#sparks flying and whatnot

[visions--of--collisions]

in this edition of Things I Like To Read Too Much Into: Hobie using Miles as a fuckin powerbank

[wooahaes]

taste test

pairing: non-idol!jun x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 11/13

word count: 3.9k~

warnings: major food mentions throughout the entire fic!! mentions of reader being impulsive at some points.

daisy’s notes: i love when i get to write jun just being a sweetie btw

summary: Jun has grown accustomed to the way his soulmate eats. He hopes they don’t hate him for the way he snacks and sneaks bites of his cooking, or for the way he experiments in the kitchen sometime. But running a restaurant means he’s constantly evolving the menu… So if it leads the two of you together, then that’s good, right?

Jun turned ten years old and was… upset, to say the least, that he didn’t have a soulmate. His mother had smoothed his hair back gently and told him not to worry. If he didn’t have a soulmate, it would change nothing about him. He was still the smart little guy she had raised so lovingly, and it took nothing away from his worth. And if he did have a soulmate, then hopefully he would find them one day if so he chose. She supported him wholeheartedly, and Jun would look back on the memory with nothing but undying love for his mother for handling the situation so well. Of course, it took a few days for Jun to realize that the flavors he kept tasting on the back of his tongue were more than just cravings and his imagination… but that didn’t change the gentle comfort his mother had given him. She’d held his hand at the doctor, too, and throughout the tests to make sure that all was well with him.

His doctor had straightened up the papers on his desk—results of said tests, no doubt—and looked at Jun’s mother. “It’s the most common sign,” he said, and relief crossed her face immediately. “But it still happens.”

His mom had questions. Jun just focused on the lemon-flavored lollipop he’d been given, mind wandering a bit. Apparently, it was common enough for doctors to hand them out to kids to soften the blow of whatever came next in visits like this. Soulmates were normal enough, but Jun knew as much as his mother that some people had… less ideal soulmate marks. One of his classmates felt her soulmate’s pain (sometimes so bad that she cried, the feeling so new to someone with only so many years of life lived). One of his teacher’s had yet to meet her soulmate at the beginning of the year, only for sparks to literally fly when she ran into a new member of staff an hour later. None of his classmates had been hurt by the slight shock, but Jun couldn’t imagine having a mark like that—even if his teacher swore that it just felt soothing. Adults lied to kids all the time just to put on a brave face, after all.

It’d been a lie to say that Jun’s sign had no influence on him and his life. He had learned to cook alongside his mother and step-father so that he could take care of himself in the future, yes… but it did help him when he was trying to figure out what his soulmate was eating. His taste buds matured more and more with age, and eventually he liked to think he had a pretty solid understanding of what his soulmate was eating. He could pick out the sweetness of vanilla ice cream on apple pie, the buttery crust and cinnamon and ginger and nutmeg pointing him in the right direction. He knew the umami of different meats and the savory sauces they were cooked in. He had to adapt sometimes based on what he had available… but Jun would meet those cravings he felt, just to understand his soulmate a little better. Not that anyone complained when he did: his family adored his cooking, his friends loved a free meal, and his coworkers weren’t going to turn down leftover cookies and whatnot when he brought them in during his work study job in college. What was the point in making so much food if he couldn’t ensure the people he cared for were well fed?

That was what led him to dropping out of one school (sorry, dreams of being an actor) and pursuing culinary school in the end. He went through years of long hours and endless studying just to end up where he was now: standing in front of an empty building, arms folded across his chest. A few of his friends stood there with him, admiring the place he was officially renting out. It had taken a while to save up and get approved for loans and square away all of the business side of things (and even still, he had orders to make and so, so much more work ahead of him)... But holding the keys in his hand made it all real. 

This was step one of many for finding his place. And if it led his soulmate to him, then he would be happy.

Everything was wrong, and Jun couldn’t figure out what the problem was.

The restaurant was doing well, thankfully. He wasn’t in the red, although business could be better. People liked having authentic Chinese cuisine, and Jun was more than happy to provide it and share more of his heritage… and occasionally pack a takeout container a little more full for the college student who looked on the edge of a breakdown. But the restaurant could be doing better, making more money, and that meant he needed to make adjustments. He’d gone over survey cards, trying to figure out what needed to be fixed, and that was what led him to now. He’d been cooped up in his apartment for days now, trying to perfect a dish from his childhood that he couldn’t get right. Mingyu was sitting at the counter, muttering something to Minghao as the two (alongside Seokmin) tried to figure out what element was missing from it all. Seokmin suggested something sweet, but Jun had shot it down when Seokmin suggested a little more sugar: he’d already tried adjusting the amount, sorry. He’d even tried brown sugar, honey, and plenty of other alternatives, just to see if maybe he’d been going in the wrong direction.

One of his arms was draped over his eyes as he laid across the couch. What was missing…? He could call his mom, but part of him wanted to figure it out for himself. The answer was right there on the tip of his tongue, his lips almost tingling in the strangest way.

“It feels like it should be obvious,” Seokmin sighed, toying with the bracelet around his wrist. “Shouldn’t it be?”

It was. It had to be. That was why it was so infuriating. Jun turned over with another sigh, shutting his eyes. It was as if the answer was burning within him now, yet still out of reach. 

“Maybe it isn’t sweet,” Mingyu picked up another piece of chicken, holding it up to the light for a moment, as though it’d give him the answer. “It’s already sweet as it is… I don’t think making it sweeter would help.”

That burning had traveled to the back of his tongue now, and he jerked up. Wait a second. What the hell was his soulmate eating? He knit his brow together, frowning. This wasn’t the time for them to be messing around with some spice challenge—and judging by the cold, mild taste that subdued that heat, that must have been what they were doing. Yet once the taste of milk had disappeared, the burning was already back. What the hell was his soulmate doing? That mild taste washed over his tongue again after a moment, only to be followed again by a heat that nearly made his eyes water.

Jun tore off of the couch, immediately rushing to the cabinets. That cooling sensation hit him again, and the burning never came back, but Jun could see great, big neon signs when they were right in front of him. He’d added a little to begin with, but maybe…

“Jun?” Minghao watched as Jun pulled a container from the cabinet, making his way over to the pot. “What are you?”

He mixed in more red pepper flakes, far more than he’d done the first time. “It’s not spicy enough.”

Seokmin blinked in confusion, looking from Jun to the other two friends present. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to be that spicy.” 

“It’s still supposed to have a kick,” Minghao said, sniffling. Of course Minghao wouldn’t have caught it: the poor guy was still recovering from a cold. “Jun, I thought you—”

Jun tested the sauce, shutting his eyes… and there it was. How the hell did you…? Maybe you were like him and understood food, too. Or maybe you remembered the previous times he’d eaten this dish and realized it wasn’t burning your mouth enough. The only real question that remained was what the hell did you decide to eat? He paused, wondering if you were out there, eating raw peppers or squirting hot sauce into your mouth just to send him a sign. He paused, looking down at the bottle of red pepper flakes. Now that he was thinking about it, the taste was exactly what he was looking for—

No. You didn’t. No. He looked up, brows raising as he processed this new theory. Some people could handle red peppers well, but apparently you couldn’t (at least not raw) considering you had to douse the capsaicin with milk or something quickly to try and spare yourself that pain. All of it was just to send him this signal that something was missing and you knew what it was. He found himself smiling. He hadn’t even met you yet, and already he was a little endeared to you.

He returned the favor to you later, though. The cravings hit him in that weird way that made him feel like you were taste testing, and Jun didn’t think twice before shoving half a lemon into his mouth. He’d recognize the dish you were making later, but he didn’t care about the weird looks that the others had given him. Minghao, who knew the deal, had given him this look that was a mix of understanding and downright disgust. 

Seungcheol had sighed, getting up from the table. “You’re so weird,” he said, making his way to the kitchen to get the other lemons. “Those were supposed to be a palate cleanser…”

He’d apologized profusely afterward, not realizing that people had paid him any attention, but he hoped you appreciated his help. Maybe he couldn’t help you directly in the way he’d begun yearning to… but he was fine with making a fool of himself like this to help you in return. After all, that’s what a soulmate was for… Right?

“Jun.”

So maybe it was another one of those nights. And maybe Jun messaged the group chat to see who wanted to come with him to get ice cream this late. What was so wrong with that? Soonyoung sat across from him, a cup of sorbet in front of him that he kept pushing around with a pink plastic spoon. Jihoon’s lips were closed around a bright blue one, his frozen yogurt melting in its cup as he watched Jun carefully. And Wonwoo sat beside him, phone in one hand as he held a cone in the other. Jun had carefully picked out every single part of the little sundae that sat in front of him now: the flavor from the back of his tongue, the toppings what he thought you were out there eating on your own sundae… Was this your favorite? Or was it just what you wanted today? He recognized some of the flavors from past times, and yet today the craving was strong enough to drag him out of bed.

“Hm?” A bright green spoon hung from his own mouth, and all he could taste was plastic now. His mind had wandered a bit too much again, but… that was normal when he had his soulmate on his mind. All he wanted to do was meet you and know you. “Yes?”

“You’re thinking about them again,” Wonwoo said in a low, calming voice. There was no accusation in it, no teasing jab at him for getting caught up in silly, sappy thoughts again. Not that his friends teased him for it often—they did, but their teasing was usually saved for Mingyu and Chan and Seungcheol. “Is something on your mind?”

There it was. That’s what they’d all been wondering, after all: the concern was written on their faces, plain as day. Jun pulled the spoon from his mouth, “I’m okay. Just… thinking.” 

“About?” Soonyoung’s foot nudged against Jun’s in an attempt to prod more information from him. “You can share if you’d like.” 

He pressed his lips together, trying to figure out where to start. He had a lot of thoughts about you—the same as anyone would, right? He knew that you most likely wondered about who he was as a person. “I hope they’re kind.” 

No one said anything yet, just to give him more space to speak as he processed his thoughts.

“I think… I used to have all of these ideas for what I wanted in a person. I wanted them to look a certain way, to act a certain way…” He trailed off. “And… I think now I can’t help but think that all I want is someone I can be happy with. Someone who accepts me for me.” He scooped another bit of his ice cream up, pausing for a moment before eating it. “Someone who I can accept, too.” 

“You will,” Jihoon spoke up immediately. “Accept them. I think… I think you’ll be happy with them.” 

Soonyoung’s eyes crinkled in delight, “They’ve burned their taste buds for you before. I think they’ll be perfect for you.”

It earned a warm chuckle from Jun, smiling to himself again. He always found himself smiling when you were on his mind, and he hadn’t even met you yet. How was he supposed to go through his days when he did meet you? The same way the others did after meeting their soulmates, he assumed. Was it strange to wonder if you were like him? A little odd at times, but warm and caring and silly?

“He’s gone,” Wonwoo gently teased, smiling to himself. His phone lit up a second later from my love and Wonwoo, too, was gone with that bashful look on his face. Wonwoo had never been the kind of person who yelled his love from rooftops, but showed it in the way his eyes always seemed to sparkle a little more, heart fluttering smiles and rosy cheeks to define it. 

“You are, too,” Jihoon chuckled. Yet it was Jihoon who quietly loved his soulmate, too, always mindful of their limits in the way they were mindful of him and his limits. Jun had seen them interact a few times, and he saw the way he’d wordlessly take his soulmate’s hand when the crowds were thicker, and didn’t let go when they were through it. Little displays of affection that he’d never comment on, just to spare Jihoon the embarrassment of being called out for it.

Jun watched Soonyoung for a moment, just to be aware of him. Soulmate talk went fine with him most of the time, but everyone knew that Soonyoung (just as Seokmin did) had his moments of insecurity with his own lack of a sign. Yet he was smiling to himself, and immediately jumped to teasing Jihoon for something that he’d said about his soulmate not long ago. It turned the latter’s cheeks bright red as he complained, waving him off. So what if he liked his soulmate? That’s what they were there for, right? They were supposed to be someone that he liked. And yet Wonwoo had chuckled, joining in on the teasing as well.

Jun just smiled to himself, savoring the sweetness of the moment and the ice cream.

For the most part, being friends with Jun meant they had special privileges. When Seungcheol asked if they could all meet up close to closing so he could share some special news (with the promise that at least he would help close up for the night), Jun had agreed easily enough. Not everyone could make it, but Jun carried out a tray of dishes to set in front of those present. Seungcheol had been talking about how different his life felt now that he could see color, no longer relying on which light was lit for traffic lights or asking people for the right color apple. He'd pulled over a chair, breaking into a pair of chopsticks so he could reach out and snag a dumpling while he took a few minutes to rest.

"Also... All of you are terrible!" Seungcheol huffed. "I told Seungkwan first and he immediately started sending me pictures of myself in ugly outfits you all swore went together!"

It earned a snort from Jeonghan, who'd been busy typing something out on his phone. "We didn't do it all the time, you know."

Seokmin was staring at his watch the entire time, and Jun reached out, fingers brushing his bicep. "Are you okay?"

"Just waiting for something," he said. Then he looked up, the realization dawning on him as he shook his head. "Sorry! Sorry, I'm fine. Just..." He looked at the door again. "Waiting."

Seungcheol changed the topic away from the outfits he was debating with Joshua (no, he did not like that neon shirt, thank you), "We're going out on Tuesday, actually. I think you guys will like them..."

Jun smiled to himself. It was nice seeing Seungcheol so at ease. The idea of never meeting his soulmate had been weighing on him for a while now, and even more-so since everyone else seemed to be finding their soulmate over the past year. Before he could join the conversation, he saw Seokmin getting up and heading toward the computer right as the door opened, a little bell jingling. Jun excused himself from the group as Seungcheol continued on about his soulmate, making his way over to the counter.

"Sorry," the customer had said, and Jun had slid the menu across to you without much thought. "My friend, Minho, came here with a couple friends and said you might be able to help?"

Jun just blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry. With...?"

"My soulmate had this dish a few days ago," you rested your hands on the counter, "and I've managed to narrow it down based on a lot of Googling. But there's a couple things I'm not sure about, but Minho said what I kept describing sounded like Chinese food, and--"

Jun waved a hand. "I understand," he said. "I have the same sign."

You sighed in relief. "Good. It's not the rarest sign, but people don't always get it since it’s still uncommon, y'know? Your soulmate must be lucky, though," you drummed your fingers against the counter. "Also... Sorry about coming in this late. I saw you're closing in an hour, and—”

Jun stopped you there. "It's okay," he insisted. "It's what I'm here for. Just tell me what--"

"Jun," Seokmin called out, looking up from the monitor. "There's a request for takeout. I'm gonna confirm it, alright?"

Jun waved him on, and turned back to you. "Sorry. The food...?"

You'd started to rattle off what you'd tasted days ago, saying something about how the craving never fully left you. Jun helped square you away, telling you to sit wherever you'd like and he'd have your food out as soon as he could. He made his way to the computer where Seokmin stood, brows knit tightly together.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, keeping his voice low. "You seem... different."

Seokmin shook his head. "The ticket's on the line," he kept his eyes glued to the screen. "Just... thought I recognized the name."

Jun shrugged it off and went to work, Mingyu having already made his way back into the kitchen to help. Soon enough, several orders have been made and plated. Mingyu walked away, making his way to greet you while Jun uncapped a sharpie with his teeth. Seokmin watched as Jun drew a little cat onto the corner of one of the lids, and then a little flower next to it.

"Someone else could pick up the order," Jun said after capping the marker again. "If you don't want to go."

"No!" Seokmin paused, waving a hand. "I mean--The money is good, and my bike is outside. I'll try to be back to help clean up." He tied the bag after throwing in a few utensils and fortune cookies, pausing before he turned away. "Jun?"

He looked up from where he was tidying things up behind the counter. "Hm?"

Seokmin went to speak, and then turned, gazing at where you sat alone. He shook his head, turning back to Jun. "Actually... Don't worry about it."

Jun was definitely going to call Seokmin in the morning if he didn't make it back before they all left. He watched as he made his way out of the restaurant, waving to the others before going out for a late night delivery, and Jun sighed. Maybe he was having an off day. He'd mention it to Minghao if nothing else, and maybe he'd check on him tonight. He turned, grabbing a rag on his way back into the kitchen so that he could start cleaning up again, only to catch himself freezing once he recognized something.

That blend of spices. The sauce on your meal. He turned, staring at you as he watched you eat in peace. You. He dropped the rag, body moving on its own as if you were a magnet drawing him in. He slowed to a stop, unsure of what to say. You looked up, confused for a moment.

"I think..." His voice came out hoarse and quiet, and he cleared his throat. "I... I was perfecting this recipe a few days ago."

You stared at him. "Huh?"

"This is—This is the improved version," he said, hands curling around the back of an empty chair. Just say it, a voice in his head said. All he needed to say were those three words, and yet they felt lodged in his throat.

"You're...?" You dropped your chopsticks with a gasp, standing up. "You?!"

Jun didn't know whether to be hurt by that or not. "Would you rather I not be—”

"I have eaten so many stupid things for you!" You said, loud enough to get the attention of Jun's friends. "And--And you kept eating stupid things for me when I couldn't get the recipe right!"

He laughed. "I know—"

"Oh my god," you said. "No wonder you were always right. I mean, sometimes it didn't really help because I didn't have the ingredients, but—but you still tried!" You'd laughed, warm and vibrant. "Oh my god—I'm sorry, I just—No wonder you knew what I was talking about."

Jun caught a glimpse of his friends all silently watching, and he waved them off. "I..." His face was burning, and he started patting himself down to find his phone. "I really don't want to talk more in front of my friends."

You glanced over to them, and then nodded. "Yeah! Yeah, sorry, I just—I really should have come with Minho that time, huh?"

"Maybe..." He'd plucked his phone from his back pocket. "I could buy you dinner? If you want—”

"I'd like that," you said, accepting his phone. You punched in your number before adding a little heart emoji by your name. "Now I can go straight to the source for my cravings."

He laughed softly again, holding his phone closer to his chest. "Whatever you want," he said. "Just say the word."

With a smile from you, Jun felt his world change entirely. "I'll hold you to that, chef."

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

BETCHA!

noa had expected that giving advice to kaiser on his love life would be no easy feat, but when kaiser realizes that you have next-to-no interest in him, the german prodigy works up a storm in his master’s office. noa can only pray that he has the patience to whip kaiser into the true romantic gentleman you deserve. (+insp.)

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): kaiser x reader except it’s mostly noa teaching kaiser how to not be a shitty lover

Noa knew that becoming the mentor and master of any team would be far from an easy job. 

He had braced himself for the worst when he agreed to teach Bastard Munchen everything in his own arsenal, to lead the new youth team to become soccer’s future for when he would one day inevitably retire. He was more than aware of the nasty personalities the sport seemed to bring out from everyone (himself included, he had to admit), and he had readied himself to see sparks fly in all the worst ways possible as the teenage boys butted heads with each other.

Growing pains, he chalked it up to. Even he was once like that. Hungry, desperate, ready to prove himself to the world as the true diamond-in-the-rough amongst the common pebbles all around him.

He had braced himself for physical fights, with the youths squabbling with each other over who should have scored. And he got plenty of that. He also got plenty of haranguing them into getting up early in the mornings for practice and fighting to keep them motivated into the unforgiving hours of the night. He had braced himself for dealing with all of their managerial issues, from the boys transferring teams to needing travel visas and whatnot. 

All of the little things he had grown used to and faced during his own career, Noa was more than equipped to deal with. And he believed he solved each and every one of these problems with the same level head and grace that secured him his spot as the world’s number one striker.

What Noa wasn’t prepared for, however, were the issues involved with the budding relationships the Bastard Munchen players would face. His advice for their romantic lives were usually the same: make smart choices, stay out of paparazzi’s sight, and be respectful. That typically did the job for most of his mentees, and Noa could put his busy mind at rest.

Except for one specific boy who seemed to make it his life’s reason to break every rule that Noa had set in place for them.

Noa was sick and tired of cleaning up after every mess Kaiser made. He was used to Kaiser dragging in all sorts of celebrities and famous people he had hit it off with in a club or some other place, bragging about how he had finally found the one, to which Noa was always patient (and quick to remind the young boy that he had still yet to turn 20 and most definitely had not found “the one” quite yet). Like clockwork, a week would pass, and Kaiser would be on the quest to find the next person to entertain his fickle heart.

So frankly, when you rolled around, Noa had thought Kaiser’s obsession with you would only last about the same as his previous flings. Noa quietly waited out a week. Then another. And another. Then a few more. And to his surprise, you stuck to Kaiser’s mind. Kaiser still pursued you as relentlessly as he did the first day he brought you up to Noa, and Noa realized how difficult it would be to actually wrangle in a full-blown delusional, lovestruck Kaiser.

“NOAAAAAAAAAA!”

Noa rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath through his nose. He held it for a few seconds, like how his therapist had recommended, before breathing out through his mouth for a few more seconds. Noa was fully aware that he threw a life of peace away the moment he chose to become a professional athlete, but asking for more than fifteen minutes of uninterrupted silence seemed less plausible than winning the World Cup fifteen times in a row.

The door to his office flew open with such force that the Frenchman was surprised it hadn’t flown clean off of its hinges. “Shitty master! There you are! I need your advice!”

“No need to be so violent or loud, Kaiser.” Noa turned on the swivel chair the Blue Lock facility had given him, tearing his eyes away from the statistics and team strategies he had been working on. “They’ll be able to hear even from across the compound.”

Kaiser stood in his doorway, looking disheveled and near tears. He had sprinted here, evident from the thin layer of sweat on the German boy’s forehead and how heavily he was breathing. Noa doubted that Kaiser was coming to him needing advice on training or improvising his skills. 

No, Noa knew what Kaiser was here for already.

“Alright, how did you mess up this time, Kaiser?” The Frenchman asked exhaustedly. He had gotten used to this song-and-dance with his pupil a long time ago, ever since you had wormed your way into Kaiser’s heart. “Did you call (Y/n) a rude name? Or say something mean?”

Kaiser scrunched his pretty face up, stomping closer to Noa and sticking his bottom lip out. “No! I didn’t do anything like that. Noa, it’s so much more severe! I’d rather that they hate me and wish me dead than this! You don’t understand—they don’t care about me at all!!”

Noa bit back a snort. “Oh. And I thought you had done so much worse.”

Kaiser began frantically pacing around Noa’s office, agitatedly wringing his hands. “I knew you wouldn’t understand, you shitty master! Ugh, this is what I get, going to someone as stoic as you for advice with my love life! I don’t get it. Why doesn’t (Y/n) want me? I’m the whole package! I have people crawling, and I mean, fucking crawling all over me. That super hot actress everyone’s been talking about? She was begging me for a date last week! I’m popular and handsome and rich, and (Y/n) acts like I’m just some guy from across the street! I’m not some guy from across the street!”

“No, you aren’t-”

Kaiser shook his hands in the air. “I’m the Michael Kaiser! 300 million yen annual salary, master of Kaiser Impact, golden ace of Bastard Munchen, and God’s chosen emperor! How dare they not want me as much as I want them? Can’t they see how madly in love I am? That I’ve practically made a fool of myself at this point? Trying this hard to make them fall for me?”

Kaiser breathed heavily after having dumped all of that onto Noa, and the older man stared at Kaiser with singlehandedly the most unimpressed look on his face. The German athlete let out a strangled groan, the reality of his dejection sinking in properly, and Noa watched as Kaiser buried his face into his hands.

“First and foremost, Kaiser, you have to understand that people have different tastes. What might be appealing to actresses and celebrities and whoever else you attract might not be (Y/n)’s type,” Noa sighed, leaning back in his chair and massaging his head. “Some people avoid famous and popular people on purpose, because it’s an awful lot of work to be with someone under that much public scrutiny. It’s a big thing to ask of someone, regardless of their interest in you.”

“But I have the money! The body! The looks! Anyone would be flattered to have my interest! C’mon, Noa- Fame aside, I’m sexy as fuck!” Kaiser motioned vaguely at his body. “I’m sexy, right? Tell me I’m sexy, Noa!”

“Kaiser, I am not doing that.”

“You get what I’m trying to say!”

“Secondly,” Noa continued sternly. He didn’t particularly have the energy to flatter Kaiser that much more. “Have you actually tried wooing them in a… more appropriate way?”

Kaiser frowned deeply, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you mean in a more appropriate way? Shouldn’t they fall to my feet in utter worship of how wonderful I am? Shouldn’t they be sobbing over how grateful they are to me that I would give them even a crumb of my attention?”

Oh god. Noa wondered where he had gone wrong with Kaiser. The headache that had been ebbing in and out ever since the youth had barged into his office was only amplifying. “No, Kaiser. I mean the kind of courtship that most other people would try. Like compliments, gifts, maybe grabbing a coffee together. You have to earn someone’s love. It isn’t something that’s guaranteed nor is it something that’s owed.”

The German boy’s frown faded slightly, morphing into a small look of confusion. He repeated, “Earn? You mean… I have to try to get (Y/n)’s favor? They aren’t smitten with me already?”

“Probably not. If they haven’t already started a relationship with you yet, that usually means you haven’t won their heart.” The older athlete explained calmly. “Try the things I told you. Tell them that you like seeing them around. Maybe get them a small thing of flowers. Being kind to someone never hurts. Especially if they aren’t exactly… used to dealing with your bold personality. You have to start with baby steps before you can get to all the big passionate things you’re thinking of.”

Noa wondered for a split second if Kaiser would fume and brush his advice off as he usually did, but for once, the boy nodded along and silently mulled over his mentor’s words. Noa continued to watch him quietly, hoping inwardly that he had gotten through to the boy and that maybe he’d quit harassing you with what he could only imagine to be the most audacious courtship in the universe. You were truly a trooper to somehow keep up with all of Kaiser’s ridiculous antics. 

“For once you’re of help, shitty master,” Kaiser hummed, and the German nodded to himself.. “I know a place I could order a few blue roses from… And there’s a really nice café not too far from the facility once we get down the mountain… Yeah, I can see it all coming together! Okay, I have a plan!”

“Ah, by the way,” Noa interrupted. Kaiser looked at the Frenchman, as if to silently ask him if there was anything else he needed to be lectured about. Noa cleared his throat, looking firmly at the young man. “Remember what I told you, no matter what (Y/n) does in response to your efforts. Love is earned, not owed. Even if you try to be kind to them and flirt with them differently, you aren’t entitled to their love. If they make it very clear that you aren’t interested, the right thing to do is back off and give them space. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do,” Kaiser scoffed. “If they decide that they don’t want me… Then that’s their loss! I’ll use my indescribable charm to find someone better… Even though I don’t really think there’s anyone better than them.”

“Well, no matter what you do, I’m sure I’ll hear of it.” Noa chuckled softly as the young blond’s cheeks turned red as he started thinking about you, and Kaiser hid his pink face behind his hands. Kaiser turned on his heel, straightening his back and puffing his chest out, clearly determined to enact Noa’s heartfelt advice and to undoubtedly unleash upon you another wave of unrestrained romance.

Noa knew that Kaiser’s wails and screeches in his desperate attempts for your favor would be far from over, but if he could bit-by-bit place the boy on the correct path at wooing you over, then maybe all of Kaiser’s temper tantrums and 3 AM rants about how he is 100% confident that he’s going marry you someday would be worth it. If there was one thing that Kaiser was, it was incredibly stubborn about not letting things that he deemed as “his” slip away.

“Ah, one more thing, Kaiser-”

Kaiser stopped dead in his tracks, already halfway out of the room. “Yeah? What is it, shitty master?”

“Don’t fantasize about marriage just yet. I think it’s still way too early for you to be planning out a wedding with (Y/n) already…”

x

[teamatsumu]

Helloooo! I'm just thiiiiis happy you're open to hearing requests because I adore your writing so much!

I'm flying a lot this year for work and weddings and whatnot, and I'd love your take on Haikyuu characters travelling solo overseas on a plane! How they react if they're seated next to a cute reader and do/don't make any moves, or they're a complete mess and somehow miss the flight - whatever your thoughts may be on them as passengers 😊

Akaashi, Suna, Osamu have been on my mind but I'd honestly eat up anything you write about anyone really ���️

Ohhhh my god i love this idea my thoughts are RACING

AKAASHI:

He is very quiet on planes, I think. Keeps to himself, doesn’t bother anyone. Definitely gets a window seat, doesn’t get up to use the bathroom unless it’s absolutely necessary. His flights are uneventful at best, and he manages to finish that one book he was slowly reading over the last few weeks.

If he is seated next to someone he finds cute, he doesn’t say anything about it. He will look at you from the corner of his eye, tiny glances every now and then, but he won’t bother you. But if you initiate conversation, he will definitely engage in it. And quite enthusiastically too. You nearly fly off your seat when you realize he works as a manga editor, and Akaashi happily answers all your wonderous questions. He thinks you’re enthusiasm on the subject is contagious, and he feels elated when you ask for his number near the end, because he is not sure if he would have the courage to.

SUNA:

Suna also minds his own business. He has his laptop, his phone, and a good pair of noise canceling headphones. He is set for the trip. He is someone who puts his comfort above all. Meaning his own pillow and blanket, and even more comfortable slippers for longer flights. He is about to have the time of his life.

But then he notices that his neighbor is cute, way cuter the more he looks, and he can’t help but have half his attention on whatever you’re doing. He might comment on something too, and if you respond positively, that can spark conversation. He doesn’t talk more if he thinks it’s bothering you. Suna knows his boundaries. But he is not shy, and he is sure he can use his wit to create a little friendship and maybe get your number by the time you two get off the flight.

OSAMU:

Osamu is a patient flier by all means. Between him and Atsumu, he always guns for the window seat, and often gets his way too after a few choice words and winning a few petty bets. When he is traveling alone, he exclusively gets a window seat, even if he has to pay extra. And of course, he needs to know what they are serving on the plane.

Okay here’s my Osamu headcanon, he does not like plane food. And he has a habit of mumbling under his breath about it. Usually, people who complained about it would annoy you, but the boy next to you has this thick accent and is speaking in a dialect you haven’t heard before, that you find extremely funny.

You indulge him, and he opens up immediately. He complains about the food and you echo his opinions. Before you know it, you are having a fiery discussion on food, and Osamu is seconds away from kissing you on the spot when you say that you think Udon is the best noodle.

Time flies by with him, and you get off the plane with promises that you would visit Onigiri Miya for a free meal soon.

[sl33paholics]

Once Upon An Us

This new series I'm currently starting is a current passion project of mine. I really want to show my baby boy Santana some love (since you rarely see him mentioned in anything on here or at all). This series will be updated every Friday. Almost everything in here is fiction (yes, including the names of places n tribes n whatnot). Refer to this post here to see the jist. Other than that, enjoy :P

Chapter One here

Prologue.

In the heart of the dense, emerald-hued rainforest of Narroranna, the rhythmic pulse of tribal drums echoes through ancient banyan trees. The Bright Arrow Horde, stewards of nature's secrets, gathers beneath the celestial hood. As the elders weave tales of ancestors who communed with spirits and danced with the elements, a shadow falls upon the horizon. Unseen forces stir, challenging the delicate balance between tradition and an encroaching modern world. Little do the people realize that the choices they make will shape the destiny not only of their tribe but also the delicate tapestry of the natural world they call home.

The elders, their weathered faces etched with wisdom, recount tales of the first Bright Arrow, an ancient warrior said to have harnessed the lightning's fury and spoken to the spirits of the forest. As the tribe listens, the youngest among them, Y/N, felt an arm snake its way around her shoulder. She turned to find her father, Karey. "My little star," he murmured. Her skin prickled as if electricity crackled beneath his touch. "These stories have been passed down to generation to generation. The Great Ancestors have blessed our tribe." His words were meant for her ears alone, but she knew it was meant for all of the Bright Arrow.

As the elders started their chant around the fire, their tones got more urgent, the air charged. They spoke in voices like thunder. Y/N strained to understand, but every word seemed drowned out by an ocean of sound. Staring into the flames, she saw sparks shoot up from the wood, lighting the shadows dancing on the walls. It felt like something had crawled up from the depths below, crawling toward her, until she felt the weight of another presence hovering over her head.

Y/N tightly gripped onto her father's arm. He looked down at her, concerned. "Are you well?" She shook her head. "What are you seeing?" Another shake of her head. He held her tighter. "Do you want to leave?" She nodded. He smiled sadly, squeezing her hand. "Then stay close to me." Karey took Y/N out of the circle of elders and led her outside.

The night sky was blanketed with a thick layer of clouds. A sharp breeze whistled past, sending droplets of water flying into the darkness. Y/N and her father sat next to each other on a fallen log by the shore. Y/N wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them tight. "Father," she whispered. "What's happening inside?" He reached out and touched her face gently. "You don't need to worry about it right now, my star." Y/N looked away. "You're young... you're only 14 years old, my little star. You'll get older and wiser and be able to see things much differently than your peers." His gentle smile made Y/N feel so safe. She didn't know what to say. "For now, you should focus on your studies and learning how to hunt and grow crops..." He paused.

"And finding love."

"Love?" Y/N asked.

"Yes. Love is what keeps family strong. It makes us stronger, too. And one day when you're older, you'll know how true it is." Y/N looked away and bit her lip. She'd never thought of it that way. But the truth seemed obvious now. Father was right. Y/N would know the answer soon enough.

It's been nine years.

Y/N walked past the circle alongside her mother, Nayeli. She heard her mother let out a huff as she continued down the path. "I remember those days," her mother spoke quietly.

"You around circle with those other children many moons ago, oh my, how time flies," Her mother said with a chuckle. "Now you're all grown up." Y/N nodded in agreement with her mother's statement, but there was no denying the truth behind it. In fact, she felt quite grown up herself now, at twenty-three years old, but Y/N's mind was consumed by thoughts of the future, of where she was going next, what life would be like when she wasn't surrounded by the people she grew up with. Even thinking about love had never really occurred to her.

She followed her mother down a small hill that overlooked the village. "Mother," Y/N said tentatively. "Will I meet anyone special someday? Someone special enough to marry?" Her mother stopped walking. The wind blew harder, causing her dark hair to whip against her face. She pulled it back with her fingers before answering. "There is someone." Y/N swallowed hard. Why was this such a big deal to her mother, anyway? "Who is he?" Y/N asked. Her mother sighed. "That is why we've waited so long. We wanted to tell you first. He comes from a noble family."

Y/N couldn't help but stay silent throughout the rest of the walk 'a noble family...?' just hearing that made her heart thumped hard in her chest. Upon entering the wigwam, she saw her father across a man and a much more middle-aged male.

Their eyes met, and the moment stretched out for Y/N. Suddenly, the room felt small, suffocatingly hot.

Soon, the three were now sitting in front of the two men.

Their heads bowed forward in respect, waiting for a reaction from the two. "Y/N, this is Chief Alo of The Golden Ribbon Children and his son, Kele."

Y/N smiled politely, offering a small bow. The younger male grunted and crossed his arms as if to refuse the offer of introductions. Y/N was relieved. It felt awkward. She wasn't used to being around people her own age. "We've been told out of many of the women he's introduced to his son, none of them seemed to suit him," her mother said, "but Kele has agreed to accept you as his wife. We've given you the proper ceremony."

Kele glared at Y/N. His dark brown eyes looked almost black. For some reason, that irked her. How dare he look at her that way? She glanced up at her father. He stared back, unblinking. She swallowed hard, hoping her nervousness wouldn't show through her expression. "When exactly are these ceremonies, Chief Alo?" she asked.

Chief Alo chuckled. "Well, you mustn't be too impatient. There's nothing wrong with a few more cycles to settle down, you know." Kele shot him a dirty look. Y/N fought off a smile. Her mother cleared her throat. "Perhaps give us two months? That sounds fair, yes?"

Y/N nodded slowly. Two months sounded good. It was better than being married to a stranger. She would have to learn to live with Kele, after all.

After all of the conversation and arraignment, they said their goodbyes and left. Y/N sat there in silence beside her father. Neither had anything else to say. Eventually, she broke the silence. "I don't think I could go through with this, father." Her voice wavered with emotion. "I mean, marrying a stranger? You told me nine years ago that I should find the one that suits me best. An arranged marriage? How could you and mother do this behind my back...?" Her words tumbled out quickly, spilling forth from deep within her soul. Her father's face softened. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, child. This was bound to happen someday. The Great Ancestors have brought this upon us."

"How can you be so sure?" she cried. Her father hesitated. He stared off into the distance. When he finally spoke, his voice seemed far away. "Because I'm sure that this will bring great happiness to our tribe, to you and your siblings. This will be a blessing." He squeezed her shoulder. "A blessing? To be married off to someone I don't even know? What sort of blessing is this?" Tears started streaming down her cheeks. She tried to hold them back, but she was helpless, sobbing uncontrollably, not noticing as her father wrapped his arms around her.

She hoped that soon things would fall apart.

[storiesofleftoverghosts]

dating the batboys... and their Taylor Swift songs | (1.5/2)

pairings: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

warnings: angst, mention of death, arguing

requested?: kind of! @igotanidea asked to be tagged for a part for Jason so here you go!

a/n: THANK YALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON THE FIRST PART!! it truly means a lot to me! I’m also sorry it took SO long, I’ve been testing. I decided to split this into parts just so I could get something out for y’all. It also is a bit longer than others so I hope y’all like it!

its so hard only choosing two songs but if I didn’t this post would be going on foreverrrrr.

Jason Todd

i'd like to establish this by saying Jason Todd is NOT the angry Robin

but like with all of the boys, he is traumatized

like extremely traumatized

if he was to get with you, he'd have to know you for a long time

even then it's iffy

he has a lot of trust issues

and abandonment issues

issues in general

if he knew you before his death, I feel like you’d have a higher chance of him trusting you

(the angst potential here…)

but don't get me wrong

he’s the type who once he loves someone, he loves them with every ounce of fiber he has in his body

I’d like to think of him as a secret hopeless romantic

just has a hard time showing it

he would be the type of boyfriend to tease you about you wanting something badly and then go behind your back and buy it for you

this man would die (again) for you

you ask him to jump and he’ll say how high

in the beginning he would be anxious about doing mundane things with you (not that he would ever admit)

but once he gets used to it, it’s his favorite thing

do not fold laundry with this man because he’ll definitely make into a war and start throwing clothes at you

favorite pass time would be to cook with you

YES I HEADCANON HES A GOOD COOK SHUT UP

being lazy on the couch together, reading books and enjoying each others presence

as much as Jason loves touch, I feel like he would love spending quality time with you more

especially given his busy life style with being Red Hood

would keep you away from that life

he’s like Bruce in that aspect and will not risk getting you involved

especially because being Red Hood is more dangerous and he has a LOOOT of enemies

encouraging him to open up about his emotions

he’s better than Bruce about talking about his feelings, but he still has issues with it

comforting him through nightmares

also comforting him through panic attacks and whatnot

understanding his complicated relationship with his family and trying not push him about it

still developing some what of a relationship with his brothers

if you knew him before his death, definitely having that fear of losing him again

you never recovered from the loss of him and even to this day, it haunts you

having arguments about it because Jason insists he’s careful and you won’t lose him

having arguments in general because he struggles with trusting people and is paranoid

those arguments do not last long because as much as he is stubborn

he doesn’t want to lose you

longest it will last is a couple of days

staying up late waiting for him to get home

LATE NIGHT CUDDLES

I would also like to argue that Jason lives for playful wrestling

he loves making you smile as it’s his favorite feature on you

late night motorcycle rides

he is such a mother hen when it comes to you

“did you eat today? have you had any water? what time did you go to bed?” “okay mom,”

teaching you how to use specific weapons and self defense because duh, it’s Gotham (part two)

at the end of the day, Jason Todd is a traumatized man trying to love you the best he can.

Me being me, I’m going to have to say Afterglow (from Lover) would be my number one choice for Jason. It actually inspired me to even start this! I think Treacherous (from Red (Taylor’s Version)) would be so Jason too.

Bonus: Sparks Fly (from Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)) is also a very Jason Todd song. No I will not elaborate.

“Tell me that you're still mine

Tell me that we'll be just fine

Even when I lose my mind

I need to say

Tell me that it's not my fault

Tell me that I'm all you want

Even when I break your heart”

It didn’t take a genius to realize Jason Todd had messed up. He knew it as soon as the words that had tasted like poison left his mouth. All of the melting hot rage he had felt reached it’s boiling point, and it finally blew up.

“What do you know, you don’t even have a family!”

It seemed to echo throughout your shared apartment. The deafening silence that slowly poured in after made him feel incredibly nauseous. Your face slowly contorted from one of shock to one of a statue. Stoic and cold. The only sound to be heard was the incessant rain pounding against the windows.

You had slowly made your way over to the couch. For fifteen minutes you sat on the soft leather couch. Fifteen fucking agonizing minutes of nothing but Jason trying to somehow make it right. He apologized many times. He tried comforting you. But you just sat there, eyes closed and ignoring everything he had done. His side of the couch seemed to grow heavier and heavier with every attempt.

It made him feel like a child again. When his mother would get upset with him, she would give him the silent treatment. It would go on for days on end, and he would beg and apologize for forgiveness.

He never told you that though.

What you guys were arguing about seemed so small now. Jason was always one to blow things out of proportion. At one point in time, it had been about you going out with Dick and Tim for the third day in a row. He was a bit envious of your relationship with the aforementioned. He just didn’t know if it was Dick and Tim he was jealous of or you.

Instead of trying to talk to you about staying home and spending time with him or hell, even inviting him out with you, he took out his irritation you. It had been a long day, and this had been the cherry on top. He made a snarky comment to try and start a fight. Unfortunately, you were one to try to talk it out. It only added fuel to the fire. It escalated to the current situation. He hadn’t meant for it to end up like this.

Why’d he have to break what he loved so much?

Finally, you made a noise. You took a deep breath in and bore into his eyes. Tears were threatening to spill from them any second. It felt he had been burned, and he had no one to blame but himself.

“Before you say anything, I am incredibly sorry. It was all just me in my head. I should have never said those things, and I don’t want to lose you over this. Please, please, please let me make it up to you.” He has never sounded so desperate before. But then again, he’s never cut you this deep. Your eyes had travelled down away from him. The lump in your throat was hard to swallow.

“Jason. You’re not going to lose me over this. You’re still all I want,” The tears had started to roll down your cheeks by now. Seeing you cry made his heart crush, and he couldn’t stop himself from scooting closer to you.

“But what you said had really hurt my feelings. And if you ever say something like that to me again, I’m going to leave and take some time for myself.” You warned through the tears. Seeing your lip quiver as you spoke was enough for him to engulf you in his arms.

“I promise if I ever say that again, you could smack me as hard as you can. I deserve it.” You let out a tearful laugh and shook your head. However, he was being dead serious. You buried yourself in his embrace.

“I forgive you this time. Just next time communicate with me. We’re partners. It’s me and you against the problem.” Hearing how sincere you were made his heart swell. It made him feel even more guilty for starting the argument with you. But if you could forgive him, then maybe he can forgive himself too.

“You’re right. I’m sorry for everything. I just…” He paused. It was difficult for him to talk about his feelings, but he trusted you. You were his whole world after all. “I just wanted to spend time with you alone. I had a hard today today, and you always manage to make me feel better.” He murmured. His cheeks were a soft pink color. No matter how long you guys had been together for, it was awkward for him to tell you about how he felt.

You pulled away from the embrace to look him in the eyes. A small smile was on your face and your cheeks were tear stained. Your eyes had never had more of a soft look in them as one of your hands cupped the side of his face. Your thumb had slowly grazing his cheek.

“Why didn’t you say so? I don’t mind canceling my plans for you.” The smile on your lips grew, and you leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. The rain had seemed to turn into a soft sprinkle. You got up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen. His eyes followed you, clearly confused on what you were doing.

“Come on, let’s just cook and watch something.” You called. A bright smile spread across his face as he followed your voice. It was simple idea but it meant the world that you had decided to forgive him. He wouldn’t say that arguing with you will never happen again, but he knew that no matter how frustrating the situation was, he’d never utter an insult to you again.

He loved you too much, after all.

[commanders-company]

Audio Log Archive: Calculator Zoxxe

Entry 34 - 1326 AE. Transcription start:

Ten years with the Inquest, and I’m still equally amazed and appalled at what my fellows get themselves caught up in. I’m sure sciences like herpetology and ichthyology have their uses, but it gets aggravating seeing promising researchers become obsessed with some rare fauna or another when they should be applying themselves to the stated goals of our organization.

Case in point, this “Scarlet” character. Everyone and their golem is buzzing about this mysterious sylvari who studied at all three colleges - personally, I doubted the authenticity of her certifications even before the Council revoked them. As though a non-asura could ever hope to achieve our heights of genius. Ha!

Still, I can’t deny the spark behind her eyes. She has big plans, whatever they might end up being, and I have no doubt she will do anything to see them through. I have no interest in partnering with pirates or bandits or whatnot, so I will continue to watch from a distance as I continue my own aetherology research here. Who knows, maybe Scarlet will impress me after all. Or maybe dolyaks will sprout wings and fly.

Entry 39 - 1327 AE

Of course Scarlet ended up being a bust. Anyone who believed differently was a fool of the highest order.

She certainly went out with a bang - my aetherology instruments were going haywire from the sheer amount of magical energy that rushed towards the deep jungle. Now that we know the truth about the sylvari, we can near-conclusively see that her true goal all along was to reawaken Mordremoth. It was certainly a bold idea to flood the ley line stretching from Lion’s Arch to Maguuma with magic; not unlike jump-starting a stalled golem with an external power source.

Whatever her exact motivations for this could have been, her success does open up a potentially fascinating avenue for my research - what sort of link is there between the elder dragons and the magic of the world? Clearly Mordremoth was attuned to it, but what about Zhaitan, and for what purpose? And most importantly, how can we exploit it for ourselves?

I’ll prepare my thesis and send it to high command along with a request for additional funding and personnel. I have no doubt they will give me all I ask for, so I will begin my personal work at once. I wonder if the Pact would miss one of their submersibles…

Entry 53 - 1335 AE

The Pact and that blasted commander of theirs continues to be both a boon and a curse! While our agents in the Rata Novus lab have passed on immeasurably useful data from their efforts, that blasted sylvari keeps killing more dragons - good for the survival of the common folk, I suppose, but absolutely detrimental to my research.

Only one dragon remains, the ever-theorized but heretofore unproven “deep sea dragon.” There’s so much more we’re on the cusp of discovering, and the commander is on track to ruin my career without even knowing!

But, as always, I have a plan. I was able to find records of Scarlet’s notes left over in an old workstation. She mentions time she spent with the late Omadd, and most importantly, a fascinating device he constructed near the Silverwastes. Supposedly, the device allows the user to peer into the fabric of reality - the very Eternal Alchemy itself!

Finally, a chance to mathematically prove what I’ve always believed - to show those boorish idiots I call my fellow researchers that absolute structure is the only way to success. Everything down to the smallest particle of the least important atom can be determined, charted, predicted and directed. The Inquest has always strived to control the Eternal Alchemy, but no one ever thinks about what we’ll do with it. Absolute order to all things is the only conclusion that makes any sense, and I will be the one to put it in place.

I will be traveling alone to the machine - no reason to give anyone else the chance to muck everything up, or worse, steal my work. Very soon, all asura - the entire world - will know my name!

Entry 55 - 1335 AE

[unintelligable] -it’s wrong. It’s all wrong, everything is wrong, I was - [crashing, papers scattering, yelling]

I fixed it. The machine worked and I saw everything. All magic flowing in and out the dragons like water through a filtration matrix. For a moment it was so beautiful. But the dragons died one by one, and in their place, there is…

Nothing. Less than nothing. Void from end to end. No greater purpose, no rules or equations or anything comprehensible. An emptiness that will take and take and take until there is nothing left.

She’s doomed us all. She can’t save us this time. Now everything we’ve done, everything I’ve done is worthless. No one can stop what’s happening.

The Void comes for us all. The Void comes. It comes. It comes. It comes… 

[unintelligible]

Entry 56 - 1335 AE

Ahem.

I’m not going to delete my last entry - embarrassing as it may be to admit, it is important to acknowledge when one’s conclusions end up being incorrect, if only for the purpose of proper documentation.

Which is to say that the world didn’t end, obviously. The Commander found a way, as she always seems to do. Our agents report that Aurene now fulfills the role the previous elder dragons used to, sans the whole death/rebirth cycle. Magic flows through her to be cleansed, and the world is balanced once again. The Void is - it’s gone. It has to be -

[coughs] I’m putting together another thesis and personnel request. The events of the last few days opens up yet another previously unknown facet of aetherology. We’re not under immediate threat anymore, but it demands to be studied. All sorts of possible applications could be found, if we can properly contain it.

I cannot - I will not be taken by surprise again. I will master its flow and dictate its course.

I will be the one in control. It will have no power over me ever again.

Should my proposal be approved, and I have no doubt it won’t, I will be forming the V.E.R.G.E. krewe - Voidic Energy Research and General Exploitation. We will decipher every secret of the Void and turn it to our own ends - and prepare ourselves should it ever return like this again.

I will be ready. And someday soon, all of creation - even the Void itself - will bend before me.

[gamelpar]

bulkhead is definitely an animal lover and I'll allow no one to say otherwise. miko was the gateway for him to become more secure with his large size around small organics and so he discover all kinds of animals on earth and now they watch animal planet and other tv shows about animals together. if it isn't a show about car smashing it's about animals. they text and send each other images and videos of animals all the time

miko: [sends image of a cat] bulk bulk look at this kitty!!

bulkhead: oooohhhh!!! beautiful kitty! 😺😺😺 so precious!!! 💕💕

-

miko: today was not a good day

bulkhead: no dogs?

miko: no dogs 😔

bulkhead: 😔

-

bulkhead: i saw this little frog when i was out on patrol today!

miko: !!!! he jump???

bulkhead: he jump!!! 😁😁

miko: 🐸🐸🐸🐸!!!

most of team prime gets used to bulkhead randomly showing them images of animals and gushing over them and they all humor him. 'optimus check out this dog miko met today! isn't he a good boy?' 'he looks like a very good boy indeed bulkhead' or 'hey arcee what do you think of this little fella? *shows image of a crocodile* 'it's pretty cool, bulk' 'i know right??? it's so awesome did you know-'

bumblebee and smokescreen are the same as bulkhead and miko about animals and so is jack and raf. they have group chat together specifically for sharing anything about animals

raf: squids actually changes their colors to blend in with their environment!

smokescreen: really?? no way that is awesome!! this planet has so many cool animals!!!

miko: dUDE WAIT UNTIL YOU HEAR ABOUT THE PLATYPUS

jack: just saw a little birb outside guys

bumblebee: [sends image of a aardwolf] doggie!!!🐶🐶🐶

ratchet gets interrupted at least once a day bc bulkhead or someone else needs to show him this cute bunny or this awesome bird species seen on tv or did you know bats are the only mammal that can fly??? and ratchet huffs and plays uninterested but he secretly thinks the animals are cute too everyone knows he has a soft spark

the only ones who doesn't really get is ultra magnus and wheeljack. magnus is more that he's still new to earth and doesn't get why a 'cute' animal is relevant to anything but still gets bombarded with Images of horses and tigers and snakes and whatnot by miko. he's stopped blocking miko every time it happens at least. wheeljack has seen more of earth and yeah sure he's come across some species he thinks are cool and interesting but mostly he doesn't really have an opinion on them. bulk sends him an image of a sheep and goes 'look how fluffy she is!!! isn't she adorable jackie?' and wheeljack is like 'yeah sure i guess'. he doesn't really have a choice at this point but to agree otherwise miko and bulkhead will yell at him

[goatswithtoast]

Pt. 3, Meetup

Lloyd flies down to the South Pole on Ultra with mixed feelings. On one hand it's very cool to know he can control all four elements, on the other, Morro is probably so mad at the moment.

Lloyd lands in a quiet and peaceful area, though it doesn't stay that way for long, as a group of kids who had been playing spotted the Dragon flying down and ran over to see it. When confronted with the sheer size of it, and a complete stranger standing next to it, the group shies away. One of them spots a familiar man walking to town and runs to hide behind him. The others quickly follow suit, calling for the help of 'the Ice Guy!' and cause Zane to draw his attention towards the new arrivals.

Zane is absolutely stunned at the sight of a real-life dragon, and was completely taken aback by the Air Nomad child asking if he's seen a waterbending master around. Zane of course brings him to Sorla.

Sorla quickly deduces that this boy must be the Avatar and says he must be brought to the Chief so that he may inform the world the Avatar has started his journey. Just as they go to leave, Nya appears in the doorway ready for training, only to have to turn right back around to head into town with a groan.

Together they go to town to the wise and humble Chieftain, Darreth, who's more than happy to put Lloyd with the best Master they have. Suddenly, the alarm for a Fire Nation ship sounds. (Lloyd says he did find the ship kind of weird flying in) (Nya's ready to kill this weirdly dressed stranger) As everyone is preparing for battle, gearing up and taking positions and whatnot, Nya sees that a quick and strong attack would do the job. So she calls Zane to help her as she pushes the boat off-course, Zane freezes it in place. An unexpected fireball fired from the ship is deflected efficiently by Lloyd.

The army then moves in to find they're just needed to take prisoners. A few soldiers comment on the teamwork and speed of the group, sparking the idea of these two being his waterbending masters to Lloyd,

After considerable deliberation, and much convincing from Nya, the two agree to join him. (Nya wants to see grass again and promises her mother that if she ever does end up in the Fire Nation, she'll find her family and tell them she loves them.) (Dr. Julien is worried for what his son will face, but ultimately proud that he's able to get out and see the world, with friends no less) Lloyd thanks the 'wise and all knowing' Chieftain for offering to find him a teacher, but he's found two that suit him perfectly.

(Darreth will later claim that he's the reason the Avatar mastered Water, naturally.)

Part 1 (Nya, Zane +Kai) | Part 2 (Lloyd) | Part 2.5 (Morro) | >Part 3 (Meetup) | Part 4 (Cole) |

[t3acupz]

I’m working my way through Hugh Dancy’s filmography and watched Downton Abbey: A New Era last night. I was putting it off a bit because I loved Downton Abbey (unexpectedly tbh) and I was anxious it might be a mediocre sequel.

spoilers if you haven’t seen it—

I was never a fan of Mary’s second husband, Henry, because they didn’t have that magnetic chemistry that she had with Matthew. So I was pleasantly surprised he wasn’t in this movie which is where Hugh’s character, Jack Barber, comes in. I was just hoping that something would happen, some sparks would fly between Jack and Mary but no, they really had no chemistry either. I get that her story is there to parallel the Dowager Countess. Mary, like her grandmother, refuses an affair that is presented to her on a silver platter because of honor and whatnot and that would’ve been fine if at the end of the movie she was reunited with Henry and they’re shown to be in love but that didn’t happen.

I absolutely adore Maggie Smith as Violet Crawley. Her charisma and sass carried the show at times. I think her end was very fitting and respectful.

The only thing that I felt this sequel addressed in the best way was giving Barrow a good ending. If there was ever a character that deserved to finally be happy it was him.

Finally, to Hugh’s part. It was cool to see Hugh Dancy and Hugh Bonneville together again after Daniel Deronda (2002). Robert’s storyline of questioning is parentage seemed like a callback to Hugh’s part in Daniel Deronda and I wonder if that’s why he was hired to play Jack Barber.

The filming at Downton Abbey to make the silent movie was a bit too fourth wall breaking. Downton Abbey is one of the few shows I really don’t want winking at the audience but at least the minor characters got to have that awesome dinner scene towards the end.

Ok so here’s the controversial statement, I don’t think Hugh did a good job acting in this particular role. He’s so good in Hannibal because he plays a twitchy, anxious and conflicted man. But when he added those elements to Jack Barber it felt off. It also made it harder to believe Mary would feel anything for a guy who’s that neurotic.

The funny thing is he also didn’t seem British enough. It’s like all those years of living in New York made him lose that quintessentially British vibe that worked well for him in those early period dramas.

His acting works better in roles like Will Graham and Cal Roberts. He has an explosive energy that he has to contain in Downton Abbey and so his performance fell flat.

Still adore him and I probably wouldn’t have watched A New Era if he wasn’t in it so I’m glad I did.

[orra48]

Sentry: A Post Mortem

Sentry was a character I played for over 2 years for a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. He was truly my first long term fictional character of my own creation. I never really thought of myself as a writer (still don't really as you'll probably agree with me if you read this whole thing) or a creative of any type for the longest time, eventually I opened up myself more to the idea of creation and art in 2020 (a lot happened personally and globally then). I feel compelled to write SOMETHING about him instead of just keeping it all in my head, because... well... he finally died. Sentry's original concept was supposed to be something of a lone ranger/Goblin Slayer/Mandalorian/Kartos kind of a character. A bounty hunter whose purpose was lost to him but was being called to what we called the Etherium. Boring sure, not too much of a past beyond coming to the world without any sense of who he was and what to do and a past relationship with a character that my SO (the DM) came up with. Long story short, he became a bit less robotic (funny because he was a warforged) and starts getting a personality. He eventually finds out he is an ever reincarnating champion (he had even seen some of his previous lives albeit briefly) of the Raven Queen. I don't know too much about other Warlocks, but I think the stereotype is that they don't want to be in service of whoever they are with. Sentry was not like that at all. He was a Paladin wearing the mask of a Warlock. Once he knew of his relationship with the Raven Queen, he knew he was a weapon to be used for... something. He didn't care, he knew he was being sent to remove a problem, and his god was going to lead him down the path to get him to that problem. I really had to think about what Death meant to him, especially because he was champion of the Raven Queen. I had to make a choice for him. Either he would despair being trapped for eternity for a choice that essentially someone else made for him... or embrace it.

I chose to embrace it. For a few reasons. First, one of my favorite artists (Flying Lotus) did a song about death (Never Catch Me). There's a lot of different ways to interpret the song but I basically broke it down to something along the lines of embrace the moments you have, keep fighting, and don't let the fear or sadness of death keep you down. At one point we kind of jokingly had to pick a song that we thought represented our characters, this was the one I chose. Second, going on the whole Warlock stereotype, why not go against the grain and embrace that, yeah, in some ways he's being controlled, but he obviously so strongly wanted this in the past there must be some reason why he had chosen to do this. He needs to trust in his decisions and trust in himself. Third, I think it's just the kind of headspace I wanted to be in when it came to my thoughts about death. Really what kind of sparked me to introduce more creativity in my life was because of the passing of my dog the year before. When it had happened of course I mourned, but I knew that if I really wanted to get over it I would need to change the rhythm of my life that I had danced to before into something new and spontaneous.

Especially with the whole reincarnation deal and whatnot, I would start to play Sentry more like the Doctor (from Doctor Who). A person that to a lot of people see as entirely mad and doesn't take things seriously when perhaps they should. Sentry would talk way less to an enemy than the Doctor would... so maybe not like the Doctor at all considering that aspect! I have my own feelings about Doctor Who that I'm not gonna get into, but one thing that always stuck out to me was The Tenth Doctor's regeneration scene (David Tennant to Matt Smith). He is pained, knows the metaphorical train is coming, and can't stop it. "I don't want to go." It really, I think, encapsulates all the incarnations feelings about regeneration, they all want more time to some degree, but Tennant's desire to keep going just sticks out so much more in comparison to others that it just stuck with me. Combining all that I knew what would essentially be Sentry's last words. "I just wish I had had more time". Not to be said in an agonizing way or anything. No, he always knew the train was coming, he just didn't know when. To dwell on it, to be scared of it, run from it, it wouldn't make a difference. He of all people knew that, so why fight it? If it was meant for him, the only thing he would care about was that in his heart of hearts that he had done everything he could to try to prevent it. And that's basically the end he got. He lived his life how he wanted even if he was ultimately just there to serve a god. A madman who remembered way too much about who he had been, essentially relived a few different past lives in an instant and becoming not really one person but multiple versions of his past self all wrapped up into one being that was just trying to do what he thought was right to keep himself from truly breaking, and someone who just wanted to get the most out of his life. He died protecting those that were closest to him (and one person he didn't really care about because he didn't know them but hey good for them). Probably the closest of whatever Sentry truly was, is, and will ever be across all his reincarnations.

I just wish I had gotten more time to spend with him.

Just one final end fact about Sentry and his fate beyond death (he's a reincarnating champion after all). In the campaign we played at one point we get to see what everyone's soul looks like. It was kind of a throwaway for me but I had said his soul looked like a forest with an elk at the center of it. Towards the end (for this one shot that I knew would be canonically the end for him though I didn't know if he would die) I thought back to his soul, and came to the conclusion that his "true" self is a time dragon that entered into the service of the Raven Queen. I thought this would work for a multitude of reasons (his unexplained obsession with dragons for one, reincarnation after death another), but I found artwork that had a time dragon's horns sort of look like an elk's to me. His last time being with any of the characters (his son was the only one who got the privilege to see his true end) got to spend a moment of time with him in that forest before he was whisked away by his true self. I doubt anyone remembers that tidbit about seeing the character's souls but I thought it was a good way to close his chapter if anyone did. I only had to change things slightly to make it work! So why did the time dragon enter service of the Raven Queen? Not sure yet. Maybe it loved her, maybe it just knew it was meant to do this. Maybe there's some grand scheme the dragon has to do all this. Only time will tell, but that's for another time.

Also why didn't we ever call him a wereforged? He was a werebear warforged hybrid!

[rechiigu]

Some fun facts about Cyntia!

Thought about them so imma write them down before I forget-

In pure novel/writing form, she describes most of the world around her through synesthesia. Things like "The general scent of the village carried a soft reddish tone." or "As my fur pressed against the soft-chimed and freshly rained on grass, a thought rushed into my head like a spark of lemon zest."

She will use *very* specific vocabulary when talking about specific topics (i.e, animals and plant species, historical phenomenon and places, etc.)

Her usual smell is "strawberry-flavoured". Depending on the day, it may smell like other wild berries

As a winged dragon, she can fly, but she can also dash (both on ground and air), launch herself to the air and stomp! (For reference, it would be similar to Ori's moveset with same names)

She can breathe fire, but it only emanates light and lacks any kind of attacking power. This is due to the fact that this "fire" is just part of her general summoning powers. She can temporarily create an object out of spirit particles. It can be touchable and have mass, but only temporarily before it vanishes.

This is all I got for now. If I get any more ideas I'll do a part 2 or whatnot

[freesia-writes]

The Bad Batch: Tech and Vel [Part 5]

A fun action/adventure/romance with Tech and an original character, set during the Clone Wars. Rated PG-13 for passion and peril. ;) And just a heads up -- so far, it's got about 27 parts, and I anticipate about 30-32. It kinda got away from me. ;)

Also, I did my best to keep a steady plot line and tried to think of all the potential plot holes or questions or whatnot, but ultimately, this was just an excuse to indulge in imagining a little romantic adventure for Tech. So forgive any inconsistencies or inaccuracies and enjoy the ride. ;)

(STORY IS BELOW THE PHOTO) Also, I'll publish the rest on Wattpad for those of you who want to read it all at once. But I probably won't finish it til the end of the month; want to see how Season 2 ends!

The Bad Batch: Tech and Vel - CT-9902 - Wattpad

Another mission, another risky departure. This time, the hyperdrive wasn't working, and as a last resort, Tech asked Vel for help. Once again, she came through, in another impossible situation. The team was amazed at her mechanical knowledge. As soon as they had a break between missions, though, they had their orders to drop her off. But she had so much knowledge. All mechanical, delivered dryly and peppered with laments about her now-useless status to both the Bounty Hunter's Guild and the Jedi Order. After much deliberation, the team asked her to stay, as a ship mechanic, until she decided where she wanted to go.

At this point, it had been long enough that she agreed, having grown accustomed to the ship's little nuances and quirks. But it came with one stipulation: she wasn't to be a prisoner anymore. She had no reason to turn against them anymore, and she was grateful for their help, though still hopelessly jaded about her future and resentful about her past.

She was fashioned some makeshift quarters in the hold, still dark but better than bars and a stark cell. She had no personal items except a pouch with some credits, a basic medpack, and the multi-use weapon that Crosshair had relieved her of upon her capture, and that was not in her possession just yet. The ship was under constant need of repair or maintenance, so she worked frequently alongside Tech primarily, as well as the others, depending on what was needed. She was quiet and efficient, grateful for the lack of conversation when she assisted Hunter or Crosshair and chagrined at the constant questions and thoughts that accompanied any project with Wrecker.

Tech, however, was hard to discern. He spoke factually, only when needed and immediately applicable. He did sometimes tend to explain a single topic in far too much detail, but she found it preferable to any questions or conversation directed at her, so didn't make any effort to stop it. She found her interests piqued at his different approaches to certain processes.

They spoke of past missions, of their childhoods and experiences. Vel divulged bits and pieces here and there, and Tech began constructing a mental map of her story. Born on a lush forest planet, she was taken to the Jedi temple as a youngling when her Force abilities had surfaced, but throughout the Padawan training, it became painfully apparent that she was insufficient.

"Diplomatically dismissed," Vel said, rolling her eyes and waving the spanner in front of her, "Although I'd just call it what it is -- I wasn't good enough."

Tech remained silent, considering the ramifications. He was laying flat underneath a control panel, welding some rough edges, while she rerouted the wires to avoid damaging them. "So I went back to my dad, but he had moved to Corellia," she continued. "He tried to hide his disappointment but it was apparent. So he thought he could make me the best mechanic in the shipyard instead. He hired me out as an apprentice to every specialist he could find. I worked during the day and studied in the evenings." "It sounds intensive," Tech responded, momentarily pausing from the flying sparks in front of him. "He was trying to do whatever he could to make me useful," Vel answered, her voice tight to conceal the deep pain. Tech remained silent, keeping his thoughts to himself, partially due to the emotional precision required and partially due to the discomfort of the situation. He lifted the face shield to rest atop his head, patiently waiting for any further revelation.

"Anyway," Vel continued, clearing her throat and regaining an air of carelessness, "It was never enough. I made him so much money, got him known throughout the system for ship modifications, but I made one small mistake on a Techno Union transport, and he kicked me out."

She shared the story factually, as if it meant nothing to her, but the constriction in her throat was unmistakable. "His own daughter -- imagine that," she said, returning to her work with a clenched jaw. 

Tech felt deeply unsettled, not having much training on this sort of situation. He racked his brain, searching through the literature and studies, before settling on his best attempt at encouragement: "The hardcell-class interstellar transport was a notoriously unique model, especially since it did not use conventional repulsorlifts for flight but opted for--"

"--rocket propulsion for atmospheric and stellar travel," Vel interrupted, "I know... Now."

"Ah," was his only response. He regarded her for a moment, and considered returning to his welding, but felt a compulsion to try again. He considered what she had shared, noting her body language, and decided on a different approach. 

"I am sorry that your father failed to exhibit the loyalty one would traditionally expect from a birth parent," Tech said. "I would posit that it had more to do with his own ethical shortcomings than your perceived incompetence. If I had been born in the traditional human method, I would likely feel similarly disenfranchised by a lack of a secure attachment."

Vel didn't expect to laugh at this, but a chuckle burst out nonetheless. First of all, she never expected to be sharing her aches and pains with a random clone engineer, and second of all, she had never guessed she would be comforted by a factual analysis of her developmental psychology.

She looked at him, staring solemnly right back at her without a trace of sarcasm or judgment, and couldn't help but smile. "I don't even know what to say to that," she said.

"No response needed," Tech responded matter-of-factly, pulling his face shield back down and returning to his work. Sparks began to fly again, and not just in the literal way this time, yaknowwhaddimean? ;) 

[studiomkm]

Additional Dirigible Airport ponderings

It's tempting, from a writing standpoint, to simply use a standard modern airport and just replace the planes with airships for the aesthetic. However, the more the idea stewed in my mind (thanks for that, Around the World in 80 days course from Walkabout Mini Golf) the more I realized just how different the details would need to be.

Most of the aircraft used would need to dock well above ground, unlike planes, which would mean that the support vehicles and infrastructure would also need to be designed with that in mind. Things designed to haul giant ballons with ropes that are possibly miles long, like the Macy's parade on steroids, just to get the crafts in their proper spots. OSHA would have to work like quadruple overtime to make sure that there were enough safety regulations (especially with kids around).

The most fun part of it all, however, has been thinking about the different kinds of airships.

Obviously you'd start with your standard passenger ships but due to weight issues, you'd likely also have other airships that would tag along with the sole purpose of carrying all the bigger luggage and possibly support supplies like more fuel and whatnot. There would clearly also be deluxe luxury airships for the rich and famous.

There could also be hybrid ships that could land and even travel on water. Express ships that only carry five or fewer passengers that would move with speeds much closer to modern airplanes.

Service airships that deliver mail, supplies, and anything else that would need to be carried from point A to point B or maybe even act like flying tugboats.

It's all pretty fun to think about. Just damned to not have enough creative spark in me to actually make a story out of it...

[maelstrom-of-emotions]

First drafts are incredibly important, and I know what you're (probably) thinking, "That's it? Literally everyone knows that. It's been crammed down our throats enough."

But, I'm serious, rough first drafts are important. And the reason I'm going on this tangent is that I just realized that so many people have different ideas of a what a first draft means, and so many people consider "first drafts" that way they've been taught to consider it.

This probably doesn't make any sense, so I'll explain this. My version of a first draft was something already created. There was no groundwork, no outline, I would only write completely curated sentences. Like, I thought, ‘Oh, I've already done the thinking in my head, already thought about how it would look like, so that's done.’

On paper, it looks like a good way of doing things. I'd only write sentences that were formed, structured, with flowy metaphors and whatnot, they wouldn't be changed at all and would be posted the same way. I considered my "second draft" to just be editing spelling and grammatical errors.

It wasn't great, at all. Since I would only write "perfect" paragraphs and set high standards, I would barely write anything at all for months. A single story took years to write until I would just loose the motivation and the spark, and I thought that's how it worked for everyone. That you wouldn't write your story if it didn't have the most gripping first line, that you wouldn't write a paragraph 'cause you didn't have the best description and so on it went.

But then, I talked with other writers and I heard about how their first drafts were created, some of them used bullet points, others just quotes they wanted to include, some of them wrote the last scene and worked their way up from there and others wrote paragraphs and wrote little notes for themselves of what scene would go next. (Example: *insert heart-to-heart here*).

And I thought it was stupid, 'cause wasn't that more work? Wasn't that just more stress. But, then after months of not being able to write I tried it, and it bloody worked, guys.

I ignored the nagging voice in my head that told me the metaphor wasn't perfect or that the lines weren't descriptive enough and just wrote stuff. I wrote short and to the point sentences just to get the groundwork done and I was able to write so much. Sometimes, I'd lose steam, but I'd tell myself that I had done more writing in three hours than what I had done in eight months and it kept me going.

Something I didn't realize was due to my perfectionism, I didn't give my story the chance to grow. It may seem stupid, but because I was forcing it to develop in strict and rigid cages, I only had the first idea to work off of. Now, though? It gives me enough space to play around with what I want. To have fun. I was writing a revenge fic and halfway through, decided to turn it into A/B/O because I had the sudden idea of a scene I wanted to add. If I was writing it like I usually would, I wouldn't be able to change it, because I'd already written down the final sentences and to change them would be a pain. So it didn't leave room for new ideas.

Give your story the chance to grow, people. Because, sometimes, when you think you're actually helping it you might just be clipping off it's wings. Like it grow, let it fly, let it falter. Let it mold itself into what it wants to be. It doesn't have to be perfect on the first try - it can be filled with random unrelated images, it can be filled with quotes, it can be filled with random ideas that struck at 2.a.m. You write to escape from the real world, don't let writing be something you want to escape from.

Have fun writing, let your wings grow.

(Also, my readers, I swear, I'm working on the next update.)

[azvolrien]

Flight Camp

A pleasant weekend giving flying lessons to a group of young gryphons goes somewhat awry.

---

“At least the weather’s good this time,” said Asta. “How many weekends have they had to postpone this, now?”

“Three,” said Redbolt with a deep sigh. “Now, I’ve flown in some pretty rough weather, but don’t suppose it’s fair to ask the little chickies to fly in a full-tilt thunderstorm.”

“It could be a useful skill for them,” said Asta, smiling. “We are in Stormhaven, after all.”

Redbolt gave a soft clicking laugh in his throat. “Likely save that for the advanced classes.”

However bad the summer storms had been, they had passed completely with no sign of returning just yet. The sky above Aberystrad Beach was a clear, pure blue, only interrupted by a few high white wisps flying in the wind coming off the sea, but despite that, the beach itself was almost deserted, other than a handful of beachcombers along the tideline and the gaggle of young gryphons – older than fledglings, but not by much – gathering on the white sand.

Redbolt leant over the edge of the huge gryphon sculpture’s head to glance down at them. “How many’s that now, d’you reckon?”

“Mmm, I think I see twelve,” said Asta. “Thirteen, if that one off to the side is with the group as well.” She flipped back the top of her satchel and took out her notebook to check the roster. “And there were… Fifteen on the signup sheet.”

Redbolt settled back with another sigh. The remaining half of his tail twitched slightly, suggesting that a phantom tail-tuft flicked to and fro in relaxation. “I’ll give them another few minutes to show up, then.” He glanced at the notebook in her hand. “Were you always this keen with notebooks and such, or did you catch it off Master Gwen?”

“She is a fearsomely organised woman,” said Asta, double-checking an earlier page for the weather forecast. “But no, in this case; I don’t think I’ve gone anywhere without a notebook since I was at school.” She paused. “Certain circumstances notwithstanding. Actually, while we’re talking about the College, I was wondering something, and it’s turned out to be surprisingly difficult to find in the library. Even Arianrhod – you remember her, I lived with her for a few weeks when I first came to Stormhaven – wasn’t sure if they had any books about it. I was hoping you might know more about it.”

“Hrm?”

“Do gryphons have magic?”

“Hrm.” Redbolt wiggled his ear back and forth a couple of times, something like a human making a wavering gesture with one hand. “Yes and no.”

Asta frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well – we all have magic. All of us, every one of us. It’s worked into us, like… like threads in a tapestry. Runs through every feather, every drop of blood. I mean – look at me.” He unfolded both wings to their full, huge extent, more than thirty feet from one wingtip to the other. “Now, I’m lighter than I look, air sacs and all that, but still, you think a beast my size could get off the ground without at least a spark to help out? The wizards always look forward to our moults – our sheds can be useful ingredients for potions and whatnot.” He folded his wings again, shuffling them a little to settle them more comfortably along his back, and looked out to sea.

“So, yeah, gryphons do have magic,” he went on. “But if what you’re really asking is ‘can gryphons be mages’ – that’s rare. That’s very rare. It’s not unheard of, but every generation only hatches one or two, if that, who can really channel and control their magic like the wizards do. I think Owl and her little apprentice are the only ones around at the moment. They live a ways outside the city – Oakhollow, nice little place a bit east of here – but you might have seen her around now and then. White and pale grey feathers, sort of a ruff around her face, hence the name.”

“I think I have seen her once or twice. I’ve never seen one at the College, though. Not as a student, at least – Inkfoot and the messengers are always around, of course.”

Redbolt shook his head. “You wouldn’t have. It sort of – it goes along different lines to a human mage, I’m told. Not much point trying to teach a gryphon to wield magic the same way a human does, ’cause it just won’t work. I did hear that the little one wanted to sit in on a few theory classes, though, so she might turn up now and then after the summer.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” said Asta. She checked her watch. “That’s after ten o’clock now. I think anybody who hasn’t shown up by now is just going to have to deal with being late.”

“Hrm. Don’t suppose it’s fair to keep ’em waiting, the ones who got here on time.” Redbolt stood, stretched, and nodded for Asta to climb onto his back. He waited for her to buckle the safety strap around her waist before he unfurled his wings again, stepped off the side of the sculpture’s head, and glided down to the beach. The gathered youngsters looked up when his shadow passed over them, and had formed up into a wobbly line by the time his claws touched down on the sand. Asta undid the belt and slid off his back.

“We still waiting on anyone?” asked Redbolt once he was within earshot of the young gryphons. “One, two, three, four – yeah, fifteen of you here now. Right! Like as not you’ve seen me around the place – not like this face blends into a crowd easy – but we’ll do some intros anyway. The name’s Redbolt, lately Flight Captain in the Second Assault Wing. Retired the year before last after eighty-odd years in the Army. Saw action in the Battle of Second Eyrie, the Darkwald War, and more border skirmishes than I can even remember.”

“It shows,” said one female on the end of the row. Her neighbour gave her a scandalised look and made a desperate shushing sound.

Redbolt just looked at her for a few seconds until she began to stew. “Yeah, I’m missing a few bits,” he said mildly. “This one here is my pal Asta; mostly she just tagged along for something to do, but she can help you out if you need anything noted down. Any of you got more than a nest-name yet?”

A few of them did; the one who had commented on Redbolt’s scars went by Vinegar for reasons she declined to explain, while a small male halfway along the row was called Goldcrest for reasons that were entirely obvious. Most, however, were still nameless other than whatever their families shouted to get their attention.

“Well, maybe a few more of you’ll have proper names after the weekend,” said Redbolt. “Think I got my first one when I was about your age. So! Let’s make a start. I take it you’ve all been out at the practice trees? Got in some branch gliding, worked up your flight muscles?” Nods all around. “Good. Sky above knows why your families would’ve sent you out here if you hadn’t. So, since you know how to glide down from a high place, lesson one for today: getting off the ground. What do you already know?”

There were a few seconds of silence as the students all glanced at each other, before Goldcrest held up one fore-claw. It seemed such a human gesture that Asta smiled. “Uh… Flap?”

Redbolt laughed. “You’re not wrong, but there’s more to flight than flapping. Look at the shape of my wing.” He held one out to the side. “Not how it’s shaped from above, but from the side. See how the leading edge is rounded where all the bone and muscle is, then it trails to a sharp edge at the back where the feathers are. Then each big feather is like that too, but smaller, with the vane and the shorter barbs at the front and the longer barbs towards the back. You’ve all got the same. How you hold your wings, how the air flows over that shape – that’s just as important as flapping. More, I’d say. See the gulls up there? How they soar about, only moving their wings now and then? It’s the same for them.

“Now, me, I’ve got enough power in my chest and my back legs that taking off with one big downstroke-leap is easy enough for me, and I’ll try you out on that later, but for now let’s start you out with a wind take-off. Good weather for it today; nice strong breeze off the sea, not too many eddies to throw you around. Asta, you’d better go off to the side for a bit.”

“Yes, I think I better had,” said Asta, and sat down on the sand at the base of the statue. A couple of the students turned to watch her go, clearly still wondering why a human was sitting in on a flying class.

Redbolt cleared his throat to regain their attention. “All right! Step one! Spread out so you don’t all crash into each other.” He waited until they had done so, forming a straggling row along the tideline. “Step two!” he went on, raising his voice so they could all hear him. “Face into the wind. Step three! Wings out.” He waited until all of the young gryphons had their wings spread. Most of them were, in gryphon parlance, ‘eagles’ like Redbolt, with long, broad wings built for soaring, but a few had the shorter, rounder wings and longer tail-feathers of ‘hawks’. Redbolt nodded his approval and turned towards the sea, spreading his own wings. “Step four!” he shouted. “Make shallow flaps like this, and run!”

Two of the students almost immediately crashed into each other and fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs; one tripped on an inconvenient stone and planted his beak in the sand up to his nostrils. Three others managed to take off in a wavering glide for a few seconds before settling relatively gently in the surf and wading back to shore. The rest, however, successfully caught the wind at just the right angle and, and they picked up speed, lifted their claws from the sand and rose into the air. Redbolt nodded again and led them in a wide, gently rising spiral over the sea before coming back in for a long gliding descent to the beach. Asta couldn’t hear what Redbolt shouted back to them as they neared the sand, but presumably it was something to do with how to brake properly. Their landings were less graceful than their take-offs; only four of the students managed to copy how Redbolt dropped his hindquarters, fanning out his tail feathers and spreading out his wings to slow himself before he lowered his hind claws to the sand, took a couple of awkward little hops as his speed fell, and finally dropped to all fours and came to a halt. ‘Crash’ was probably too uncharitable a way of describing the others, but it wasn’t that far off the mark. One came close, but went to all fours too quickly and fell flat on her chest; another missed the mark with his hind legs and tumbled over in a rather spectacular forward roll.

“Everyone still in one piece?” asked Redbolt, to a chorus of pained but affirmative groans. “No broken bones or feathers? Good. Little ones like you should still be bendy enough to take a few knocks with no damage to more than your pride. Right, everyone back up to where we were first.” He waited until everyone had assembled once more and lay down on the sand, crossing his front claws over each other. “Now for the bit everyone loves,” he said, with something like a wicked grin in his voice, though his body language betrayed nothing. “Crrrriticism! Now, you two, and you,” he said, nodding towards the ones who hadn’t even left the ground. “Don’t think I need to say where you went wrong, eh?”

“We’ll stand further apart next time,” said one, glancing sheepishly to the side.

“And keep a better eye on where I’m putting my feet,” added the one who had tripped.

“Good. Now, you three, you had the right idea, but you needed more lift, which in this case means you needed more speed.”

“So, run faster,” said one of the trio who had landed in the sea.

“Run faster,” agreed Redbolt. “Like I said, I’ll try you on a leaping take-off later, but I want to see about getting you all off the ground this way first. Now, as for getting you back on the ground…”

Asta had, she privately admitted, been a little dubious when Redbolt had told her about the flying lessons. She didn’t have much contact with the other military gryphons, but those few she had spoken with who had trained under Redbolt remembered it with something approaching horror; one had told her with a haunted expression that they still dreaded the occasions when he came in as a guest instructor. However, he had clearly adjusted his teaching style for a non-military audience. ‘Gentle’ was probably still not the right word, for he made sure every one of his students knew exactly where they had gone wrong, even those who, such as Vinegar, seemed to Asta’s eyes to have performed perfectly, but he had tempered his criticism with enough coaching on how to improve that soon they were all raring to line back up for another attempt.

It was almost sunset when Redbolt finally called a halt. They had, finally, all managed to take off into the wind, circle around, and land without crashing at least three times.

“Bit trickier than a quick flutter up to the top of the statue, eh?” said Redbolt, pointing up to where they would all have been presented to Lady Starfeather after growing their first set of flight feathers. They murmured their agreement. “We’re gryphons, chickies. Flight’s in our blood. You’d get off the ground without my help, sooner or later. But instinct’s best when it’s paired with proper training.” His tail twitched from side to side in a ‘smile’. “Reckon you’re all starving now, though. C’mon, back to camp for some grub.”

A cheer went up and they followed him back through the coastal dunes in a ragged crocodile, to where a series of tents big enough to comfortably house gryphons had been set up around a huge firepit. Another cheer greeted this sight, for an entire ox had been roasting on a spit over the fire. The team of human cooks who had overseen it lifted the spit from its supports, carried it over to a wide, flat area of stone that had been carefully swept clear of sand, and stood back as the students descended upon the carcass like a flock of starving vultures.

“Gruesome sight, isn’t it?” said Redbolt, almost laughing.

“I think Goldcrest just put his entire head inside the ribcage,” said Asta faintly.

“Yeah, I didn’t think he had that in him, truth be told,” said Redbolt. “Struck me as more of the fussy type.” He glanced sideways to catch Asta’s mildly horrified expression. “Ah, it’s just a flight camp tradition to go a bit wild on the first night. Tomorrow’s dinner’ll be a bit more civilised. Might even have tables.”

“Tables!” said Asta. “How decadent.”

“No need for us to join the scrum, though,” said Redbolt. “C’mon, over – ah, hm. You do eat meat, yeah? Never thought to ask but I know some humans have a thing…”

Asta assured him this wasn’t a problem and followed him over to a second, smaller firepit where the cooks had roasted a pig for Redbolt. He must have warned them in advance that he had human company: they were prepared with a plate and cutlery and carved off a few slices for Asta before placing the rest down on another clean stone for Redbolt. He gave a grunt of approval – evidently high praise from the way the head cook smiled – and began to tear into it with his beak, pinning it in place with his great hooked talons. Long since used to Redbolt’s eating habits, slightly neater than the youngsters’, Asta watched quietly as she ate her own helping, noting how he used his other claw to compensate for the missing talon on his left. She frowned thoughtfully, her gaze drifting up from his claws to the great scar that cut through where his eye had once been.

“Redbolt?” she asked once he had mostly finished his pig.

“Ayah?”

“You’re missing part of your tail.”

“I am?!” said Redbolt, letting his jaw drop. A strip of pork fell from the corner of his mouth. “Why did nobody tell me?!”

“Very funny. I was just wondering, after watching you with the students today – does it affect how you fly?”

“Good question,” said Redbolt. He retrieved the fallen scrap and swallowed it before twisting his head around to look back at his tail. Intact, it would have been some six feet long, but whatever long-ago wound had taken it had left less than half of that. “It did throw off my balance at first,” he said after surveying it for a few seconds. “Had to re-learn a lot of that. But see these big feathers at the base?” He fanned them out in demonstration. “They’re what’s really important for steering in the air. You see it with birds too. Use ’em to shift the airflow over the wings.”

“I think I understand.” More hesitantly, Asta went on. “How did that happen? I know you lost your eye and your talon in the Darkwald War, but…”

“Hah, nah, the tail’s an older thing. Not even a war wound, really, if we’re strict about it.” He sighed. “Gang of slave raiders had climbed up into the Chainbreaker Hills, a good bit north of the Harbinger Pass. Started preying on a couple of the little tiny villages up there, chaining folk up and making ready to drag them back down the hill. And somehow – dunno where they got it – they had a bladehound with them.”

Asta gasped. The terrifying war-constructs had been designed for killing wizards, loaded with as much resistance to magic as their creators could manage, but their sheer bulk and steel claws as sharp and heavy as meat cleavers made them easily a match for a gryphon on the ground.

“Yeah. I was with a border patrol when we came across them. Killed some, chased the others back down the hill, and freed the people they’d grabbed. But I reckon whoever’d been giving the bladehound its orders was one of the dead, because the thing went berserrr – uh, ran wild. Started flailing around like nobody’s business. Well, we got pikes, started forcing it back towards a drop that might break it up enough for us to finish the job, when one of my mates got too close. It went for him, all claws, and I lunged to get him out of the way. He did. I didn’t quite, and, well…” He brought his own talons down in a decisive motion. “Chop.”

Asta drew her breath in through her teeth. “I suppose you were lucky to only lose that much. If you’d been any slower it could have severed your spine.”

“Strictly, it did,” Redbolt pointed out.

“Well, yes. But you know what I mean.”

“Heh. Yeah, I know.” Redbolt paused for a moment and continued, a hint of reluctance entering his voice for the first time. “Actually,” he said slowly, “if I’m honest… losing the eye was worse for flying. Made it harder to judge distances, you know? Crashed a few times when the ground came up faster than I’d thought, until I got used to it.” He stared into space for a few seconds, then gave himself a shake as if to dislodge a bad memory. “Still, I am used to it now. Barely remember what it was like to have two, really.”

Asta found that difficult to believe, considering that Redbolt was more than a hundred years old and had been missing an eye for less than twenty, but thought it best not to voice as much. “You’re very philosophical about all your scars,” she said quietly.

“Ah, well. Don’t see much point being otherwise. Not like pulling my feathers out will make my tail grow back, eh?”

“Hm.” Asta ran one hand back over her shoulder and beneath the collar of her blouse, finding the uppermost whipping-scar across her back with her fingertips. Only after a few more seconds of silence did she realise that Redbolt had turned his head and was watching her without speaking. She met his steady golden gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s different, I think, with all of mine,” he said, his raspy voice unusually gentle. “They weren’t fun – actually picked up a nasty infection with the eye, had to sit out the last few months of the war – but… I was on my feet and fighting, you know? Heat of battle sort of thing. Them or me. There wasn’t the same…” He paused, wiggling his ear again. Asta imagined he might have wrinkled his nose, had his beak been capable of such an expression. “Wasn’t the same kind of… of cold cruelty behind it that there was with that.” He nodded towards her back. “And I think maybe it’s that that haunts your dreams as much as the real pain of it.”

“…You might be right.”

Redbolt grunted and gave himself another shake. “You said your berserker killed the one who did that to you?” he said, his voice back to its usual deep, gruff tone.

“Yes. She did.”

“Good. Else I might’ve had to track him down.”

Asta smiled despite herself. “Oh, he wouldn’t stand a chance.” Another short, companionable silence passed by before she changed the subject. “So, you said you might try the students with one of your leaping takeoffs tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we’ll see how many can manage it. They’re young still, and it takes a lot of muscle. They would’ve sort of done it for their presentations, but going into level flight from that is a different skill to a quick flap-flap-flap straight up.”

“You know, I can’t say it’s one I’ve ever had much cause to master.”

They finished eating and, after briefly taking the students to wash up in the river, turned in for the night. Redbolt unbuckled his harness and left it in a heap at the edge of his tent. All he had with him for a bed was a huge rug made from a number of sheepskins sewn together, which he had brought from his eyrie in the city and laid out on the tarpaulin floor, but someone had thoughtfully provided a camp bed for Asta.

“They must’ve been worried I might roll over on you in the night if you just slept on the ground,” said Redbolt as Asta laid out her bedroll on top of it.

“As cosy as your feathers are, I would rather avoid that,” said Asta. “Though as a matter of fact, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept next to a gryphon.”

“Yeah?”

Asta nodded. “On the way south with Curlew, I was sharing Captain Steel’s cabin. That first night on the ship, I… was not in a very good place. Mentally speaking. I was trying to muffle it with the blankets they’d given me, but she must have heard me crying anyway, because she got up from her own bed across the room and lay down next to my pallet instead. She didn’t say anything, just folded a wing over me and went back to sleep.”

“Huh. She didn’t strike me as the cuddly sort.” Redbolt yawned enormously, arched his back, and turned around in a circle before he lay down on his front and rested his head on his forelegs. “Well, feel free to snuggle up if you have a bad dream, but otherwise – I’ll see you in the morning.”

They didn’t make it to the morning before both of them woke with a start. Screams echoed from down by the beach, not human voices but the earsplitting shrieks of terrified young gryphons. Somebody clawed frantically at the tent door, talons piercing the canvas. “Redbolt! Mr Redbolt! Sir!”

Goldcrest. Asta sat up and dragged her hair into an unbrushed ponytail as Redbolt lurched to his feet and wrenched the flap aside. “What’s wrong?”

The little gryphon cringed back from Redbolt looming over him. “I- We were- it’s-”

Asta went down on her knees, bringing their eyes to the same level, and took his face between her hands. “Look at me. Deep breaths. Now, what’s happening?”

Goldcrest drew in a long, slow breath, nervously fluffing his feathers out. “A few of us went back to the beach for a bit more practice after lights-out,” he said. He cast a cautious glance up at Redbolt, who just listened in silence. “One of the others, that hawk with the sort of falcon markings? She – I don’t know, she must’ve panicked or something, and, well, um…” He pointed back towards the beach.

Redbolt looked. “Ah.”

The other students had gathered in a frightened huddle, staring helplessly at the cyclone hovering above the beach. Although the sky was otherwise still clear, the funnel of howling winds had whipped sand and spray alike up into a veil around a lone figure in midair, lit up now and then by a flicker of sparks.

“She’s a mage?” said Asta.

“We didn’t know!” one of the students wailed. “She didn’t know!”

“Vinegar!” Redbolt bellowed over the wind. The gryphon in question sat up on her haunches to stand out from the pack. “Oakhollow’s a straight flight four miles east of here. Think you can find it in the dark?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Go. We need Owl, and we need her fast.”

Vinegar nodded, took a run-up, and disappeared into the night in a flurry of feathers.

Redbolt looked back at the miniature windstorm on the beach, ran his talons through the feathers on his chest, and sighed deeply.

“What are you thinking?” asked Asta.

“That next time I run one of these, I should enlist a couple more adults to keep an eye on the youngsters.”

“I’m an adult,” Asta pointed out.

“Adults who can fly.”

Asta’s eyes flicked down to the sand at the bottom of the funnel. “How close can you get me?”

Redbolt turned his entire head to stare at her. “What?”

She pointed, grabbing a handful of his feathers with her other hand. “Look – look at the base of it. It’s moving.”

“Of course it’s moving, it’s a storm!”

“I don’t just mean around in a circle, I mean it’s drifting towards the sea! However long it takes Vinegar to find this village and then for Owl to get back here – I don’t think we have that long until that thing turns into a waterspout. And then – well. I don’t want her to drown, do you?”

Redbolt continued to look at her doubtfully.

“I know I’m not a mage and I’m certainly not a gryphon, but I do work at the College. If there’s one thing I have done a few times by now, it’s calm down a panicking apprentice.”

Redbolt looked from her to the storm and back a couple of times, breathing slowly and deeply, before he nodded. “Get a good hold on my neck, then. No time to go back for my harness.”

He took off at a run the second Asta was on his back, leaping into flight above the dunes and hurtling towards the cyclone. Asta clung harder to his feathers as he half-folded his wings and plunged into the funnel, riding the gale in a tight circle until he burst through into a pocket of still air in the middle.

The young gryphon hung in the very centre, not as motionless as Asta had initially thought: her body spasmed as bright bluish-white light crackled over her feathers, pulsing along the stiff vanes of her primaries and glowing in her wide, staring eyes, while her talons raked at the air as she tried desperately to steady herself. Her beak gaped open as her chest fluttered with rapid, shallow breaths. Slowly, jerkily, she managed to turn her head to look at them, but if she cried out, the sound was instantly torn away by the wind.

“I can’t hover, Asta!” Redbolt shouted, circling in a small ring above the youngster. “Whatever you’ve got planned, do it quick!”

Asta steeled herself and, before Redbolt could object or she could second-guess herself, threw herself from his back. He gave one appalled squawk, shocked out of his coordination, and the wind tossed him head-over-heels out of the funnel. Asta flung her arms around the young mage’s neck, dragging them both a few feet downwards before the uncontrolled magic arrested their fall. Pinpricks of sparks crawled across her hands as they dug into the slate-grey feathers, but she kept her grip and brought her mouth as close to one pointed ear as she could.

“Can you hear me?” A nod, felt rather than seen. “Have you got a name?” Shake. “I think you might after tonight, but we need to get safely back on the ground first. For now, just close your eyes and focus on my voice. You’re going to be all right.”

The gryphon’s forelegs twitched upwards to wrap around her waist; Asta winced as the talons dug in through the thin fabric of her blouse, but kept it from her voice. “Now, close your beak. Breathe in through your nostrils for a count of one… two… three… four… five… and out through your mouth. Like this.”

Slowly, the gryphon’s breathing evened out. The sparks became fewer and further between, the glow fainter, but the funnel surrounding them did not let up.

“That’s it. You’re doing well.”

“The wind-”

“Don’t worry about the wind yet. It’s not the wind holding you up here. Have you ever seen a wizard levitate? For now, just think – down.”

The gryphon took another deep breath, and slowly they began to sink until finally their feet touched the sand. The gryphon’s rear talons dug in as if to cling to the ground, and she opened her eyes. The glow was gone, revealing them to be a shade somewhere between a chick’s brown and an adult’s gold, but the wind still spiralled around them both.

“There we go,” said Asta, holding eye contact. “That’s the worst part out of the way.”

Then, a flash of motion. A pale shape hurtled through the air outside the funnel, circling around and around opposite the direction of the wind. Bit by bit the storm slowed until they could see the newcomer clearly: a lone adult gryphon, her feathers a snowy white fading to a pale grey on her wing coverts, and a strange ruff around her face. She brought herself up short, golden light coursing along the vanes of her flight feathers, and thrust both wings forwards with a sound like a thunderclap. With one huge gust of wind towards the sea, the young mage’s storm disappeared. The waves settled, and the beach was peaceful once again.

The youngster let go of Asta’s waist and backed away, looking at the sand as Owl landed. Redbolt hurried forwards and swept Asta in under his wing, preening her hair with the tip of his beak. She pushed his beak away half-heartedly before she hugged him around the neck and buried her face in his feathers.

“You sure the berserker’s the mad one of the pair of you?” muttered Redbolt, bowing his head over her shoulder.

“Heh. Well, under certain circumstances…”

Redbolt lifted his head again to take in the scene. Now that the storm had ended, the rest of the students had crept down from the dunes, edging carefully towards the mage. At their head, Vinegar sat up and punched one clenched claw towards the sky. “Galewing! Galewing! Galewing!” Soon the others had taken up the chant, and didn’t stop until Redbolt let go of Asta and stepped forwards.

“Looks like you have another apprentice,” he said to Owl. She didn’t look terribly pleased by this development. “You know the law,” Redbolt told her, his tail twitching. “All those with magic must learn to control it.”

Owl tipped her head back until it almost rested between her shoulders and gave a long, drawn-out groan. “Fiiiine.” She eyed the newly-named Galewing for a second, and her bristling crest-feathers settled into a somewhat gentler expression. “Well, I guess Sunbeam’ll be happy to have a ‘study buddy’,” she said, the last two words a little stilted as if she was unfamiliar with the term. She lifted a front claw and jabbed one talon towards Galewing. “I’ll see you at Oakhollow first thing on Ravensday to get started. You’ve got until then to sort things out with your family.” Galewing nodded. Owl lowered her talon and turned away. “Good.” She groaned again. “I’m going back to bed.”

“You know,” said Asta once Owl had flown off, “when you mentioned her earlier, I think I imagined someone with more… gravitas.”

“People usually do,” said Redbolt with a sigh. “But she does know magic, and she’s softer than she likes to act. Galewing’ll do fine with Owl keeping an eye on her.” He looked back at the rest of the students, who were still bunched in a loose half-circle around Galewing, and unfolded his wings in a shooing gesture, herding them back towards the camp. “The rest of you, back to bed as well! And stay there until morning this time!”

“I’ll speak to Master Gwen when I get back to the college,” said Asta as they walked back through the dunes. “I’m sure she can set aside some time for a chat with you before the next time you run one of these weekend events.”

“Huh? What for?”

“Because,” said Asta, “I don’t think there is anyone in Stormhaven with more experience organising groups of magical children than her.” She poked him in the side of his neck, grinning. “You are going to learn all about risk assessment forms.”

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What has two thumbs and spent more time than is probably necessary reading about bird anatomy and flight physics? 👍👍

Gryphons aren't real! They don't need to be 'scientifically accurate'! And indeed kind of can't be, considering the aforementioned 'not real' thing. But I've always felt that at least a few nods in that direction adds a certain verisimilitude to fantasy and helps to suspend disbelief about all the stuff that's just nonsense. This was also the rationale behind noting that yes, Redbolt does actually have trouble with his depth perception.

I'm not sure how old the young gryphons are chronologically, as their aging doesn't really map neatly into human terms, but developmentally I'd put them in sort of the 8-10 range.