#foam rolling technique

[my-blogs2023]

Foam Rolling: The Ultimate Guide to Muscle Recovery and Injury Prevention

There are various methods: ice baths, hydrotherapy, etc. But let’s talk about foam rolling, also known as self-myofascial release. It emerged as a popular and effective technique for muscle recovery and injury prevention among fitness enthusiasts, athletes, and even those with sedentary lifestyles. This simple yet powerful practice involves using a foam roller to apply pressure to various muscle groups, aiding in the release of tension, promoting blood flow, and enhancing overall mobility.

For more information visit our blog.

[2-love-tale]

Foam Rolling and Stretching for Muscle Recovery: Enhance Flexibility and Reduce Soreness

Outline Introduction The Importance of Muscle Recovery in Your Fitness Routine How Foam Rolling and Stretching Enhance Recovery Understanding Muscle Recovery: Why It Matters The Science Behind Muscle Repair and Growth How Recovery Impacts Long-Term Performance What is Foam Rolling? Foam Rolling Explained: A Simple Tool for Deep Tissue Massage The Benefits of Foam Rolling for Recovery and…

[techdriveplay]

How to Improve Your Strength for Climbing

Climbing is more than just a sport; it’s a full-body challenge that requires a mix of physical strength, mental fortitude, and technical skills. If you’re looking to enhance your climbing performance, focusing on how to improve your strength for climbing is essential. This guide will walk you through the best exercises, techniques, and tips to build the power you need to conquer tougher routes…

[zevrra]

foaming at the mouth why didn’t i think of this sooner AAA

modern!jayce wearing those grey sweatpants. the ones that fit him perfectly, hanging off his hips effortlessly, catching every eye within a 10 mile radius. not to mention the so very obviously dïck print along the seam in the front and god did the sight make your mouth water.

he had just finished his own work out, shirt off, sweaty, and wearing those goddamn sweatpants. and you swore he did it on purpose, just to tease you. he was your personal trainer and you really shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts about him but there you are, staring at the way his biceps flex when he picks up any sort of equipment. how his chest tightens with every movement or the way he effortlessly throws around large sums of weight. the sweat that beads and rolls down his toned abs, curving down his v line, going lower and lower into that happy trail of his— just to disappear under the sweats he wears.

those damned sweatpants would haunt your dreams.

and when he catches you staring, he’d slide one side of his headphones off of his ear, glancing at you with a little concerned glint to his eyes before he realizes what you’re staring at—oh lord—he probably smiles. all soft and “innocent” like as he makes his way to stand in front of you.

“you ok?”

“uh…yeah, perfectly fine.” you’d lie; trying your best to avoid his eyes.

he’d probably laugh a little because he knew better. his own face flushed a little red as he practically towers over you. and if you point out the blush across his cheeks, he’d definitely lie and say it was just from his work out; nothing more.

“you sure about that?”

if his words didn’t make you blush, his hot, heavy hand trailing along your arm, squeezing your shoulder, and pressing his fingers gently into your neck lights your face on fire. you were still in public and he was this bold? you were definitely in for some trouble. and just as you thought; trouble comes in when he’s bending just the slightest bit down to catch your adverted gaze once more, your faces merely inches apart now, as he whispers: “let’s work on some core techniques with a private lesson today.”

[anim-ttrpgs]

Why You Should Try Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Part 10: It Has Intense Action

This is part 10 of a multi-part series of posts about the awesome features of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, in no particular order.

Find the earlier parts here:

Part 1 Link: We Worked Hard on It!

Part 2 Link: It's Easy to Learn!

Part 3 Link: It's Easy to GM!

Part 4 Link: It's Easy to GM and Supports Narrative and Roleplay!

Part 5 Link: It Revolutionizes Investigation and Mystery Solving in TTRPGs

Part 6 Link: PCs are Not Just Mystery Solving Automatons

Part 7 Link: Excellent Time-Keeping Mechanics Keep the Pressure On

Part 8 Link: Fun and Easy Character Creation

Part 9 Link: Themes of Disability

For a while in its development, Eureka had a section dedicated to combat, but now that section is more broadly called “dangerous situations.” It’s rare, but dangerous situations will inevitably come up. The question is, will the PCs be prepared for them? Eureka has rules to cover everything from gunshot wounds to car crashes, from falling off buildings to drowning. If something bad can happen to a person, there’s probably a section in the rulebook covering how it would affect a Eureka PC mechanically. A lot of the times the answer will be they die, but how fast they die, and what they can do to save themselves in that time, is crucial.

Eureka takes a very “trad RPG” approach to this sort of thing, where violence and other dangers are something highly lethal, and therefore best avoided if the PCs are smart, but that the nature of what they’re doing means that it’s bound to happen eventually, and therefore the game rules need to provide a lot of “tools” and options within those situations, thereby creating agency over whether they live or die. PCs do not necessarily have to have “good” combat stats to survive, as many players so far can attest. It encourages them to be clever and cautious about things, and allows them to exorcise that cleverness and caution, without bogging the game down in too many numbers or charts.

Weapons will usually take any character down in one to two hits, and even when unarmed, characters have a wide variety of techniques that they can attempt, including the world’s first ever TTRPG grappling rules that are actually fun and advantageous!

Guns are as deadly in Eureka as in real life, and the type of gun matters a lot. That isn’t to say the exact model makes a huge difference, that would be too granular for what we’re attempting to do. A Glock 19 and a Beretta 92 would both fall under “Semi-Automatic Pistol” and function identically. Trust us, this all runs smoothly once you read it.

Bullets do 4 Penetrative Damage each, and most firearm categories are capable of firing multiple bullets within a single turn, each rolled separately. Direct hits are usually fight-ending, but that isn’t as easy as it sounds. Even with a high Firearms skill, these shots are being taken under extreme duress, and factors like cover, distance, movement, etc. will affect them too. Most shots fired will miss, and you might think that would be boring, but it’s not because of the next thing I’m going to talk about.

The Woo Roll

Named after director John Woo, the Woo Roll is a mechanic that’s makes it so that bullets don’t just disappear into thin air when they miss.

When any shot misses, a Woo Roll is made, which means something is going to happen that changes the situation as a result of that shot. (That’s one Woo Roll per turn, no matter whether one or thirty shots miss.) This roll determines whether the effect is good or bad for the shooter. A good result might mean that the shot hits a fire extinguisher behind the target, spraying him with foam and gas, disrupting his next shot. A bad result might mean the shot hits a gas line, and now the building is on fire. Usually the rule is that it’s whatever the most obvious and interesting thing within the confines of being good or bad for the shooter, but if there isn’t anything around, then we also have tables you can roll on.

Chase Mechanics

Combat is only likely to last a few rounds, but everything characters do in those rounds is crucial. These situations dynamic and deadly, and evolve rapidly, and if things are going south, run away!

Eureka has rules and incentives that can quickly shift the location of a conflict as one or more parties tries to flee. This works pretty similarly to combat, but, of course, the parties are moving and fighting across larger areas, causing the situation to evolve even more rapidly. Characters will have to overcome obstacles to keep ahead of their pursuers or catch up to their targets. These obstacles are rolled on a table that matches the environment the chase is happening in, heres a few highlights [images of entries]

As you can probably see, some of these obstacles can take a character out as easily as an enemy could. The kind of dynamic, cinematic car and foot chases these rules create are always something special.

[milksnake-tea]

✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : Firefly and Silver Wolf return from Penacony, bringing souvenirs of all kinds alongside them.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 6.3k

✩ TAGLIST : @vynicity , @vxnuslogy, @https-mika, @greyrain23, @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax , @semi-orangeapple , @ezra1yn , @xynthevoid , @apinu , @crysangria , @shenwi , @louchive , @mave-in , @mutiachan , @meerpea , @tetrxctys , @emiken-070907 ( send me an ask off anon if you want to be added !! remember to specify that it is for this series )

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : mentions of alcoholism in this chapter !! also check out the tags, i've added something that needs to be looked at but tldr the reader will be dealing with themes of alcoholism, addiction, escapism, and survivor's guilt. it'll be tackled in later chapters, but just putting that as a warning now! sunday's pfp art is by @/thotep

<< previous || series masterlist || next chapter >>

Weeks have passed since Sunday had first arrived at the Delphi.

With Silver Wolf and Firefly busy with their mission on Penacony, life is relatively mundane. If you don’t have a script to fulfill, then Elio lets you run free to do whatever your heart desires - ironic, considering the nature of your work.

Every Hunter has their own way of passing the time between scripts. Kafka often goes shopping for fancy dresses or yet another velvet coat to add to her increasing collection of them. Silver Wolf, on the other hand, shrinks away from the real world and into the comfort of her room to game - you know this because her room’s right next to yours, so you can hear whether or not she wins or loses.

Firefly never spends too long on the Delphi; rather, she takes up her suit and flies off to visit nearby planets, eager to experience their wonders as any normal tourist would. As for Blade, he sulks off into the training rooms, either sharpening his sword or perfecting his technique.

But what about you? What do you do in these torturously boring times? What is your way of keeping yourself entertained?

Drinking. It’s drinking.

Because apparently making candy-flavored drugs isn’t bad enough.

Simple piano played in the background of the Delphi’s bar, where it came from you’ve long given up on trying to figure out. Golden lights hanging from the ceiling clash against chestnut wood, filling the bar with a hazy, warm color.

You’re alone in the bar, sitting laxly in one of the many stools that line the countertop. Lazily, you spin a jigger in your hands, absentmindedly adding and shaking and tossing until you’re left with a clear, peach-tinted cocktail topped with creamy white foam and mint leaves.

The drink is known as a White Sand, a cocktail you discovered when visiting a tropical planet known for its tourism. You’re still new to mixology, preferring to just drink wine straight from the bottle, but you can’t deny that trying out different combinations of recipes, some delicious and others diabolical, is a surprisingly great way of passing the time.

Just as you’re about to take a sip of your drink, your phone dings. You’re tempted to ignore it, but after the second, third, and consequential pings, you begrudgingly take it out with a sigh.

You roll your eyes a bit despite the smile on your face. Drinking your cocktail with a little more spite this time, you type out a response.

Spinning around on the stool, you uncross your legs and, taking your drink with you, make your way to the training room. Thankfully, the walk isn’t too long - just an elevator ride down and after a few minutes of walking through the facilities, you’ve arrived.

You take a deep breath as you come to the doors of the training rooms, mentally preparing yourself for what was to come. Just to be safe, you summon your sword in your dominant hand and hold your cocktail in the other.

Your sword isn’t anything impressive when compared to the others’ - it isn’t as flashy as Silver Wolf’s or Firefly’s, nor is it as intimidating as Blade’s. It supports a simple yet elegant design, and it’s thin, tapering to a sharp point. 

But what makes it unique are the bright veins that run through it, filled with a deadly poison that you’ve personally curated through testing and researching natural poisons found across the stellar seas. Just one graze or prick of your blade, and your victim becomes paralyzed within seconds, dead with a few more.

Normally, you wouldn’t bring it out - you prefer your rifle and bayonet over your sword - but what lay behind these doors required a little more agility than what could be accomplished with one hand and a rifle.

With a sigh, you step through the doors and brace for impact.

“[Name]-?” Sunday looks behind him as you enter, only to curse and bring up his rapier as Blade lunges at him once more. It’s a fatal mistake, being distracted in the middle of a fight, and Sunday learns this the hard way when he’s caught off balance (rapiers are NOT good at blocking, especially if you’re a beginner) and Blade mercilessly drives a kick into his stomach.

You narrowly jump out of the way as Sunday flies past you and into the wall with a crash.

“Don’t let your focus wander.” Blade barely finishes speaking before he lunges at Sunday again with a swing of his broken blade.

See, you’re technically supposed to break up the fight and tell them of Firefly’s message. Technically.

But you kind of want to see where this goes.

And so you lean back against the wall, swirling your drink idly and watch the show without lifting a finger to help Sunday.

Sunday manages to dodge Blade’s attack, which is better than when you saw him a few weeks ago. Last you saw him, he was getting beat left and right both physically and mentally (Blade does not know what sugarcoating is). 

See, as of late, Blade’s taken up a new hobby to entertain himself - that being training the newbie in the ways of combat. While it’s arguably true that Blade is the best suited for this (Kafka is Kafka, Silver Wolf can’t be bothered, Firefly doesn’t know what’s within a normal person’s capabilities, and you would treat it like a chore), his methods are… less than ideal.

Basically, he teaches you the basics for the first two weeks, and then makes you fight to the death against him until you get better not because you want to, but because you have to if you want to live.

You know this, because you went through this too. So did Silver Wolf. Firefly didn’t have to because one, she was already a capable warrior and two, she’s Blade’s senior, as weird as it sounds.

For the most part, Sunday seems to be doing relatively well, being able to parry, dodge, and attack the best he can. Obviously, he’s unable to land a hit on Blade (it would be impressive if he did), but being able to hold his own is more than enough.

The rapier he wields is a gift from his master. Although Blade can no longer craft weapons as he used to, his eye is still as sharp as ever. The rapier itself is an elegant thing, sporting a silver handle with a sapphire embedded near the handguard. It still holds considerable weight, but is light enough so that Sunday can wield it despite not having any prior training.

Every so often, the Halovian’s halo glows, indicating a mental attack of some kind. But the glow is faint, meaning that it isn’t anything that could seriously debilitate Blade, who is especially sensitive to attacks regarding the mind.

You smile to yourself. Always thinking of others, wasn’t he?

The mental attack creates only a momentary stagger in Blade’s movements, a brief falter, but Sunday seizes the chance. His wings, which have gotten stronger with every visit to your office, flare out in a cape of night. He still can’t fly, but they’re strong enough to propel him out of Blade’s range.

His wings tuck, and he strikes his rapier again, but this time it isn’t with the intent of piercing Blade with his sword. Instead, his halo glows stronger, and small staffs of music shoot like miniature missiles at Blade.

Of course, Blade slashes through each music note easily. Even as Sunday conducts his personal choir with his rapier as his baton, there’s still a slight tremble in his hand, still not fully used to the weight of the rapier.

Not only that, you notice, the staffs aren’t exactly strong either. They waver, and they’re thin, as if one pull of your finger could break them into ribbons.

Your phone dings again, reminding you of why you were here in the first place.

Right. You’re supposed to stop them. How many minutes has it been? At least two.

You gulp down the rest of your cocktail (there wasn’t much left), relishing the taste for just a moment before you lunge and intercept Blade’s attack. Your sword meets Blade’s in a flurry of sparks. You grunt, planting your feet on the ground and push off, throwing Blade off of you and forcing him to skid back.

Blade is less than pleased by your interruption despite expecting it. You can see that he’s half a mind to turn the training onto you. Before he can try anything, you point your sword at him, stopping him with a warning look.

“Sorry, but class is going to have to end early today.” You twirl your sword mindlessly in your hand before summoning it back into your inventory. “The girls are coming back from Penacony, and Firefly wants us in the living room in ten. And before you ask, if I have to go, so do you.”

The last part is directed at Blade, who grumbles in response.

“Fine.”

His sword disappears from his hands as he straightens. You almost don’t catch Sunday sighing in relief behind you. A laugh bubbles in your chest as you turn to him, crossing your arms.

“Old man’s been hard on you, hasn’t he?” 

Sunday sighs, rolling back his shoulders as his rapier dissolves into nothing. 

“I should be used to it by now,” he admits, “but Blade’s teaching style is more erratic than what I’m used to.”

“You’re getting better, though. At least you can actually hold the rapier now.”

Sunday chuckles. “That’s true. It doesn’t feel as heavy anymore; I suppose I’ve gotten stronger.”

“You sure have.” You look him up and down.

He’s wearing a long-sleeve compression shirt and simple joggers so as not to ruin his other clothes with the sweat and tear that comes with Blade’s training sessions. His body is still relatively slender like it was when he first came to the base, but you can see hints of his labor beginning to bear its fruits. His arms are definitely more toned, and while he still predominantly wears gloves, you spy a callus on one of his right hand’s forefingers.

Ever since he’d first stretched his wings, it was as if a light had returned to his eyes. He is still reserved, still quiet to a degree, but his presence has become brighter, in a sense. You see it in the tiniest changes - the lift of his eyes, the genuine crinkle in his smile, the gradual relaxation of his shoulders.

In your opinion, he’s never looked better.

Then again, your only visuals of him prior to now were when he was at his lowest, so maybe it wasn’t a good comparison.

You realize you’ve been staring for longer than what’s socially acceptable. Meeting Sunday’s confused smile, you playfully stick your tongue out before waving him off.

“Don’t just stand there. Go wash up and change, you smell.”

Sunday blinks. “I do?”

The genuine worry in his voice almost makes you feel bad. In an effort to make him feel better, you pat his head in two heavy movements, earning a high-pitched squeak with each pat.

“I’m just messing with you,” you tease, ruffling his feather-like hair before finally releasing him. Sunday huffs, slightly puffing out his cheeks as he immediately starts fixing his hair. He reminds you of a baby bird.

Resummoning your wine glass, which you had put away before intervening in the spar, you pull out a vintage wine bottle from nowhere and pour out some red wine. Sunday wrinkles his nose.

“Drinking again, I see,” he sighs. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?”

“For you, it is,” you say, throwing the wine bottle back into your inventory. “I, however, am not like you.”

“You’re destroying your liver.”

“My liver can handle it. Ask Blade, he knows. Isn’t that right, Blade?”

“Don’t bring me into this,” mutters Blade, in the middle of changing back into his normal clothes. You shrug.

“See? He didn’t deny it.”

Sunday crosses his arms. “He didn’t confirm it either. [Name], I cannot in good faith let you go on about this self-destructive path-”

“And on that note, I should get going,” you cut him off, pointedly ignoring the look he gives you. But before Sunday can start up his thirty-minute lecture, you’re already turning your heel and walking off with a cheeky wave. “See you up top!”

“Hey-!” Sunday shakes his head as you saunter out the doors, pressing a hand to his forehead. He already feels a migraine forming. “What am I going to do with them…”

Blade hums sympathetically, wordlessly offering Sunday a bottle of water and a towel, which he accepts gratefully.

“Don’t bother,” says Blade, looking at the doors where you’ve just left through. “They’ve always been like that. Trying to reason with them is fruitless.”

Sunday turns his head slightly to glance at Blade, his brow creased with worry.

“Still, this habit of theirs…”

Blade sighs. “It may look bad to you, but trust me. This is better than what they were doing before. At least with alcohol, their body can recover quickly.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sunday turns fully to face the other Hunter. “Surely, alcoholism can’t be a better alternative.”

For a long, heavy moment, Blade merely stares at him silently, waiting for him to come to his own conclusion. The air turns suffocating the longer the silence drags on, but Sunday endures. He meets Blade’s gaze calmly, and waits.

It isn’t too long before Blade relents. Maybe it’s because they have an appointment soon, or maybe he doesn’t feel like playing mind games with Sunday - or both.

“Have you ever seen them get alcohol poisoning?” he finally says, a little breath to his voice like a sigh.

Sunday blinks, caught off guard by the question. “No, but-”

“There’s your answer.” Blade begins to walk off. Before he disappears, he glances back. “Save your concern. Don’t pry where you aren’t welcome.”

The doors slide shut, leaving Sunday alone with the echo of the Hunter’s words. He squeezes the bottle tightly.

Don’t concern yourself, huh?

How could he not? In Penacony, his ears were meant for hearing the woes of his kin, and his heart forever cut to bleed for them. Sympathy is carved into his skin; it was second nature to him already.

But he remembers that moment in your office, the sudden coldness that came with an attempt of sympathy. And he remembers that he isn’t on Penacony anymore.

His eyes shut, a sigh escaping him. His wings tremble restlessly, referencing his thoughts.

Sunday opens one dark wing, and flaps it.

It’s frustrating, constantly being told to sit still and mind his own business. You’ve already helped him so much, but whenever he tries to do something for you, whether it be small, such as helping out with a chore or something more serious like this, he’s always shut down.

He feels useless, like a leech or a freeloader. All he’s done is take and take and take, unable to give.

He buries his face in the towel Blade gave him with a groan.

He hates it.

He should be doing more - he should be more.

“Still here, I see.”

Sunday flinches. He looks around wildly for the source of the voice, but he sees no one. Was he already beginning to hallucinate? He shouldn’t be, he was sleeping enough thanks to your medicine, but maybe four hours a night still wasn’t enough-

“No need to panic. I’m down here.”

Sitting at the foot of the doors is a familiar black cat with familiarly unnatural blue eyes.

Sunday relaxes. “Ah, Elio.”

Out of respect, he bows to his leader. The Destiny of Slave tilts his head, soundlessly leaping onto a nearby bench. 

Sunday tries his best not to be unnerved by his gaze, but he can’t help it. Despite being on the Delphi for a little more than a month now, he’s rarely seen Elio, and as such hasn’t gotten used to his piercing eyes.

A small surprised sound leaves him as Elio jumps onto his shoulder, perching himself on him snugly. The seer’s back brushes against his wings as he readjusts himself.

“What addles your mind?” Elio asks. Sunday wants to lean away from him, but it’s impossible with the seer on his shoulder. “Firefly will be arriving in two system minutes. You will be late.”

Right, the meeting- meeting. 

Sunday’s mind jumps at the word, dragged back into its own habits. Late, late- he can’t be late, that is unbecoming of someone like him, shouldn’t he know better? Instead he wasted time by asking useless questions- Stop thinking, stop thinking, you’re taking up valuable minutes- Get a move on, move, or they’ll hate you, they’ll take it as a disrespect, they’ll never accept you as their own-

“That’s enough.” 

A paw baps the side of his head gently, snapping Sunday out of his thoughts. 

Dull pain pricks at his palms. With a start, he realizes that his nails are digging into them, as they always do whenever his mind starts racing. He quickly relaxes his hands with a sigh.

Elio hums knowingly.

“You think too much,” says the seer. He stretches on Sunday’s shoulder, letting out a small meow as he does. He looks and acts so much like a real cat, Sunday has to remind himself not to pet him.

“I apologize,” is Sunday’s automatic response. Internally, he winces. You’d scold him if you heard him.

Elio shakes his head.

“The others won’t ostracize you,” he says matter-of-factly, in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

“Is that a part of your prophecy?” Sunday asks, eyes glittering with dull mirth.

“Perhaps. It is also their nature. One doesn’t need to be a seer to know that.”

The seer lashes his tail. Sunday doesn’t know how to feel about being comforted by a cat, but knowing who Elio is, and the absolute certainty behind his words manages to quiet the noise in his mind enough to let him think clearly.

“I… I see. Thank you,” he says sheepishly. Elio shrugs.

“It’s nothing,” he assures. “If you need further consolation, you can pet me.”

Somewhere a record screeches to a halt. Sunday stares blankly at Elio, who stares back innocently as if he hasn’t said anything wrong.

“Absolutely not,” Sunday says flatly, with half a mind to shove the seer off just to see what would happen. “You’re a grown man.”

Elio’s eyes gleam. “Am I? Or am I a cat who has learned to disguise as human?”

Sunday doesn’t bother entertaining him. Rolling his eyes with an amused sigh, he begrudgingly gives Elio a small scratch on the chin.

“Happy now?”

Elio closes his eyes, the beginnings of a purr rumbling in his chest. The vibrations are soothing against Sunday’s skin, like how white noise aids one in sleeping. One of Elio's ears flicks, and Sunday has to bite down a smile.

“This isn’t for my happiness,” Elio says despite clearly enjoying the scratch. He blinks his eyes open, forcing Sunday to look into the sky. “You are feeling better.”

The seer tilts his head, looking past Sunday in amusement. Before Sunday asks what exactly it is he’s looking at, he hears a distant flutter, and his wings brush against fur. His face flushes.

Elio chuckles, his tail flicking back and forth. “Come on now, the others are waiting.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, ears burning, Sunday nods.

He really needed to fix this wing problem of his.

—

Three floors up, you wait with Kafka in the main living room. 

The Spirit Whisper user has only arrived recently, having sped back to the Delphi from whatever corner of the universe she was shopping at. Her recent escapade shows on her outfit, a brand new velvet coat (this one a dark red) draped over her shoulders.

Her gloved fingers fly expertly across the neck of a violin, a mahogany bow in her other hand as she maneuvers the violin into an eerie melody. Her shoulders sway as she does, her pupiless eyes fluttering closed every so often with the music.

“They’re here,” you announce, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the plush sofa chair in which you sit. Your eyes are focused on your phone, which tracks Firefly’s and Silver Wolf’s location on an app the latter had designed herself.

Kafka hums, her deft hands never stilling. “Is that right?”

There’s a creak as the door opens behind and Blade walks in. With a simple nod to both you and Kafka, he slinks off to his corner of the room and summons his sword to hug against his chest. Kafka smiles demurely.

“Say,” she says, finally setting down the violin, “Bladie, how’s Birdie’s training going?”

Blade shifts the sword, looking up. “He needs to work on his footwork.”

Kafka hums. “Do you think he’s ready for a mission?”

“He can hold his own,” Blade admits, “but I wonder if he has the heart to kill. He could easily incapacitate me with his attacks on the mind, and yet he chooses not to.”

“It’s because he cares,” you jump into the conversation, setting your phone aside. “He may not act like it, but he’s rather soft-hearted. He probably doesn’t want to hurt you.”

Blade scoffs. “That kind of foolish sympathy will only debilitate him on the battlefield.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” says Kafka. “Who knows? Maybe Birdie will surprise us. One doesn’t nearly become an Aeon without some kind of moral ambiguity.”

Blade doesn’t look convinced, but he was never one to argue. He merely shrugs with a grunt, accepting whatever Kafka decides is the truth.

It isn’t like the conversation is set to continue either, as soon a portal made up of multicolored pixels spawns in the middle of the living room, and out walks Firefly, shopping bags hanging from all over her arms. Silver Wolf follows soon after, closing the portal behind her with a pop of her bubblegum.

“Welcome back,” Kafka greets, leaning on top of the backrest of your sofa chair. “Had fun at Penacony?”

“Fun is… one way of putting it,” Firefly chuckles bashfully. “It was definitely eventful. Speaking of which,”

She looks around the room for a certain someone.

“Where’s Sunday?”

“Probably changing,” you say, standing up from your chair. “He was in the middle of getting beat by Blade when I told him.”

“Ah, I see…” A small, nervous laugh leaves her. She quickly brightens, however, once you go in for a one-armed hug, the other hand still holding your wine glass. “That’s okay. His gift can wait. Here, let me give your guys’s.”

She rummages around in her shopping bag before pulling out what looks to be a large bubble, purples and blues glistening on its surface with the occasional person or place flashing.

“Here’s yours, [Name].”

You stare at it, dumbfounded. “A bubble?”

“It’s a dream bubble,” Firefly clarifies, gently placing it above your open palm. “Basically, they’re little memories or stories stored in a bubble - like a movie! There was this one vendor in Oti Mall who sold them, and, well… When I saw it, I knew I had to get it for you.”

Her shoulders jump, as if remembering something.

“Oh, and… Maybe it’s best if you don’t open it here.”

Raising a brow, you tear your eyes away from the strange bubble. “Why is that?”

Firefly shifts. “Well… you’ll know.”

That doesn’t sound reassuring. “Now I’m getting worried. Is there a trigger warning, or..?”

Firefly waves her hands hastily. “No, no, nothing like that! It’s just that, well… dream bubbles leave you unconscious, so…”

“Ah.” You blink. “That makes a lot more sense.”

“That wasn’t all I got you, though,” Firefly adds. She takes the shopping bag that she’d pulled the dream bubble from and hands it to you. “I know you like collecting drinks, so…”

At her words, you immediately forget about the dream bubble. Throwing it away somewhere, you eagerly reach into the bag and feel the familiar touch of cold glass. Your eyes gleam with excitement.

The bottle you pull out is tall and fat towards the bottom, the glass tinted a dark caramel while what seems to be liquid amber sloshes inside. Stamped on the front of the hefty bottle is a green and orange logo that tells you just exactly what this beverage was.

“SoulGlad, is it?” you read aloud, holding the bottle up to the light. “So this is the famous ‘beverage of dreams’.”

“I know you prefer wine,” says Firefly, rubbing the back of her neck, “but Siobhan recommended this - also it’s a staple of Penacony, so I figured, why not try that wasn’t alcohol for once?”

You pointedly ignore that last part. “Siobhan?”

“She’s a bartender I met on Penacony! Speaking of which, Blade,”-Firefly fishes out another shopping bag, this one smaller and darker in color- “Siobhan said that this drink is good for people like you. It’ll make you feel a little better.”

Blade raises a brow. He unhands his sword only for a moment to accept the bag. Briefly peeking at whatever’s inside, he raises a brow and closes the bag, nodding his thanks to Firefly.

The biggest bag turns out to be Kafka’s, as Silver Wolf had already received her souvenir prior to arriving on the Delphi. 

The hacker’s gift currently sits on her head as she plays yet another game in the chair that used to be your. The holographic Origami Bird bears a striking resemblance to her, occasionally cocking its head and chirping every so often, the three large feathers on its head swaying with each movement.

“Wow~” Despite having just gotten a new coat, Kafka’s perfectly painted lips curve into a delighted smile at the sight of black and magenta velvet and bronze buttons. “Did you get this specially tailored?”

Firefly tucks a white hair behind her head, her cheeks flushed with joy. “Yes, I did. It was only a small extra fee, so I didn’t mind.”

“How thoughtful.” Kafka swiftly abandons her current coat and slips on the new one. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to use it often.”

Kafka pats Firefly’s head gently, smiling down at her like a mother would her daughter.

“Congrats on your mission, by the way,” she says. “Quite the stir this time, I wish I was there to have seen it all.”

Firefly chuckles nervously. “Yeah, Penacony was definitely… interesting.”

And then, as if summoned by his homeland, two doors slide open and Sunday enters with Elio nestled snugly in his arms.

“I apologize for being late,” says the Halovian, bowing slightly. Kafka laughs.

“Don’t worry about it,” she assures, waving a hand carelessly. “What matters is that you’re here, Birdie.”

Fuchsia eyes narrow amusedly at the seer comfortably cradled against Sunday’s chest.

“Having fun there, Elio?” Kafka teases. Elio squints at the woman for a second before letting out a disturbingly cat-like meow and nuzzling back into the warm wool of Sunday’s turtleneck.

As much as you want to laugh at the seer, your eyes are somewhere else. Besides you, Firefly has seized up, her posture stiff and awkward at the sight of the former Oak Head. Figures, she probably had… a lot of conflicts, to put it lightly, with Sunday, and seeing him so soon - not to mention with her boss - must be jarring.

You decide to give her a bit of comfort. Nudging her lightly, you offer her an encouraging smile. She returns it gratefully, before taking a deep breath and greeting her now-junior.

“Hi, Sunday,” she says tentatively with a shy smile. Sunday’s eyes soften.

“Ah, Miss Firefly.” He nods politely. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yes.” Firefly shifts her feet. “How have you been?”

“Better. You Hunters have been far more accommodating than I had ever anticipated, although rather eccentric.”

“That’s good,” Firefly chuckles. She pulls out a light-blue gift bag, and, walking up to Sunday, extends it to him. “This is your initiation gift. I really hope you like it.”

“Ah, thank you.” 

Elio jumps off Sunday so that he can accept the gift, and opts to climb Kafka instead. In the meantime, Sunday handles Firefly’s gift as one might handle a baby. Once he opens it, however, his eyes widen in shock and his breath hitches.

“This is…”

Firefly smiles softly. “I asked your sister personally.”

Grasped in Sunday’s shaking hands is a gleaming album of red and purple. His sister’s face smiles up at him from the recording booth as she sings to the hearts of millions across the universe. Signed in the corner in a pastel pink pen is her signature.

“I…” Sunday’s voice is choked in his throat. He sounds like he’s about to cry. A part of you wants to reach out and give him a hug, but you don’t think that’s the right course of action right now.

“There’s a note inside,” Firefly offers. “And as for the album itself, it’s like a mini phonograph, so you can play it whenever you want.”

Sunday’s hand clasps tightly over his mouth as to hold back the tears that threaten to break from his eyes. Golden rings scan Robin’s face, again and again, rechecking her signature to make sure that he isn’t seeing things.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispers. “I…” He inhales deeply to calm himself and reign back his composure. “...Thank you, Miss Firefly. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“You should be thanking your sister,” says Firefly. “She put some other things in the bag there for you, and- Silver Wolf? Did you give him your gifts yet?”

Silver Wolf doesn’t even look up from her game. “Nope. Give me a sec, I just gotta beat this level aaaaaand- done.”

She jumps up, her Origami bird fluttering in surprise as she does. Twirling her fingers, a phone materializes in her hold.

“Here’s your phone, newbie,” she says, stopping in front of Sunday. “I cleared it of all its tracking malware and transferred your frozen accounts from the IPC. Everything else should be the same.”

“Damn, you had tracking malware?” you comment, stealing back your seat now that Silver Wolf has left. Sunday sighs.

“Yes, the Dream Master was rather… paranoid.”

“That doesn’t matter though,” chirps Silver Wolf as Sunday takes back his phone. “I already got rid of it all, so it’s useless now. I also added you to the groupchat. Your sister’s been texting you like crazy, though. You might want to answer her.”

“...I’ll think about it,” says Sunday. The hacker shrugs.

“Do what you want, it’s not my business.” She starts up another level, evident by the 8-bit music playing from her phone. “Your old clothes should be in your room now; I put them on your bed for you.”

“You did? When?”

“Just now.”

You shoot a confused Sunday a smile. “Silver Wolf’s specialty lies in altering the data of reality.”

“Ah. Well, thank you Miss Silver Wolf.”

The hacker wrinkles her nose. “Just Silver Wolf is fine. Although, I have got to ask-”

She looks up, excitement and curiosity glittering behind her nonchalant facade.

“Why did you have so many copies of the same outfit? Are you like, an NPC?”

Sunday doesn’t seem to know what to do with Silver Wolf’s expectant gaze. He tilts his head.

“It’s merely a matter of convenience. I can’t wear the same clothes every day, that would be unsanitary. But the public has a certain image of me, and I had to uphold it - hence the clothes.”

“Oh.” Silver Wolf deflates. “That was significantly less interesting than I thought it’d be.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t mind her,” you butt in. “She just likes to over exaggerate things so that she gets disappointed by them because she sets her expectations too high.”

“I do not!” Silver Wolf kicks you childishly, nearly spilling your wine in the process. You shoot her a glare.

“Yes, you do, I have receipts- do you want me to pull them out? I will pull them out.”

“Yeah, right. Screenshots? Recordings? Please, you know that’s useless against a hacker like me.”

“I’m not that unprepared you heathen-”

Elio sighs as the two of you begin bickering. Kafka chuckles, patting him on the head while Blade has already started napping standing up. Sunday glances at the two senior Hunters nervously.

“Are they always- like this?” he asks. Elio shakes his head in disappointment.

“You’ll get used to it.”

—

Later that night, Sunday sits in his room. There’s little to no light, save for the small lamp that sits on his bedside table. Soft piano music plays in the background, accompanied with the soft soprano of his sister.

“In candlelight, as time unwinds, I find myself, lost in your eyes.”

He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the still-white walls of his room. He welcomes the melody into his ears, allowing it to consume him in its song. 

“In midnight tolls, as darkness folds, I see your tears, when we say goodbye.”

Flashes of Penacony’s scenery as he had fallen reemerge in his mind. He remembers the sunrise, the piercing light of the sun as it touched upon Golden Hour for the first time in years.

“Watching stars, as we drift on by.”

He remembers his sister’s embrace, the confusion and the fear, but also the relief and comfort of family.

“A touch,”

If he loses himself enough…

“A glance,

If he forgets enough…

“Fly away.”

He could almost believe that it’s his sister standing next to him that’s singing, not a recording.

“Will our paths converge, ‘neath the sun?”

Robin’s voice swells, and strings jump in to accompany it. Goosebumps chill his skin and his breath catches in his chest. His eyes squeeze, a strangling emotion he doesn’t recognize squeezing at his heart.

“A silent desire, in melody sung.”

For a moment, he sees her, he sees his sister, he sees Robin. It is almost as if she is speaking to him, singing to him, asking him of what fate has in store for them.

“Beyond this stolen night, we share a cherished dream.”

Indeed, they did. Her dream, their dream. A dream to fill the skies with their songs, to dance for the people they loved so much.

“Between souls whispered that it ‘seems’.”

But only one of them could make that dream a reality.

“Will shooting stars align ‘neath the sun?”

His eyes peek open, glossy and aching. The music heightens, and the dark ceiling blurs into the beginnings of a beautiful nightscape, full of twinkling stars and kissed by the retreating sun.

“In whispered hopes where journey's begun.”

Penacony smiles down at him, the home to which he’ll never return to. All twelve hours have passed, and a new day has begun.

“In dreams, we waltz the sky,”

His hand twitches. It flexes against the blankets, grasping for something, someone who isn’t there.

“You watch me drift on by,”

Oh, how he wishes he could hold her again, see her smile again, watch her sing once more. His heart aches to cradle his baby sister one last time, even if it’s for a second, just so that his last sight of her wouldn’t be of a smile with tears.

 “In your memory, a whispered song,”

“A seed of hope where we belong.”

The song ends, leaving Sunday with a husk of a heart. A singular tear breaks free and slips down his cheek. For the first time, Sunday doesn’t think to wipe it.

His chest hurts, yet lighter, as if a weight has been lifted, leaving his heart to deal with the repercussions of bearing said weight for so long. He can breathe, painfully so, yet it is clear, crisp, rejuvenating.

He wants to see her again, but not now. Not yet.

But one day, they will.

His phone pings, snapping him out of his thoughts. He almost doesn’t want to check it, but it pings again and he picks it up reluctantly.

It’s you, he realizes, a small smile slipping onto his face.

Sunday grimaces at the memory. Last week, he’d made the mistake of admiring one of the flowers that grew over your door. Well, that flower turned out to be carnivorous, and very territorial, and it nearly took off a chunk off his finger had he not blasted it out of panic.

He still has to buy you a replacement.

He shakes his head, sighing with a smile. Out of reflex, he flexes the finger that had been bit. Had it not been for you, it would still be wrapped in bandages.

A soft laugh escapes him at your sticker. He scrolls up for a bit through the conversation, rereading it over and over again. Why? He doesn’t know. It just feels right.

His scrolling stops just over the attachment you sent. So this is his part of the script - Elio’s infamous prophecy that contains details of the future, down to the very second. He clicks on it.

Reading over it briefly, his brows furrow.

“Alfeasa-VIII, is it?” he murmurs. 

He’s heard of the planet before; a prosperous kingdom with loyal and loving subjects that worshiped the Preservation. He’d never paid much attention to it, though, as the most interaction he’d ever gotten from it were a few of its nobles who came to Penacony for vacation.

His fingers stop just above a paragraph in his script that seems all too out of place.

At 22:38:10 system time, the reigning kingdom of Alfeasa-VIII will fall. [Name] will dispense multiple gas bombs at the banquet. They will give you one gas mask to give to a person of your choosing. Whoever you choose will become the next ruler of Alfeasa-VIII. I trust that you will choose wisely.

—

Bonus (left on read):

<< previous || series masterlist || next chapter >>

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[hrhmimieucliffe]

⚠️🔞NSFW Ramblings🔞⚠️

When I tell you that this card literally made me feral, like I was not expecting this, my mouth literally just fell open. I love Zayne so bad. I love being a Zayne girlie. The way he's just sitting there, I mean phew, I would literally pounce on him and ride him crazy, going at it like we're rabbits.

Either that, or I'd just get on my knees and start going in. Like, I'm talking grapefruit technique levels of vacuuming his cock like a rabid animal. I don't know whether I'd want to be on top of him or beneath him, he's just so... mm.. Good lawhd. I would drain him of his essence. On a pool table too? I'll play with his balls real good. We can play pool with our bodies. BALLS IN THE HOLE?! YES PLEASE‼️‼️‼️

I can just imagine being on top of him on that pool table, making him moan like crazy with how slow you ride him, every roll of your hips, making him grip your hips and guide your movements with his big strong hands, trying not to be loud so that no one else hears your little teaching session.

If Zayne has a million fans, then I am one of them. If Zayne has ten fans, then I am one of them. If Zayne has only one fan, then that is me. If Zayne has no fans, then that means I am no longer on earth. If the world is against Zayne, then I am against the world.

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream, and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carrier, against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, on the back of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce, in the pool, in the garden, bent over, in the basement, against the window, having the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, era ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffing, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan introducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, vulcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell devolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening sex ‼️‼️

"Call me strawberry because I want all his seed all over me." - Me in like 2018 or something.

[elowhinn]

HE'S SOOOOO HOT.

no lube, no protection, all night, all day,from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically,

horizontally,quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light,missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, 69, 96, mating press, spooning, camel ride, CAT ( coital alignment technique ), side by side scissors, the anvil, the pretzel, the squat thruster,the mountain climber, the plough, Watch this 1:02 for better inspection of our poses https://youtu.be/Tqjy-U07__A?si=BCr9RGMhUXgsC8k9 backwards, sideways, upside down, right side up,

on the floor,in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a roof, on a plane, inside the McDonald's, in a playground, outside the subway station, in Wendy's, in burger king, in domino's,in pizza hut, in school, on the school rooftop, on a train, on a mountain, on a space station, In a rocket, in a bathroom, on the moon, on uranus, outside the gas station in the car, on a motorcycle, on a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house,in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window,

have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheetgripping, knuckles cracking, body discombobulating, jaw dropping, hairpulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soulsnatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moaninducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, backbreaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lipbiting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feekicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, blackhole creating, whitehole creating, planet making, planet breaking, multiverse destroyer dick in my hole and mouth, multiverse maker cream, omnipresent dick, omnisucking the dick, light destroying, rice cooking, the relation between my hole and his dick are a perfect reaction, his dick and my hole are magnets, light destroying, molecule departing, fantasy creating, atom departing, discord server destroying, "im ending kiana with his dick", universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable,unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can'twalk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcanoerupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking,trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched,flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash_removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nailscratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain celldesolving, hair ripping, show stopping,magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid,phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride Rolling , pulling my hair, slapping myself, barking, dressing up as a maid, acting like a animal, jumping, screaming, kicking my feetbeautiful amazing spectacular showstopping wonderful awesome talented magnificent incredible totally unique never been done before jaw dropping majestic splendid heavenly gorgeous stunning fabulous perfect brilliant never the same excellent extraordinary phenomenal, in and out, up and down, twisty Rango, sweaty tango, back arched and broken, voice gone, back scratched, teeth clammering, knees bruised, neck? Marked, like placing a USB in and out of a computer, spanking, buttplug, vibrator, rose toy, kissing, making out, cuddling, massaging, biting, dildo, toys, whips, handcuffs, silk ties, ties, overstimulation, hickies, marking, lipstick stain, stained sheets, pretty pink panties, edging, orgasm denial, squirting, oral, fingers, blowjobs, titfucking, strap on, whining, groaning,singing, screaming and creaming , breathtaking, degradation, body worship, praise, sweet talk, coaxing,

cheirophillia, dacryphillia, lingerie, stocking, thong, wax play, roleplay, doctor play, priest play,king play,animal play,mafia play,manager play,Karen play,lube play, Unprotected sex, deflowering, corruption kink, first time, virgin kink, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit language, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, praise kink, spit on me please, mouth filled to the brim with "milk", mirrors fogged up, glass fogged up, steamy and messy, thigh riding, phone sex, sexting, face sitting, handjob, pole dancing, stripping, moneyplay, fire play, electric play, collar play, leash play ,necktie pulling, ceramic play, feet play, oil play, foams mouth GRRRRR snarl BITE BITE MUNCHSJFHJSGRRRRRR BARK BARK WOOF WOOF WOOF GR TNGFMR BARK BARL BARK WOOF OWOOOO HOWL WITH ME OWOOOOOOOOOO BARK BARK GRRR......*sniffs* BARK

[sh4nksslvt]

!!Hello, good afternoon. Excuse me, I loved the story of the reader who has the ability to read stones. I don't remember his name. But can you make one where he escapes from CP9? The harem would be Lucci Kaku.Kalifa and Jabra But there the reader escapes but before he leaves them a gift I leave it to your imagination Please I would love to see one

glad u loved it! its not much but i hope u like this!!

Secrets in Stone

When CP9 stumbles across a mysterious stranger who can read poneglyphs, their mission turns from capture to chaotic obsession.

CP9 x gn! reader Tags: fluff, flirty, chaos a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe and oc word count: 828

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The day was supposed to be simple.

You perched atop a crumbled temple ruin, legs dangling over the mossy stone, casually brushing dust off an ancient poneglyph slab. The symbols glowed faintly under your touch, and you tilted your head thoughtfully before speaking aloud in a clear, ancient tongue.

A bird cawed somewhere above, startled into flight — but otherwise, the jungle remained eerily quiet.

Unbeknownst to you (well, actually, you had sensed them miles away — you weren’t clueless), five very unwanted visitors were lurking nearby.

“This is it,” Spandam whispered, waving his arms like an overexcited tour guide. “The ruin where the said energy signature came from! Move it, CP9!”

"Tch, keep your voice down, idiot," Lucci muttered, hands stuffed lazily into his pockets, but his eyes sharpened in the direction of your voice.

"Huh? You hear that?" Jabra’s ears twitched as he sniffed the air dramatically. "Someone’s already here!"

"Impossible," Kalifa adjusted her glasses, heels clicking softly as she moved through the brush. "No civilian could've bypassed the government’s perimeter."

"Unless they’re better than you," Kaku quipped with a cheeky grin.

Kalifa glared. "You wanna test that theory, Giraffe-boy?"

They emerged from the dense foliage like a pack of chaotic hyenas, just in time to see you — calm, glowing faintly under the light of the poneglyph — speaking it aloud.

Dead silence.

You finished the last line, tapping the stone gently as if saying goodbye to an old friend. "Huh. That was easier than last time." Then you turned casually, meeting four wide-eyed CP9 agents and one screeching Spandam.

"Wh-WHAT?! Another one who can READ THEM?!" Spandam screeched, practically foaming at the mouth. He turned to his agents. "Capture them immediately!! They're government property now!!!"

You dusted off your hands, unfazed. "…Tch. Was hoping to avoid this." You rolled your neck until it cracked and lazily picked up your weapon of choice — a strange-looking whip, glowing faintly with ancient runes.

.

.

Lucci blurred forward with Soru, fingers twitching with deadly Shigan precision. But you sidestepped smoothly, your own body flickering with a power that looked suspiciously like Soru — but faster, a custom technique you called "Phantom Step."

He grunted in surprise, landing where you were, not where you are.

Kaku came next, flipping into the air with Rankyaku, sending a blade of compressed air slicing toward you.

You spun your whip, the ancient runes shimmering. With a casual flick, the whip shattered the air blade with a crack that shook the ruins.

Kalifa tried to close in with her Awa Awa no Mi powers, bubbles already forming between her fingers, smirking.

"Don’t worry, I’ll make you nice and clean," she purred, blowing a kiss laced with shimmering soap bubbles.

You blew her a kiss back — and in the same motion, snapped your whip to dissolve her bubbles mid-air.

"Sorry, sweetheart," you teased coolly. "I don't do bubble baths on first dates."

Kalifa stammered, cheeks flushing pink.

And then, Jabra — sweet chaotic Jabra — lunged at you in hybrid wolf form, snarling, fangs bared.

"You won't be so cocky once I chew your—"

You ducked under him mid-sentence, used Phantom Step to appear behind him, and flicked his ear with two fingers. "Down, boy."

Jabra yelped, skidding face-first into a wall.

"WHAT ARE YOU FOUR DOING?! CAPTURE THEM!!" Spandam shrieked again.

The CP9 agents stood there, battle-ready… but weirdly hesitant.

Because now that they’d actually seen you — how you moved, how effortlessly you dismantled their attacks, the cool confidence radiating off you — …it was way less about capturing you and way more about "holy shit, they're hot."

"They're… impressive," Lucci muttered under his breath, narrowed eyes lingering on the curve of your mouth when you smirked.

"No kidding," Kaku agreed, grinning wide.

"I wanna wrestle them," Jabra said immediately.

"Pervert," Kalifa and Kaku said in perfect unison.

You stretched lazily, letting your whip dangle at your side. "Look," you said, voice dripping with casual arrogance, "I don’t have time for government clowns. I got bigger stones to read, if you know what I mean."

Jabra visibly wagged his tail.

You decided it was time to leave.

But not without a little gift.

Later that night, when CP9 regrouped at their makeshift camp — bruised, flustered, and thoroughly bewildered — they found something waiting for them in the center of their campfire:

A small, folded piece of parchment.

On it: a crude little doodle of all four CP9 members getting their asses handed to them by a stick-figure version of you, labeled “ME :)”. And underneath, in neat cursive: "Catch me if you can. - (Y/N)"

Spandam combusted from rage. The others?

Lucci stared at the note for a long time, a smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. Kaku burst out laughing, clutching his sides. Kalifa looked like she wanted to be mad, but was mostly trying to hide her blush. Jabra immediately declared he was “in love.”

[ropesbypatricia]

Rope Techniques ~ Tying without a partner

Here are a couple of tactics I have utilized in practicing shibari when I'm not able to work with a partner

First: Here's how I added "elbows" to my plastic mannequin to enable her to be placed into a gote or box position

The arms of my mannequin disconnect at the shoulders, so I started by removing them and then sawed them apart at the elbow

Next, I stuffed both open ends of the plastic arm halves with foam pool noodles I had on hand

I connected the stuffed arms by running bent lengths of wire hangers into the pool foam to act as a semi-adjustable joint

Finally, I wrapped and secured both new joints with a length of ace bandage and some duct tape - I dress my mannequin in a body suit so the rope has something to grip; the plastic mannequin skin lacks the toothsomeness of human flesh

Second: a simpler and very similar effect can be achieved for gote/tk practice without a mannequin. You can throw a hoodie over a full-backed chair, such as a kitchen chair, and stuff a rolled towel inside the joined arms of the hoodie as pictured below:

Sometimes we cannot tie with a partner. These pictures were taken during the COVID lockdowns, for example.

And while these inanimate accommodations cannot take the place of partnered learning, they have helped me to advance my understanding of patterns and builds and rope handling along the way and I hope they may be of use to some of you too!

*This is the mannequin I modified above which was gifted to me by my SO*

[intolaurel]

Blocking finished knit garments is important; a tutorial

Picture this: you’ve finished (hand) knitting a garment, you’ve woven in the ends, and you’re excited to go wear it! But when you put it on, it simply looks, well, not as good as you’d hoped. The stockinette is bumpy, patterns are skewed, there are random gaps here and there. In short: you had hoped that it would look nicer.

Good news: it’s not you, it’s the yarn. Bad news: there’s still some work to do before you can wear it.

It’s time for blocking! But how?

There are multiple different methods of blocking. Below I’m going to show the effects & steps of wet-blocking a knit sweater (yarn 70% sheep wool & 30% recycled cotton). Which technique to use depends mainly on yarn composition as well as available materials. If you’re unsure, Don’t be afraid to aks or google.

Beginning vs. Outcome

Before blocking my sweater looked bumpy, uneven, and was slightly to small:

After blocking, the garment had stretched a bit and looked overal a lot smoother / uniform:

But how do you wet-block a garment?

There are three main steps, and no special equipment is needed for any of them.

Step 1: wet the garment. I always use my bathroom sink, fill it with lukewarm water, some gentle washing soap and vinegar (to set the dye). I make sure the washing soap is properly dissolved before I put my sweater in.

At this point I gently handwash a bit, both to get rid of any oils / dirt introduced during the knitting, as well as teasing the stitches to open them up a little. I find that the movement of the handwashing allows them to relax and become more uniform throughout the garment. After this I let it soak for 15 min in the soap/vinegar solution. After 15 min I drain the water, wring the garment as dry as possible, than rinse it twice using more lukewarm water.

Step 2 comes immediately after the last rinse. Here you want to roll your garment dry using a towel

Put it down as flat as you can on a dry & clean towel. Having some overlap in the garment is okay. Roll it up as tightly as possible, try and squeeze out as much water as possible. Generally, you're able to get rid of a lot more water using a towell compared to just your hands.

Step 3: the actual blocking. Put the garment to dry on a flat, but well ventilated and/or absorbent surface. The most common way to do this is by using foam drying mats, however it is not the only way:

As you can see, I use my normal drying rack for this. Whatever you choose, make sure the main part of the garment is lying as flat as possible. stretch and squeeze it roughtly in the shape you want, than wait until it is dry.

And that's it! your garment is now blocked and ready to wear!

I hope this helped some people, if you have any questions, feel free to ask.

[dizzy-n-busy]

I have no idea what’s going on but I was tagged for something !! I believe it’s like a lil wip fic thing and considering I haven’t posted in a while, you may have this !!

And considering I’ve been, well (metaphorically) dead, you may have three snip fics from three different fandoms bc I feel bad <33 (warning they’re all very short !!)

Forcing my NeXus agenda on you again since it’s been a while 🫶 /lh

[Thank you for giving the people content @agentplutonium]

DON’T YOU HEAR ME HOWLING? [Redacted Audio - Milo Greer]

[1920’s ficlet of Milo whooping a shades ass <33]

My hand whips the gun out faster than I could even process. the metal from my 38 revolver shone brightly from the small sliver of lamp light that slipped past my figure.

My pointer was already tugging at the trigger when the shade had pounced; its form was indistinguishable from the blur of a shadow, the heavy material of its coat kept it grounded, the scuttle of its shoes to the grimy floor made it apparent.

It’s hands latched onto my arms with so much force that I was physically pushed back. The severe absence of a gunshot - and furthermore ringing in my ears - had directed my attention to the clank of metal dropping and sudden lightness in my hand.

That thing was expensive for crying out loud!

The shade’s face fell further into uncanny with its endlessly opening jaw trying to leech itself on me; teeth sharpened and cheeks tearing, barely managing to string the skin together with stolen magic.

A guttural sound reverberates out my throat as I draw my hands to its shoulders; pushing the grotesque face as far away as possible - it’s ever-blue eyes piercing and glowering at me - followed by a high-pitched ticking noise, almost sounding like a broken conveyor belt.

The rag-a-muffin towered over me, practically pushing me down. I pushed back harder, taking instant notice of how quickly the shade’s resolve crumbled - no amount of empowered energy it tried using would match my own - I shift my foot back and force my body to tackle.

I’d been in enough fights with Tank to know how to get a tall fucker on the ground.

I manage to shove the shade to one of the decrepit walls, the texture peeling and flaking off on impact; the Shade lets out a hiss, throwing spittle at me. I can’t help but make a face, grossed out by it and move back a little to get out the firing zone off instinct.

“I was tryna be civil you—“ I grit when the thing struggles against my hold, relentlessly tossing around, shrieking as it tries to get at me again; gnashing its teeth and practically foaming out the mouth.

It managed to propel itself off the wall a little with its violent thrashing and I attempt to push it back however, due to my footing, the shade overpowered me; driving me into the opposite wall and further into the dark alley. My groan develops into a growl, feeling the shade pushing and prying at me - digging its sharpened nails into my coat - still managing to graze my skin despite the thick cladding.

This damn thing really doesn’t know what expensive means, does it?

==========

PANIC! PANIC! PANIC! [NeXus - Cherlock]

[Sherlock helping Cher fight with their one arm havin’ ass /lh <33]

Sherlock had finally gotten Cher on the mat, back splayed on the cushioned floor with their body running taut under the vampire’s lithe form. Sherlock huffed, trying to keep the others — admittedly bulkier — frame to the ground.

Their constant struggling and wiggling around proved difficult, it was one of their best techniques given how big they were; a bit weak on the flexibility but good on strength. Sherlock’s current position held them at advantage with their elbow and forearm pining their chest to the floor and keeping their other hand on the shifters wrist, body held at an angle so they could roll the opposite way if needed.

For only having one arm, Cher didn’t act like it, which makes sense; their legs were stronger than both of Sherlock’s arms combined.

“You’re doing good, damn good — lemme catch my breath…” Sherlock looked down at them; mouth open in a pant for added theatrics, a little light humor to uplift the heavy room, yet they paused at the sudden hollowness of their chest. The vampire immediately lessens their hold on their chest, seeing the shifter’s face pale and pupils pining, their worry overriding the alarms ringing, “hey, you oka—“

Sherlock couldn’t even finish their sentence before Cher’s legs wrapped around them, tightening around their waist and tossing them to the side; Sherlock slams onto their side with a gasp. Cher’s arm moved to wrap over their neck and, thank fuck, for the quick reflexes or else Sherlock wouldn’t have been able to wedge a hand under their flexing forearm in time before they broke their windpipes.

“Fuck — Cher!”

Despite their yell, the other didn’t relent.

Body coiling and tightening around their own like a snake to prey. It reminded the vampire — in their haze — of their maker, or maybe seeing the shopkeep flashing before their eyes was death dangling their life in their face; that would explain their prodigy and boyfriend also being there.

Cher was muttering feverishly under their breath, a language far too quickly spoken to be discernible in Sherlock’s predicament — especially with all the blood rushing to their ears, weakening their body from lack of sustenance — vaguely sounding like a prayer of some sort.

Cher’s body burned hot with fresh blood pumping; almost to a boil, it made Sherlock flinch.

When was the last time they even fed? They choke, feeling their own knuckles pressing against their throat. They don’t even think the shifter will get the chance to off them before they wind up and do it themself.

Focus, Sherlock!

Pushing the warm skin away was proving difficult, the rush of the shifters pulse ran rampant under their very fingertips; tempting and pliant. Sherlock’s senses were overwhelmed by them, their jaw fell slack and they could almost feel their fangs begging to pierce Cher’s vitals. They can’t, they shouldn’t — they wouldn’t.

…

Right?

=========

CIRCUS ACT [YuuriVoice - Seth]

[Seth being idk a clown?? /j/lh it’s just inspired off a drawin’ I did <33]

Seth was always a passionate kid, he’d fixate on the little things - hone in on them til they rotted him from the inside out, but in a good way. A bit obsessive, but good nonetheless.

The brunet was also very susceptible to…influences, both good and bad ones. So when he saw his mama constantly working on her motorcycle, he grew a fascination with the oversized scooters — heavily influenced by how proud his mama was of the beautiful hunk of metal — wanting to be just like her.

That all took a detour when said woman decided to get up and stroll out his life, like he meant nothing. There was a period of confusion for him, where he purchased a motorcycle in memory of her; helplessly clinging onto any sort of semblance to a happier time when everything fell to shit, to then hating looking at the bike. It was a reminder how she left — they were the same brand so when Seth would bypass shop windows, he’d see his mama riding away from him.

Everything he felt towards the motorcycle was convoluted and trauma taken at surface value, it stayed like that for a few years; till he got locked up, that is.

Stuck in the penitentiary, encased by concrete walls which had the darkest of secrets imbedded into them — rowdy inmates screaming couldn’t compare to how loud the white structure rang his ears with trouble and horrible thoughts — eventually he stopped crying, stopping acknowledging the droning of his sins playing bumper cars in that sweet little fucked up head of his; a redeeming quality of his being adaptability.

Seth was docile for the remainder of his stay, getting more leeway for his good behavior — probation being added after his evaluation when he was doing time — the brunet thought about what he should do when he got out.

His first thought leeched onto his motorcycle, he missed it — missed how human it made him feel despite everything — it was the closest thing to his mama’s solidarity as he could get. It was funny how the most humanizing thing to him was an inanimate object; not a parent, not a peer, not a friend and especially not a lover.

Seth’s jaw tensed, his body suddenly boiling with uncontrollable emotion; unresolved issue, he was frankly far too scared to confront, clawed at him — begging for release, no matter what kind or how it was done — and that’s how Seth wound up in a circus gig.

Now, the big brown eyed guy wasn’t standing precariously on a wire with a painted face for viewing pleasure, he felt more drawn towards a very specific act; The Globe of Death.

Also known as, the ball of death, it was a relatively dangerous act which consisted of a giant metal-mesh ball housing three to four motorcyclists inside, all them revving engines and narrowing skimming each other when circling around the ball.

Only two - or was it three? - fatalities have actually been confirmed but it added a nice edge for Seth; he adapted a little too well to the thrill of the crime business, now he kinda…craves it? It was only a tiny preference, totally not a necessity that gives him worse withdrawals than a cigarette itch.

Totally not.

=========

[hartshorn-and-isinglass]

In lighter news: trying out heatless hair curling techniques. 1890s women's hairstyles often have masses of curly bangs in front of some kind of fancy bun, so curling my hair seems like the best way to echo the silhouette with my undercut. I've never really wanted to risk a chemical perm on my fine and often dry hair, but I wondered how well my hair would even hold a curl with something as simple as salt spray and rags/foam rollers.

Well.

So I'll take this as proof of concept that salt spray will in fact work. With my hair as short as it is, though, foam rollers are very tedious and energy-draining for me to put my hair up in, and the rolling was rather messy. Can I get more adept at this in two weeks' time?

From here, I guess I need to see if this holds up for the weekend, and how well... for some definition of "well". I am also going to need to try pin curls if I want a smaller diameter. I would also-also like to see if I can cobble together a way to do slightly bigger, wavy curls without losing my mind futzing with the rollers...

[digitaldetoxworld]

My Fitness Journey: Lessons Learned Along the Way

 My Fitness Journey: Lessons Learned Along the Way

Fitness is often regarded as a pursuit of bodily fitness, a way to build power, beautify endurance, or genuinely to appearance and sense higher in a single’s own skin. For me,, my fitness journey has been more than just about building muscle or losing pounds. It’s been an ongoing lesson in strength of will, mental resilience, and know-how the intricacies of my body and thoughts. It’s an adventure that’s taught me more than I ever anticipated and has formed the manner I view fitness, well-being, and my non-public growth. Here are the key training I’ve learned from my health adventure thus far.

Consistency is Key

The most profound lesson I’ve found in my health adventure is the significance of consistency. In the early days, I turned into obsessed with seeing quick consequences, continuously searching for a shortcut to get the body I wanted. I’d soar into severe exercising exercises or observe restrictive diets, hoping for an instantaneous transformation. But whenever the effects didn’t come as speedy as I had hoped, I’d get discouraged and abandon my plan.

It wasn’t till I realized that health isn’t a quick repair however as an alternative a lifestyle that I really began making progress. Consistency doesn’t mean perfection—it without a doubt manner showing up, daily, regardless of how small the progress may appear. Even if I didn’t feel like working out, I made it an addiction. And in the end, the small wins delivered as much as sizeable consequences.

Whether it’s a regular exercise agenda, consuming mindfully, or ensuring that I get sufficient sleep, consistency is the inspiration for lasting change. It's the small, day-by-day efforts that result in long-term achievement, now not drastic, unsustainable modifications.

 Listen to Your Body

Fitness isn’t just about pushing through the pain. Early in my adventure, I became targeted on lifting heavier weights and jogging longer distances without taking the time to sincerely pay attention to my body. I did not note signs and symptoms of fatigue, minor aches, and discomfort, questioning that pushing through would lead to faster gains. However, this mindset sooner or later brought about injury and burnout.

Now, I’ve learned to be greater in song with my body. Rest and recuperation are just as critical because of the work I installed on the gym. If I’m feeling sore, I provide myself time to heal rather than forcing my frame to hold going. This doesn’t suggest I slack off, however, I prioritize restoration, whether or not that means stretching, foam rolling, or getting adequate sleep. I also be aware of my power ranges, ensuring to gasoline my body properly with the proper nutrients, hydration, and rest. Listening to my frame has now not only helped save me from injuries but has also improved my overall performance and normal well-being.

Progress Takes Time

One of the hardest training I needed to analyze was that progress doesn’t appear overnight. In the age of social media, it’s clean to fall into the entice of comparing your progress to someone else’s highlight reel. I might observe others with the best physiques and feel disheartened when I wasn’t seeing the same kind of transformation in myself.

What I’ve come to comprehend is that fitness is a personal adventure and absolutely everyone’s progress is exclusive. I had to receive that my frame could take its own time to conform, and that’s perfectly ok. Whether it’s weight reduction, muscle advantage, or improving persistence, the results take time, and the technique itself is just as critical because of the vacation spot. The real praise comes from committing to the journey, even if progress seems slow.

One of the best ways I’ve learned to cope with this is by means of placing small, achievable desires. Instead of focusing on cease intention, I ruin my health goals into manageable milestones. These small wins keep me encouraged and assist me stay patient as I work in the direction of bigger accomplishments.

Mental Resilience is as Important as Physical Strength

A big element of my health adventure has been developing intellectual sturdiness. When I first commenced working out, my motivation became pushed mostly with the aid of outside factors like trying to look right or galvanize others. However, I soon realized that lasting motivation comes from inside. In moments when the bodily challenge feels overwhelming or my energy is depleted, it’s my mental resilience that pushes me through.

Fitness has taught me that the body frequently desires to end before the mind does. It’s in those moments of pain that intellectual electricity is constructed. Whether it is walking that greater mile, doing the previous few reps, or sticking to a workout plan when life receives in that manner, mental resilience plays a big function in reaching fulfillment. Fitness has helped me increase an attitude that embraces demanding situations and sees setbacks as possibilities for increase in place of defeat.

Learning to push through difficult moments inside the gymnasium has translated into different regions of my life. I’ve emerged as extra confident in handling tough conditions, more adaptable in the face of adversity, and greater persistent whilst matters aren’t going my manner.

Diet is Just as Important as Exercise

For the long term, I believed that exercising alone could get me the consequences I desired. I’d work tough inside the fitness center, but my nutrients weren’t aligned with my fitness desires. I might indulge in bad ingredients, pass food, or fall victim to fad diets in an attempt to get quick consequences. Over time, I found out that health is a two-pronged approach: exercise and nutrition.

Nutrition plays an essential function in achieving and maintaining fitness goals. I had to learn to fuel my body with the proper ingredients, not just for strength but also for healing and muscle growth. Eating a balanced weight loss plan that includes lean proteins, healthy fat, complex carbohydrates, and lots of fruits and vegetables has made a considerable difference in my overall performance and standard well-being.

One of the important thing instructions I’ve found out is that weight-reduction plan isn’t approximately deprivation; it’s about making higher picks. Rather than restricting myself totally, I’ve centered on developing a more fit relationship with food, getting to know to make knowledgeable picks, and practicing moderation. Fitness isn’t about “appropriate” ingredients or “awful” ingredients; it’s approximately stability and making sustainable modifications for the long term.

Mental Health Matters Too

An important and regularly disregarded lesson in my fitness adventure is the function that mental health plays in standard health. When I started out, I changed into centered solely on the bodily issue of fitness, however as time went on, I came to comprehend the profound impact exercising has on my intellectual nicely-being.

Exercise is an incredible pressure reliever, and it’s an effective manner to fight tension and despair. Over time, I’ve noticed that regular workouts improve my temper, increase my electricity ranges, and help me sense more mentally sharp. When I’m feeling down, terrific exercising can regularly reset my attitude and assist me regain attention.

Fitness has taught me the significance of self-care. It’s now not just about how I look; it’s about feeling physically and mentally correct. A healthful frame supports a healthy thought, and I’ve come to recognize that my health journey is as much about cultivating mental fitness as it is about physical health.

There Will Be Setbacks, But That Doesn’t Mean Failure

Finally, my fitness adventure has taught me that setbacks are a herbal part of the process. Whether it’s lacking some exercises, falling off the beam with my nutrition, or dealing with harm, there were lots of moments wherein I’ve felt annoyed or discouraged. But I’ve learned that setbacks don’t define me, nor do they mark the quit of my adventure.

What matters most is how I reply to setbacks. Instead of giving up, I’ve discovered to reset, regulate my method, and keep shifting forward. Resilience isn’t about warding off failure; it’s approximately how quick we get return to heading in the right direction after a setback.

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Innovative, ecofriendly rigid foam production from pineapple field leftovers

A team of researchers from Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore has successfully harnessed pineapple waste materials from agriculture to create biodegradable rigid composite foams. The foam's base was formulated using starch extracted from pineapple stems, known for their high amylose content, while the filling material was derived from non-fibrous cellulosic components found in pineapple leaves. Diverging from conventional techniques which involve preparing a batter, this study introduced a unique methodology. It began by creating a starch gel mixed with glycerol, achieved through the use of a common household microwave oven. The resulting mixture was then blended with the filling material using a two-roll mill. Subsequently, the amalgam was transformed into foam through compression molding at a temperature of 160°C.

Read more.

[elysianhades]

Small Saeran Drabble

I love making latte art :)

<3

"Oh, my love! This one turned out amazing!"

You bite your lip as you carefully put the mug down. The drink inside the cup sloshes as you place it on the saucer. Inside, there lies a design of a lily of the valley, made of foam.

You look up at the sparkling mint eyes locked on you, his smile lightening up his whole face. You can't hide your smile either, feeling your cheeks and ears heat up. You reach out your hand in excitement, meeting him in the middle and squeezing it. A giddy laugh leaves you as you look back at your creation. You've been trying for days to get the technique and texture right. You would sit outside with Saeran, listening to him talk while also studying the flower from each side to see how you could pour the foam the way you wanted to. 

There were so many failed attempts. At first, you made the stem only to realize that when you would make the flowers, it would sink the stem. After that, you had too much espresso meaning you had no room to make the flower. You had added too much air into one batch, making the foam too thick and not usable. You would get too excited and move too fast, get too nervous and move too slow, it was a long and hard process. Throughout all this though, Saeran was by your side. Every huff that left your lips was met with a kiss and a small encouragement. He never let you get too upset about not getting it right either, he would ask you to explain how you knew when the milk was steamed enough, why you would change the position of the pitcher, why you would tap the pitcher against the counter, as if he didn't already ask you a day ago.

And now, he looks just as excited as you, his eyes filled with love and pride for you. That's how it is with you two, his accomplishments felt like yours and yours felt like his. You lightly shake his hand, feeling the happy energy run up and down through your body. 

"Ahh, thank you! I didn't think I'd be able to do it." You chuckle, shaking your head looking back at the counter.

"I knew you could do it, my angel. You can do anything you put your mind to. I'm so proud of you." His laugh rings through your ears. You scrunch your nose and look away, the praise making you smile and want to hide. 

He tuts and gently tugs on your hands, wanting your attention. You glance a peak of him and wish you didn't. He has a knowing smile on his lips, looking at you with an eyebrow raised and you can tell that he is about to compliment you again, just to see how flustered you can get. 

"Okay okay lovey, before we get all excited, let me try again to see if I really do get it or I need to practice some more." You say quickly, setting the cup aside so you can sip it later. He snorts and rolls his eyes teasingly, letting you pull him back to the espresso machine.

"Angel, if I know anything about you- and I think I can say confidently that I know you quite well- once you get it right the first time, it gets ingrained in your brain." He smiles, looking over your shoulder as you pull a shot. 

You hum under your breath, knowing that he has a point. Because of all the art you've done growing up, you already had a subconscious advantage. Pouring latte art wasn't hard after you spent years drawing and painting the same design over and over. Your hands are steady because of the sewing you did growing up and you know how to eyeball when the cup is getting too full because of the baking you and your dad did. Even when you were being trained to make latte art, your manager always said that she's never seen anyone pick it up as fast as you did. 

After the shot is pulled, you take a deep breath before steaming the milk. You watch the swirl carefully as you add in small sips of air. You shut off the steam wand and tap the pitcher on the counter, disrupting the bubbles and bringing the foam to the top. You feel Saeran's presence behind you, a silent support. You pick up the cup and hold it at an angle before pouring the milk into the cup. You make the base layer of foam, before dropping down to the top of the cup and making the first flower, the foam is silky but still firm; success. You make each of the flowers before moving to the stem, pulling through the flower and completing with just enough milk.

More excitement and pride flows through you. You got it. You aren't going to forget how to do this any time soon. You cheer happily, putting the mug down not as carefully and clapping. 

"I did it! I really, really did it!" You couldn't stay still, snapping your fingers and flapping your hands. "Now we can focus on other treats! I really wanted to start learning about the lavender roll cake."

"I'd be happy to help you with that, my love. After you take a break and celebrate what you've just learned. Make sure you take a picture to put in the messenger, I'm sure everyone would love to see what you've done." Saeran looks over at the two completed drinks. He knew that learning how to do this was important to you because it's a combination of both of your guys favorite things. He remembers you explaining how you learned latte art, and how most of it are flowers; tulips, roses, rosettas, things like that. 

When he asked if you could make any flower, you froze and said that with practice you could, then you were taking every opportunity to try different styles and different flowers, slowly learning to make every flower in his garden. With this perfected drink, you have now mastered every flower in the garden that you felt you could replicate. He is shaken out of his thoughts as his phone vibrates, no doubt Saeyoung, Yoosung and Zen blowing up the group chat congratulating you. Your laugh warming his heart as he goes to join you in the living room