumlow.

Emma giggles and avoids looking at Steve so he wouldn't see the stupid smile on her face. She commands SAM to save the files and send them to Maria, Natasha, and Steve while seeing if there was anything else she could find. After a few more minutes of nothing, she says aloud to Steve who had gone to his laptop to look at the files, "I can't find anything else. We might have to fly in half-blind on this one."

"Half-blind is better than we've had in months. I'll get a team together. We head out in half an hour. Get your stuff ready to go," he tells her, shutting the laptop and hastily walking from the living area.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sam and Natasha make smoothies for the team and watch the events of Emma finding a lead unfold in front of them. After seeing Steve kiss Emma's temple, Sam can't help but laugh at how awkward the both of them turn in the moments after. Natasha rolls her eyes and says to Sam, "I just wish they would kiss for real and get it over with already. It's getting painful to watch them not say anything about their feelings for each other."

"Tell me about it," Sam says. "Do you know how hard it is for me to not just force them to confess their very obvious crush on each other?"

"I bet. I just wonder though, how can they be so oblivious?" Nat asks before she takes a sip of her smoothie.

At that moment, Vision phases into the kitchen, causing Sam to jump at his sudden appearance. "Geez, Vision, I don't think I'm ever gonna get used to that."

"My apologies Mr. Wilson," Vision tells him. "If I may, though, on the subject of Captain Rogers and Miss Baker. Even with my limited knowledge of the complexities of human emotions, I can't help but think that the two of them may feel as though there is something holding them back from each other. That could be personal insecurity, past experiences, or anxiety about what happens if they do tell each other, among other things. So perhaps they would like to confess their feelings for one another but feel as though they can't."

The two nod in response, but before either can say something on the subject, Steve walks over to them and begins telling them about the new mission they're heading out on. "Copy that, Cap," Sam tells Steve and then goes to get his Falcon wings for the mission.

A few hours later Steve has a team put together in Nigeria to follow up on the lead Emma found. The team consists of Natasha, Wanda, Emma, Sam, and Steve. The girls all sit separately in a cafe while the guys stake out the area from some buildings a bit further away from their position. Emma sits at the cafe's bar while operating SAM via her glasses. From his position atop a building, Sam tells her, "You're not the only one with a drone today, Baker. Redwing is joining us. You and SAM can thank him later for all the help he's gonna provide."

Emma sighs and rolls her eyes. "I'll thank him if he outdoes SAM, Wilson." Sam had gotten Redwing after his pack and goggles were destroyed in their fight with Ant-Man and ever since, he's been trying to outdo Emma and SAM whenever he could.

Over the earpieces, Natasha quietly tells them, "How about we focus on this mission instead of drone capabilities?"

"Yes ma'am," they both respond at the same time.

Steve then asks over the headset, "All right, what do you guys see out there?"

"Standard beat cops," Wanda replies. "Small station and a quiet street, it's a good target."

"There's an ATM on the south corner, which means, Baker?" Steve asks her.

"Cameras," she replies quietly as she takes in the aerial view that SAM is getting for her. "All seems well setup from what I'm seeing. Except for the disadvantage of the roads being one way."

"And that means compromised escape routes," Wanda piggybacks on Emma's statement.

"Exactly, good job you two," Steve tells them. "What all of this also means though is that our guy doesn't care if he's seen and isn't afraid to make a mess on the way out. Emma, do you see that Range Rover up the block?"

Emma subtly turns her camera with the control tablet she has resting in her lap and replies, "Affirmative."

"It's cute," Wanda tells them as she spots it as well.

"It's also bulletproof which means private security," Natasha tells them. "And that means more guns which means more headaches for someone and that someone is probably gonna be us."

"You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?" Wanda asks as she sips her tea.

"Well looking over your shoulder has to become second nature," she tells Wanda. Nat then takes a small teasing jab at Emma, saying, "Not everyone has the luxury of being able to see from a bird's eye view all the time plus whatever's in front of her."

After this statement, Sam asks Natasha, "Has anyone ever told you you're a little paranoid?"

"Not directly to me, why?" Natasha asks.

Steve stops all of their banter by saying, "Eyes on the target folks, this is the best lead we've had on Rumlow in six months, I'm not about to lose him."

"Well if he sees any one of us coming I don't think that'll be a problem, the man kinda hates us," Sam tells him.

Steve looks out the window he's stationed at and sees an ambling garbage truck and tells Sam, "Wilson, you see that garbage truck? I need you to go tag it."

Sam sends Redwing off to the truck while teasing Emma, "See, Cap wanted Redwing for this job."

Steve sighs and says, "I need SAM for eyes in the sky while all of this goes down, Wilson. We aren't arguing about the drones right now, got it?" Emma laughs to herself and shakes her head at the conversation as she continues monitoring the streets from her place in the cafe.

Once Redwing makes his scans, Sam announces, "This thing is loaded for max weight and the driver's armed."

"It's a battering ram," Natasha mumbles.

"Go now," Steve directs in response. Sam activates his wings and jumps from the building he's perched on and Emma stands up from her seat at the bar to get ready for what was coming. "He isn't going for the police," Steve tells them as he starts to see more of the action unfolding on the streets.

From above, SAM captures the truck heading to a building nearby and Emma calls information out as she gets it. "The truck's heading towards the Building for Infectious Diseases. There's at least a dozen occupants inside the building right now and a guard in the post outside." The truck crashes into the entrance and Emma sees more trucks heading in, so she informs the team, "They have multiple other trucks moving in, we need to be quick, I think this is gonna be a firefight."

"Who can get there the quickest?" Natasha asks.

Before anyone can respond, Emma gathers more information and calls out, "Lots of men with lots of machine guns. They just shot canisters with gas into the building. Everyone, be careful. I'll have you guys' six from the air."

"Copy that, thank you, Emma," Steve tells her as he makes his way to the building with Sam. Emma captures the action as Steve takes on the men by himself, working flawlessly and efficiently. After taking them down, Steve updates everyone on the men, "Body armor, AR-15s, I make seven hostiles."

Sam flies in and takes a couple down before saying, "I make five."

Making her way to the building on foot, Emma is at a disadvantage for speed but captures Wanda's quick trip there and her takedown of some of the men with the help of Sam. "Make that four," Wanda calls out.

"I'm gonna have Redwing run the scans for now. Baker, you keep on watching our backs," Sam tells Emma as he starts tapping on his tablet.

"Copy that," Emma replies, knowing now was the time to be serious and not continue with their banter.

After another minute of making her way to the building, Emma comes to the site right as Wanda starts to take the gas out of the building with her powers. She also sees her lift Cap into the building so she sends SAM in after him to watch his back. "Steve, I've got SAM coming in after you," she tells him as she crouches behind some rubble for cover from the hostiles.

"Copy," he tells her as he fights some of the hostiles in the building.

Emma runs scans for the rest of the men in the building and informs Steve, "They're about to get their hands on what they came here for. We better hurry, it looks serious. Like...bioweapon serious."

"Let's deal with these guys first," Steve mumbles as he launches his shield to take one out.

"On it," Emma replies as she takes down the other guy with one of her blasters. Around her outside, a flurry of bullets fills the air. Sam protects Wanda with his wings while Emma continues to hide behind some of the large pieces of rock that had been destroyed by the truck earlier, still having to dodge the occasional chunk of debris flying her way.

After Steve and Emma deal with the men, he tells her, "Lead the way."

"They're already heading out the back," Emma tells him after conducting a scan of the building.

Steve nods and informs the team, "Rumlow is on his way out and he's got a biological weapon."

"On it," Natasha calls from the motorcycle she commandeered from a citizen near the cafe. Emma gets SAM out of the building just in time to watch Natasha take down a handful of men before being thrown into a truck.

She then sees Rumlow get his hands onto a heavy machine and take aim at Steve. "Cap, watch out!" Emma shouts just in time for Steve to put his shield up to protect himself. She captures the escape he makes running from the multiple grenades Rumlow shoots at him, finally ending with him flying out of the building and landing near where Emma is stationed. She quickly runs to Steve's side and helps him to his feet, asking, "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," he replies with a slight strain in his voice from the pain he just endured. He quickly tells Sam where Rumlow went off to before switching off his coms for a minute.

"What can I do to help?" Emma asks him, switching her coms off as well.

"What I need you to do is stay safe okay?" Emma nods and Steve looks into her eyes and sternly says, "If you go hand to hand with these guys, just remember all our training. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt, Em. Please be safe."

"I will," she tells him with a nod. Steve goes to grab his shield and before he heads off, Emma calls to him, "Remember to watch your legs!" A smile makes its way onto Steve's lips as he nods to her and sends her a two-finger salute before running off and keeping the men away from Emma.

As the action moves away from the building, Emma follows Sam with her drone to a bustling market. "Need a lift?" Natasha asks as she revs the engine of the motorcycle she's driving.

Emma nods and hops onto the back as Natasha speeds to the market. On the way there, she switches her earpiece back on. "I've got the four of them splitting up," Sam informs everyone as they all converge on the market.

"We need to split too," Natasha tells Emma as she expertly maneuvers herself and Emma off of the bike and over a multitude of taxis on the road.

"Got it," Emma replies as she darts off in the other direction, following one of the men SAM pinged as one of Rumlow's. When she gets closer to the man, she calls SAM to be closer to her in case she needs the aid of the blasters from the drone.

While Emma stays in the shadows of the market slowly following the guy, Sam calls out about the man he captured, "He doesn't have it."

Emma sees Natasha sprinting through the stalls nearby out of the corner of her eye and sees the man she's chasing up ahead about to cross right in front of her. She orders SAM to shoot a blaster in front of him to distract him to aid in Natasha's chase. Quickly after this though, a second hostile emerges from the rows of shops and points his gun at Nat. Emma sees this and sprints to the area, kicking the man's legs out from under him and knocking the gun from his hands. Before Emma can make any further attacks on the man though, he throws an elbow right at her temple and it makes her see stars.

Emma blinks hard trying to regain her senses as Natasha fights the two men by herself aided by SAM's automatic protection response to Emma being compromised. By the time Emma regains her senses, she sees Natasha and one of the men pointing their guns at each other in a standoff while the other man holds the vial with the bioweapon, threatening to drop it if Natasha doesn't drop her gun.

Neither man notices Emma evaluating the scene nor Redwing slowly flying into the area. Sam's voice crackles into Emma's ear, saying, "Baker, I've got the man with the vial. I'm gonna shoot him. Nat, you dive for that vial right when I do. Baker, make sure the other guy can't get her."

"Copy," Emma replies quietly as she reaches for the pistol she has secured to her leg.

Sam takes the shot at the man holding the vial and Nat makes a dive for it while Emma shoots the other man in the leg before he could get to Natasha. Jumping up with the vial in her hand, Nat says, "Payload secure. Thanks, Wilson."

"Don't thank me, thank Redwing," Sam replies with a smirk.

"I'm not thanking that thing," Nat replies. She then gives Emma a hand up off the ground, saying, "Emma never makes me thank SAM."

"Aw, they're just needing some validation," Emma teases as she gets to her feet.

"Very funny you two, let's just make fun of good ol' Sam and Redwing," Sam laughs.

Meanwhile in a different part of the market, Steve shows down with Rumlow, both fighting as hard as they can. Rumlow punches Steve into a shelf but he quickly gets back up and back into the fight before Rumlow could get an advantage over him.

"This is what you get for dropping a building on my face," Rumlow growls at Steve as they face off. He then extends a blade from his suit and drags it across the wall behind Steve after he dodges it. The two fight a bit more before Rumlow takes off his helmet revealing his disfigured face, saying, "I think I look pretty good all things considered."

"Who's your buyer?" Steve asks, ignoring his previous statement, holding him by the collar.

Rumlow disregards the question and instead says to Steve, "You know, he knew you. Your pal. Your Bucky."

"What did you say?" Steve asks in a low voice, freezing and letting his guard down at the mention of Bucky.

"He remembered you," Rumlow tells him. "I was there. He got all emotional until they put his brain back in a blender. He told me 'please tell Rogers that when you gotta go, you gotta go,' and you're coming with me."

By this point, Emma had gotten SAM back into the air and found Steve confronting Rumlow. She captures the moments when Rumlow pushes the button to ignite a suicide bomb that he intended to take himself and Steve out with but is instead encased in a forcefield of Wanda's making. Wanda lifts the explosion into the air and away from the market but can't hold it long enough to keep it from doing damage to the area around it. The explosion goes off midair and destroys a nearby building which immediately ignites panic in the citizens at the market.

Everyone covers their mouth in shock at what just happened, and no one besides Steve can come up with words for what they just witnessed. Even then, his words are strained in disbelief as he says, "We need fire and rescue ASAP. Sam, Emma, you two see what your drones can do in terms of helping out..."

"On your orders," Emma replies quietly as she flies SAM into the wreckage to see if she could save anyone that had been in the building.

link to the next part

a/n I once again overdid it with the music, so I’m just leaving a list of music here!

Don’t Stop Me Now - Queen

Rise Above It - I Prevail

Get Through This - The Art of Dying

One More Time - I Prevail

One for the Money - Escape the Fate

Reaching - Jason Reeves

Give Your Heart a Break - Demi Lovato

You are Gold - The National Parks

Things I’ll Never Say - Avril Lavigne

You Have My Heart - Emily Sage

#fanfic #marvel #captain america #slow burn #steve rogers #romance #fanfiction #friends to lovers #marvel fanfic series #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers friends to lovers #steve rogers slow burn #protective steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers romance #steve rogers x oc #captain america fic

[aconstantmotion]

YU YU HAKUSHO LIVE ACTION SPOILERS

Okay! So, I have thoughts. Not all bad!

Let's start off by saying that I think this show heavily struggles with being only 5 episodes that weren't even an hour long.

It felt as if we were just getting to the point of the character progression by the time the show ended. None of them had really changed. Unfortunately, it's because the live action cut out some of that to help make the storyline make sense. What they did cut out, that I think would have fit, was Yusuke defeating Hiei. That is what starts Hiei's respect for Yusuke, and then their slow friendship. Hiei needed to lose to Yusuke to have that character progression and see it life isn't all about anger and revenge, but of love and companionship, but we didn't get that. It honestly felt so on point for the live action Hiei to just fuck off and go try and save Yukina by himself, because he and Yusuke never finished their fight, Yusuke never spared Hiei's life, so there isn't the obligation to help Yusuke.

Then there's Yusuke' and Genkai's relationship. That relationship also suffers because of short run time. It was probably my least favorite because it felt like the episode was put in the wrong place. It didn't really make sense to have the training take place before really fighting Hiei, because as was shown earlier in the show, Hiei could track Yukina's tears. So, was Hiei just sitting in the warehouse for that whole month? Anyway, it would have made sense to do it before the island fights, especially with Genkai's connection with the younger Toguro. We could've gotten the backstory there, Yusuke asking Genkai why she cares and how she knows him and her giving him the story, instead of the short exposition we got. It worked in the anime because we had a lot more time to get to know and connect with the characters, but since this was so short, they couldn't connected everything to Genkai. It would have made her death scene more emotional. I am also a little disappointed that we didn't get the hard ass Genkai whipping Yusuke's ass. I was also hoping, that since Kuwabara was there that we would get some joint training, but that's fine, only so much time.

Those were the main things that bugged me. Overall, it looked great! Costumes overall were amazing (Bui's was fucking spot on!), some weren't (looking at you Hiei and Yukina's wigs). The fighting overall was amazing, albeit a little janky at times because of the CGI, but still awesome. Oh! And I wish they had incorporated the music, I feel like that was what was missing as well.

Overall I give it a solid 7. I think it might've done better with a few more episodes, and if they had started making it after the One Piece live action came out, so they could get a better understanding of how to go about the show.

I am in no way a professional critic, these are just my opinions. You can agree or disagree, as is your prerogative. The people who made this show clearly love the source material, it shows, and that's what really matters. Hopefully they get to do more and we can see how they finish the show off.

#yyh #yu yu hakusho #yu yu hakusho live action #netflix #anime #i really did like it

[hoochieblues]

Dogs never fail to teach me things. Possibly because I never actually did my practical APDT qualifications, vet tech/canine psych certs; possibly because - especially in trauma rehab/rescue - there's infinite variety and no two individuals are quite alike.

Anyway, exciting adventures with Peppy le Phew, and the power of the stooge dog. Waffle and paddock pics under the cut.

Pep's barely been here a week, but she's been struggling to decompress and shown very high stress around the resident foster, which made integrating her fully really hard. As both potential adopters have dogs, I was worried about the possibility of reactivity, even though her stress around Chance has been anticipatory fear rather than fear aggression/'actual' reactivity responses. soooo... enter Louis, the super stooge.

Louis (friend's dog) is amazing. He's largely non-verbal, and has zero fucks to give about anything. The perfect stooge. We spent today at the paddock, gave Pep a good run first, then did a solid block of desensitisation to Louis from a distance.

It was amazing.

She started out tense and almost shaking, thrashing and barking at the sight of him. I corrected every freakout with a redirection (or tried to; my timing is famously so crappy that I suck at clicker training) and eventually we graduated to letting Louis wander offleash.

Slowly, Peppy calmed down as she watched him and, as we allowed them closer, something shifted. Her body language had been rooted in tension and uncertainty (high arched tail but no raised hackles, no curled lip), but it was like she had a sudden realisation that she didn't need to be afraid. She relaxed all at once, like a hyped up defllating balloon, and I was able to let her get close and say hi to Super Stooge Lou.

Then... magic.

They spent an hour playing. Well... Peppy did her best to play. Louis gamely tolerated her then went to sleep. (he's an ex-chain dog, he doesn't care about anything much except food, sleep, and maybe pissing on things.)

Even better, this was such a paradigm shift that, since we've been home, she's stopped barking at the resident foster and been able to be out in the main room instead of Peppy Palace (formerly my bedroom *cough*).

Still lots of work to do, boundaries and expectations to set and teach, but I'm blown away by what an 'easy' fix - or beginning to a fix - this was, and how tension release can be so transformative. Granted, I'd been doing bodywork and TTouch with her and she's 'easy' because she's so good with people, but I never expected anticipatory reactivity of that level of fear (wc I'm guessing was based on bad experiences in the PS probably with larger dogs, as she was housed in a mixed size group) to be so easily overcome in one session.

Good job, PeePeeFace, and amazing work from Super Lou. <3

#dogs #foster dog diaries #canine psychology #dog behavior #peppy le phew

[erstwhilesparrow]

this happens just about every year, around this time when the sunsets start going from sharp to buttery. it's always the same, but the funny thing is i can't bring myself to be bothered by that. i want to tell you about it. here, sit with me a minute?

the bridge is concrete most of the way through, beige-ish grey. coming up on it on the bus, it looks like a solid hill, rising up toward the palely blue sky. the moon is a thin radish slice stamped on the vault of the heavens, and if you get the hour right, the sun paints the whole inside of the bus golden-yellow. if you were driving, you would feel the pull of gravity as the incline gets properly going, would have to set your foot a little firmer on the gas pedal and insist on the climb. if it's windy, the rattle of our means of conveyance drowns it out.

underneath, unfurling from the underside of the bridge, there's train tracks, long metal lines joining this part of the city to the rest of it. sequins of light spark from the windows of the skyscrapers that make the horizon on our left. on our right, more tracks, and flat-roofed buildings, squat as toy blocks, not dusty but very settled. with words, the landscape is crowded, but it's really a rather sparse space. you can imagine this is the sort of place people from downtown escape to. look a little further, and the blues of the horizon might be water, might be mountains, might be sky.

we're at the top of the bridge now; this is the best view you're going to get. pay a little more attention to the bus with me. yes, there are people in here. yes, their lives are many and varied. the sun flares off the curve of a metal support into your eyes. don't turn to look, but there's a girl in the back, and i think i know her. her head is turned toward the windows on the left, same view we just had. her headphones are a peachy pink, her bag plain and practical and maroon. her coat is black down to the fur trim on the hood. her hijab is blue, some shade more alive than the sky.

but it's not really the girl i'm thinking of. it might be her. it might be my heart. that's the sweet agony of it: i don't know, and i won't ask. the girl i see sitting back there, one day, one day soon, it will be ten years since we were both twelve and i adored her so fiercely it calcified as physical pains in the place where my ribs point toward each other. when we last spoke as those twelve-year-old girls, she gave me a card with a whole world inside it, where we would be close as sisters forever. i think of her, and i think of the girl behind us who might be her but who won't meet my gaze even if it is her, and i am reminded again that i really, really believe this: whatever i feel for her now is the closest i will ever get to falling in love.

i didn't get to tell her, but i have to carry the memory with me now: one saturday, still a child for whom saturdays meant an impassable space between one waking hour under the covers and another seated at the dining room table, i started dreaming a garden for us. it's still in me somewhere, not the flowers i wasn't sharp enough to learn, not the exact place i built up the little wooden house we would share, but the shape of that garden, all winding paths, tall grass, and a bench we would sit on together to watch the seagulls call.

i cannot tell you this and make you understand how true it is, but i must say it anyway. there is a piece of my heart that will always be for her. i don't think of her often (this thing in my chest is neither leash nor thorn) but i have a tenderness for her that refuses to run out. she doesn't know it. i don't know her. we are not sisters anymore, and the garden lost its gate when my first phone went dark, but this girl--

if i just turned my head, do you think we could find our way into each other's lives again? if she was willing, i think i would be amenable to that.

ah, but we have seen each other from opposite sides of long hallways before, and she didn't want to see me, so i didn't see her. looking through the windshield, we can see the slope all the way down now, how the hill continues past the end of the bridge, on and on careening between buildings toward the shore. the water level around here used to be higher. the place we are going used to be underwater. pull the cord, please; the next stop is ours.

#sparrowsong

[hbxplain]

Part 1.2: Pride

3,500 words - Tu, Tigh, Miss Lane briefly

No warnings

next chapter of seven lovely sins! i think this one's pretty cute. we get to see tu and tigh's relationship starting to develop, and watch tu battle with her own emotions--i don't think any of the other demons start liking their mortals as quickly as tu does... except for maybe ileao, who is secretly very soft.

anyway, here we go!

☼☼☼-

Tu looks at the date on the calendar, the 24th of May. It’s crossed off, along with every other date on this month.

She sighs and flips to the next page. She crosses off June 16th.

Okay. So things haven’t gone as planned.

The thing is, Tigh is really fun to hang out around. And with how much he and Sienne hype her up all the time, it’s hard not to get invested in the solid air construct she’s been working on for the past month. And Aeryn makes really great coffee, so maybe she spends half her time at CC Brews instead of cooking up new schemes to get Tigh to fall to his own pride.

Pride which he actually has absolutely none of, if Tu’s being totally honest. She understands why this is a cold case, now; the man breathes like he expects to have to apologize for it. Sure, he’ll infodump for hours about the very concept of eximium as the basis of all magic, or the various niche practices in use for training that magic, or whatever ridiculous new tech he’s working on. But it’s always with an unhealthy dose of self-deprecation, of “it’s really not that great” and “it backfired again yesterday” and “I wouldn’t have such high expectations” and “I just don’t want to make you think it’s anything amazing.”

Tu doesn’t get it. Sure, back when she was alive as a mortal, this tech wasn’t even being dreamed of… but still, even for today’s standards, his stuff is amazing! Sienne’s too, but where Sienne seems more focused on finding a safe way to augment her own body with tech, Tigh—who does plenty of augmenting research too, don’t get her wrong—does a lot more cutting edge eximium research. She still doesn’t completely understand what his current biggest project does, since he’s quite cagey about it, but she knows it has something to do with isolating eximium, which sounds groundbreaking as hell. Back in her day, they barely understood what eximium was—they just knew it was fucking important, because it gave them their magic.

Tigh, though, seems to understand each molecule. He knows where it comes from, what it’s for, its lesser-known properties, how to control and shape it—hell, he has jars of it in powder form on shelves along the walls, and he has a cube of solid raw eximium decorating his desk! Tu doesn’t know how a man like that can have such low self-esteem. Doesn’t he know he’s smarter than all of the scientists from Tu’s time combined?

Her phone dings. It’s Miss Lane—of course they wanted to style the ‘hellphones’ like smartphones, of course they did. “This is taking a while,” the message reads.

Tu scoffs. Of course they’d say that, as if they’d do any better. They just like being passive aggressive, Tu thinks.

“It’s a cold case. Chill out,” Tu replies. She feels very proud of herself, and then wonders if she’s ever made a pun before of her own accord or if Aeryn’s love for them is just rubbing off on her.

She scrolls through the news on her phone. There’s an article about a small section of a park becoming a protected landmark due to the fact that a popular magic user whose magic manifested as forced silencing had stopped a voice-based villain in that very park years earlier. Another article boasts how a famous magic family has moved to Clemen City so their son can get the best magic tutoring available. One more article about how a small village nearby was pleased to welcome a fire-based magic expert for a short visit before he continued his travels.

How can a world with so few magic users be so focused on magic? How can they favor magic over everything else when so few of them can actually do magic?

Tu loves her magic. Tu loves herself. But sometimes, just sometimes, she isn’t proud of either one.

☼☼☼-

Tu is sitting, alone, at a table covered by a tan tablecloth. She has arranged her silverware four times while waiting for Tigh to arrive, and she is getting bored.

At work earlier today, they were working on their respective projects—beside each other, of course. Tigh had been going on and on about some science shit, but Tu had been thinking “What makes a man more prideful than having a really pretty girlfriend?” so Tu had cut him off to say “Do you wanna meet somewhere after work? Just you and me this time,” and he had grinned and given her this weird, knowing look, almost like she and him were in on a secret together, and she’d said, “Great! What about that new landmark in the park, the one for the magic user with the anti-sound powers-” and he’d laughed and said “Hell no!”

And she’d blinked at him for a bit, just trying to process what went wrong, until he laughed again and continued, “Nothing against you, I just don’t like that hero. What about dinner?”

She’d been too relieved by the first aid he’d just applied to her bruised pride to care at all about how weird that was. She’d accepted.

And now here she is, and there’s no sound hero in sight (Tu can’t for the life of her remember that dumb hero’s name), but Tigh is late anyway.

“Table for two?” asks the waiter, in the passive aggressive kind of way that makes it clear he doesn’t think Tu’s second person is coming.

“Yeah,” Tu says, nearly a sneer with all the defensiveness that crops up in her chest. “He’ll be here soon. Give it a minute.”

She really doesn’t wanna have to go home and spend the whole night thinking about what went wrong. In a fully self-aware way, she’s not sure her pride could handle it. Also, she hates how much she cares. She knows this is just a job, that she’s trying to boost Tigh’s ego but shouldn’t be putting her own on the line. She shouldn’t be this attached, she shouldn’t be this invested, and she definitely shouldn’t be this vulnerable.

Tu glances at her phone. It’s only been half an hour since she got here, right on time, but it feels like longer. With a glance at the door and a long, tired sigh, she pulls up the messaging app to text Tigh something totally normal like “haha of course a big man like you had better plans,” except she can’t really figure out how to word it in a way that doesn’t sound bitter.

But then the elegant bell above the doors rings twice, and Tigh bursts through like he tripped over the threshold. “Hi,” Tu can just barely hear him saying to the wait staff, his voice interspersed with quick breaths. “I, uh- My friend Tu probably got a table—hopefully still has a table—uh, is she back there…?”

The waiter who’s been badgering Tu looks at Tigh like he’s seen a ghost. Tu takes great pleasure in the shocked bulge of his eyes. “You’re… late,” the waiter says.

Tigh huffs out a laugh. “Uh, yeah, trust me, I know. So…?”

The waiter shakes his head and points back towards Tu’s table, and when Tigh sees her looking at him, his whole face lights up and his entire body straightens. She can’t help but to wave at him when a tiny smile creeps onto her face despite herself.

“Tu!” Tigh says, hopping the railing to the raised platform her table is on. He slides into the chair opposite hers, and the chair’s legs rattle against the floor as it settles unevenly. “Hi, fuck, I’m so sorry!”

She laughs without entirely meaning to when he almost knocks the salt shaker off the table with his hand gestures. “Like the waiter said,” she says wryly, “you’re very late. I’m kind of angry, honestly.”

He grimaces, nervously playing with the tablecloth. “Yeah, I- You know what? That’s fair. That’s totally reasonable. I didn’t mean to be late, something blew up in my face, uh, literally, so I was running behind a little, uh, and anyway I totally get it if it’s too late and you have to leave.”

“You want me to leave?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, no, go back to the explosion thing-”

“I do not want you to leave,” Tigh says, groaning and running his hand down his face. “Sorry, yeah, I think the explosion knocked my social hardware loose.”

“You mean you aren’t always like this?”

“Tu!” he laughs, relaxing a little.

She rolls her eyes, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “Explosion?”

“Right, yeah, uh, my project kind of just… I mixed the wrong chemicals and then gave it way too much power.”

“Were you hurt?” she asks incredulously. She can’t believe he didn’t tell her the answer to that question first. She can’t believe she had to ask.

“Oh, uh- Well, not a lot,” he says, still showing her that stupidly genuine smile of his. “Might’ve knocked a few screws loose, y’know- That was a joke, by the way. I am not a cyborg. Uh, but I’m working on it.”

Tu laughs again, shaking her head. “What’s wrong?” she asks with a soft smile.

“Huh?”

“I mean, why are you talking at a mile a minute?”

Tigh’s eyes widen, his hands instantly falling to his lap. He looks almost stricken. “Oh. Sorry, my bad-”

“No!” Tu says quickly, a little too loudly in her haste. She wrinkles her nose and sits back, regaining her composure. “No, sorry, I was just… worried. It’s okay if you talk fast. But you sound kind of nervous, that’s all.”

Tigh’s posture slowly relaxes, and he nods in understanding. Tu finds herself relaxing alongside him. “Well,” he begins, slowly, “I guess it’s just…”

He’s nervous about going on a date with me, Tu thinks excitedly. She knows she shouldn’t be excited, but she is.

“I’m not the best at explaining things,” he says after a moment of pause. He’s looking down at his hands. “I’m just afraid I won’t be able to explain any of this shit to you without sounding like I’m speaking gibberish, and then you’ll lose all interest because of my shit explanations.”

Tu blinks. She narrows her eyes.

“…What?” she asks.

He tilts his head, the picture of confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Tu leans forward, just as confused. “What- What do you mean, explaining things!?”

“You wanted me to get you up to date on all the newest eximium research, right?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. When she doesn’t respond, he bites his lip for a second and then continues, a bit more uncertainly. “‘Cause I was talking about the eximium statistics for my project and you looked really confused, and then you cut me off and asked to meet up without Sienne. So I thought your last place hadn’t taught you any of the new-era eximium information, and you didn’t want Sienne to know you were confused, but you needed help. I- Was I wrong?”

Holy shit. He’s not even being prideful, thinking he knows more than her. He just saw she was confused, saw she wanted to be alone with him, and figured the most logical conclusion from those two facts together was that she wanted a crash course on science, without any embarrassment from the coworker she hates.

Good god, this man is an idiot.

“No, you were right,” Tu grits out, forcing a smile through clenched teeth. Maybe he isn’t interested in her after all. Then again, what kind of guy wouldn’t be interested in someone like Tu? Like, just look at her! Unless- “Are you gay?” she asks bluntly.

Tigh blinks. “…Bi,” he says simply. “Uh. You?”

“Also bi,” she says back. Huh. So then why the hell doesn’t he like her? No way he’s that insecure, he’s gotta at least know he’s good-looking, and the world’s leading eximium scientist to boot… Could it be that he’s really just a new brand of stupid?

“So,” Tigh says awkwardly, a light blush across his cheeks, “Where should I start?”

Tu sighs, resting her chin in her hand. “Wherever you want, babe.”

Tigh’s blush worsens—has she not used that term with him before? God, he’s dumb. “Right, yep, cool. So, skipping all of the old stuff you probably know and jumping right to present-day discoveries…”

“You know what?” Tu asks, on a whim. She’ll be here all night hearing nerd shit anyway, she might as well actually get caught up on all the discoveries that have been made since she died. “Start at the actual beginning. Tell me everything.”

Tigh looks surprised, but he shrugs and hurries on, his excitement growing visibly. What a nerd, Tu thinks a little too fondly

“Cool! Discovery of eximium, the first time humans realized we had metal in our blood…”

He talks for hours. Every so often, he says, “I’m not boring you, right?” and Tu says “No, of course not” even though she only understands about half of the words coming out of his mouth. God only knows why, but she doesn’t mind. She’s enjoying herself.

When they finally decide to leave—not because Tigh has exhausted his knowledge of eximium history, but because the restaurant is closing—Tu asks, “Split the bill?” and then starts rifling through her purse when he nods in agreement. Only after checking the inner pocket for the third time does she realize and admit to herself that she left her wallet at home.

“Fuck,” she says without thinking. Oh, god, how embarrassing. Tigh is definitely going to laugh at her. Fuck, she messed up—will she even be fit for the mission after this? There’s no way he’ll respect her after she made such an embarrassing mistake, she might have to tell Miss Lane she’s compromised-

“I can pay!” Tigh says, already handing his card to the waiter (a new one, since the other has long since gone home). “Buy me a drink from Aeryn’s sometime and we’ll call it even.”

He doesn’t say it snidely, like he’s judging her for not being able to pay. He doesn’t smirk afterward, like he thinks he’s better than her now. He doesn’t grimace, like he realizes she’s not worth his time.

“It’s fine,” he says gently, his voice carrying softly across the table and snapping her out of her panic. His smile is one of care, not cruelty. “Tu, I forget my wallet all the time. Can’t tell you how much I’d owe Nora if she ever held me to it.” He reaches across the table, lightly resting his hand over hers. “It was just a mistake, okay? Not the end of the world.”

“Not the end of the world,” Tu repeats, the fog slowly clearing from her mind. Her face flushes with heat when she fully comes back to herself, but she doesn’t feel as mortified as she probably should. Tigh makes it feel like it doesn’t matter. “Right, yeah, obviously,” she laughs, nervous but no longer scared.

At some point, the waiter returned with Tigh’s card. He squeezes Tu’s hand and then slips the card back into his wallet. “I can walk you to your car?” he offers.

She scoffs, trying to force up a playful tone to cover the dregs of her embarrassment. “What, you think I can’t take care of myself?”

He scoffs right back. “Please,” he says, grinning. “You could kick my ass into next week.”

“‘Into next week?’” she laughs, shaking her head and following him to the door. He walks backwards to be able to look at her, and his eyes crinkle with joy. “No one says that anymore!”

“Yesterday you called something ‘nifty,’ what the hell are you talking about!?”

Tu is still laughing when they step out into the parking lot. Tigh scans the pavement and then tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. “Hey, you did drive here, right? I don’t think any bus routes are active this late.”

“Nah, I just walked,” Tu says, waving off his concern. “On air. You know how it is.”

“Tu, it’s cold!” Tigh says, sounding exasperated. “And you’re not even wearing a- Jesus Christ, Tu, you’re a maniac.” Despite his words, he slips off his jacket and drapes it over Tu’s shoulders, and she feels warmth in her cheeks again as she pulls it tight around herself.

“Yeah, well, tough,” she replies, rolling her eyes and pretending her heart isn’t beating double time. She glances around the parking lot. “Anyway, looks like you didn’t drive either!”

Tigh pulls a ring of keys out of the pocket of his skinny jeans and presses a button on a car fob, and Tu hears a ridiculous vroom sound for several seconds before a hovering motorbike zooms around the corner and skids (metaphorically) to a stop in front of her and Tigh.

“You think so?” he asks with a shit-eating grin. She rolls her eyes again, and his smile turns softer. “Hop on, I’ll drop you off outside your apartment.”

Tu bites her lip, considering, but… well, why shouldn’t she indulge a little bit? Just because she’s Pride doesn’t mean she can’t have a little Gluttony, a little Greed, a little Lust, just for fun.

“Okay,” she says quietly, nearly a whisper. Tigh gives her a smile that makes her feel warmer just by looking at it, and then he puts one leg over the bike and dramatically revs the engine—such a theatre kid. He gestures for Tu to get on behind him, and she nods just to hype herself up. Then she hops onto the seat, immediately putting her arms around his waist for stability (just for stability, she swears) and leaning her head against his shoulder (that one’s harder to justify. Maybe she’s cold). “Helmets?” she asks after a moment, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“No fuckin’ way this bike is gonna let you get hurt,” he says, the most confident she’s ever heard him. “If you have so much as a scrape when we park, I’ll turn it into scrap metal.”

She’s pretty sure the bike can’t register threats, but then again, it’s clearly a custom job by Tigh. If any vehicle would respond to human pleas, it’d damn well be his.

“Fine, then. Show me what this thing can do,” she challenges him.

“Hold on tight,” he says playfully. She resists biting his shoulder just to be annoying, but before she can argue the pros and cons, he’s taking off.

The hoverbike flies across the streets, a foot or so off the ground at all times, the engine revving in a way that almost sounds pretty. When they come up too close behind another car, Tigh squeezes the handles and the bike rises further into the air, zipping over the car as though it were simply part of the road.

“Tigh, you criminal!” Tu yells over the wind, and Tigh’s laughter quickly joins her own.

“It’s not a crime if they can’t catch me!” he shouts back, and Tu laughs again and knocks her head against his shoulder.

“The cops would disagree!”

By the time they reach Tu’s apartment, it’s only been a couple of minutes, but Tigh’s hair is a windswept mess and Tu think she’ll be combing out tangles for days. All the same, it’s worth it for the glow of his smile, the rosiness of the cold air on his cheeks, the way he glares threateningly at the bike when Tu has trouble getting off.

“So?” he asks, a little breathless.

“So what?” she replies, turning her nose up.

He huffs, a smile on his face. “Tu, come on!”

“It was great,” she relents, too easily for her liking. “It was really, really great, Tigh. Thank you.”

His face flushes pink, and he looks down at his shoes. “Oh, I mean- Yeah, ‘course, you’re welcome. Any time.”

Tu can’t help herself. She leans forward, has to tilt her head up just a bit, and- and at the last second she redirects, kisses his rosy cheek instead of his lips, and quickly pulls back. She feels her own cheeks turning red, but she doesn’t let herself look away; she looks Tigh in the eye, now that he’s making shocked eye contact with her, and smiles confidently. “I might take you up on that,” she says. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he says dumbly, his eyes wide as saucers. “Yeah, always.”

She shakes her head fondly and walks to the door of the apartment complex, buzzing herself in and heading toward the steps. She glances back just for a moment, long enough to see Tigh holding his hand over his cheek, looking totally shell-shocked even as a large grin spreads across his face.

The extra month was worth it.

☼☼☼-

taglist: @wildswrites, @ceph-the-writing-spook, @jezifster, @mallthologist, @original-writing

#writeblr #amwriting #full chapter #mine #sls #part 1: pride #tu tela #tigh barrows #miss lane #romance #first dates #kinda??? i think it counts ;)

[uselessidiotsquad]

Ruby Rambles: Sleep Edition.

After waking up for the 4th day in a row to solid rain, it makes me start pondering about some of the beebs and their sleep schedules, lacks thereof, and what makes them snoozy.

Ruby:

She has to be near one of her pets, ideally holding onto it. This means she'll often forsake her normal bed and sleep in weird and uncomfortable places just to be closer to her pet. She doesn't really have a preferred sleeping position, it's just whatever let's her be near her animals.

The exception is Eldri, her smokescale, who does not like her being near him and so on those days she will sleep in a bed and he will be on the far side of the room. Ruby falls asleep quickly, sleeps solidly, and tends not to have any dreams.

(her favorite pet to sleep with is either Aeren, who will snuggle with her happily - or Mingo because he will wrap his long neck around her and do a big bird hug, plus Mingo is very warm).

Dion:

The Bog Boys sleep pattern is very flexible, he tends to not have a routine and goes by more when it feels right to wake up. Any time it rains he gets very snoozy, as long as there is no thunder. Being so big and in a small house, he sleeps sort of curled up into a loose ball, just because then he manages to fit better. He wakes easily but is a fairly heavy sleeper anyway.

Dion doesn't have any dreams at all, due in part to his rather unique connection with the Dream and because his mind just doesn't use it as a filter for the days events. He snores, no one has told him because no one has heard it, but he does snore.

Sigilis:

My bawdy, ballsy Warcat has had insomnia since she was a cub and it's not gone away yet. It was at first the reason why she started drinking but then it just became a habit. Most of the time she spends it trying to fix and work on her creations. But given that her mind also isn't all that nice to her after hours, she usually ends up drinking until she passes out just to get something close to sleep.

While it's not essential she sleeps way better next to Galla than she does on her own, part of the Warband training for safety is that being on your own = higher risk for attack. Plus, she'll deny it to the grave and fuss the whole time, but she *loves* being the little spoon and it promptly shuts her brain down and she sleeps.

Galla:

Battle Bull of a Charr sleeps well almost at any given time. She can just decide to sleep in situations. Though Kalla can gossip and keep her awake, mostly she has no problems sleeping and nothing makes her super sleepy. She just decides it's time for sleep and then they presto she's asleep.

Dei:

They are a super light sleeper, but it's not falling asleep that so much the problem as it is staying asleep. Waking up multiple times for no apparent reason in the middle of the night is much more common than they would like it to be. Dei's a back sleeper, having tried other positions and ending up on their back by morning anyway.

The unfortunate purple is also a chronic overthinker which means waking up at 3am for no reason becomes doubly unpleasant when thoughts start racing again. Given their imagination, they do tend to have lots of dreams (and occasionally nightmares) but Dei doesn't usually remember them. Just that they had them, not exactly what it contained.

Sleeping with other people nearby tends to make it harder for them to actually let their guard down to rest. They've gotten so accustomed to keeping their illusions up that they stay up while asleep/unconscious unless they make a conscious decision to not keep them up before going to bed. Dei has a tendency to talk or at least mumble in their sleep.

Riag:

I've talked about grump's hot mess of a sleep schedule before but I'll go over some points again.

Sleep Schedule ABYSMAL.

Riag has chronic nightmares as well as sort of trained insomnia, given that night in the Verdant Brink is when things get even more dangerous, he's trained himself to not sleep at night. However, even though he's retired, that training hasn't left. Which results in him not sleep at all at night and screwing up his schedule even more. When he does sleep it's usually for brief naps during the day, of like a few hours here and there.

Basically stuck in Night Shift mode. His nightmares are less common now (meaning not almost every time he sleeps) but he still does get them at least a few times a week, which further makes him not inclined to try and rest more. He's not a graceful sleeper either, he tends to thrash and flail in his sleep. Riag has also found out that he can't really sleep with a blanket or sheet or anything of that nature, because since he flails a lot - it tends to get tangled. When tangled and unable to move, brain kicks into 'Oh Shit' mode and it usually sets off another nightmare (about being trapped in vines).

Riag's a side sleeper just because it's easier to have to get up and grab weapons at the drop of a hat if you're sleeping on your non-dominant side. He also has his hands balled into fists while he sleeps, which isn't good for them, but he can't seem to get it to stop. He also clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth - also not being pleasant upon waking when he starts the day feeling like he lost a fight.

#ruby rambles #gw2 #sylvari #charr #ocs #riaghael #ruby aenn #deiliús #sigilis forgemuzzle #galla strangleforge #oc rambles #the beebs