#also i bruised my thigh on lyra

[cowboyishbabe]

Class was kinda wild

[0verthinking1t]

Metaphor Storytime!

This will happen occasionally, because as I'm sure those of you with it know, ADHD brain processes literally everything by patterns and association. So let's talk about some of my metaphors for life. Today's story is Do the Drop.

Ok, so over the past 10 years just about, I have trained off and on in circus, mainly focusing on clowning and props, balancing, aerials, and basic strength/weight training. I say on and off, because I'm incapable of forming my own routine, and classes and/or personal Trainor sessions are... Financially unattainable, at times. Anyway, when I can afford to be training, I like to say that I do clowning and balancing for the bread (I also street perform once in a great while, so these are the things that put bread in my stomach. Not to say I don't enjoy them; they're a ton of fun, but my One True Love in terms of circus art is just elsewhere), and aerials for the heart (I don't care if having the skill and setup to be a legit performer ever comes to form; I go to the classes simply for the enjoyment of touching hoop and fabric and getting my feet off the ground on a regular basis. The act alone brings me joy).

There are certain tricks in aerial performance called "Drops". These are the ones where you set up by wrapping yourself in fabric or rope, or hang yourself over the bottom of the hoop or bar of the trapeze, and then let go and look pretty as you trust gravity to do the work. There are drops that spin you into front flips, slide you down like a fire pole, even drops (especially on the hoop) where you straight up just let go and grab somewhere else. An example is a trick I learned as the "Chandelier Drop" on the Lyra hoop— simple, yet complicated. You start from an inverted hang off the top, between the points if you're on a 2 point hoop (which is fancy for saying hanging upside down from your knees at the top, between the parts where the rope is hooked on 😛). To prep, you reach down for the bottom of the hoop, hold it straight out slightly in front of you without locking your elbows (so the hoop is tilted and not pointed directly at the floor— you're vertical and upside down), unhook your non- dominant leg from the hoop, and stick it out in front of you at a 90° angle or less toward the floor (so yes, you're hanging by one leg, with the other kicking straight out in front of you), and tilt your head back so your chin points toward the floor.

Then to do the drop, you just let go of your other leg. in the few seconds you're in the air, your second leg swings forward to join the first, and your hands keep the bottom of the hoop from hitting you in the face while guiding it safely into your hips. You end up in a hip-hang, piking your legs straight in front of you and holding the bar with bent elbows, essentially looking like you're sitting in a chair upside down with a safety belt across your lap. Simple— the drop itself is one step; just let go and the next thing you're aware of is that it's already over. Let go, kick, protect face, done. Complicated— the setup is very precise; if your legs are just slightly too open or you hyperextend your elbows without thinking, you could fall out of the hoop, and if your grip fails there, you could be falling face-, neck-, or tailbone first. If you're not holding the bar firm enough in place, it'll swing back directly under your head and you'll end up with a black eye or a nosebleed at the very least; if you try to hold it too firm, the bar will land on the straight of your thigh instead of the crease of your hip, and you'll end up with some bruised femurs and a very awkward front flip or invert (any time you're upside down— this time from your hands, like a very crooked Olympic rings competitor).

So where's the metaphor for life come in? Right, I'll get to the actual point. When I first learned to do beginner drops, like the Chandelier, I had problems where I would freeze at the top and not be able to let go. I was so afraid of that dead weight falling sensation and all the things that could go wrong, that I would make sure I set up perfectly, but then I physically could not open my hands and let go of the bar (or the hoop, or the fabric). I was just... Frozen, suspended, the perfect living depiction of the archetypal Hanged Man card from a tarot deck. This locked up, instinctive hesitation was, in itself, dangerously unsustainable— these setup positions are not designed to be held indefinitely, and they're not considered secure or resting positions. If I don't let go with that knee eventually, the blood will rush to my head and I'll pass out; if I don't choose to open my first on the fabric soon my hand will get sweaty and tired and I'll slip off of it anyway. If I try to baby my way through it or slow down the fall to process it in real time, I could put more stress on my palms or hips or muscles than there should be and get too fatigued to make it to the ground safely, or give myself horrible rope burns or bruises that will take weeks to heal, or even sprain or dislocate a joint. Sometimes my anxiety is the armor that keeps me safe from very real dangers around me, and keeps me prepared for things that aren't planned for; this time though, that same anxiety is my mortal enemy, and if I allow it to have any space in this moment at all, those dangers that it wants to point out and prepare for indefinitely will come to pass. Sometimes it's fundamentally required that I put life on pause, give my fear or grief or discomfort attention and space to exist, and let them wash over before I can healthily move forward; but the only thing that letting those emotions do all the talking for me will do in this moment is make things worse. In order to safely do the drop, in order to get the extremely satisfying and rewarding rush of adrenaline and dopamine from completing the trick, I have to tell them to shut up for a second and wait til it's over to talk. I have to empty my brain, stop thinking, and just Do the Drop.

This is.... Not only foreign, but completely contradictory to the nature of how my brain works. I'm ADHD; there is no off switch to the voices in my head. I have general anxiety; everything is scary, especially the things I don't know about yet, so I have to imagine all of them and plan for every single one. "Just be quiet and wait til after" is not something my rambunctious toddler of a nervous system can just do. So how do I get it to let me do the fun thing?? I trick it, by using its own functions against it. See, another feature of ADHD is that it comes with both future blindness and object impermanence, the result of which is essentially that anything outside of the next 24 hours is a physical object I cannot see and therefore cannot functionally process the existence of. ADHD folks have trouble setting long term goals because of this; there is no timeline, there is only "right fucking now" or "perpetual later", and there's no pathway between them to move things back and forth. We end up procrastinating things we don't want to do because they are only ever on the distant horizon until they are suddenly right on top of us. There is no watching them approach; there is only seeing these things teleport directly from there to here. If this sounds to be a direct paradox with those ever present voices of fear that have to make us imagine and plan out every single thing before they happen, that's because you are correct— they are complete opposites. They happen at the same time. We're just as scared and confused as you are. Basically, one is a process that involves the "theory" of planning, or the creativity and racing thoughts we're always teeming with, and the other is the "practical application" of it, or performing the executive function of things like processing time and delaying gratification. For us, they're separate parts of the brain.

Getting back to that Chandelier drop on the Lyra hoop from earlier, now I know what's currently happening— the imagination and emotion parts of my brain are turned on and using too much power— and what should be happening instead— the executive function and physical movement parts of my brain should be turned on and doing most of the work— and what that looks like in terms of what my brain is doing and not doing— imagining all the ways I could die vs. moving and protecting my body. So now I can manually, consciously turn off the anxiety symptoms and turn on the ADHD symptoms, which goes a little like this: ok, what am I doing right now? Well I'm setting up a drop and I'm letting go of the hoop and I'm hitting myself in the face or falling on my neck or looking stupid and ungraceful when I mess up or— nah, stop that. I'm not actually doing all of that right now. I'm just doing this one thing. Wanna know what it is? I— but— o-oh? Ok... Cool. All I'm doing right now is kicking my left leg. ..... O-oh. Yea. It's super easy, look, the arms and the chin and the extra leg stuff are already done, they're cool. I'm just doing the kick thing right now. But.... What happens after? Lol fuck if I know, dude. I have zero forsight. Anyway, time isn't real, so I'm just gunna go ahead and do it now. ONE, TWO, THREE— >~~<;;;........ >~~0 oh. It's.... It's already over. We survived. Yep. Neat, huh?

I have this internal conversation between Anxiety and ADHD, of course, preprogrammed and compressed into a single, split-second command function for efficiency and automation. When I consciously "input the command" or think to myself, "Do the Drop", my brain instantly switches gears as if it's already had this conversation with itself— the executive function and physical movement parts switch on and take their required energy, which forces the emotional and creative sections to switch off. When I tell myself "do the drop", I go through a mechanical process that is linked to the countdown— look straight ahead, deep breath in, transfer thought to muscular impulse. Blink. Action complete. And before I know it, I'm already sitting in the end position. I don't want to say that I close my eyes, or describe it as blanking out or dissociating, but essentially I've learned to do just that in a safe and controlled way. I can only follow through on the mechanical action if I turn off every unnecessary function of my mind and let my muscles and joints themselves handle the instinct to keep me alive. Once I've transitioned from one secure position to the next secure position, there is only the real result of the past action to process, rather than the projected outcomes of the future; all I have to sort through now is counting up how much strength I have for the next action and distributing the adrenaline that's now in my veins evenly so I can still breathe. Those are things I can already see and touch, those are things I know, they're a lot less scary than the things I don't.

So I come to the end of my story, and bring this all around to my overly complicated metaphors that get me through daily life. Sometimes, things transition from one state to another. Those things on the "later" horizon inevitably appear in the urgent "now" one day. Weather we're aware of these things in our logical mind or not, our emotional mind can only ever handle them one way, as they happen in real time— I may have known for months that my roommate has dreamed of moving to NYC since he was a kid. He may have said to me, point blank and completely bare, "I am moving out in 6 months". These things have been documented by my conscious mind. This documentation means jack shit to my feelings mind. My feelings mind is the shelter cat with weird neurotic quirks I have to be careful of, and while I understand what's about to happen, it's completely unreasonable to expect this animal to understand and behave accordingly. It is only capable of being aware of the present, and is only capable of defending itself from the real things in its environment. So currently, I face a choice: move that scary transition to the "Now" box before it happens, and shut my life down indefinitely as my anxiety runs wild with mapping out all the bad things that could happen and are likely to happen, or allow my ADHD brain to keep ignoring all of it in the "later" box until I'm watching old roomie drive away and watching new roomie use our bathroom in the mornings, and deal with the overly intense and dysfunctional negative feelings as they hit in real time. As with this event in my life now, I have faced this imperfect decision of choice between suffering panic now or suffering despair later.

So the moral of the story is this: sometimes, anxiety is a silent helper. Sometimes, Anxiety is little red riding hood's parents telling her that the rules are to stay on the path no matter what and don't stop for anything until she gets to granny's house. Other times though, it's just the Shepard boy who came running into town shouting about a wolf that wasn't there because he had nothing to keep him occupied. I've learned that there are times when it's rewarding and fun to challenge my anxiety, like when I want to chase that high from doing an aerial drop, or when I want to go out into the city and watch people in a busy cafe. Sometimes, life throws something at me that I can't possibly realistically plan out ahead— and in fact, it may be incredibly unhealthy to let myself do so. It's much less damaging and disruptive to my life to force myself to take these changes as they come. In other words, sometimes there are times in life where I just have to take a deep breath and tell myself... "Ok. I've never experienced this, and I have no template to plan for it. Yeet, motherfucker, let's Do this Drop."

[crownedcupcake17]

Round 3- Zoë vs Lana

Wherever she went, Zoё was the loudest one in the room, even when she didn’t speak a word. Her personality boomed so big that it was almost suffocating to stand too close to her. Energy was always cracking around her and the girl never stopped moving. You couldn’t lose Zoё, thats was a fact that her classmates had begun to depend on. No matter what the situation was, Zoё would be there with her larger than life smile to crack a joke or just be a piller to fall on. As the students made their way through the tunnel, Zoё was there, helping them along. She gave energy to the kids like Yameru who needed it desperately after the attack, she helped carry students, she kept up her smile, no one noticing how she started to lag farther and farther behind the group as the hours passed. By the end of the walk, Zoё was struggling to stand. By that point, Hotaru had taken notice of her struggling friend and had offered the other girl a shoulder to lean on and helped her get onto the bus.

The bus ride was jarring for the students, to say the least. For the first time since the school year had started, Zoё went silent. No feeling of something big right behind, not hushed humming, not even the subtle buzz of energy was present on the bus. For the egrokenetic’s classmates who had grown accustomed to the constant white noise, the silence was unbearable. After hours of keeping up her persona for the good of her scared and hurt classmates, Zoё broke, and they had to witness it. One by one, the students noticed the labored breath from the back of the bus and, when the checked to see what was wrong, saw the worry building in Hotaru’s eyes as Zoё’s condition steadily worsened.

In the back of the bus sat the girl in question, curled up in a ball against the window and ever so slightly shaking, her eyes glazed over and unfocused. Her breath was shallow, the air entering her body in rapid gulps, and her knuckles white as she dug her fingers into her one arms. She couldn’t see what was outside the window, couldn’t hear the engine below her seat or feel the steel grip on her arms that would surely leave bruises.

She was falling, zooming through the air unable to stop herself, unable to stop them, unable to protect her family, unable to save her friends. Everything was burning around her, the fire too wild to control, every gasp for air only brought more smoke into her lungs as she held her ground against the man towering infront of her “Yukino can you hear me?” with her arms out to shield the little ones behind her, she could hear the screaming from behind the villain, screaming from the scared kids she’d been unable to save, but her arm was torn open “ Zoё?” and she could feel the conscious seap from her head as she began falling, “ Take deep breaths okay?” falling, falling, falling, “ Copy Me” falling, failing, failing, failing them- “ In and out Zo, just like that”

Slowly but surely, the ergokenetic’s breathing began to even out as she unconsciously followed the breathing of the person in front of her. As Zoё’s senses came back to her, it became clear that Hotaru had been the one helping her. Not touching, but close enough to feel the heat coming off the other girl’s body. The fog slowly receded as Zoё was walked through the tail end of the attack, following breathing and letting her body settled.

The Navy haired girl let her head slump onto Hotaru’s shoulder, letting the hours of pounding adrenaline and panic finally reside. Heat enveloped Zoё’s body and she knew her eyelids had grown to heavy. She laid on Hotaru’s shoulder, the feeling of warmth and safety lulling her tired body until she succumbed to sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For the second time that day, Zoё’s mind unfogged to the sound of Hotaru’s voice. As the ergokinetic let her eyes adjust to the bright light streaming in from the window, she caught the tail end of what her friend had been saying

“-ived about 5 minutes ago and everyone’s getting off the bus” Hotaru said in a quiet voice. Letting out a yawn, the still half asleep girl stood and gave her friend a small smile.

“ Well then ‘Taru, lead the way”

Soon enough, everyone was off the bus and standing in front of Yuuei. Zoё, although far better, was still slightly leaning on Hotaru for support as she watched the rest of her friends stare at the hero school in awe. The navy haired girl gave a faint smile.

“ Yuuei really lives up to it’s reputation, Huh ‘Taru?” She turned to look at her friend

Hotaru nodded “ It really, really does”. Zoё nodded then peaked up, as if hearing something in the distance. After a second, she let out a snort and the other girl gave her an odd look, almost offended. The Ergokinetic quickly shook her hands, a grin breaking across her face.

“ No! No, I'm not laughing at you Taru-Chan! I just realized that i’m probably about to die!” She said in a cheery voice.

Before Hotaru could question that franky worrying statement, especially from someone who had just recovered from a panic attack, two loud screams pierced the air.

“ ZOCHAN!”

“ZOË”

The students quickly zero in one the source of the shouts and see three girls running towards them, all wearing Yuuei uniforms. The three quickly reach the group where they split off, Zoё not having long to worry about Inoue being body slammed by the tall girl before she was tackled by the other two students. Her body hit the floor with a thud as the two other girls landed on top of her.

Disoriented and out of breath, Zoё spoke “ Hoshi, Moka, you’re crushing my lungs here”. The two immediately pushed off her, the taller of the two wearing a sheepish grin, the other wearing some amalgamation of panic, fear, relief, and concern across her face. Said girl reached out both her hands, laying them on the shoulders of the girl under her.

“You’re okay, right Zo?” She said in a quivering voice. A flash of understanding crossed Zoё’s eyes as she let her forehead meet that of the girl in front of her.

“ Yeah Momoka, I’m okay” the second the words left her mouth, Momoka lunged forward, wrapping Zoё in a bone crushing hug, and began to sob. She felt another pair of arms snake around he back as the taller girl fell to her knees alongside the other two, resting her chin of the Ergokenetic’s shoulder

“ She hasn’t eaten anything since news broke of the attack, hasn’t spoken a word either” Guilt flashed across Zoё’s face “ God Zo, we’ve been so scared, no one knew what had happened to you guys. We- we can’t lose you” the girl sniffed.

“ I really am sorry Hoshimi, I was running on pure adrenaline. I can’t imagine what bad memories this must have brought up’ The navy girl sighed. Hoshimi mumbled an “it’s okay” into her shoulder and that was that. Zoё let herself be hugged by her friends, let herself feel safe. She let Momoka let out her tears and she let Hoshimi clutch her. She let herself sit.

After a while, she tapped both of their shoulders, indicating she wanted to stand. And the three helped each other to their feet. Once they were all up, she dragged the two over to meet her class with a smile.

“ Guys, meet Momoka and Hoshimi, some of my closest friends! Momoka and Hoshimi, meet my classmates” she called, pushing the two infront of her. The girls introduced themselves and Zoё was satisfied watching her oldest friends meet her newest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The students were quickly let into the school and led to gym Gamma and, after killing a few plants for their energy, Zoё found herself almost back to full strength by the time they arrived. As the students got themselves situated, Zoё took the chance to slide up to Momoka

“ Moka, you think i could crash in my old room until this mess is all finished, or is another kid already there?” She whispered, not wanting her classmates to overhear what she deemed a private conversation. The blond girl though for a moment before nodding back with a small smile.

“ Your room is still empty Zo, don't worry. We, thankfully, haven't had any new kids since you and Lyra found Natsu, so not much has changed other than me and Hoshi taking on your workload. The little ones should be excited to see you though, and cap’in will probably have you on a patrol or two while you back” Zoё pumped her fists, Momoka laughing at the display, before she was called over to the center of the room by Ameko. Waving goodbye, she quickly joined the growing group of students.

As principal Laccadaisy told the students of the spar, Zoё started to feel excited. After so much pent up energy, the option of an outlet was like a godsend. After much begging, Hoshimi and Momoka were also allowed to stay to watch their friend fight. As Zoё walked towards the dressing rooms with her hero costume, she smiled. There would be time for catching up later, right now, she wanted to fight.

The navy haired girl opened the case holding her costume and squealed. The outfit was a one piece leotard with a halter neck. The whole outfit was mostly a dark pink that matched the girls eyes and held gold and black accents. She had arm and leg pads, both designed to prevent floor burn. Finishing the outfit off, her right thigh had a sheath for her dagger. As Zoё walked back to the gym, she felt strong. Her whole costume was exactly what she wanted, to a T, and it made her feel like she could take on the world. She stepped into the makeshift sparing right and pushed all the worry that had consumed her in the past day out of her head as she took a fighting stance.

Her opponent was one Ogura Svetlana or, as Ameko called her, Lana. The girl had grey skin and purple, floating hair. With long ears, horns, and a tail, the girl looked like a gargoyle. If Zoё remembered correctly, the girl’s quirk let her teleport, meaning the fight would be mostly hit and run.

The second they were singled to fight, Zoё flew forwards towards Lana, hoping if she was fast enough, she could catch her off guard. Unfortunately, the gray skinned girl predicted this moment and disappeared the second before Zoё’s outstretched hand made contact with her torso. Moments later, she reappeared behind the ergokinetic, sending a swift kick to the small of her back. With the wind knocked out of her, Zoё toppled to the floor.

Lana took this opportunity to try and pin the gasping girl, not noticing her opponent's hand itching to the blade on her leg. Although dull, the dagger strapped to Zoё’s thigh could still hurt enough to give the wielder the opening they needed. Lighting fast, the navy haired girl wiped her dagger up and into Lana’s side. The impact weakened her grip and Zoё was able to flip their positions.

As soon as she had the other girl pined, The Ergokinetic sapped her energy. With her opponent immobilized, Zoё was quickly named the winner. As soon as she was standing, the girl returned Lana’s stolen energy and offered her a hand.

“Sorry about that Ogura-San, need a hand” She smiled. The purple haired girl took her offer and the two stood next to each other. Before they could talk for longer, Zoё was called over by her friends, after a small bow, she jogged over to Momoka and Hoshimi who both congratulated her on the win.

As the matches continued, the ergokinetic found her way next to Laccasdaisy and Eraserhead with the other two girls in tow. After another round of begging, Zoё was given permission to stay at her old home, as long as she spent the first two nights on the campus of Yuuei incase of more attacks. If none accrued, she would be allowed to leave. Satisfied with this answer, the three girls went back to watching the matches.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days later saw Zoё, Hoshimi, and Momoka on a train bound for Semboku. After nearly four hours, they exited the train and, after another half hour of walking, were standing in front of a long, traditional japanese house. The doors flung open and Zoё was met with cheers and hugs. Wrapped in the warmth of her family, the navy haired girl had one single though

It was good to be home.

~~~~

And there it is!! Hope you all enjoyed my round 3!! @taiyuu-high-oct

[roman-reigns-princess]

Cat & Mouse (Roman Reigns): Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Read it on Wattpad Writing Masterlist

Warnings: idk, none really? Asshole!Roman(i guess?), p much smut free im sorry ): there’s one bit that gets a lil gay w/ Lyra and Naomi, that’s all I can think of tbh. I swear tho, next chapter we will get Roman/Lyra smut. RN they’s just gettin ready to go clubbing

Word Count: 1960

A/N: We finally get the Bloodline together, bless, but also i feel like i royally fucked their characters up so like please dont judge me too hard (but if you got any pointers or like corrections feel free to let me know).

Tag List (if anyone wants to be added, let me know): @m-a-t-91 @mrsamberlopezgoodanoai@simulated-heat @greatbreadwizard @hoodgirl163 @sabrina-the-champ @thiickreigns @alexahood21@ii-love-roman-reigns @queenreignsempire @flawlessglamazon @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @x-fivefoot  @finnbalorsdemonqueen @romanempirefics @rocketgirl2410 @sausagefest1996 @vebner37@macfizzle @cute-face-chubby-waist @wwefoever70 @horcruxhunter5972 @cool-snowball-22-blog​ @designrwriterchic @metaldeedsblobfish @inkedirishbbydoll-blog-blog (I got a nasty feelin that I didn’t @ someone, im sorry yall)

As she lay in her bed, she scrolled through her phone one last time to check what had interrupted them, only to find that it was a spam email. Muttering to herself in annoyance, she silenced her phone and set it down on the nightstand before pulling the covers up around her. If there was such a thing as angry sleep, that’s what she was going to be doing that night.

It was well past noon when Lyra finally stirred from her slumber; Roman had let her sleep in. Yawning, and stretching, she slowly got out of bed and made her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash up.

She groaned to herself when she saw the little bruises that trailed across her neck, courtesy of Roman. Good thing the weather’s kinda chilly today, she thought to herself, there’s no way I can cover that up with makeup, I’ll have to use a scarf.

She took her time getting ready, pulling on a pair of black jeans and a white shirt that had a quote from Game of Thrones on it; that show was one of the many things Lyra and Roman bonded over, and the shirt was a Christmas gift from him.

She sent Naomi a text, asking her if she wanted to get lunch before heading over to the venue. While waiting for a reply, Lyra put on a little green eyeshadow, eyeliner, and some dark pink lipstick. She was wrapping a dark green scarf around her throat when Naomi finally replied.

Naomi: I’m down for some pizza, the boys will be coming along though. You mad enough to skip out on pizza or nah?

Lyra: I’ll be damned if I let HIM stop me from getting pizza 🙄

Naomi: That’s the spirit 😂 I’ll meet you in the lobby in 15? Bring your bags, might as well check out now

Lyra: 😂 Yeah sounds good, I’ll see you downstairs

Slipping her phone into her back pocket, she packed away all the things she’d used. Roman had already taken his stuff down, she assumed, earlier in the day. She pulled on her boots and did one last sweep of the room to make sure that neither her nor Roman left anything behind.

Lugging her bags along, she made her way down to the lobby to check out. She’d just finished up with the receptionist when Naomi and Jimmy walked in through the entrance. Lyra walked over, giving them both a hug before they started walking to the parking lot.

“G'morning, sleeping beauty,” Jimmy teased, earning a dirty look from her, and a jab in his ribs from Naomi. “Ow, baby, what was that for?”

“Leave my girl alone, you didn’t even get up today until I started-,” Lyra was chuckling as Jimmy stopped Naomi with a hand over her mouth. Naomi knocked his hand away, glaring up her mate.

“Baaabe, c'mon, don’t do me like that,” he grumbled as they arrived at the car.

“You’ll be lucky if I do you at all, tonight,” she joked, getting into the backseat; Lyra tried not to laugh when Jimmy gave his mate a slightly panicked look. Lyra shoved her bags into the back then joined her friend in the backseat as Jimmy started the car.

“Aren’t we waiting for Jey and Roman?” She questioned.

“Nah they’re already there, probably eating half the pizzas,” Jimmy replied as drove them out of the lot. ————————- They walked into the restaurant ten minutes later to find Roman and Jey sitting at a table, digging into a pizza each.

“Told ya they’d be gettin a head start on the pizzas,” Jimmy grumbled as he sat next to Roman, swiping a slice from his pizza, making the older Alpha growl. Jimmy simply rolled his eyes in response, and told his cousin to shove it.

Lyra decided to pretend that nothing happened the night before as she sat next to Jey, Naomi squeezing a chair in next to her. Roman eyed her for a moment, she could’ve sworn a slight smirk flashed across his face when his gaze landed on the scarf around her neck.

It took every ounce of her will power to not glare at him, she was still a little pissy about being sent to bed like a child.

“Chill out, we got more coming,” Jey informed them as he picked up another slice. He turned to Lyra with a little frown as she scooted closer to him to give Naomi more space; she gave him a weird look when he leaned in and took a deep breath.

“Can I help you, Jey?” She asked as he straightened up, his eyes flitting back and forth between her and Roman before a smug smile stretched across his face.

“So, y'all finally fucked, huh?” He stated, Roman promptly choked on his drink while Lyra felt her blood rush to her face as she gave Jey’s arm a punch. “C'mon, his scent’s all over you.”

“That’s not, w-we didn’t,” she scrambled to try and come up with something as Naomi and Jimmy stared at her with raised eyebrows. Roman was still coughing and wheezing in his corner.

“Then how’d you explain them hickies,”  Jey shot back, pulling her scarf down to reveal the bite shaped bruises that trailed down into her shirt. Lyra smacked his hand away and hurriedly readjusted her scarf while Naomi gave her an indignant look as if to say why the fuck didn’t you tell me.

“I-we-yknow what, Roman, why don’t you explain, you did this after all,” Lyra huffed, turning the attention across the table to the large Samoan still trying to catch his breath.

“Um, we was just fuckin around last night, nothing happened, it was nothing,” he replied, Lyra fixed him with a piercing glare, but he refused to look at her.

“Damn, is it just me or did it get colder in here,” Jey mumbled as everyone turned back to the food.

Lyra knew she shouldn’t care, it’s not like they were dating or anything, but she couldn’t help clenching her fist under the table as Naomi gave her knee a comforting pat. ———————- Days later, Lyra was still salty. She had successfully managed to ignore him for the past few days despite traveling with him and his family. Occasionally she’d catch him staring at her with a weird look on his face, but she pretended not to notice.

It irked her even more that he never actually tried to talk to her, and she certainly wasn’t going to confront him about him basically saying that their connection, relationship, whatever it was between them, meant nothing to him.

She figured that if he had cared enough he would’ve either apologized or at least tried to make up some bullshit excuse for what he’d said. Instead he seemed mostly content with being ignored, and ignoring her.

She knew she had to move on, why should she sacrifice her happiness and wait around for some idiot who wouldn’t even give her a chance. Besides, she had the perfect opportunity coming up.

They’d arrived in Pittsburgh earlier that day, the Royal Rumble was taking place the next day. Naturally, that meant that everyone would be going out that night.

Lyra knew it’d be the best time to find someone to keep her occupied or at least numb herself with alcohol; either way, she was determined to forget about Roman for a few hours and have a good time.

That, however, was easier said than done. Not only would Roman be accompanying her, Naomi, and the Usos for drinks, but when Lyra stepped out of the shower she began to feel feverish, her senses heightened even more than usual, to the point where she was hyper aware of anything touching her.

She grumbled to herself about it as she pulled on some black panties and a matching bra. Digging through her bag she chose to wear a pair of black jean shorts, and a tank top that had a pentagram design on it.

After she was dressed she downed two Advils, then walked over to join Naomi in front of the mirror to do her makeup. She decided to do brown smokey eyes, winged eyeliner, and finished it off with a bright red lipstick.

“Damn girl, you look real good,” Naomi said, running her eyes over her friend’s reflection as she applied some mascara.

“You look pretty irresistible yourself; planning on getting laid tonight?” Lyra replied with a suggestive smirk; Naomi was dressed in a tight red dress that showed off her gorgeous body, there was no way Jimmy was resisting that.

“You know it babe, not that I don’t love rooming with you, but it’s been two days since Jimmy and I did anything  and it’s got us all wound up,” she laughed. “But, damn, the way you look and smell tonight, I’m willing to bet you ain’t going to bed alone. What perfume are you using?”

“I’m not using any perfume, not yet anyways,” she replied, looking a little puzzled. “I’m feeling a little feverish, it could be that?”

“No, no, I’ve never smelled anything like it before, you smell really good,” Naomi mumbled, stepping closer to bury her face in Lyra’s hair and take a big sniff; Lyra blushed and shivered a little as that simple movement made her squeeze her thighs together. “I-oh no, oh girl, um you might not wanna go out tonight.”

“W-what, why?” She nearly whimpered as Naomi pulled away; what the hell is going on with me, she thought to herself.

“Um, I, uh, I think you’re going through your heat, or it’s just starting, I don’t know,” replied Naomi, Lydia’s blush deepened as her eyes grew wide. “But like it probably ain’t a good idea to be around a bunch of hotheaded Alphas and Betas.”

“B-but I thought heats were an omega thing, I’m not even a werewolf,” she protested, wrapping her arms around herself defensively, of course something like this would happen to her.

“I mean I’ve heard of shifters getting their heats too, I think it’s the only time they, you, can give off a mating scent or something; it usually starts in your teens or not at all though, didn’t your parents tell you about this stuff?” Naomi questioned, frowning at the younger girl who looked beyond flustered.

“No, my dad’s human, and my mum doesn’t really talk that kinda stuff with me, hell, she probably thought I wouldn’t even get my heat because I’m only half-shifter,” Lyra said, groaning internally as her friend gave her a sympathetic look; she knew she should stay in, but she also really wanted to get drunk off her ass at that moment. “Yknow what, fuck it, Ima still go, all this does is makes me wanna get even more drunk.”

“Bitch, NO, I can’t let you do that,” Naomi insisted, crossing her arms when Lyra pouted and tried giving her puppy dog eyes. “Don’t do that, I can’t, with a clear conscience, let you go.”

“Buuuuuuut I’ll be with you guys, besides what’s stopping me from going out on my own? I’ll be much safer with you there to keep an eye on me,” Lyra begged. Naomi groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Fine, fine, I guess that’s some good points,” she sighed exasperatedly as Lyra gave her a big smile. “But you’re going to wear one of my jackets, hopefully that’ll mask you scent a little.”

“Yes, mom,” Lyra replied, walking over to Naomi’s bags as the older girl rolled her eyes, and turned back to the mirror to finish up her makeup. Lyra went through her stuff until she found a black leather jacket that she had been meaning to borrow.

Once they were done, they grabbed their phones, and hid their credit cards, IDs, and keycards in their bras before pulling on some shoes. Naomi wore a pair of tall, black pumps that made her ass look even better than Lyra thought possible, and Lyra wore a pair of black high heeled, thigh high boots.

Finally around 9pm, they headed out of the hotel to meet the men in a club a couple blocks away.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

The Nightwing Suit

There are some absolutely incredible artists out here on tumblr, and seeing their fanart makes me cry tears of joy. Dick Grayson, one of my personal favs, is always a wonderful contender for fanart. His innate grace and agility and flexibility translate beautifully on the artistic spectrum. Bottom line: I love all the Nightwing fanart. However, there is something I want to address with his suit. I’ve been an aerialist ever since I was 7 years old, and I’ve taken gymnastics since I was 3. Now, I specialize in Lyra, while Dick obviously specializes in Trapeze, but when it comes to costume, we’ve got many very important similarities.

DON’TS

When it comes to aerial, we want as much mobility and flexibility as possible. So here are some things that absolutely will not be on his suit.

1. Shoulder Pads. I will scream it from the rooftops if I have to. The Nightwing suit WILL NOT have shoulder pads!! Red Hood? Definitely. Red Robin? Those shoulder pads are important for bo staff strength and support. Robin? Damian probably doesn’t need them, but they won’t hurt. Nightwing? No way. To me, one of the most important parts of my body when practicing and performing are my shoulders. They pull me into hangs and holds, let me rotate myself around, and basically support the rest of my body. This is partially due to user preference: I prefer arm-based stunts and hangs rather than leg based. But it honestly doesn’t matter that much. Nightwing will absolutely need 100% use of his shoulders. Him being able to freely rotate them can be the difference between life and death with his style of fighting. Shoulder pads will just hamper that flexibility. I will admit that shoulder pads look badass, but in this one hero’s scenario? Shouldr pads are a no-go.

2. Sleek Arm Braces. Nightwing, while being well recognized as a solo hero, does often work with a team. And on a team, he isn’t the type to huff angrily and say he can do this by himself. Emotionally? Yes, of course. Physically, and in a fight? He takes all the help he can get, with absolutely no would to his pride. When performing his flips and tricks and such, the other partner will grab hold of him by usually his hands or his arms. I’m just going to straight up say: catching someone by their hands is a Bad Idea. You will not believe the speed we travel when we go through the air, and catching by the hands will lead to dislocations and pain. For a few stunts it’s okay, mainly for the visual aspect of a performance. But when it’s life and death combat? Hands are a last ditch effort if you can’t catch someone by the arms. Because that’s what really counts. The forearms. When Dick is fighting with someone, and that other person has the strength to catch him/throw him from a drop or a flip, they will catch him by the forearms. If Dick’s wearing sleek ‘n sexy arm braces, he’s going to slip right out of their grip. I prefer to keep my forearms bare, but in regards to protective armor, the fabric around the arms better have a grip.

3. Extra Fabric. This one is a given. However, I want to get into the specifics. When you’re in the air, momentum is your most powerful ally, and if there’s anything opposing or hindering that momentum, that spells trouble. Extra fabric can sometimes be good, such as around the legs. Not too much, obviously, but wearing loose or baggy pants while fighting with Nightwing’s fighting style works (as long as you can, you know, actually fight in them and not trip over the extra cloth). Around the middle? Nuh-uh, nope. Anything looping around your waist, hips, or rib cage is a liability if it’s not skin tight. The belt that Robin often wears is okay, as long as it’s wrapped pretty tight around him and doesn’t move. For the kind of stunts that Dick pulls off on a daily basis? I don’t think anything but a skintight bodysuit will help. For arms, extra fabric is ~okay~ but not preferable. And anything strapped to his back, as long as it’s securely in place, will actually help his momentum (so his escrima sticks or any other weapon/item you want to put in there is fine). Nothing around the neck, at ALL. That one issue in Batman where Dick wears a scarf is hot as hell, and sort of makes sense because they’re in the desert. But on missions, at the speed Nightwing fights and flies through the air, anything around his neck will choke him. This entire section definitely wasn’t an excuse to say you should just keep Dick in a skintight outfit, nope, not at all.

4. Spandex. While we’re on the subject of skintight outfits, I just want to point something out that isn’t necessarily important or anything. It’s just a general preference for me. I prefer costumes with a little weight on them. The adrenaline rush is intense for some of my more advanced stunts, and those are things that I bet Dick would consider basic. I prefer something with a little substance/weight/texture to it. Nothing too serious, and nothing too restricting, just something to keep me grounded and focused. We all know how much Dick likes being in the air, but I’m willing to bet he also needs a little extra touch to keep his head in the game. So if you’re designing a serious Nightwing suit, not for crack or fun headcanons or anything, I would steer clear from the spandex, gauze, and showy-light-gossamer fabrics. They do provide extra mobility and flexibility, but that’s because they’re one drop away from naked.

5. Joints. Okay this may seem a little contradictory based on the last point, but around the joints, especially hips and shoulders, the protective padding needs to ease up. It’s one of the hardest areas on the body to injure, after all, even for a professional. And second, I know I’m sounding like I’m repeating the obvious, but flexibility is of utmost importance. If the fabric doesn’t bend with Nightwing, then there’s no point. It can’t chafe, it can’t grind against itself, it can’t break. The material around major joints needs to be malleable.

Dos

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about what you can absolutely add to Nightwing’s costume to give it either a little pizzazz, or just your own personal touch.

1. Boots. Yes yes yes, boots are an absolute must! And it’s not just me thinking thigh-high boots are cool. Coming out of a big drop and other major stunts requires rolling on your back and then onto your feet. But Nightwing doesn’t fight with the one-hit-and-done style. (That’s more Jason’s thing. He plants himself like a tree and puts power behind a punch, kinda like Bruce, which is why boots-especially boot soles- are important for them.) Nightwing gets in a punch and flips away, then bounces back and gets in a kick and flips away, then bounces back and gets in another kick and flips away. You see where I’m going with this. Dick is constantly on the move, constantly on the verge of flipping back. The main way he does this is with his feet: landing lightly on the balls of his feet to absorb momentum before using that to hit back. Boots with fricion-specific soles are important, he cannot slide or skid. Also, ones that go higher up aren’t bad either: extra support is always welcome. As long as they don’t cover his knees and allow for ankle flexibility, they’re good to go. They may even help stop ankle dislocation. Anything you want to add to the boots? Go ahead. As long as it’s not gauzy ribbon or something too extra, or something that can easily get caught in something else, it’s good to go. In my performances, I like to cover my shins with something, it can range from simple high socks or performance boots to go with my costume. I particularly like Damian’s long lace up boots, especially in Super Sons. It’s a cute outfit, and it won’t hinder his fighting at all. As long as Dick double knots, he can wear those, and any other variants of boots.

2. Gloves. I’m not actually sure if Dick has ever been called “Fingerstripes” in canon, but I’ve seen it in fanon plenty of times. Regardless, it’s one of my favorite nicknames for him, and it does have a basis. The stripes on his gloves are an awesome artistic choice, and useful too. Assuming they have a different texture than the rest of his gloves, those fingerstripes could help with grip. Grip is one of the most important tools an aerialist can have. I have had grown men look at me with shock when they shake my hand because of my firm grip (and the calluses, ugh). I firmly believe that Dick Grayson has one of the strongest grips in the DC non-meta world, and I bet you he surpasses even a good amount of metas. Having a good, no-slip grip is essential, even if you’re just swinging from the surface for a second, or if the surface is another partner’s hand. Gloves, once again as long as they’re not too restricting, would be awesome with helping with that.

3. Wrist Braces. I said before that Dick can’t have arm braces because of the whole partner-grip thing. But with the amount of force and pressure Dick exerts on his hands on a daily basis, dislocations and sprains should be as common as a bruise. Hell, I’m sitting here typing this and my left wrist is sprained. Fanfic writers, here’s a helpful tip: you can write Dick with a sprained or dislocated or just a plain sore wrist anytime at all, and having him rub his hands with a grimace, rubbing lotion onto them, or doing wrist exercises in his free time is a go-to for if you need anything filler. Or, you know, it could even be part of the plot. Wrist braces help with this, they keep the joints in place and add a little extra stability to his movements. As long as they’re not interfering with wrist mobility, wrist braces are a very very good idea. When you think how long, think about the length of Peter Parker’s handmade web shooters. Long enough to be there, but not immediately noticeable. Also, make sure the material is something cloth, wrap, or gauze based. Anything too hard could scrape against the skin, cause cuts and bruises, and even cut off circulation. Unless it’s armor, it’s not comfortable or easy to do aerial maneuvers with.

4. Back Harness. To be honest, I have no idea what the official name for this piece of equipment even is. But the thing that holds Nightwing’s escrima sticks to his back. The thing that holds Deadpool’s katanas (in the movies, not the comics). The back-strap-harness thingy. That’s a go-for-it when it comes to costumes. Not only does it look badass and hot when it’s on your costume and you draw your weapons from it seamlessly like a boss, it’s practical and doesn’t interfere with your fighting at all. As I said, a majority of Nightwing’s moves rely on momentum. The back harness thingy won’t harm that at all. As long as it’s strapped to your back, unmoving and steady, it stays out of the way and may actually help you with your momentum. Drawing weapons from it is easy and seamless, and one of the quickest moves you can perfect, aside from drawing your weapon from thigh/calf holsters. But as I said before, Dick would probably stick to the back because, once again, momentum.

Okay this got much longer than I thought it would. But regardless, I hope this helps if you’re ever drawing or writing about the Nightwing suit and need specifics. Or hell, if you’re a cosplayer and need some information on how to make an accurate costume, here you go. Now I need to take a breather and chill, because while I considered myself a pretty recreational comic reader and not much of an analyzer, I had no idea how much I picked up about Dick’s individual fighting style and how that fits in with my own aerial experiences.