#Instinctual Combat Prowess

[glassesfreekjr]

Can we analyse Tulin for a bit?

Apart from being the keet birb boy, perhaps what makes his character so enthralling is how it so brilliantly reflects and offers commentary on the influences that have shaped him.

Whether that be Revali, his father Teba, and ESPECIALLY Link. Hell, it's no wonder that Link & Tulin have garnered such a sibling dynamic. Tulin essentially IS Link, from a time before the burden of responsibility and pain caused Link to cave in on himself pre-Breath of the Wild.

Right down to the veteran warrior father figure (Link's father was captain of the guard) and their acceptance of a newfound legacy out of forthright integrity. Tulin, at this point in his life, has yet to give himself away until there's nothing of him left to give, and let's pray he never needs to.

But Tulin would do that in a heartbeat, if called upon. He is very much his father's son.

You can see it in how archtypical childish spunk is tempered, like steel, by Teba's down-to-earth bluntness and sheer work ethic.

(BTW I wonder if Link sees his own father in Teba? That'd check out.)

But what caught me most pleasantly off-guard is Tulin's skepticism, which has become one of his most compelling traits for me. It's not something you would expect.

He did not believe that the Stormwind Ark existed, and while ultimately proven wrong, it frankly wasn't an illogical assumption to make. Tulin clearly thought through that opinion. He'd also grown frustrated that the Rito placed their faith on a songbook miracle — a eucatastrophe, if you will — instead of something more concrete like personal skill or, say, Link's whole-ass existence.

The second Link arrived and offered his aid, Tulin accepted his help without hesitation. He turned his skepticism inward to reevaluate his own tenets. And it's as a duo that they brought about said eucatastrophe through no one's strength but their own. They are siblings, Your Honor. Aryll 2.0

(If Revali had been blessed with a support network saying "it's okay to accept help. no man is an island," doubtless he still would have perished in Vah Medoh. But there would be less of an ego to shatter. He would have faced death with less blind panic and more dignity. And most importantly, he'd have other people to bolster the wind beneath his wings during his short life. (At the very least, Revali would not have as big an ass not be as big an ass, just as Tulin would be a different person without his family.)

dammit quaquaval you have RUINED me

Also, one thing that everyone seems to miss is just how deceptively intelligent Tulin turns out to be. This kid fuckin' knows his stuff. His mastery of aerodynamics beyond the instinctual is almost on par with Revali at such a young age. And how many precision headshots has his avatar saved your ass with, don't lie.

He somehow managed to follow his father back through time. Tulin can see Koroks.

It's not the same kind of passion-fuelled intellect as, say, Zelda has. More of an unyeilding conviction to learn all he can and put it into practice. About as understated a quality as Yunobo's inexplicable business acumen and economic sense.

As his mother Saki put it, for Tulin to develop as an individual, he needs to experience more of reality and its hardships. Shooting bullseyes and improving one's flying prowess / wind magic can't contend with genuine combat. True to her word, Tulin had to experience mistakes firsthand, and critically examine his own naïve ways of thinking in order to take those necessary steps.

...

So then, uh, is it wrong for me to wish something horrible upon him, if only to witness the positive character growth that springs from it? Tulin isn't the sort who'll shatter under pressure, like Revali did at the end of his life, or like Link did under the weight of expectation. Buckle, yes — but not break. Tulin's steadfast conviction, inherited from his father and guided by the people he loves, would assuredly see him through.

In any event, his Hero's Journey isn't close to over. I'd be curious to see Tulin at its conclusion.

tl;dr I wanna Emesis Blue his bitch-ass, AITA?

[soylent-crocodile]

Bohf-bwam (Monster)

(Book of Hours, Flanders; kept in Baltimore, in the Walters Art Museum)

(This is a very old one, created years ago when I first saw this amazing piece of medieval art. I did some minor edits to their statblock, and completely redid their description- they were originally just "no one knows where they come from or what they're thinking, they just cause violence". Nowadays I try to ensure that every creature I make has some kind of story hook to it, rather than being a prepackaged Random Encounter. Enjoy!)

Bohf-bwam are chaotic, violent creatures that spawn in places with high magic potential and a particular veneration for weaponry and martial prowess- typically forming with a hand gripped tightly around a specific and well-adored weapon. Most often they form in the great halls of castles, wielding a displayed ancestral weapon, although more low-tech societies may accidentally create them in camps or villages. Indeed, the bohf-bwam pest problem is hypothesized to be a reason why so many "barbarian" cultures have an aversion to arcane magic, as their love of weaponry can easily produce large groups of these creatures when mixed with magic.

A bohf-bwam's violence is erratic, instinctual, and unplanned; these fits may come and go, and the subject of their violence is typically whatever or whoever is close to them. It is not unheard of for bohf-bwams to be tamed, somehow, by a particularly kind and affectionate person, and such creatures will focus their violent rage on defending the subject of their attention, becoming peaceful- even friendly- in other situations.

Particularly powerful magic weapons may spawn larger, more powerful bohf-bwam. Such creatures gain the Giant and Advanced simple template and lose the oversized weapon ability. Many gain additional spell-like abilities relevant to their weapon- a bohf-bwam wielding a +1 Flaming Sword may have the ability to cast Fireball 1/day, for example.

A small bipedal reptile-like creature scurries forward, a hand wielding an axe where its head would be.  Misc- CR2 CN Small Aberration HD3 Init:+2 Senses: Blind, Blindsense 90ft Perception:+2 Aura: Aura of Martiality 30ft Stats- Str:15(+2) Dex:15(+2) Con:12(+1) Int:4(-3) Wis:6(-2) Cha:13(+1) BAB:+2 Space: 2.25ft Reach:5ft Defense- HP:16 (3d8+3) AC:15 (+1 Size, +2 Dex, +2 Natural) Fort:+3 Ref:+3 Will:+3 CMD:13 Immunity: Dazed, Dazzled, Stunned, Confused Special Defenses: Fast Healing 1 Offense- mwk Handaxe +6 (1d6+3) CMB:+2 Speed:20ft Special Attacks: Proficiency with All Martial Weapons Feats- Iron Will, Power Attack Skills- Intimidate +5, Knowledge (local) +1, Perception +2 Spell-like Abilities-  Spiritual Weapon 3/day Special Qualities- Oversized Weapons, Spiritual Echo Ecology- Environment- Any Languages- Aklo (Cannot speak) Organization- Solitary Treasure- None (mwk handaxe) Special Abilities- Aura of Martiality (Su)- Creatures affected by a bohf-bwam’s aura must make a DC13 Will save or be compelled to use any available melee weapon, as opposed to spells and abilities, natural weapons, or ranged weapons, in combat. This is a compulsion effect and the save is hit die based. Aberrations and creatures with intelligence 2 or less are immune to this effect. Oversized Weapons (Ex)- A bohf-bwam wields weapons as though they were a size larger than they are. Spiritual Echo (Sp)- The weapon created by a bohf-bwam’s Spiritual Weapon spell-like ability takes the form of whatever weapon the bohf-bwam is currently wielding in its head-hand. If it is not weilding a weapon, it cannot use its spell-like ability.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Ideas I had about a sukuna!reader + lance pairing, might do mereoleona!reader next. (You don’t present here with his personality though, that shit is hard to write)

Your innate sense for combat, combined with Lancelot’s advanced magical prowess and combat skills, would make for a highly formidable duo. You both have excellent reflexes, speed, and a natural understanding of how to read and counter opponents, making you nearly unstoppable when fighting together. While Lancelot specializes in manipulating magic energy and using his physical reflexes to replicate others' combat styles, your ability to metamorphose — creating new eyes, mouths, or attacks anywhere on an opponent — provides a layer of unpredictable danger. You could overwhelm enemies with strategic placement of your various abilities, allowing Lancelot to capitalize on any openings or weak points in the defense.

with your fearsome and intimidating appearance and abilities, would be an interesting contrast to Lancelot's blend of stoic responsibility with moments of playfulness. Lancelot would likely be the one to keep the domestic balance in check, whether it's organizing meals or handling day-to-day tasks. Despite his battle-hardened nature, Lancelot has a more grounded, familial warmth, which would pair well with your instinctual, almost regal demeanor. You may not feel the need to tend to domestic duties, but Lancelot's caring nature would likely see to it that you’re taken care of, while you would have moments of fierce protection or leading with authority.

Lancelot’s Heart Reading would work in perfect harmony with your metamorphosis. You could manipulate the battlefield, distorting your enemies’ senses or creating distractions, while Lancelot reads the emotions and intentions of your foes, predicting their movements and tactics. This would create a fluid and almost telepathic combat dynamic, where each action seems coordinated without the need for words. Your ability to create new limbs, eyes, or even mouths on enemies (or objects) could be an excellent complement to his ranged magic or close combat strikes.

Lancelot's stoic and professional demeanor paired with your more unsettling, mystical aura would make for an intriguing contrast. You both share an air of seriousness when it comes to the mission at hand, but your more mysterious, intimidating appearance and unpredictable powers would add an extra edge to Lancelot’s no-nonsense, calculating approach. While Lancelot may approach battles with a calm, almost detached perspective, you could offer him a balance of raw destructive power and unpredictability. The more playful side of Lancelot would also help lighten the mood after intense battles, especially when your intimidating presence could seem overbearing.

Both of you have an exceptional understanding of strategy and tactics. Your innate combat intelligence allows you to adapt quickly and react to the ever-shifting dynamics of battle, while Lancelot’s magical manipulation and ability to replicate other fighting styles give you an added edge. Your synergy would be unmatched, as you could change the battlefield with a simple shift in your form, confusing opponents, while Lancelot adapts to any foe’s fighting style by reading their tactics.

Lancelot's deep respect for his family, especially his father Ban, and his desire for acknowledgment would mesh well with your more detached, calculating nature. While your personality is far more intimidating and perhaps even unsettling to some, Lancelot would respect your immense power and ability to remain focused in the heat of battle. There would be a mutual understanding between the two of you, where Lancelot’s stoic nature wouldn’t shy away from working with you, despite your darker and more otherworldly appearance. Both of you would care deeply for those you consider allies, and your protective nature for those you trust would be a shared strength.

Your ability to metamorphose is terrifying, especially with your unsettling appearance, and it would serve as a tool for psychological warfare in addition to physical combat. This would work well with Lancelot’s ability to read minds. Lancelot would be able to sense when an enemy is at their breaking point or ready to collapse under the weight of fear, allowing you to exploit these vulnerabilities with your powers. You could manipulate their perception, make them see terrifying things, or disorient them, causing them to lose focus or make a fatal mistake.

Given Lancelot's deep admiration for his father and his desire to prove himself, he could see your immense power and combat proficiency as a challenge and an opportunity to grow stronger. The two of you could push each other to surpass your limits, with Lancelot’s evolving magical control and your versatile abilities complementing each other in increasingly inventive ways.

In more relaxed moments, Lancelot’s playful and sometimes chaotic nature could provide a refreshing contrast to your more composed, menacing presence. You may not be prone to showing your softer side, but Lancelot could encourage you to let down your guard around him. As a duo, you would both show a deep, unspoken understanding and support for one another, and there would likely be moments of quiet camaraderie that others wouldn’t expect from such a powerful and intimidating pair.

Your innate sense for combat could often play a role in the household, not just for defense but for more subtle moments of care. For example, you could detect when something is off with Lancelot’s mood or even with people around you, guiding him through moments of doubt with a careful, almost instinctive manner. Lancelot, being emotionally in tune with his surroundings, would appreciate this quieter form of connection, even if you don't speak much on it. In turn, Lancelot would make sure to encourage you to open up emotionally, understanding the depth of your thoughts beneath that stoic exterior.

With your ability to metamorphose and alter forms, the two of you could have a unique partnership when it comes to household tasks. For example, you could manifest extra eyes or mouths to help Lancelot with mundane tasks, such as cooking, while he utilizes his magic to help with building or repairing. Lancelot’s playful side might emerge in these situations, jokingly telling you to "add another mouth" when dinner is late, or asking him to shapeshift into a fox for a game of hide and seek. You might have a tendency to be more serious, but your moments of rare playfulness would balance out his playful nature.

At the end of the day, both of you would enjoy quiet companionship. Lancelot would likely love having time to relax with you, where the tension of the outside world fades away. You’d perhaps sit in silence together, his warm, slightly mischievous presence contrasting with your more solemn demeanor. His soft-spoken nature would make him an ideal companion during these moments, and though you might not speak often, your bond would be deeply comforting, as though words aren’t necessary.

As a protector of those he loves, Lancelot would always make sure you're safe, even though you're more than capable of handling yourself. If anyone were to threaten your peace, you would quickly show them why that's a bad idea, but Lancelot’s approach would be more calculated. He might prefer to end the situation without violence if possible, but rest assured, if it escalates, he would be the first one to protect you fiercely, no questions asked.

Lancelot, though often serious and mature for his age, still carries that youthful, sometimes naïve nature in his interactions with the world, especially when dealing with people. This might create moments of humor between the two of you, as you would likely see through tricks or manipulations with your perceptive abilities, while Lancelot, in his kindness, might not pick up on the subtleties right away. It would likely lead to you guiding him, not with harsh words but through quiet observation, teaching him the sharper side of the world.

Both of you have a tendency to be lone wolves, so there would be an understanding between the two of you about respecting each other’s space. You would both know when it’s time to be alone to recharge, and Lancelot would be the one to notice when you're more withdrawn and might offer quiet company or just sit nearby. His nonintrusive nature would give you the space you need without making it awkward, allowing you both to recharge in peace.

Lancelot’s tendency to enjoy salty or sour food might be an amusing contrast to your more refined, possibly subtle tastes. You’d likely indulge him when it comes to the types of food he loves, and perhaps your ability to create multiple mouths could come in handy during meal prep. You’d make light of the situation, pretending to grumble about the mess he makes in the kitchen, but secretly enjoying how much he treasures these simple joys. He lets up as a cook, even for how good he is at it.

[howi99]

Grimm jaune au

what does ozpin, qrow, and glinda think of Mr. Arcs new growth spur?

Ozpin and Qrow don't really mind at first. The first to see the difference in Jaune ability will be Glynda. The growth spur isn't exceptional per say but his strength and physical resilience did pick her interest. Then she began to see his combat prowess becoming more and more instinctual, less like a trained knight and more like a battle hardened mercenary. He's adaptability is over the chart and that's when Ozpin begins to take more and more interest in the matter. That and the fact whenever Jaune gets hit a bit too hard, black smoke emerges from where the impact would have been instead of the normal light.

[serendipitysparks]

Life: Shizuo Heiwajima's existence is a tumultuous odyssey marked by a confluence of serendipitous encounters and existential tribulations. Born into a milieu rife with discord, his formative years were characterized by an incessant struggle against the vicissitudes of fate. Residing in the bustling urban expanse of Ikebukuro, he has become an indelible fixture within the city's intricate social tapestry, navigating the labyrinthine dynamics of gang rivalries and urban chaos with an unyielding resolve.

Psychology: The psychological framework of Shizuo is a fascinating amalgamation of repressed emotions and explosive tendencies. He grapples with an inherent dichotomy: a profound aversion to violence juxtaposed with an uncontrollable propensity for physical confrontation. This internal conflict engenders a perpetual state of cognitive dissonance, wherein his desire for tranquility is perpetually undermined by the visceral impulses that surge within him. His psyche is further complicated by a deep-seated sense of loyalty and protectiveness towards those he cherishes, often manifesting in acts of unbridled ferocity when provoked.

Personality: Shizuo's persona is a kaleidoscopic blend of charisma and volatility. He exudes an aura of nonchalant bravado, often perceived as a paragon of strength and resilience. However, beneath this exterior lies a profound sensitivity, as he navigates the complexities of interpersonal relationships with a mixture of warmth and wariness. His sardonic humor and candid disposition render him both approachable and intimidating, creating an enigmatic presence that captivates and confounds those around him.

Birth: The circumstances surrounding Shizuo's birth are steeped in ambiguity, yet it is widely acknowledged that he was born into a family beset by tumult. This tumultuous genesis has indelibly shaped his worldview, instilling within him a profound understanding of the fragility of human connections. The date of his birth, while unremarkable in the annals of history, serves as a poignant reminder of the chaotic forces that would come to define his life.

Intelligence: Shizuo Heiwajima's intellectual faculties are often overshadowed by his physical prowess; however, he possesses a keen acumen that belies his brutish exterior. His intelligence manifests not solely in academic pursuits but also in his astute understanding of human nature and social dynamics. This perceptiveness allows him to navigate the treacherous waters of Ikebukuro's underbelly with an instinctual savvy, making him a formidable presence in both combat and negotiation.

[inkedxaromas]

[ dylan o'brien (½), homosexual, cismale + he/him, pherokinesis ] shayne sorrento is a neutral good agent of pandora selected for their natural talent for connecting the dots, noticing patterns, and uncovering hidden relationships that others overlook and underwent the top-secret mutation process. to the rest of the world, the thirty-two year old originally from poughkeepsie, new york is deceased or missing. however, in atlantis, they are now known as ambrosia of lust after developing the ability to manipulate and excrete his own pheromones that trigger attraction or other emotional reactions. the agent has been with pandora for five years and is trusted for being astute & ingenious , but once reprimanded for being nitpicky & prurient.

𝗂.  𝖨𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇  𝖣𝖺𝗍𝖺.

NAME:  shayne sorrento CALLSIGN:  ambrosia DATE  OF  BIRTH:  may 29th, 1993 AGE:  thirty-two ORIGIN:  poughkeepsie, new york GENDER:  cismale  - he/his

𝗂𝗂.  𝖯𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅  𝖣𝖺𝗍𝖺.

HEIGHT:  5'10  ft. WEIGHT:  165  lbs. HAIR:  dark brown. EYE  COLOR: brown. BUILD  &  PHYSIQUE: (TOP SECRET)

𝗂𝗂𝗂.  𝖬𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅  𝖤𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

DISPOSITION: exudes an eerie calm, even when elbow-deep in the aftermath of chaos. detached but never cold—his voice low, measured, almost melodic, carrying just enough weight to make people lean in. reads people like case files, filing their tics and tells away for later use. slow, deliberate movements, as if aware that even a slight shift could alter the room’s chemistry. carries an ever-present, faint but untraceable scent—a carefully curated cocktail, calibrated to disarm or deceive. could charm a confession out of a corpse if given the time. rarely blinks first. MENTAL:  Five years into P.A.N.D.O.R.A. service, subject exhibits a chillingly precise work ethic, his mutation having honed both his abilities and his clinical mindset to near-perfection. Separated from his twin brother right before the mutation process, he developed an obsessive drive for control—both over his environment and his emotions. Pheromone manipulation makes him a master of subtle influence; in the field, he can evoke trust, fear, or compliance with surgical precision. However, off-duty, he displays a different kind of emotional prowess towards others. Psychological evaluations indicate unresolved trauma linked to his twin’s absence, though it manifests as ruthlessness rather than grief. He has been described as ‘surgical’ in both his autopsies and his approach to social interaction—deliberate, emotionless, and calculated.

𝗂𝗏.  𝖯𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋  𝖣𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅  &  𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗌𝗌.

ABILITY:  pherokinesis (pheromone manipulation)  -  Shayne's pheromone manipulation allows him to subtly influence emotions, heighten or suppress physical responses, and detect biochemical shifts in others. He can instill fear, trust, or aggression in a room, making him a master of psychological warfare. His ability to mask his own scent signature and detect deception gives him a tactical edge in both fieldwork and interrogation. However, prolonged use drains his stamina and leaves him vulnerable in chemically unstable environments.

LIMITATIONS:  prolonged use or large-scale influence causes lightheadedness and mental fatigue. His control weakens in poorly ventilated or chemically unstable environments, where pheromones disperse unpredictably. Strong-willed individuals or those with chemical resistance can partially resist his influence. Overexertion can leave him disoriented, making him vulnerable in combat. PROFICIENT:  communication / observation / intermediate hand to hand combat. EXPERTISE:  analysis + situational awareness

𝗏.  𝖤𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

Recruited from a top-tier forensic pathology program, Shayne displayed a rare blend of analytical precision and instinctual adaptability. His clinical expertise and sharp deductive reasoning made him an invaluable addition to P.A.N.D.O.R.A.’s medical division. Following selection, he underwent the top-secret mutation process, which enhanced his latent pheromone manipulation ability. The two-year transformation was both physically and mentally grueling, exacerbated by the forced separation from his twin brother. The experience forged Shayne into a calculating but emotionally contained operative, deeply analytical with a near-flawless focus on the task at hand.

[universe-of-heart]

Pain in Repeating Cycles

A Rewritten History of Fire and Blood Ocs in fic

Author's note: This chapter takes place during the entirety of episode 2. Imagine me actually getting a whole episode in one chapter, insane right?? Anyway, this one is a doozy, we get a side of Jae we haven't seen fully before and truthfully we still haven't. Get ready for some drama! As always, Jae and Fallon belong to my beautiful, handsome friend @dreaming-of-illusory-flowers who allows me to torture them daily.

Word count: 5,362 (I'm actually impressed all my word counts have been above 4k)

Warnings: AGGRESSIVE tactics, very clearly speaking of marrying underaged girls to a fully grown man, grooming tactics vaguely mentioned/hinted at. It's everything that happened in episode 2, we all know it won't be nice, unfortunately. And if it's not abundantly clear, I DO NOT SUPPORT THE BAD THINGS I WRITE ABOUT. It's fiction for a reason, people, and I make it VERY CLEAR the characters aren't happy about it. Ty that has been my ted talk

Jae realized two things very quickly following Aemma’s death and Rhaenyra’s crowning.

The first was just how deeply the death of the queen affected the entire Keep. Many of the queen’s former maids and the maesters who had been in the room as she had struggled in labor barely lifted their eyes from the floor, an air of grief following them like a storm cloud. A handful of the maesters acted the same. Many of them had grown close and fond of the late queen during the last few months of her pregnancy and the sudden loss had rocked every single one of them. Many of the knights seemed quieter, Jayse had noticed, when they passed the room that had been hers. None would even dare to meet the King’s eye when he retired for the night.

Everyone had expected the King and princess to reel from her death. Except for Small Council meetings, it was rare to see Viserys outside of his chambers. His model of Old Valyria had grown significantly in the handful of months, more excruciating detail put into the walls and structures that slowly built a miniature version of their old home. It was haunting in a beautiful way, like a distant memory that only appeared in dreams. The ghostly white of the stone only served to further that thought. If they spent too long in the King’s solar, looking at it, some nights they would find themselves back within the towering structure of the true Valyria, the shadows dropping down around their feet to swallow them whole.

They’d wake up in the same place every morning; on the floor beside their bed, sheets ripped from claws and burns marking the wooden floor beneath them. The horrible voice of their father echoed in their head. What a monster.

The princess was entirely different from her father, almost finding comfort from her grief in the duties of court. She seemed to thrive under her new responsibilities as crowned heir, though there was a hidden weight that caused her shoulders to square and chin to lift all the same. Much to her sworn sword’s dismay, she had chosen Criston Cole as a new member of her father’s Kingsguard, though Fallon could hardly fault her for her reasonings. Many of the tourney knights were just that. It had been decades since a true war had been fought under the king’s command and to truly protect the crown, one would have to have some combat prowess outside of a jousting lance and decorative sword. Still, the way her lip curled as he smiled up at the princess was instinctual, her hackles raised just like a guard dog.

If Cole noticed, he didn’t seem to care.

The second thing Jae noticed was how little the Small Council seemed to care for a grieving period. Many of the king’s advisors were already urging him to remarry, to bear more heirs should anything unforeseen happen again, yet barely half a year had passed since Aemma had left them. The idea made Jae bristle in their seat, nails scratching dangerously at the table.

Grand Maester Mellos hadn’t said anything about it since seeing the long lines etched into the marble one day.

Otto was an entirely different story, however.

Jaeda had all but posted herself in the King’s solar during the day ever since she realized how often Alicent was sent to keep the king company. She was still very young, barely a year Rhaenyra’s elder, there was no reason as to why she would be requested within the king’s chambers. However, when Jae began to notice how often she wore dresses that she had never seen the young girl wear before, the wheels began to turn and click into place. Alicent never spoke of who or why, ever the dutiful lady of court that she was, but there was a way that she held herself, shaking at first and guarded after, the way her eyes always looked like she would cry any moment, that had Jae itching to storm out of the keep to the Tower of the Hand and drag Otto out by his collar.

Instead, Jaeda seethed silently as Viserys spoke of the histories he poured over to have the stonemasons craft such delicate works of art. Alicent, as dutiful as she always was, smiled politely and listened, adding small comments and compliments where it was appropriate. She was the perfect image of a lady, Jaeda was certain even the most dutiful would pale in comparison to her manners, her behavior. The worst was, she knew Viserys no doubt saw it as well.

“Do you believe that Westeros can be another Valyria, Your Grace?”

“That depends, whether you speak of the Freehold at its height or at its fall.”

Jaeda stepped forward to curl an arm protectively around the young girl’s shoulders. “There are many things that separate Westeros from Old Valyria, my dear. Valyria had hundreds of dragons of enormous sizes, a navy that could span the entire sea…Westeros will have its own glory and does, but such a sight as what was will never be seen again.”

The king nodded solemnly, turning over a stone dragon in his hands. She wondered which one it was modeled after. He had asked her endless questions to make each detail nearly perfect and every dragon she could recall had its own place on the replica, seated regally to crown the old kingdom.

Alicent jumped under her arm as Viserys fumbled, the dragon breaking in two on the floor. He muttered a curse under his breath as he moved to grab it, though she was quicker, gingerly picking the pieces up so as to not cut herself on the jagged edges. The king takes it from her hands gently, lingering too long for Jaeda’s comfort. She didn’t miss the way Alicent froze, shoulders going stiff before she could stop herself. 

“Tell me, how is Rhaenyra?”

“What do you mean?”

It was an odd question. How could the princess’ father not know how she was, what she was doing? The reclusive nature Viserys had leaned on to heal from the loss of his wife hadn’t lessened as the months passed by; it had almost worsened. The pressure from the Small Council for him to remarry had added to the strain of the crumbling family and Rhaenyra had had to step into roles as an heir that kept her busier than when she was simply the princess, studying with Alicent, flying on Syrax, and begrudgingly learning needlepoint with her elders.

“I think she might find it difficult to discuss…personal matters.”

Alicent nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. “It will take time. It did when I lost mine own mother.”

Jaeda felt her heart break for the poor girl. It hadn’t even been a full year since Alicent had lost her mother and she was comforting a grieving man mourning his wife. She should be with Rhaenyra, the advisor thought bitterly. They had more in common than the young Lady Hightower and the King who was barely younger than her father. Both mourned for their mother, forced to move past their sorrow quickly as the court swirled around them. She only watched, taking on her brother’s role for a moment, as Alicent steadied herself again as she raised her gaze back to the king.

“I think she would open herself to you if invited.”

“It is wise council, Your Grace,” Jaeda’s arm slipped through Alicent’s, tugging the girl into her side. “The hour grows late. Shall I escort the Lady back to her chambers, my King?”

There was a hidden edge to her voice only Viserys knew. It was often used against Daemon within council chamber walls with honeyed words that were appropriate for court. It had been so long since he had been on the receiving end of Jaeda’s venom, that he had forgotten how it could sting.

“Yes,” his voice dropped to just above a whisper, whatever he was about to say to Alicent dying on his tongue. “Yes, that would be best, thank you.”

Alicent dropped a small curtsey as Jaeda nodded, the look in her eyes telling him she would return with a discussion he would not enjoy. The king returned to his stone model of Old Valyria, gazing down at the broken dragon on the table. The small model of Balerion with his wing detached stared back.

“Did I say something wrong, Lady Briarwood?” Alicent’s small voice barely broke the silence of the halls as they walked, her arm still looped around Jaeda’s as if she were her anchor.

She looked so small then. Years ran together for Jae more often than not and they were often abruptly reminded of how young Rhaenyra and her closest friend were at times like that. Both had barely become young women and in the same amount of time had taken on more than boys their same age.

“Of course not, sweet one,” Jaeda sighed softly, left hand covering the younger’s hand on her arm. “I just thought it best to take a step back for the night.”

Alicent nodded silently, letting her head droop slightly as if she was embarrassed. Or maybe it was shame.

“You do not have to keep him company every night,” the old advisor spoke gently, allowing the girl her silence. “You are but a child and he is grown. Sympathy is appreciated and your comfort is great, but do not forget your own feelings in times such as this.”

“It is not every night, my lady,” her voice was only slightly stronger than before, her eyes still trained on the floor that passed beneath them. “I only go when my father suggests it.”

“Suggests or commands, my sweet?”

Alicent hesitated and Jaeda received her answer.

Outside of her chambers, Jaeda placed a gentle kiss to the young girl’s forehead, smoothing the wispy curls that hung near her temples back with a comforting hand. Alicent thought for a moment that it felt motherly and comforting and allowed herself to forget how foreign she had felt for nearly a fortnight now in her own late mother’s gowns. Even if it was only for one night, she would allow herself to be free of the fear of what her father might say in response to Lady Briarwood’s words. She would sleep comfortingly in her bed and in the morning, she would seek out Rhaenyra and all would be well.

The door creaked closed and Jaeda heard the lock click into place. The fire crackled again deep in her chest. A standing guard watched as she turned on her heel and stalked back down the hall, the stone echoing with each footstep. For a moment, the poor guard watched as an old nan’s tale seemed to come to life; an ancient witch come to storm the castle’s halls in search of the man who wronged her.

He did not envy the man set in her sights.

Jae, truthfully, didn’t even know which man was in their sights that night. Otto had been the one they had first thought of laying into, then the King had watched the girl in a way that made their skin crawl. And yet, Otto was still at the forefront. He was the cause of it all, he had all but told his daughter to become the King’s chamber wench, it seemed, and it didn’t bother him at all. He still had the same cold aloofness in each Small Council meeting, his stare turning its focus to whatever he could intimidate at the marble table. When he couldn’t, it turned dark, dangerous. It always reminded them of a horrible drunkard who didn’t care who was at the receiving end of his wrath. 

Truthfully, it reminded them of their father.

The door nearly bounced off the stone wall behind it with the force Jaeda used to open it and it caused the Hand to jump as he penned a letter, ink spilling over half the parchment. He muttered a curse as he reached for a cloth to dry the mess, but stopped his efforts as Jaeda’s palms connected with the smooth wood of the desk, rattling everything not fastened down with enough power to spill the ink further. She was breathing hard through her nose, eyes blazing even in the low firelight far on her left, and Otto nearly feared that would be the moment he would die.

“What game are you playing at?” She hissed, bearing her teeth as she did.

To his credit, Otto’s mask didn’t slip. “I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

The gold of her iris seemed to melt into molten liquid for only a moment, reminding him of the descriptions of the Doom. “Your daughter is six-and-ten years of age, unmarried, and vulnerable in her grief. Tell me, which of your Seven deemed it right and good to have her meet with the King in secret in his private quarters?”

“She is extending her sympathies to the Crown.”

“Fuck the Crown,” she growled and the Hand wondered for a moment if she would grow fangs and claws, “and fuck your sympathies. Do not pretend to me that you care of the Crown for, if you did, you would not feel the need to join in on the pressure for Viserys to remarry so quick after Aemma.”

The Hand barely blinked, keeping his eyes on the advisor. It was almost as if he feared the moment he looked away, there might truly be a dragon in place of a woman. “It is for the betterment of the realm that the king, while strong and able, produce further heirs to protect his claim to the Iron Throne.”

“Are you truly so terrified of Daemon coming to power that you would sacrifice a man and daughter’s grief so soon?” Her eyes searched his for only a moment before her lip curled. “Or do you simply crave your blood on the throne so deeply you are willing to sacrifice your own daughter?”

“Such accusations could have you tried for slander, perhaps even treason.”

“If you think I fear you, Lord Hand, then you truly do not understand your place in this court.”

Jaeda stood from her bent posture over the desk, eyes skimming the puddle of ink on the ruined paper. There were no words she could make out any longer and she felt all the better for it, feeling an odd satisfaction that he would have to begin again completely or simply leave it until the morning. Otto just glared up at her, brow furrowed deeply against her words. 

It irked him deeply that she was the one he could never force under his thumb. Beesbury and Strong were easy to talk down, even Corlys could be skirted around until he relented and sat seething at the foot of the table. Mellos was loyal to the Hightowers, Otto never found trouble on that front, and Daemon was never around enough to give him any true concerns. Jaeda, however, had been a thorn in his side since he became Hand under the Old King and she only wormed her way deeper, twisting as she went. It felt impossible to worm his way into the King’s close confidants with her around and with each step it seemed like she forced him back two more.

“Was that all, Lady Briarwood?” His tone betrayed his annoyance, dry and frustrated as he lost yet another battle against her.

Jaeda’s chin tilted slightly, her eyes following the line of her nose down to him. “If I see your daughter dressed as the ghost of your late wife within the king’s chambers again, I will see to it you are removed from your seat and Daemon named as your successor. Even if I must stand vigil in the king’s chamber day and night. You’d do well to remember.”

Otto nodded once, watching as she left his study with the door still wide open. 

The king’s door was opened with less aggression, though the king flinched all the same. Jaeda calmly entered the room, shutting the door behind her easily before moving to a chair at the table within his solar, picking up the two bits of the broken dragon. The growing silence made Viserys’ skin crawl, though he didn’t have a clue himself how to break it. Instead, he stood like a child about to be scolded by a parent for acting out, hands tucked behind his back and head down to stare at a fixed point on the model of Old Valyria.

The advisor simply continued to turn the stone pieces in her hands, paying him no mind. 

“Nothing has happened.”

The words nearly caused her eyes to roll.

“Have I implied anything has, Your Grace?” Her tone was nearly cold, entirely unwilling to allow emotions to play into it.

Viserys sighed, rubbing at his temple before sitting across from his oldest friend. “She has been merely keeping me company to allow me to talk without fear of ulterior motives. It hasn’t even been half a year and still I am pushed to remarry.”

“If you merely needed a listening ear, you know I am more than willing.”

It was more than that and they both knew it. The king longed for a companion as many did, even after suffering such a loss. It was human nature to crave such connections. However, Jaeda knew it would’ve been far better for him to seek out his own daughter for such matters, to offer the same comfort he sought after to someone hurting much the same as himself. To entertain and seemingly welcome the company of a girl so young, not to mention unmarried herself, well…if word would reach outside the Keep, there was no telling what rumors may swirl.

“You have always been there for whatever I needed,” the king whispered, fingers tapping at the table. “And you will never know the depths of my gratitude for that. Your dedication to my family is truly unmatched.”

“You are not to entertain this further, Viserys.”

His violet eyes raised to meet gold. “Do you think I request her?”

Jaeda sighed heavily, letting the dragon rest on the table. “She is Rhaenyra’s friend and companion. Have you even considered how she may feel about her father having the Lady Alicent visit his chambers?”

The king fell silent.

“Have you spoken to her at all since she was named heir?”

His head shook slowly, as if hesitant to admit any fault. 

Jaeda pinched the bridge of their nose before sighing again. “You are her father before you are king. She has already lost her mother; do not make her believe she has lost more.”

A stretch of silence settled between them, merely allowing the words to sit in the air. The sun set outside the window, casting long shadows against the wall. The looming image of the old kingdom eclipsed their own dark reflections, swallowing the image into inky darkness.

Finally, Viserys sighed, folding his hands in his lap. “I will…attempt to speak with her over dinner.”

That wouldn’t fix everything, something Jae was very aware of. However, they never expected a single action to mend such a gap between a father and daughter. It was simply a move in the correct direction, guided perhaps not as softly as many would like, but guided nonetheless. Jaeda managed a smile at her old friend and Viserys returned it, the tension of the night bleeding into the fading rays of sunlight. 

“There is…more,” the king spoke after a time. “Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys met with me earlier today so that I could assure them of the Crown’s support and appreciation for their fleets. To reaffirm how great an asset they are. Lord Corlys even apologized for his outburst at court.” Jaeda remembered it clearly. The outrage over the Crown not being willing to join the fray of battle at the Stepstones, allowing the Free Cities and, more notably, the Crabfeeder to continue their assault and occupation of both the land and sea. It had costed many their ships and more their lives and yet the king refused to go into war with them. It was admirable, in a way, they thought, to continue the line of peace that had been started by his grandsire, but the cost continued to grow the longer he waited. It was only a matter of time until the Triarchy grew in strength and power and moved beyond the Stepstones. It wouldn’t have been the first time in history for such things to happen.

“Lord Corlys is greatly affected by the attacks of the Triarchy,” was the calculated reply. “He spoke from a place of passion, not treason. I am sure he meant his apology.”

“I am afraid this war has soured things between the houses Targaryen and Velaryon,” Viserys sighed, fidgeting with his hands. A ring on his finger was his source of nervous comfort, twisting it around his fingers three times before looking back at his advisor. “They warned me that my house now seems fragile and vulnerable. That many outside of us…may have painted a target on mine and Rhaenyra’s backs.”

Jaeda nodded slowly. They had assumed as much themselves. After centuries of learning how both the world and court worked, it was easy to follow the patterns of history. One heir was simple to be rid of, especially with a widowed king, and when such turmoil boiled elsewhere, it was easy to sneak quietly until it was least expected. An uprising could happen easily. The king had broken tradition that many held above laws and Jae had no doubt many loyal Westerosi civilians were less than pleased at swearing fealty to such a young girl. Rebellions had happened over far less and far more.

“They also suggested I wed Laena.”

The dragon in Jae reared, eyes going wide as they struggled to maintain their composure. “Laena?”

If they didn’t know the Lord and Princess of Driftmark as well as they did, Jae would’ve assumed that was a joke. A sick joke, Laena Velaryon was only two-and-ten years of age. A betrothal at such an age wasn’t unheard of, especially not within the line of the Targaryens. There had been some betrothals set up upon the birth of a second child, simply to ensure the strength of the House.

“It is a strong match-”

“She is a child, Viserys, you cannot truly be considering-”

“I do not know what else to do, Jae!”

For once in a long time, the advisor fell silent as Viserys stood and crossed the room. The action was muddled with anger, frustration, and laced through with sorrow to complete a horrible twisting emotion that had no name. They had felt it before. It was what they imagined death was like.

“My kingdom demands a new queen, my council demands more heirs, my daughter refuses to see me, and my brother tries to tear our House down around our heads!”

The crown always weighed heavy on those who did not deserve it, to a devastating degree on many occasions. King Viserys had nearly reached his breaking point, his will and patience finally bending at the whim of all around him. It was obvious then; how had it not been before?

Jaeda rose from her seat and crossed to him, placing her hands on both of his arms and holding him firmly. “You are the king. The decisions and choices set before you are great, but they are set before you for you to choose. Not Lord Hightower, not Lord Corlys, not even Rhaenyra. Not even me.”

He hadn’t looked up to meet her eyes yet, but he nodded along with her words.

“Let them demand all they wish. Let Daemon try. Marry again when you are ready, my king, and do not allow anyone to pick your second wife for you. Such things lead to unhappiness and unneeded trials of both heart and mind.”

“Your council is wise,” he spoke, voice shaking, “as it always is.”

“One does not live as long as I have without growing wise. Visit with Lady Laena if you wish, speak to her, but do not entertain the thought. Corlys is desperate for support and he will seek it out in many places. Princess Rhaenys no doubt had to bite her tongue at the thought of wedding her to you for the mere sake of bloodlines.”

Viserys huffed out a laugh, finally peering at Jaeda with a bit of mirth. “Perhaps it would be easier to wed Rhaenyra to Laenor.”

“Only if you wish to tell her that yourself. That is one dragon even I fear.”

He laughed again, letting his hand grasp her elbows affectionately before stepping away. “Thank you.” “You forget you are a man as well as a king, old friend.” Jaeda watched as he moved about his room again, picking up the fragmented pieces of Balerion. “You wear yourself thin and then stretch further.”

“I learned from the best.”

Jaeda huffed before taking the broken model from him. “And just for that, you will not get this back until it’s mended.”

In the days and weeks after, Rhaenyra and Alicent fell back into a routine together. Alicent was quick to accompany her friend on simple duties around the Keep, trailed behind by the princess’ knight to keep them out of trouble. She returned back to her dresses, lighter in color and looser in shape. Rhaenyra seemed far happier, openly smiling with her arm linked with her companion’s and talking animatedly about how she was the one to choose Criston Cole for the Kingsguard, how Lord Corlys spoke of the war beginning in the Stepstones, and whatever else she heard during the Small Council meetings. It led to further gossip, usually including how often ravens from Harrenhal arrived at the Keep with letters addressed to Fallon with the intent of slowly winning her favor. Many of them remained unopened until the younger ladies got their hands on them and read them dramatically, the affectionately named Maiden Knight listening to them as she tried to will her face to not match the red fabric under her cuirass. 

For a while, there seemed to be genuine peace within the Red Keep and even King’s Landing. Jae had even begun to relax, as best they could, when talks of the king remarrying seemed to calm and ease and no talks of war were brought up at the last meeting.

However, the gods were often their cruelest when it was the quietest.

First, it had been news that Daemon had taken his paramour to Dragonstone to roost, as well as stolen an egg from Dreamfyre’s clutch. The egg had been picked by Rhaenyra for her late brother and had been one of the last remaining pieces of her life before the collapse. He had taken it and placed a crooked claw over her birthright after desecrating her mother and brother’s memory yet again. The princess had been heartbroken and furious, it was evident on her face as she looked at her father, and Jae felt as though they could fly at that moment and not fear the consequences of what they would do to the rogue prince. One look at the princess, however, had them leaning back in their seat trying to reign in their instincts as the king ordered Otto to go with a detachment of guards to confront his brother. Jae knew that look all too well; it had crossed the faces of many in their past.

Rhaenyra would be a great queen, they decided in that moment.

Otto and his accompaniment returned with the egg safely enclosed within a great black cauldron and the princess returned on dragonback soon after. The king had been furious with worry, summoning her the moment he was notified of her return before Jae could even begin to soothe the overwhelming emotions within the Keep.

Alicent chewed at her fingers in the courtroom, glancing nervously from behind her father’s seat to Rhaenyra in front of the tray of wine and cups. Rhaenyra smiled gently at her, itching to motion her over to hold her hands to keep her from worrying alone.

That was the second thing. After Viserys had his daughter brought to his chambers and scolded her for acting so carelessly with her life in confronting her uncle, they had made up and spoken softly, mending the beginning of a few fractures between them. It had been good for the both of them.

The next day, the king had called his Small Council to order, waiting patiently as everyone sat and waited. Jayse settled into the spot behind Jaeda on the king’s left, bumping Rhaenyra’s arm when he noticed her still watching her companion. He gave her a small smile before she crossed the room behind her father and took Alicent’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. Jaeda let a soft, affectionate smile slip through, watching them with a spark of hope within her chest. They had recovered, it seemed, thicker than thieves again and already whispering amongst themselves eagerly. Whatever poisonous seeds Otto had tried to sew within the Targaryen family had withered and died under the heat of the dragon guarding them.

Jaeda looked to the king with the same smile, though it faded quickly when she caught his gaze on his daughter and her companion. Viserys had never truly been good at masking his emotions nor his thoughts and the glimpse of longing and guilt swirling behind his eyes and the set of his jaw betrayed more than he no doubt wished.

A chill lanced down their spine and they wished they were able to grab both the girls and get them away.

“Your Grace,” she started, nearly hissing through her teeth.

“I have decided…to take a new wife.”

Lord Corlys nodded before shifting in his seat to sit forward, expecting an answer to the proposal he had offered. Jaeda’s stomach turned within her and Jayse forced his eyes to focus on a distant point across the room.

Rhaenyra smiled at her father, clinging to Alicent. Her father did not return the smile. Alicent stopped breathing.

“I intend to marry the lady Alicent Hightower before spring’s end.”

The smugness radiated from Otto even as panic and fear rolled off in waves from the two girls. Rhaenyra watched her father with clear heartbreak as the subject of the meeting dug her fingers into the princess’ sleeve. The princess decided at that moment it would hurt less to be stabbed by the blade that sat at her father’s hip, to feel the point enter flesh along with the prophecy he held dearer than anything else.

Corlys stood from his seat and Jaeda rose to meet him, golden eyes shifting to glower at him from where they had been fixed on the king.

“This is an absurdity,” he seethed, hands flat against the table as if it anchored his words there. “My house is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm.”

Viserys did not flinch. “And I am your king.”

Jaeda’s words rang back in her head to haunt her again. Marry again when you are ready. Do not allow anyone to pick your second wife for you. They are for you to choose. Not even me.

Corlys turned his glare to Otto before storming out and Alicent nearly burst into tears when the chair scraped the floor. She hadn’t even dared to look up from staring at the floor as she trembled in Rhaenyra’s arms. The king risked a look to his daughter who stared at him in defiance even as her eyes brimmed with tears.

“Rhaenyra-”

The princess tugged Alicent with her as she left the room, fleeing the oppressive eyes of the men around them to flee to the godswood. 

Jae found them there later, curled together as they wept for the girlhood they had both now left behind them.

The cycle of pain in House Targaryen had begun anew and once again the watchful dragon stood over the wreckage sharing in their grief.

Tag list: @dreaming-of-illusory-flowers @soup-entity @yippeecore (I know yall already read it before I posted it but still)

[autarchi0s-a]

This demon, she is much too kind for what Stolas deserves in truth. With her expressions of gratitude come a weight unprecedented now resting upon his shoulders. He does not need things... but oh, how he wants. Yearns. Deeply desires that which he is much too reserved to speak for in full. And he knows for a fact he stands in the wrong for so much as thinking of entertaining these wishes of his, when he should be working to account for all that he has left in shambles.

Given that his bed is spacious enough, there is some room for the owl to claim a seat upon the mattress, just besides the freshly bandaged Olgan. He wanted to get the words out, but the words wanted not to get out at his behest. So he was left gripping the blankets in a semblance of internalized sorrow, pursing his beak as he diverts his gaze and thinks. Thinks, thinks and thinks.

"...there is something you can do, Olgan." the prince mutters, displaying some hesitance. If he opened up to someone as wrathful and instinctual as his guest here, he doubts she would take it kindly. "All I ask is that you do not judge me for being straightforward with you. This is strictly confidential. Not for anyone else's ears."

"...I should have learned my lesson by now, and yet... I cannot help but have certain feelings for you. Feelings of profound admiration. Dare I say..."

Ugh. No. He cannot. He grits his teeth and shakes his head. But he must! What use is there in being dishonest and withholding himself any longer?

"I am... enthralled by you. I know it is wrong, and it may not be reciprocated. But your grit, and your confidence, and your prowess in combat, and... and how well-versed you are in the culture of the living world's past, and literature... and Satan-knows-how-many other disciplines. It leaves me starstruck. I cannot find the words to express how far this appreciation for you goes. I..."

...a hand comes to rest upon her lap. "...I feel as though actions would do this confession better justice."

She couldn't have picked a better home to invade it seems, for she was being treated as well as one could given the circumstances, and by one she found herself caring for more and more as the days went on...in all honesty Stolas hardly left her mind now that she put some thought on the matter, strange...

Regardless, she would let out a few stifled groans and grunts wherever a particularly sore or painful point was touched and bandaged, through now fault of the owls touch...she was simply that beat up is all!

"You've been far more kind to me then an Ogre like myself deserves, and I appreciate that, Stolas." She remarks once he's finished, and she is settled, aching muscles given their time to finally begin the repairing process.

"I'll have to find some way to repay your kindness, but if you think of something before I do, do not hesitate to ask, I owe you one after all." A favor from the incarnation of wrath was certainly something to covet, hard to say what such a demon could truly offer that Royalty like Stolas didn't already have.

[autoacafiles]

[therealvinelle]

Hi, I was reading a post here in Tumblr about how Edward has two gifts, he can hear thoughts and is super fast, so I wonder what is your opinion about this topic?.

Furthermore, what others power might the Volturi's leaders and guards might have?

Edward has one gift, and it’s telepathy. Being fast isn’t a gift.

Strength, speed and even senses is varied among vampires. Some, like Emmett, are on the extreme end, but that doesn’t make Emmett gifted, nor does it mean that the rest are at an equal level. The Cullens have clear variations between them.

Physique appears to play a dominant role in how these variations play out: Alice, who was malnourished and never made it past 4′10″, is the physically weakest of the coven, while Emmett at 6′5″ and a mountain of muscles is the strongest. This is made very clear during the baseball game:

“Emmett was hovering close to third (base), knowing that Alice didn’t have the muscle to outstrip Rosalie’s fielding." (Midnight Sun, chapter The Game)

There’s also the fact that it’s taken for granted that Emmett would be intimidating to other vampires, and he is dismayed when James is more worried about Jasper, who is lean.

I suspect this disparity exists simply because a large frame means more tissue to have blood in. Newborns, animal, and human-eating vampires all having a difference in terms of strength is proof that blood has the final say in a vampire’s prowess, so Emmett being able to contain more of it than Alice and therefore being stronger makes sense to me.

This isn’t the meta for me to get into that, but I don’t think vampires have muscles in the sense we do. Or rather, we can’t know that they do. Renesmée is proof that Edward retains his human DNA, or she would be a clone of Bella. Nahuel is proof that Joham retains a Y-chromosome. Does this mean that vampires have different cell types? Does a vampire’s stone-like skin still contain human DNA? One would think yes - except, if you rip a vampire apart, you get rubble. The parts are all solid. There’s also Carlisle theorizing that vampires digest blood by absorbing it through porous tissue, which makes me wonder why he dismissed his digestive system (my guess: vivisection fun times with Aro in Volterra. Carlisle couldn’t have done it on his own, and Aro is the only one mad and curious enough to be down for that). I’m getting off-topic - what I’m saying is, we don’t know how vampires work, meaning I can’t build this meta off of the assumption that they have muscles. I simply can’t know for sure that they do.

The important thing is that a vampire’s physique is a deciding factor in how strong they are.

There’s also Laurent’s warning about James, that he has “unparalleled senses”, meaning some vampires are better at sight, hearing, and smell than others. I can believe that, because we have canon examples of vampires being bad at tracking.

There’s Edward in Port Angeles, who couldn’t track Bella’s, his singer, scent to her location, and (I admit this one is conjecture but it’s so probable that I say it goes) Carlisle’s creator, who after taking care of the mob must have realized he’d bitten one of the humans, meaning a newborn would soon be loose in London. This is punishable by death by the Volturi. The fact that he didn’t return to finish Carlisle off means that he was unable to find him. I remind the audience that Carlisle was bleeding and suffering the effects by a venom intended to paralyze the victim. To put it this way, Carlisle wouldn’t have survived James, or anybody with a trace of tracking competence. By comparison, Carlisle was able to locate a dying Rosalie by the smell of her blood, even though there wouldn’t have been a trail for him to follow, as her body had not been moved.

When it comes to these disparities in strength and speed among the Volturi, I imagine Jane and Alec are the physically weakest members of the guard, and among the slowest. They’re prepubescent, meaning no muscle for them, and their height (a humble 4′8″ and 4′10″) implies very short legs. They’re simply not going to get as far as an adult would, not in the same number of steps. Renata at 5′0″ is another tiny vampire lady who likely isn’t very strong or fast.

That’s not to say I think these physically weaker members of the Volturi guard are necessarily useless in hand-to-hand combat, Alec at least is a boy stuck in a playful age, and the males around him are trained warriors. He’s probably picked up a few things over the years.

As for the others, Aro is described as frail-looking, which hints at him being quite thin. I don’t think he’s weak, if he couldn’t win a fight he wouldn’t be around, but I do think he’s probably below average in terms of strength. Caius I picture as a Harrison Ford type, so of course I’m gonna think he’s a bit burly, but this is me headcanoning and not actually hinted at in canon. Marcus is 19, so I imagine he can only be so strong.

Back to Edward’s speed.

He’s a 6′2″ teen, that’s code for “very long legs”, though I’m actually going to go ahead and posit that he’s not actually that fast. Strap in for this next part:

The guy was a teenager who lay dying for an undisclosed amount of time. The fact that Carlisle had the time to get to know his mother points to a few weeks, at least. And Edward was very ill:

Elizabeth worried obsessively over her son. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed. I expected that he would go first, he was so much worse off than she was. (New Moon, page 21)

Muscles atrophy quickly, never more so than when you’re a teen ravaged by fever, on your deathbed. And as I’ve explained above, I think your physique in life ties directly into your vampiric prowess.

I think Edward is certainly the physically weakest of the male Cullens, quite likely weaker than Rosalie as well, maybe even Esme.

Now, speed is not the same as strength. However, for humans, the two are connected. It’s the muscle fibers in our legs that determine our speed. Basically, type I fibers make an enduring runner, type II fibers make a speed runner. So, assuming that vampires retain their human musculature, one could argue that Edward had a lot of type II in life. However, Carlisle when he was human was able to outrun the mob he was with:

He ran through the streets, and Carlisle — he was twenty-three and very fast — was in the lead of the pursuit. (Twilight, page 158)

Carlisle clearly had a lot of type II fibers, and unlike Edward he was in peak physical condition when he died. He was also an adult who’d had more time to develop musculature, while Edward was a seventeen-year-old. If musculature was a deciding factor, one would think they would at the very least be of equal speed, though realistically Edward should be slower.

So, if it’s not muscles, what is it that makes Edward faster than the others?

It could be a matter of technique. Except, the way Bella describes movement when she wakes up as a vampire, it’s all very automated. Her body knows exactly how to do everything, and executes it without much input from her:

After that first frozen second of shock, my body responded to the unfamiliar touch in a way that shocked me even more.

Air hissed up my throat, spitting through my clenched teeth with a low, menacing sound like a swarm of bees. Before the sound was out, my muscles bunched and arched, twisting away from the unknown. I flipped off my back in a spin so fast it should have turned the room into an incomprehensible blur—but it did not. I saw every dust mote, every splinter in the wood-paneled walls, every loose thread in microscopic detail as my eyes whirled past them.

So by the time I found myself crouched against the wall defensively—about a sixteenth of a second later—I already understood what had startled me, and that I had overreacted. (Breaking Dawn, page 251-252)

Growling, crouching - those are all distinctly vampiric, non-human ways to act. Bella didn’t learn this, her body knew it of its own accord. When she later runs, she explains it as happening the same way - she just does it.

The way Bella experiences it, vampiric movement is like a package she downloaded, and that executes her instinctual commands with no need for her to actually know how to do any of this. Her grace is another example of this - Bella Swan may be in charge of her own consciousness, but the venom is entirely in control of her body.

Given these facts, I don’t think it’s technique that makes Edward a better runner than others. His technique is likely similar to everyone else’s. If it isn’t, if technique is what makes the difference, then who is and isn’t fast is an arbitrary process.

With that, we get to my controversial theory about why Edward is the fastest Cullen: he’s not.

Running and being fast is the only thing about vampirism that Edward enjoys. This is for another meta, but Edward is extremely depressed about every single other bit of it. Every aspect of being a vampire torments him.

Except the running. He enjoys all of it, especially being the fastest, so much. And as a newborn, he would have been faster than Carlisle.

But after that, when his newborn strength faded…

I honestly think that Carlisle decided to just slow down a bit when running with him, let Edward have this. It’s no skin of his back, and it makes Edward happy, so why not.

Esme joins the family, and of course she would be down for this. Nothing is more parental, more maternal, than losing at checkers to make your child happy, after all. Could also be she’s not very fast herself, but even if she were then she would downplay it to make Edward feel like Jesse Owens.

Enter Rosalie, who would think it’s completely ridiculous, yes, but she would also recognize this excellent opportunity to call in a big favor from Carlisle later on. There’s also the fact that I think Carlisle has a gift (yes, yes, meta is coming, people) that makes him very persuasive people. And also that for all that Rose gets a lot of bad rep, she is very generous and loves her family, if being fast makes Edward happy then alright.

Emmett is an easy-going guy, he goes along with things. Alice adores Edward and would go along with it. She also has tiny matchstick legs and couldn’t outrun him if she tried. Jasper could not care less.

Bella does get outrun by Edward after waking up, but she also did zero exercise in life (listing this in case musculature matter), had Renesmée devour her from within rendering her emaciated, and then died like a slasher movie murder victim. There’s not a lot of blood in her, and what little blood there is doesn’t have a lot to work with. She does defeat Emmett at arm wrestling, so I’ll concede that. However, there are enough extenuating circumstances surrounding Bella that I think my “Edward isn’t that fast” theory survives his ability to outrun her.

So, I believe Edward is the fast Cullen because Carlisle told a white lie in 1919, no one ever corrected that, and now it’s too late.

[gear-project]

Since he is mastering his time powers, you think Axl could rival Chipp's speed and reflexes? I mean, having the ability to stop time like that in combat for a brief moment would make him pretty much unstoppable and versatile.

It's a little different in the sense that Axl Low is tapping in to his subconsciousness whenever he uses that power.  In that state, time moves slowly for him until he releases the state, but it has yet to cause any feedback or fatigue when he uses it.

Comparing that with Chipp Zanuff: Chipp's reflexes and abilities (which even Bedman struggled to adapt to in terms of speed) are more instinctual and physical.  In other words, Chipp is relying less on his mind or mental prowess than he is using the power stored in his body: physical strength and Ki energy.

In a sense, it's like Goku's "Ultra Instinct" state in Dragonball Super/FighterZ.

It's less about "thinking" about doing something and more about "doing withOUT thinking".  Reacting, muscle memory, full sensory reading, and using the body's natural power to execute that intention.

Axl isn't operating on instinct, but he is using a power that he barely comprehends... Bedman compares that power to a "Lucid Dream" (a state where you have control over your own thoughts to be able to do things you normally wouldn't have the power to achieve).

It's somewhat like having Godlike power but not knowing how to use it and just taking "guesswork" at what you can do with it.

Things like complex teleportation or elaborate Magic would then just be "executed" because you "wanted them to", and less about knowing "how it's done".

In other words: Willpower versus Intuition.

Willpower can take you many places if your will is strong enough, but the means by which Willpower works is still a mystery.

Intuition requires mastery and understanding of how everything works, but is ultimately boiled down in to a state where Thinking about how it's done is no longer required.

You could say these are opposites in the spectrum of paths that COULD lead to Godhood... but because both are still "human" in origin, neither are absolutely perfect in execution.

[thecreaturecodex]

Sharklops

Image © Éphéméride des Chimères, accessed @chimeride​  here

[This image was inspired by, among other things, the Cyclops Shark that circulated around the internet at the beginning of the ‘10s. I’d previously done a smithy shark creature in the samebito, so I figured I’d tie their lore together.]

Sharklops CR 10 CN Aberration This massive pallid creature is vaguely humanoid, finned and gilled. Its head is misshapen and bears a single oversized eye, and its arms end in the entire forebody of a hammerhead shark, eyes, teeth and all. It wears piecemeal armor crafted from the shells of deep sea mollusks and crustaceans.

As the cyclops civilization fell and turned towards ever more monstrous acts, there were those among it who fleshwarped their fellows with sharks, creating an aquatic hybrid. The descendents of this ancient ritual are the sharklopes. Like their surface cousins, most sharklopes live lives of simple brutality, acting as raiders and predators. They have an instinctual affinity for sharks, and a patch of sea where shark attacks are more common or brutal than usual may be a sign of sharklops activity.

A sharklops is not an imaginative or creative combatant, but it is a terrifying one nonetheless. Its arms end in fanged shark maws, and all three of its mouths can inflict horrible bleeding wounds. A sharklops can see brief flashes of the future, and it uses this ability to save it from particularly devastating attacks from its foes. Most sharklopes fight until slain, their blood lust getting the better of them and keeping them conscious even as they begin to die.

Although it does not have proper hands, a sharklops is a surprisingly careful craftsman, and they usually make their goods out of coral, shell or bone. Their teeth can move independently of each other to act as a sort of finger, and watching a sharklops at work is a fascinating and disturbing sight for even the humanoids of the deep. Although many sharklops live among only themselves and their shark pets, they are coveted for their strength by sinister powers such as sahaugin, and can be found among their ranks.

Sharklops Smith A few sharklopes have a remnant of magical talent, an inheritance from the High Cyclops Empire. These creatures often collaborate with samebito to make wondrous items, and their work is prized both below and above the waves. A sharklops smith has the advanced simple template, Craft Wondrous Item and Master Craftsman as bonus feats, and can use the following spell-like abilities once per day each—greater magic fang, greater magic weapon, magic vestment. A sharklops smith is a CR 11 creature.

Sharklops            CR 10 XP 9,600 CN Huge aberration (aquatic) Init +4; Senses blindsense 30 ft., darkvision 60 ft., keen scent, low-light vision, Perception +19Defense AC 24, touch 8, flat-footed 24 (-2 size, +2 armor, +14 natural) hp 126 (12d8+72) Fort +12, Ref +4, Will +10 Defensive Abilities all-around vision, ferocity; Weakness giant blood Offense Speed 30 ft., swim 80 ft. Melee 3 bites +16 (3d6+9/19-20 plus bleed) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks bleed (1d6) Statistics Str 28, Dex 11, Con 23, Int 9, Wis 14, Cha 10 Base Atk +9; CMB +20 (+22 bull rush); CMD 30 (32 vs. bull rush) Feats Great Fortitude, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Critical (bite), Improved Initiative, Intimidating Prowess, Power Attack Skills Craft (armorsmithing) +10, Handle Animal +12, Intimidate +18, Perception +19, Swim +21; Racial Modifiers +8 Perception Languages Aquan, Cyclops SQ flash of insight, shark empathy (+12), water dependency Ecology Environment warm and temperate aquatic Organization solitary, pair, clan (3-8) or hunting party (1-6 plus 2-20 sharks) Treasure standard (bone studded leather armor, other treasure) Special Abilities Flash of Insight (Su) Three times per day as an immediate action, a sharklops can peer into an occluded visual spectrum of possible futures, gaining insight that allows it to select the exact result of one die roll before the roll is made. This effect can alter an action taken by the sharklops only, and cannot be applied to the rolls of others. Giant Blood (Ex) Although it is an aberration, a sharklops is also treated as a humanoid with the giant subtype for the purposes of spells and abilities based on creature type. Keen Scent (Ex) A sharklops can notice creatures by scent in a 180 foot radius underwater, and can smell blood in the water at a range of 1 mile. Shark Empathy (Ex) This ability functions as a druid’s wild empathy, except that the sharklops can only use this ability on sharks.

[shortestbread-blog]

BNHA Boys Falling For You Headcanons

Some simple headcanons about how Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki fall for their S/O in 1-A

Midoriya Izuku

Falls for you gradually overtime as he observed and got to know you.

He was originally interested in learning about and documenting your quirk and fighting style in his reference book, like he did for pretty much every hero and hero-to-be.

He admired your physical capabilities, but as he observed you more both in and out of combat, he quickly became aware of your mental strength and determination.

Slowly gets to know you through mutual friends, but he’s super awkward around you and he doesn’t know why.

He chalks it up to the respect he’s developed for you during his observances.

Green bean admires you so much

Basically your personal fanboy

But then you guys are paired together for combat training one day.

He’s excited to have the opportunity to see your technique up close, and boy does he see it.

You deliver such an impressive kick to his face that it’s practically ingrained itself in his visual memory (and his face, poor boy).

As he’s knocked back from the blow, it’s not the impressive technique or the powerful shock that follows that he remembers clearly.

It’s how crazy beautiful you looked the moment after, when you help him up off the mat.

Was he seeing stars or did you always sparkle like that??

He became super aware of his crush on you after that.

Even more awkward boy appears.

Stutters constantly, but you find it endearing. 

He goes from admiring your combative prowess to just admiring you, constantly.

He basically lives for catching and learning all your little mannerisms, from the expression you make just before you’re about to laugh, to how you chew on your bottom lip when you’re anxious.

Realizes that he’s fully in love with you when you both practically bump heads trying to help a person who’s falling.

You both catch them, don’t worry.

It’s like a moment of clarity for our little green bean, just witnessing how instinctual it is for you to help people.

He really resonates with that innate helpfulness.

Poor boy honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself, he just knows that he’s a goner.

Bakugo Katsuki

Originally, the only thought he ever lent to you was when he was thinking of how to deal with you and your quirk during combat simulations and such.

Didn’t bother to remember your name for the first month of school until you best him during a simulation.

He was livid.

Absolutely and positively pissed.

You graduated from “extra” to “rival” in his mind soon after.

He became increasingly aware of your capabilities and pretty soon you would become one of his go-tos for testing out his own capabilities.

Genuinely respects you, but like hell he’d let you know that!

Actually enjoys the dynamic you have together inside and outside of combat.

Gradually gets into the habit of spending time with you, even when it doesn’t involve punching and explosions.

He notices how much lighter he feels around you, and how comfortable he is.

He’s even calmer around you and a lot less irritable (and everyone is thankful for it). 

He doesn’t think much of this peculiarity until he notices you getting closer to other classmates and spending less time with him.

Queue jealous and oblivious Bakugo.

While he normally has no qualms with voicing his frustrations--loudly--he for some reason can’t bring himself to do it in this situation??

Thinks hard about it and his relationship with you, but the boy really is clueless.

The gears start turning when the class starts talking about crushes and potential relationships within 1-A.

Boom-boom boy seriously didn’t even consider romance in the equation with you.

Like he genuinely forgot the concept existed, but now that it’s in his head, it all just clicks.

He likes you, he really likes you.

Realizes that he really loves you after being seriously overcome with pride for one of your successes, not his own.

Knows at this point that you’ve surpassed being a rival, friend, or crush; you’re basically a part of his whole now in his mind.

Doesn’t know exactly how to process or deal with it, and certainly doesn’t know how to show it, but it gets across between all the yelling and screaming... eventually.

Todoroki Shouto

Honestly didn’t consider you much at all at the beginning of his 1-A career.

Was too busy thinking about his father, his quirk, his tragic backstory, the works...

But after he begun opening up following the events of the sports festival, he began to really recognize and appreciate your presence.

Realized how patient and accepting you were of him, despite how aloof he was with you (and everyone, for that matter).

Begins spending more time with you.

You guys often catch each other when you’re alone so you’re able to talk one-on-one a lot, which he feels most comfortable with while he socially adjusts.

He thinks your hero-related abilities are great and he respects you, sure, but that fact that he feels so damn safe around you? That’s golden to him.

Literally never felt that with anyone before.

It’s just so refreshing how no-pressure your relationship is with him; like he’s not expected to do or be anything or anyone but himself.

Doesn’t quite get to that point with anyone else in 1-A but you.

Is okay showing vulnerability to you, but he still tries to hold himself back because he doesn’t want to pin his burdens on you.

Gets over this pretty quick as your relationship deepens and you two mutually support each other.

Honestly, Todoroki has always been curious about love.

It was a sort of surreal concept to him, especially given the environment he grew up in.

Has yearned for it for a long time but honestly grew to feel that it may not even exist.

As he became closer with others, especially the other 1-A boys, he eventually got thrown into conversations about romantic love and crushes, so he got the hang of the whole concept of love (in its romantic form, at least).

With this new-found knowledge mulling around in his mind, his interactions and feelings when he was with you suddenly took on a new light.

He became evermore aware of how invested he was in your happiness, and how connected he was with everything you experienced and felt.

He knew then that if what he felt for you wasn’t love, then love truly didn’t exist.

[goldbricker-ramsey]

((Fun tidbits of info on Ramsey’s new scaly body! Not sure if it’ll all be useful before the M!A is over, but here you go. Useless trivia time!

Based on the dimensions of a grown Guardian dragon in Flight Rising, Ramsey is currently:

43 feet long (13.14m)

15 feet tall at the shoulder (4.572m)

Has a wingspan of ~42 feet (13.04m)

And now weighs in at a whopping 26,336 lbs. (11945.74kg)!

Guardian dragons are very well-armored, making physical combat a breeze. Even their fins are hard to damage! They’re also very good swimmers, since they originate from the Fishspine Reef.

Ramsey is a Light-element Guardian, which means that he has the ability to shoot blinding light at an opponent instead of having fire as a breath weapon! Unfortunately for him, Guardians have shit magical prowess and he doesn’t have over a hundred years of experience using his element like some of the Guardians in FR. He can probably only use the blinding light thing a couple of times before it’s completely exhausted from his arsenal. His epithet also still works! ...Buuuuut his stamina is still preeeeetty shit. Being a dragon only does so much to increase your two (2) stars of stamina.

Also, funnily enough, Ramsey now likely has a weirdly strong instinct to find a special something— or someone— and protect them to his dying breath. This almost definitely won’t come up before the M!A ends, but what Ramsey’s feeling instinctually is the need for The Search— a long and intense hunt for a Charge to protect for the rest of his lifespan! All Guardian dragons share this instinct and usually end up wandering the world, restless until they find their Charge, whether it be a place, another living being, or an object.

~Useless trivia time is over!~))

[newgrean]

CIA 2.1 - Small Talk

Here’s another addition to CIA in written form! Please enjoy CIA 2.1!

To read the story on Archive of Our Own, click here! To read it on Fanfiction.net, click here!

Masterlist | 2.1

Pyrite looked up towards the Earth’s blazing star shielding her eyes with one hand and lifting a long antennae with the other. The antennae was built from scavenged parts she and Dravite had found in the wreckage of a downed Homeworld dropship about a sixth of a revolution ago. The two gems had come across the pieces of a couple wailing stones in one of the ship’s hallways. They had been able to attach the receiving ring of each stone to a metal pole and connected a speaker disc at the bottom with a wire. That was what Pyrite now held in her hand, waving it overhead as she searched for a signal.

She and Blue were trekking across an island far from their home base. Turquoise had called the gems together right after Pyrite and Dravite had finished showing Opal and Blue around their rooms. She had explained that she would be sending the four gems out to an archipelago in groups of two in order to intercept a signal she believed would be transmitting through the area. She hadn’t given the gems any more information before sending them off to their assignments.

Pyrite enjoyed these missions, though she had to admit they were rather boring compared to some of the combat she had engaged in in other missions. It was a good mission to start Blue and Opal out on, though. She turned to face her teammate. “How are you doing, Blue?”

“Uh… Good, yeah, I’m fine,” Blue replied, pushing a branch out of her path.

“Excellent!” Pyrite replied, grinning. She looked ahead at a steep hill which rose through a cleft in the leafy canopy above. “I believe we have almost arrived at the coordinates Turquoise designated for us. Follow me!” With that, Pyrite leapt into the air through the opening in the trees, brandishing the antennae like a sword before her. Blue followed, stumbling a little as she took off from the ground.

The two gems arrived at the top of the shaded hill where Pyrite wedged the antennae into the crook of a tree branch. She took a seat at the base of the tree and patted the soil beside her, indicating that Blue could sit beside her.

“Now we simply await the arrival of a signal,” Pyrite explained, crossing her legs.

“Sounds great,” Blue replied absently, her brow slightly furrowed.

Pyrite tilted her head. Something important seemed to be occupying Blue’s mind. Pyrite had never thought herself especially adept at engaging in discussions regarding emotions, though. Perhaps she would leave the subject alone.

“So… Quite a beautiful day, would you agree?” she offered, looking up at the clear sky.

Blue glanced up. “Oh, yeah!” She offered a smile. “It’s- Earth is such a beautiful planet.”

“Indeed it is! It has such a stunning variety of life!” Pyrite replied.

“Yeah,” Blue said. Her smile soon faded, though, and Pyrite was at a loss. Several moments passed, quiet except for the melodies of the birds all around. Clouds slid slowly through the sky, and the quiet breeze rustled in the boughs of the trees. Blue still did not speak, though, and if Pyrite was correct, she seemed to be growing only more befuddled by whatever was plaguing her mind. It was not her strong suit, but perhaps Pyrite should try to unearth the problem buried in Blue’s uncertain gaze. She leaned forward tentatively.

“Blue.” The gem looked up. “Something seems to be the matter. What is bothering you?” Hopefully that had not been too up front.

But to her relief, Blue replied right away, “Uh, yeah, you’re right, something is bothering me. I was thinking back to the cubbies you showed us at the base, and I’m just really confused about them.”

“The cubbies? Oh! Of course, your rooms. Yes, what is the problem?” Pyrite replied, glad Blue had opened up a little to her. And glad to hear the problem was not so serious as she had feared.

“Well I’m just unsure of what the room is supposed to be used for. When am I supposed to go in there? Is it for storage? Is there a function I’m supposed to perform in it? I just- I want to make sure I use it the right way, but I’m not sure what that way is, you know?”

“Aha,” Pyrite leaned back. The issue seemed fairly simple indeed, “Your room-”

“Pyrite, Blue, quiet down!” a voice crackled loudly over the communicators in their ears, “Do I need to remind you that you are in enemy territory right now? You are only to speak if what you have to say is crucial to the mission.” It was Turquoise’s voice transmitting from the base, where she was monitoring mission remotely.

“Oh, right, I apologize, Turquoise. We will quiet down.” Pyrite’s finger went instinctually up to her ear at the sudden reprimand. This had not been the first time she had had to be reminded to lower her volume in the field. She was a member of the CIA, but perhaps her covert skills still needed work. Pyrite gave Blue an apologetic look.

---

Huh, I wonder what that was about? thought Dravite as she settled into the crook of a tree limb. She had only been half listening to Pyrite and Blue’s conversation while she’d been calibrating her own antenna on an island a few miles away from her teammates.

Opal sat a few branches away from Dravite. She had seemed interested and willing to learn about the ramshackle wailing stone setup they had to work with. Dravite wished she could take credit for the contraption, but that had been Turquoise’s handiwork; the green gem was behind most of Facet 3’s technological tools. Dravite wasn’t sure where she got her technological prowess from. Maybe if the gem would talk about something other than the next big mission for once…

“...A forge? No...a…a workshop?” Opal’s muttering pulled Dravite back to the present. Opal seemed to be deep in thought, her unfocused gaze flitting around the leafy canopy above her and her finger trailing through the air as if she were writing.

“Opal?” Dravite said, wincing as she remembered Turquoise’s warning about off-mission chatter. She whispered, “Opal?”

It was Opal’s turn to be pulled to the present, “Yeah?” Her finger hovered in midair.

“Who are you talking to?” Dravite grinned.

“Oh, just, I was just thinking, sorry,” Opal answered, turning her gaze back to the softly stirring leaves above.

“Oh, no worries,” Dravite replied, leaning back against the trunk of the tree, “What were you thinking about?”

Opal pushed her hair behind one ear. “Sorry, I should have been thinking about the mission, I’ll focus.” She didn’t meet Dravite’s eyes.

“No, hey, that’s not what I meant. You don’t always have to have your mind on the mission. I always let my mind wander, especially when we’re just waiting around like this,” Dravite leaned forward. “So… What were you thinking about?”

“Well…” Opal started, a little hesitant, “I was trying to figure out the best thing to do with that room you showed us back at the base.”

“Oh, gotcha,” Dravite replied. It made sense, they had been interrupted by Turquoise’s briefing right in the middle of their room tour. She leaned back into the crook of the branches, “What do you think you’ll put in there?”

“That’s the problem. I’m confused about what it’s supposed to be used for,” Opal replied.

“Well, it’s supposed to be used for you to, just sort of, spend time in,” Dravite explained.

“...Doing what?” Opal asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Your thing,” Dravite grinned.

Opal’s frustration and her eyebrow rose.

Dravite’s smile grew. She remembered when she first joined the Crystal Gems and got her room. It had been a little confusing then, too.  She spoke, “Okay, I’m sorry. So your room is supposed to be a place where-” A familiar crackled filled Dravite’s ear, cutting her off.

“Dravite, Opal, please respect what we’re doing here and quiet down,” Turquoise’s voice snapped from the gems’ communicators. The brown gem pursed her lips.

“Sorry Turquoise,” she sat back, grimacing at Opal, who returned her gaze back to the treetops. This conversation would have to continue later.

---

As Pyrite listened to Turquoise and Dravite over the earpiece, she could picture Dravite’s frustrated expression at being reprimanded by their commander. The two gems often butted heads. Maybe having Opal and Blue on the team would assuage the tension.

At the thought of the new recruits, Pyrite glanced back at her blue-green teammate. Blue still looked very concerned. That was curious. Her simple question required a simple answer. Perhaps something else was the matter?

I just- I want to make sure I use it the right way, but I’m not sure what that way is, you know? Blue’s words echoed in Pyrite’s mind.

Perhaps this question goes deeper than a simple concern of functionality, Pyrite thought. Of course! The realization struck Pyrite. This must be the first time she has had a space all to herself before. She does not understand what it is for, and so she is… afraid.

Pyrite had felt that fear before. Every gem had, the fear of slipping up and facing the punishment of your superiors. It had been a long while since Pyrite had been around brand new recruits like Blue. She had forgotten how new and terrifying life was for them. Striking back against your overlords, joining the Crystal Gems, those were actions punishable by imprisonment at best and at worst… Pyrite felt an ache as she thought back to some of her friends who had met that worse fate at the merciless hands of Homeworld.

She looked back to Blue, hunched over on the ground, staring down at her hands, and a familiar feeling slowly began to bristle in her. How long had Blue been afraid like this? How painful must it have been for her to fight back against Homeworld. How dare they make her feel this way?

How could she have forgotten what it was like to experience those fears herself?

“I’m sorry,” Pyrite whispered, leaning over to Blue.

“What?” Blue whispered back, surprised.

“I’m sorry. I failed to explain the purpose of your room earlier.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine.”

“No,” Pyrite leaned closer, “No, I should have remembered- I should have known how new all of this is to you.” Pyrite looked into Blue’s eyes, “The room we have given to you is for you to do whatever you wish with. It does not need to serve a certain function, and you do not have to leave it unless we need you for a mission. That space is for you to rest in and make your own. It is simply a gift.”

Blue was silent for a moment.

“Thank you, Pyrite,” she whispered.

“Absolutely.” Pyrite smiled, leaning back against the thick bark of the tree.

---

Come on Turquoise, were you even listening? thought Dravite as she stared at the antennae in her hand. Turquoise had heard enough of their talking to have picked up on what Opal was asking about, and it wasn’t exactly like this remote island was filled to the brim with Quartz soldiers. As far as Dravite could see, she and Opal were the only two gems on the island. Why couldn’t she have let them finish their conversation?

Opal needs this, she thought, This might be the first time she’s been given a gift like this, or maybe a gift at all. It’ll take literally a minute to explain this. Here, just-

Dravite reached up to her ear and deftly removed her communicator. She tapped Opal on the shoulder and held up her liberated earpiece to show it to the violet gem. Opal furrowed her brow in confusion at the sight of the communicator. Dravite pointed to Opal’s ear, hoping she’d get the hint to take it out. Slowly, still confused, Opal removed her communicator and put it in Dravite’s outstretched palm. Dravite took the two earpieces and placed them under a pile of leaves and brush.

“Okay,” she whispered, “Sorry, I just didn’t want Turquoise to interrupt us again.”

“But shouldn’t we be listening to her in case a signal comes through?” Opal asked.

“We will, I just wanted to answer your question.”

“Oh, it’s not that important, we can-” Opal started to reach for the communicators, but Dravite stopped her.

“No, it is important. You’re new to this, and so I get where you’re coming from about what your room is supposed to be used for. But the thing that I really need you to know is that that space is just for you to just... be in.”

Opal seemed more confused than before.

Dravite tried again, “What I mean is, you get to use that room for whatever you want. If you use it to relax, that’s great. If you want it to be a workshop, that’s fine. It’s a gift. It’s your choice.”

Opal was silent for a moment. Wind rustled through the grass at her feet. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, really,” Dravite replied.

“Huh,” Opal leaned back against the trunk of the tree. “Maybe I could… What was that?” She tilted her head.

“What- What was what?” Dravite’s eyes darted around the trees.

“That sound,” Opal cupped a hand to her ear.

An intermittent buzzing slowly filled the air. Dravite kept scanning the area, but saw only trees. Then she remembered.

“Dravite! Dravite come in! Do you read me?” Turquoise’s voice rang from the communicator as she snatched it up and jammed it back in her ear.

“Yes! Yeah, sorry! I read you! What’s up?”

“We’ve got it,” Turquoise said. “We’ve got a signal.”

[helpmeholdontoyntcd]

I think there are three highlights of @taylorswift ’s songwriting prowess:

1. Her unparalleled usage of symbolism and metaphor.

2. Her instinctual understanding of theme to make a cohesive story.

3. Her iconic ability to accomplish 1 and 2 simultaneously.

In ‘The Archer’ Taylor tells us her theme “in the movies” and throughout the song her lyrics stay in this theme of movies and cinema.

War/Action Films: “Combat, I’m ready for combat” - learning to trust in love again, and in yourself, is a battle / you’ve worn your armor for so long being prepared for war thinking that’s all love is.

Western/Heist Films: “I jump from the train, I ride off alone” - leaving before getting left is the only thing you’ve ever known / the relationship can be a fast moving train and instead of staying on and seeing where it takes you, you run away afraid of being hurt again / you’d rather be the thief than be robbed.

Villian/Failed Hero/Star Wars Films: “Dark side, I search for your dark side” - trust is an impossible thing and you always search for the bad in people because you’re too afraid of something being too good to be true, the way you’ve been fooled in your past / some good guys on the outside turn out to be the bad guy.

Horror/Suspense/Terror Films: “I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The room is on fire, invisible smoke”- in the middle of the night walking around feeling haunted and scared with your unsettling thoughts and anxiety which is “invisible” to others and those fires are all in your head/ to never feel safe in your own overthinking and being terrified about not knowing what is coming next.

Hero/Heroic Adventure Films: “And all of my heroes die all alone”- good guys always finish last / that everyone you look up to who is overly kind and compassionate only ever gives their all to others and never receives anything in return leaving them alone or feeing alone / Or all the examples of love around you have always come to an end establishing a new mindset that true love does not exist compared to your once imagined fairytale world.

Medieval/Damsel in Distress Films: “all the king’s horses, all the king’s men couldn’t put me together again” - no number of people can repair your scares and past pain / the fairytale of a king or a prince or men in general saving you and healing your pain making you feel brand new and saved is make believe and does not exist so easily in the real world / quantity does not show effort, quality does.

In this song of vulnerability Taylor is referencing all styles and generes of movies to best explain she feels like she’s been only living, loving and seeing her life through movies she remembers as a kid and not reality. She wants to grow up and see the world and herself through a real, non cinematic lense and trust that a love like this can be real and that he could stay. “I never grew up, it’s getting so old. Help me hold onto you.”