Dragons, Names, And Nogard (a Thought)

dragons, names, and nogard (a thought)

if you named a dragon nogard, wouldnt there be issues? like.. disregard the fact that its… very.. cheap. (im embarrassed by the fact i didnt realize it was dragon backwards until a character pointed it out ;-;) because everytime you say it you say 'no'. but youd have to teach them yes and no, and youd usually say no when saying nogard. so they could either perk up everytime you say no around them, or then theyd end up associating their name with negative connotations

and this is my very half-baked thought that i had of maybe an hour ago but forgot and couldnt write it down because i was eating

also kind of my reasoning for 'dont use names that have similar sounding words that you use often'

although itd all hinge on the idea that theyd register nogard as their name (because they might very well be ignorant) ..and that you say no a lot. 🤔

Just thought of something.

Didn't Athens treat their women really bad? I swear I remember reading about how Sparta had treated their women better because they were able to learn to read and write and stuff. ...But Athens' patron is a goddess, Athena.

???

double standard much?

also

i know cum probably didnt mean what it means today and probably annoys other ppl when their language is laughed at because it contains a word that means something dirty (dude my last names been mispronounced so many times it annoys me, that i cant imagine how it might feel for foreigners to just be laughing at your native language ;w;) but im also horribly immature

cars and driving seats (random thought)

i dont know why but it didnt hit me that cars in the uk have like the drivers seat on the right while americans have it on the left?? it feels like such a weird thing to think about. like yeah there are things that can be vastly different between countries but where the steering wheel is seems like such a small mundane thing that i didnt even register it until now ;-; (yknow that dream team meet up video?? that was like the first time i heard of it because george went to the wrong side of the car and mentioned that it was on the other side while sapnap laughed at him. and then i promptly forgot about it until a stream of phil watching sorry and replied to a chatter who said 'it looks like wils driving' 'yeah, if this was in america')

(note: i write down thoughts a lot but never actually do anything with them, and i figured, why not be more active here and share my thoughts with you? so im gonna add a bunch of posts to the queue)

I don't know how long AO3 is gonna be down so I'm gonna post the fics for WC/DC week for yesterday and today ----- July 10th | Scar Reveal |

Jason often got used to his imperfections. His flaws.

He understood that that thing could generally be a turn-off to other people, so he ended up fully existing in the cape community. Because everyone understood. They wouldn’t pity, there would just be understanding, because they all had scars. They all had their bad moments, that was just how it worked.

Except, he’d gone undercover, as Neal Caffrey.

Back into the ‘normal’ world, where things were different. People in New York wouldn’t expect an art forger to have bullet wounds and knife cuts, but those in Gotham would. It was like an average Thursday for them, and why children would be taught in schools self-defense.

In a way, he was double out of his depth, considering he was effectively out of the cape community, and out of Gotham.

He’d been in Gotham for most of his life, and the one time he left, he died, so there were some bad memories there.

Regardless, all in all, it led to a whole lot of issues, in which Jason was probably not the greatest person to act undercover (he’s pretty sure Dickie-bird would be the better choice to pose as Neal, but Dick was also famous. Jason, however, was legally dead).

So Jason endured. 

He’d jokingly flirt despite never having actually been interested (it was why he had so much fun flirting with Diana. Like meets like, gay meets gay– And not to be sexist, but it was generally that girls outside of Gotham were softer. Or at least the ones that threw themselves at him. Likely they just saw his muscles, and fantasized of some buff guy to protect them. However, he’d ended up losing all interest after Talia had taken advantage of him once he’d been resurrected. He couldn’t have.. consented, then), And generally just became the complete opposite of who he really was.

It was freeing in a way, but also constricting.

Freeing because no one would expect the worst of him. No one would see the hood before the guy, and he generally did not have to worry about that. But they’d also label him as a criminal. Honestly, Neal Caffrey’s crimes weren’t even that bad, yet so many had treated him as if ‘once a criminal, always a criminal’. It felt.. racist? Well not racist racist but. That-ist. Criminal-ist. He was failing at his word game at the moment. 

So it was constricting. Especially with the stupid tracker anklet. Goodbye privacy. He’d always been expected to run at any chance, and it felt like sometimes, that it’d been a mistake ever trusting some of them because they’d never share that same trust. 

But with all his friends effectively cut off from his life (unless he called them on his very non-approved phone), it felt stifling, and humans were social creatures.

It only was natural that he came to rely on Peter as a partner.

Except sometimes he’d have moments where it felt like his eyes had been opened, like he’d dipped into cold ice water and had a moment of clarity, where Peter would do something that made him realize that, no, they weren’t a team. He wasn’t even a sidekick. He was just a CI that Peter would never actually trust, no matter how much friendship they build.

And fuck, it felt worse then Bruce. And Bruce was, well, Bruce!

It hurt like a bitch, and he wasn’t being sexist! He knew some pretty tough girls, and bitch slaps have very much earned their right to be called something other then just a slap, because the sound would fucking echo in a room, and it’d sting like hell. 

Truthfully, Jason didn’t know if he was ever gonna be released. Well, the days would drag on of course, but the way they thought made him feel like they were just gonna pull shit to keep him as a CI, with the shitty pay and honestly sometimes shitty people.

Despite all of that, he could get along with some people. ..Mainly Diana. Again, like meets like. She’s faced discrimination, he’s faced discrimination (and even when he was just a street kid, automatically thought of to be a thief. They weren’t wrong about him, but some people kept to their morals even if it killed them). It was cool beans.

So regardless, he’d been mainly content. He didn’t know how much of that was him being so used to pain and dysfunctional teams and partnerships and whatnot, but he could enjoy the silver linings (and people used to say he was a glass half-empty kind of person, hah). 

White Collar crime was the perfect place to take a break. Without any hardcore action, he could relax for a second (not that he didn’t miss it sometimes). 

Until it wasn’t actually white collar and their suspects had guns, which, fucking hell, he hated these suits (how do people fight in these things!?). They were just a little bit too tight in some places, and it’s not like he could get one tailored for him with enough space that it’d be comfortable because then they’d wonder where the hell he got the cash and assume he scammed someone.

Woo, some pent up resentment there.

Unfortunately, this was one of those times where their suspect had a gun. Hurray for him. Except apparently not all FBI are trained enough to avoid it (or maybe they were but got rusty with time), and so he did the valiant and ‘hEroIC’ duty to take the bullet, which ow? But also, hey, not that bad. 

At least they weren’t the ones that really dug in there and would scratch at you when you try to pull it out, so small wins. 

Of course, Jason made the dumb decision of forgetting about his scars that when the medical people (he wasn’t paying attention) took his shirt off, everyone stilled.

And he zoned back in, frowning at their pale and speechless faces, before he looked down at himself, and realized oh.

It was another oddity of his. While many in the cape community had scars that decorated all over their body, almost like a piece of art, however messed up that would be, they didn’t have what he had. 

Not to be pretentious, but it wasn’t everyday someone came back to life, and thus he had the horrid autopsy scar that would horrify even the most veteran of heroes.

With its raised skin that you could almost trace with your eyes where they made the cut, it made a lot of people squeamish. And for good reason.

“Fuck,” he cursed.

Neal Caffrey shouldn’t have a stupid autopsy scar, and they’d be horrified and maybe pity him for whatever he went through to get that (assuming it’d been done on a live person, which that seemed more horrifying because he knew they covered the eyes, stitched the mouths, suck out the blood and fill it with stuff..), in which he might’ve ruined his cover.

After all, Neal Caffrey was smooth where he was rough, and logically never should’ve been in that big of a trouble to have been hurt so bad.

Sometimes he wished that there were ways to remove scars, but he also knew that his body would feel wrong without them, that it wouldn’t truly be his.

Like how the white streak was his too, and to get rid of it felt like he was covering up a part of himself. A part of himself that basically meant he survived.

And fucking hell. 

No matter how hard he puts himself into this role, to encompass anything and everything that Neal Caffrey as a person is…

He is not Neal Caffrey, and Neal Caffrey was never him. ----- July 11th | Identity Reveal | “Your reputation proceeds you…”

Neal had a secret.

For the vast majority of his life, he was a Shadow, an assassin for the League of Assassins. 

If you asked him, he couldn’t tell you who his parents were, or his real name was. 

Neal Caffrey didn’t exist. 

For a while, he didn’t think he could ever leave, and so he barely entertained it as a thought. What was out there anyway? Freedom? 

He wouldn’t know how to live. With too much blood on his hands, he never felt like he could fit into a sort of apple pie life.

But then the Demon’s Heir had left.

The news spread like a wildfire, of the heir who left the nest and ended in the clutches of their enemy, Batman.

And for once, hope blossomed in his chest. It sparked and it grew, until every passing day he’d imagine being free, being able to metaphorically spread his wings and just. Fly.

Of no longer being stuck in a bird cage, only being let out with clipped wings.

‘No more’, he thought.

If the Demon’s Heir could leave, could manage to have a stable life even with all the blood that stained his hands, even with all the messed up teachings and trauma, could become accepted, then who's to say no one else could?

And so he left.

He wasn’t all that important anyway, so it wouldn’t be as much of a priority to look for him, but he couldn’t explain how utterly joyful he felt when he was free.

Such huge relief, as if a weight that had been tugging him down to drown had finally lifted. Where he could breathe. 

The former assassin had taken up the name of Neal Caffrey, going a little bit ham.

Enjoying things that he never would’ve been allowed to otherwise. And so what if he forged stuff? It barely stood a chance against the body count he had before.

Yet he let himself get caught, knowing if he took it too far he’d be found. Neal refused to let himself become an Icarus, flying too close to the sun by becoming too infamous, and then being shot down by the League. 

So he became just another face, until he ended up becoming the CI for the New York White Collar branch.

It was fun.

Sure, it hurt sometimes when they’d no doubt think that he couldn’t really ‘reform’, but he also knew he deserved it. Knowing that they’d hate him if they knew how many lives he’d stolen, over the many years he was in service to the League.

Neal wondered if it was so hard to believe that he truly did enjoy being in their company, however, or if the personality that was Neal Caffrey made his real self seem unbelievable.

It was generally okay. A lot of times there’d be references to media culture and the like, but Neal had been basically sheltered for a large part of his life to where he’d often have not had or seen anything that the other agents would speak about, which would cause them to gape at him in shock. 

(“What, were you sheltered or something, Caffrey?”

Neal smiled mirthlessly. “Something like that. It was all traditional, you know? Barely any technology, no art, no music, not even any books unless they were instruction manuals, or something educational. Terribly boring. It was just ‘work, work, work’. Never thought about leaving until someone else did, and then I realized that was something you could do, so then I did. I became obsessed with art, but you know that. I don’t really regret it. I wasn’t really my own person, then.”

“..Ah. … ..Were your parents really strict?”

“I don’t remember my parents,” he stated bluntly. “I don’t even remember who I was before I became, well, me. Neal Caffrey. I’m sure you know it’s fake, but it's similar to new and carefree. Honestly I don’t remember anything from when I was really young. I refuse to defend that place and say it was like a group home or an orphanage like I want to. It’s bullshit. I can’t even tell you if I was kidnapped, if I went willingly, or if my parents were assholes and sold me to them. I’m not afraid to say that that part of my life was hell, but it was all I had for a while. I guess you could say it was a cult. Surprising, huh? Who knew Neal had such a story. But I don’t regret being here. I have so much more freedom, even if I’m stuck in a radius. It’s good, actually. I’m less likely to be found. If my feats kept going, I likely would’ve ended up on their radar, and killed for abandoning duty. It was a join or die thing, y’know?”

“Oh. I. ..Neal..”

“Was that too much? I guess it’s a lot, since you are in White Collar. Sorry for dumping it on you.”

“No, I- Well, maybe. Why didn’t you tell anyone? If you tell us the name then we can let people know and get it dealt with.”

Neal shook his head. “Too risky. ..Now that I think about it, I think I was in WITSEC for a while before I got involved with the.. cult. That’s right. My dad was a corrupt cop, so they didn’t like me much. Besides, I’m more likely to be registered as a foreigner, even if I might’ve been born here.”

“Wait, you’re not–?”

“I know! My accent is so convincing right? I was in an entirely different country- A new continent, really. Doubt I could be considered American anymore.”)

It all came to a head when one day, the Demon’s Heir had come to the White Collar office.

He didn’t even know why Damian might’ve been there, especially in New York, but instinct came first, and he rushed to greet him, falling down onto his knees to acknowledge the other as superior.

He tuned out anyone else around him, keeping his attention on the heir, and only on him. 

"Your reputation precedes you, my أمير. Are you going to take me back?"

There was a minute flinch from the heir, giving away his surprise.

"Back? Tell me ظل, what are you doing here?"

Neal didn’t hesitate to confess the truth. No matter how much he enjoyed his life here, you couldn’t get rid of loyalty that easily, especially loyalty that’s been so deeply ingrained. 

"حرية. You were able to leave, so I thought I might be able to as well. I am a CI. A nobody. A ظل would've been expected to stay off the radar, so instead I let myself get caught. I wasn't a league native anyway, merely brought into the fold when I was young. I am older now, and I'm content with my life as it is."

Damian stared at him for a long time. 

"-tt-. لا. I will not. The rules state that those who wish to leave shall be beheaded. However, I have seen the kindness of this world in the time I have been gone, and thus I shall spare you. Do not make me regret it ظل, or I will come for your head."

"Thank you, my أمير."

“Do not thank me for giving you the least of mercies. If you are caught, you will face a fate worse than death.”

“I know.”

“Stand up.”

Neal stood up. 

“I will try to avoid you, so that you are not found. Someone else will return. Be safe.”

…

“Neal? What the hell was that!?”

He startled, turning around. “I.. I think I’m free.” (notes:

Gray Son? Demon brat? idk cult damian likely

Jake Daniels - Two Face

HAHA 7/11 --- like 7-11

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46533643

what if: damian escaping gave neal hope to get out of the life as a shadow (assassin) so he ran and he never looked back

"your reputation proceeds you, my أمير. are you going to take me back?"

"Back? Tell me ظل, what are you doing here?"

"حرية. You were able to leave, so I thought I might be able to as well. I am a CI. A nobody. A ظل would've been expected to stay off the radar, so instead I let myself get caught. I wasn't a league native anyway, merely brought into the fold when I was young and wanted more for my life. I am older now, and I'm content with my life as it is."

"-tt-. لا. I will not. The rules state that those who wish to leave shall be beheaded. However, I have seen the kindness of this world in the time I have been gone, and thus I shall spare you. Do not make me regret it ظل, or I will come for your head."

"Thank you, my أمير."

(or i could just have neal be dick and a talon finds gray son. or with damian.. but ;-;)

i feel like lately ive been ending up stumbling into writing fics that require the use of google translate because i end up including more languages

and im so sorry if its butchered (dude i know how much it sucks now i was comparing it to a latin sentence i translated and then looked at google translate and it was horribly wrong. it most likely wont get wrong with single words however so im jujst gonna. fhsduifh)

أمير = prince, lord osmething something (or i hope it does)

ظل = either shadow or shade but then when it switched to shade it changes to a something instead of zala so im just sticking with the first one

حرية. = Freedom.

لا = no

looking at google translate it looks like arabic is meant to be read from right-to-left instead of left-to-right which oop ;w;;;)

i tried streaming

it was fun hi this is future me. again found this in my drafts. i streamed months ago i dont know why this wasnt posted ;-;

Rain Code (Ch.0 Beginning) - *thought and speculation*

SPOILERS (chapter 0..? I'm watching gameplay, planning on buying it myself but the facecam is covering the save so I'm assuming its chapter 0) like before they go to the ..labyrinth i mean so. the premise is interesting. I'm going to assume you are people who have seen rain code gameplay, its story and what its about. or at least the (assumedly) first part if its actually mentioned later on then, ok, but something i realized while Yuma was being accused by the police peacekeeper guy it couldnt have been him. if the drinks were drugged, then theres irrefutable proof that it couldnt have been. Because REMEMBER there's the video of him DRINKING the coffee from the guys (the guy that worked with the phone, and had that red thingy, and didnt wear the same uniforms as the others. Eraser? last name i mean. i think.) thought something, like thoughtology or.. thoughtography...??? i cant remember, that was on his phone. we KNOW its there because we saw it when we checked his belongings in hopes that he mightve added a video to tell us what happened to them, so we know its still there, and we know it lasts for 48 hours unless like.. uploaded to a thingy to be used for evidence. ITS STILL THERE. and there WAS a mention that the coffee was drugged too (i assume the police guys drunk different drinks to test them all, and see? drop.) so logically yuma has an alibi because theres video evidence that he drunk the drink. now what happened after, zero clue

maybe its just because im not bothered by the death (honestly, by the second body i just kinda knew that 'yeah. everyone dead, arent they?') and logically yuma did have amnesia, got the shock of his life by shinigami, faced the trauma of technically facing his very first dead body while his companion is joking and making light of it which probably deeply disturbs him. all of those potential friends, even if some mightve been rude completely gone, and then faced with the threat that he'd be accused can make you panic. a lot. and details will slip you. i understand that. istg though if those police guys dont look at the phone and SEE that evidence and drop him down from 'ITS HIM' to 'it could be him but theres a chance it actually isnt' then im gonna scream at their incompetence. ..although the train is like a prison basically while its moving. you cant get on, you cant get off until it stops. so unless the culprit is still there (which makes no sense..) then yuma would be the only suspect. agHHhhh.