#crown steeple

[poligraf]

Wikipedia :

· Charles Altamont Doyle

· St Giles' Cathedral

Saint Giles bells - Charles Altamont Doyle

[glow-worms-are-believers]

A Princess’ Crown Jules

“…and that’s how I got my powers from Lazarus rain,” says Circuit Breaker as they are both winding down after a sparring session. 

It was a semi-regular thing since Dani first visited Nevada, and met the hero when she helped in taking down one of Circuit’s rogues. And ever since she’s been visiting when she’s in the area. Today they finished the spar a bit earlier than usual and they ended up sharing backstories back and forth all casual-like. Which is why this last tidbit rams into her like a goddamned sledgehammer. 

Lazarus rain.

Dani may be young but she’s seen lots of things on her travels, and with Lazarus water no longer being an unfamiliar term, Lazarus rain is no big stretch to make out. She still gives herself a bit of time to absorb it.

“Your power over the Still Force,” Dani confirms. “The power over all things inertia and entropy?”

“Yeah,” Circuit Breaker says raising his head a bit from the ground to look at her curiously.

Dani inhales and steeples her fingers “There’s good news and bad news,” she starts. And then, she brings her hand to her mouth and looks into the distance, searching for a way to say this.

“Bad news: you’re at least a little bit dead.”

Circuit Breaker sits up and stares. “What?”

Dani tries for a smile. “Good news: you’re also a good bit alive too!”

[laurasimonsdaughter]

A fairy's true name

Earlier I wrote about how much trouble I had finding even one example of a fairy trying to learn a human’s name to use it against them, but folktales where it is the other way round do exist!

Until recently the best example I had for this “use a fairy’s true name against them” plot, was Rumpelstiltskin (and all its variants, for there are many). But technically the Rumpelstiltskin plot itself is not enough to claim that knowing a fairy’s true name gives you power over them. After all, a specific deal was struck between the fairy (or dwarf, or imp, etc.) and the human, with the finding out of the name releasing the human from their debt to the fairy. (Best examples including a fairy: Peerie Fool, Tríopla Trúpla, Titty Tod).

But it turns out that the tale type “The name of the helper ATU 500” contains stories in which I would argue it is made clear that knowing a fairy’s name holds power:

In these stories a the supernatural creature in question is a helpful house spirit or neighbour to the human, but immediately leave them forever as soon as they (sometimes through trickery) find out their name, after they refused to tell them:

Hoppetînken, a mountain dwarf (German, Kuhn, 1859)

Gwarwyn-a-throt, a spirit/elf/bogie (Welsh, Rhys, 1901)

Silly go Dwt, a fairy (Welsh, Rhys, 1901)

And these stories contain what I would call “strong circumstantial evidence”:

In Winterkölbl (German Hungarian, Vernaleken, 1896) a grey dwarf who lives in a tree makes a young king guess his name before he will (somewhat reluctantly) consent to let him marry his human foster daughter (she was abandoned, he did not steal her!).

In The Rival Kempers (Irish, Yeats, 1892) an old fairy woman sets a young woman the task of guessing her name, but then gives it to her freely (with some extra help to win her good fortune), because she was polite and generous to her.

Conversely, in The Lazy Beauty and her Aunts (Irish, Kennedy, 1870) the three fairy women who help the protagonist with her spinning, weaving and sewing, actually introduce themselves by name, but they are clearly nicknames: Colliagh Cushmōr (Old Woman Big Foot), Colliach Cromanmōr (Old Woman Big Hips), Colliach Shron Mor Rua (Old Woman Big Red Nose).

But my two favourite examples are Whuppity Stoorie (Scottish, Chambers, 1858; reprinted by Rhys, 1901) and The heir of Ystrad (Welsh, Rhys, 1888, reprinted in 1901). I'll summarise them below the cut:

Whuppity Stoorie (Scottish, Chambers, 1858; quotes from Rhys, 1901)

A woman is left by her husband. She has a baby boy to feed and her only hope is that her sow will have a big litter of piglets. However the sow gets ill and as the woman weeps with the fear that the pig will die, she sees an old woman coming up the road. “She was dressed in green, all but a short white apron and a black velvet hood, and a steeple-crowned beaver hat on her head. She had a long walking staff, as long as herself, in her hand --” This “green gentlewoman” tells her that she knows the woman’s husband is gone and that the sow is sick and asks what she’ll give her if she cures the pig. The woman heedlessly promises her anything she likes. So the green woman cures the pig with a spell and some oil and then reveals that she wants to have the woman’s baby in return, thereby revealing to the poor woman that she is a fairy. The fairy is unmoved by the woman’s sorrow, but does reveal that: “I cannot, by the law we live under, take your bairn till the third day; and not then, if you can tell me my right name.” Luckily the woman overhears the fairy woman singing her own name and gets to keep her child by addressing her as such, after which: “If a flash of gunpowder had come out of the ground it couldn't have made the fairy leap higher than she did. Then down she came again plump on her shoe-heels; and whirling round, she ran down the brae, screeching for rage, like an owl chased by the witches.”

The heir of Ystrad

A young gentleman hides in the bushes to see “the fair family” dance on the river bank. There he sees the most beautiful girl he has ever seen and wants more than anything to win her for his own. He jumps in the middle of the circle of fairies and grabs her by force, while all the others flee. He is kind to her, but keeps her captive, and eventually she agrees to become his servant. She steadfastly refuses to tell him her name though, no matter how often he asks. One night he once again hides near where the fairies play and he hears one fairy lament to another that last time they were there, their sister Penelope (Pénĕlôp) was stolen by a man. He returns home joyfully, calling is favourite maid by her name, which greatly astonishes her. The young man finds her so beautiful, industrious, skilled and fortunate, that he wishes to marry her. “At first she would in no wise consent, but she rather gave way to grief at his having found her name out. However, his importunity at length brought her to consent, but on the condition that he should not strike her with iron; if that should happen, she would quit him never to return.” They marry and they lived “in happiness and comfort”. She bears him a beautiful son and a daughter and through her skill and fairy fortune they grow richer and richer. But one day while trying to bridle an unruly horse the husband accidentally hits his wife with the iron bridle. As soon as the iron touches her, she vanishes. But one cold night she comes to his bedroom window one more time, telling him that if ever her son should be cold, he should be placed on his father’s coat, and that if her daughter should be cold, she should be placed on her petticoat. Then she disappears forever.

I adore both of these stories. Whuppity Stoorie is probably the clearest example of the power of a fairy's name. But The heir of Ystrad is as good a fairy bride story as The Shepherd of Myddvai and that has been a beloved favourite of mine for as long as I can remember. Either way they're both wonderful takes on the power it grants to know a fairy's name.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Hunter's Prayer

A Vamp!Rhys x Vampire Hunter!Reader AU

(This is a separate universe from my Dancing with the Devil Vamp!Rhys and just a little blurb I made for my Spooky Season AU list)

------------------------

“Nece ne neceris”

The words are carved above the altar, painted in glittering gold. The congregation repeats them in a drowning, lifeless chant that echoes off the church’s ancient walls. 

“Kill lest you be killed.”

Death is your family’s sacrement. Blood their offering. The wooden stake pressed into your shaking hands the tools for Holy Judgement this side of Eternity. They’ve inked the words into your flesh, hammered them into your soul. This is your purpose; this is your Divine Right.

“Nece ne neceris,” you repeat, loud enough to be heard over the chanting. For milenia the night has belonged to the Dead, to the damned and the wicked alike, but tonight, tonight it belongs to you. Your footsteps echo against the church’s worn floors, the doors creak open in a ghostly howl as you step out into the moonlight. 

You are not prey. 

You are not afraid.

The night belongs to the hunters. And you will be the best of them.

The congregation follows you only to the doorway, their sacred cowls obscuring their faces, though you feel their eyes all the same as you step out into the gravel walkway that leads to your crumbling parish. The empire of hunters died a long time ago. Time can only hold onto the mortal for a heartbeat before it loses its grip. Hunters are a dying breed, to be crowned one is to meet Death with open arms. Death who took your father, your brothers; Death who claimed your city and your home. This little steeple and the stake in your hands is all you have left. You’ll be damned if you don’t fight to keep it. 

“Nece ne neceris,” you chant as their voices grow dim. “I will not die today.”

The path from the church leads into the woods, the dense, overgrown trees soon shrouding out the moonlight. From far off the hooting of an owl tells you that nothing hunts to the north. Your prey is downwind tonight, which means they already have your scent. The church often claimed hunters smelled different than normal humans, though you had never decided if you believed it. Although, you suppose, there is only one way to find out…

You walk deeper, until all light disappears within the forest canopy overhead. Then you take the sharpened tip of the stake and slide it across your palm. Crimson blooms from the shallow wound, pebbling off your skin into the rocky earth beneath you. You close your fist and squeeze, wincing slightly against the burn, as you draw more out. 

“Come on out,” you whisper to the darkness. 

It starts as a gust of wind, a rustling of leaves on branches, though there is no howl of the wind. The hair on the back of your neck rises as you spin to face it, stake raised and ready.

“Nece ne neceris,” you remind yourself as you crouch, ready to fight. There is nothing for you to see in the darkness, but you know that it is there. Eyes watch your every breath with the stillness of a lion tracking a wounded deer. 

“What a brave little hunter,” a voice purrs in your head, the sound decidedly male. 

The stake slips from shaking hands, clattering into the blood you’re still dripping into the earth. “What are you?”

“They didn’t warn you?” The voice purrs and there’s another gust of wind at your back, making you spin to face it, ready to meet the gaping maw of your enemy, but there is nothing there.

“I can do many things,” It says with a voice made for the gentle darkness of a bedroom. You can practically feel its hot breath on your neck. “I can be your greatest desire, your sweetest sin.”

To pick up your weapon, you have to bend down, take your eyes off the trees and pray you’re fast enough to grasp it before the thing lunges for your throat. Your training has been extensive, but you are no match for something of this speed, it’ll have your heart in its hands before you can blink.

“Or I can be your worst nightmare. What will it be, little hunter?”

Your heart hammers like the church bells in your ears. “Come here and find out!”

There’s not even time to blink, time to scream before an icy hand grabs you by the throat and slams you into the nearest tree. You reach out to claw at it, but your nails break against skin that might as well be solid adamant. Your lungs ache, constricting so tight dark spots start to swirl across your vision.

“Disappointing,” it purrs at you. Vampire eyes are supposed to be yellow. The church’s paintings depict them with dark veins twining around their gleaming eyes like streaks of lightning. Those marks are there, but these eyes are so blue they’re nearly violet. 

You lash out with a booted foot, trying desperately to free yourself from the crushing grip on your windpipe, but even though the blow makes contact, the creature doesn’t flinch. He grins in fact, elongated canines gleaming past his full lips. 

“I was hoping to have some fun,” he pouts.

The spots swirling across your vision grow bigger with each passing second his vice-like grip remains clamped down around your throat. No amount of kicking or punching will free you from your suffering.

“Your little parish sent you to die, you know that, don’t you?” He says.

You can only gasp for air, choking out every fleeing breath. 

“Oh, right,” he releases you as quickly as he’d grabbed you and your body slides limply into the earth, air rushing into your lungs as you cough and sputter. “I forget how fragile you humans are.”

“Fuck you!” You snarl at him in between breaths.

He chuckles at your disdain. “You have spirit at least.”

Your stake is too far away, lying there in the mud, taunting you with your failure. “Just kill me and get it over with!” 

He crouches, eyes gleaming in his tan face. For an Undead monster, he’s ridiculously handsome, the sharp angles of him clean enough to have been sculpted from marble. Dark hair falls in soft ways across his temples. He looks nothing like the horrific monsters you’ve been told about. 

“Oh I don’t want to kill you, Little Hunter,” he purrs. “I have plans for you.”

Time slows as you watch him rip his fangs through his own palm, and then speeds up all too quickly as he leans forward and presses his hand against your lips. His other hand cradles the back of your head, holding you in place as he forces the copper tinted liquid down your throat. His strength is unparalleled, there was no way you were ever beating him with that pathetic little stake. 

Only when he’s satisfied that you’ve taken enough down does he remove his hand. You spit it back out at him as best you can, but there is no denying that there was some that made it down the back of your throat. He only chuckles his amusement as his hands move to grip your head, and then twist, and the world goes black in an instant.

It might be hours later. Days. You awaken to find yourself lying on your back, nothing but glittering starlight above you. Your whole body aches, bones feeling like they’re trying to stretch right out of your skin. The slight flutter of the breeze against you feels like a thousand nails scratching across your skin. And your throat! It’s never been so dry!

You sit up slowly, groaning. Your neck hurts the worst, then your jaw, as if your teeth are suddenly too large in your mouth. When you raise a finger to poke at your tender gums, the sharp tips of your canines break open your skin.

“Finally! I was starting to think you were actually dead.”

You’re on your feet in an instant, hands twitching at your sides. That thing leans against a tree, arms crossed over his broad chest, violet eyes watching you intently. “What the fuck did you do to me?!”

He smirks as he pushes off the tree and stalks over to you, every move languid and powerful, like a large cat. “I saved you.” He purrs.

“You…” you run your hand over your teeth again, once again tearing skin over the two sets of fangs sitting in your mouth. This cannot be happening to you! “You ruined me! You made me like you!”

He shakes his head as he crowds into your space, face inches from yours. “Nece ne neceris.”

You are dead, there is no blood in your body to run cold, yet your limbs stiffen anyway. 

“I was you, Little One,” he says, his voice a husky whisper. “They sent me out to die, just as they have you.”

“No!” You snarl, body moving with inhumane speed to swing at his head.

He catches you by the wrist and twists so that you're pinned with your back to his chest. He runs his lips over the shell over your ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you what you need to do to make them pay.”

-----

Tag List:

@barb00235

[red-dead-sakharine]

Baldur's Gate 3 masterlist

◀️ Back to the Master-masterlist

▶️ Varvain Masterlist

- Raphael -

▶️ Fanfiction- & imagine masterlist ▶️ Screenshot & lore masterlist ▶️ Reblog- & discussions masterlist ▶️ Patch 5 stuff masterlist

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🔊 Sound bite: Good night, little mouse 🔊 Sound bite: Raphael inviting you to dinner 🔊 Sound bite: Andrew about Raphael checking Tav out 📽️ A. Wincott Interview by Bflattned 📽️ Karlach-exclusive Raphael dialogue 1 📽️ Learning magic from the devil

Poll: Preferred "Raphael x ?" pairing

🔽 gif sets 🔽 Haarlep 🔽 other bg3 stuff (below the divider)

gif sets

I cannot die. Not here! For those who have walked through the fires of hell Out for vengeance Raphael, broken and bloodied Unhinged Durge Raphael (patch 5 epilogue) Death stares Raphael, after you gave him a peck on the cheek Raphael in bed, after you signed his contract Something wicket this way comes Raphael x Haarlep sfw gifs Beaten Raphael needs your help Nom nom nom Bring your devil to the circus Devil smoochies (Raphael x Haarlep) Sell your soul for a song (Raphael/Alfira) Raphael when presented with the crown Hubris: The Fallen Prince The evil steeple Touch the devil Raphael's hair blowing in the wind Raphael, thinking about you Cambion hugs (feat. @/mslanna) Raphael hugs (human Raphael) Hand gestures Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Little mouse (/w voice clip) Pain Bard Raphael composing a ballad (w/ Gortash) Smiling devil Taking a bath Raphael's ascension Underdog Raphael peeking A toast to the future archdevil supreme! Cuddles with the devil Slaughter the mouse Tie up the devil Sunrise Throat grab kiss Claim the devil The lick Moon remind me of your grace (Raphael/Alfira) Dance with the devil - Part 1 Dance with the devil - Part 2 Dance with the devil - Part 3 (The Kiss) Dance rolls (with poll) Bail out the devil He likes the sound of his own voice Trust me more Bridging the Styx Patch 6 Devil smoochies - Part 1 Patch 6 Devil smoochies - Part 2 Come, cheers (or turnip) I need to dance! Little mouse

Positive affirmations

@/cherriesandsulfur gif highlight

- Haarlep -

Haarlep 00 (infernal harness translation) Haarlep 01 (patch 4 tail animations!) Haarlep 02 (Lounging - the head mod is here!) Haarlep 03 (Haarlep in the sun...) Haarlep 04 (Looking at you seductively) Haarlep 05 (Looking at you seductively, animated!) Haarlep 06 (The Haarlep-slide) Haarlep 07 (The Haarlep-turn) Haarlep 08 (The Haarlep lick)

- Various other bg3 posts -

Marcus' wings Tav: Zachariah

Art highlight

Varvain & Raphael semi-sfw commission by @/bonesartblog Varvain & Raphael writing a song commission by @/bonesartblog He only sleeps with himself by @/bonesartblog Raphael portrait by @/morkorney Raphael's deal by @/calqmity Tickles cover by @/octarinecat

A list of Raphael bloggers of all kinds

Asks

Lazy search link "Your DD2 pawn looks like Raphael"

New avatar poll (closed. Results: Varvain)

[asa-do-your-thing]

The Maelström

HOTD Big Bang Teaser

Less dark than last year, but just as good ;)

Teaser:

Lowering his voice like a man sharing a secret Cregan continued, "There is another matter that you should be aware of before our dinner." He paused to gauge Alyrie's reaction. Her face remained calm, yet her eyes held a certain curiosity that prompted him to continue. "You are not the only guest in Winterfell at present." Alyrie frowned slightly, her attention finally drawn away from the room’s décor. “Haven’t seen anyone important enough to mention,” she answered simply, playing with the end of her braid. Cregan smiled wryly at her response, steepling his fingers in front of him. “It seems that way indeed,” he admitted reluctantly. “Yet there is someone among us who prefers solitude these days…someone of high rank.” Alyrie crossed her arms, and for a moment Cregan could see a hint of King's Landing sharpness return to her eyes. "And who might this 'someone' be?" she asked, her tone laced with intrigue. "Prince Jacaerys Velaryon," Cregan announced bluntly, watching Alyrie's eyes widen with surprise. "He has been staying in Winterfell for some time now." "Prince Jacaerys?" Alyrie questioned incredulously, suddenly uncomfortable. “I haven’t seen his dragon.” Cregan - who most definitely knew of her engagement to Jace and the fact that it has been broken as soon as Aegon had crowned himself King, just as Rhaenyra had done - did not move an inch, eyes flickering over her form, as if to gauge if she would run away, or act in an unbecoming way.

Coming to @hotd-bigbang in Autumn '24!

[thelustybraavosimaid]

"I saw Jon last night, Maester Luwin..." Arya hesitated, sinking her teeth into her lip as she intertwined her hands and squeezed. "He looked...odd."

Luwin set the inkpot down. He steepled his fingertips and leaned forward, furrowing his brow. "What do you mean by that, Arya?"

"He looked odd. His skin was as paler than usual, his eyes were red as Ghost's, and his canines were so long they made his lip bleed a little. Jon, he...he looked like he hadn't eaten in days. I don't think I've ever seen him look so gaunt or so hungry."

The look in his eyes made her reflexively shiver, but she didn't let it deter her. She demanded to know what was wrong, what she could do to help, but he was almost despondent. He couldn't explain it, he said, except that whatever he was feeling worsened when she was near. She remembered him half-heartedly reaching for her, then rescinding the action as if he had been burned.

"I can't have you in this room with me," he told her, "I don't want to hurt you."

But didn't he see how much damage the dismissal had done? Her heart squeezed painfully.

Arya shook her head, as if the memory—and the lingering, phantom pain—could fall from her thoughts.

Surprise coloured the maester's face. "That cannot be, young one."

She cocked her head. "Now what do you mean by that?"

"I mean..." Luwin hesitated. "Sweet one, what you are describing is a vampyre, and I doubt Jon is one of those. Members of House Targaryen were the most prominent vampyres, did you know? They say the Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys fled across the narrow sea, but in Westeros, there are no more. The most loved of the generation was certainly the crown prince Rhaegar..." Luwin brought a curled finger to his mouth. "Perhaps I should observe the boy again..."

[arteriasalad]

My mushroom outfit collection

1. mushroom head, godskin apostle robe, spellblade’s gloves, battlemage legwraps (weapon: ghiza’s wheel)

2. lionel’s helm, mushroom body, perfumer gloves, black knight greaves (weapon: helphen’s steeple)

3. shining horned headband, gravekeeper cloak, zamor bracelets, mushroom legs

4. vulgar militia helm, fell omen cloak, zamor bracelets, mushroom legs

5. mushroom crown, goldmask’s rags, briar gauntlets, omen greaves (weapon: antspur rapier, winged greathorn)

6. iron kasa, mushroom arms, messmer’s armor, hoslow’s greaves (weapon: dragonscale blade, rivers of blood, antspur rapier)

[raayllum]

There's a chessboard in his dreams.

It doesn't show up often, but Ezran's dreams—or nightmares, he supposes, in this case—have always been reoccurring and strange. They're just more vivid and more violent, now that Aaravos is out. (Everything is worse now that Aaravos is out, now that Runaan is out, but Ezran doesn't blame his brother for either of them. He's not angry. Really.)

The chessboard isn't the one he grew up playing, coaxing his brother and dad and Claudia into games, the pieces painstakingly hand etched and with only the white ones painted. These ones are glossy, almost like glass, each piece having a perfect mirrored reflection of each other, like light and shadow.

And they're not knights or rooks either—but they are pawns.

The inside of the prison reflects the chess board, too, the glossy inside of a pearl even though it'd been smashed to pieces. It's what convinces him that this isn't real, that it's just a dream. (It can't be real. He won't let it be real.)

"Ah, King Ezran," Aaravos greets, seated in one chair behind the white set pieces. White always moves first—which makes sense. This game started centuries before Ezran was born. "How nice of you to join me."

Not that any of them have much of a choice, but Ezran takes a seat and grits his teeth. His crown always feels heavier here, even before he sees the way Aaravos picks up his pint-sized Callum and twirls him between his fingers.

"Are you and your dear brother fighting again?"

Yes, but—"Put him down," Ez growls out.

Aaravos raises a brow, but sets the game piece down on one of the white squares, next to a matching Rayla piece. "Not in the mood for games today, are you?" The Startouch elf steeples his fingers together, and nudges one of his frontline pieces forward across the board.

Then it's Ezran's turn, and he knows there's no point in delaying the inevitable, as he picks which piece to move forward.

The chessboard itself Ezran of the war maps he's been looking at lately, moving troops and people—sending his brother and their best friend off to dangerous locations, because they don't have a choice if they want to stop Aaravos and his corrupted Sun army. Ezran, as king, having to treat those he loves most like pawns.

"Your brother wouldn't sacrifice you for anything," Aaravos croons, once they're halfway through. Ezran's temple pounds, his figure of Aunt Amaya having already felled. His piece of Prince Karim is backed into a corner with nowhere to go; Aaravos has lost only small figures on his end—Opeli, Corvus, Barius—pieces he was never that interested in controlling in the first place. "How sad you can't say the same."

"Shut up!" Ezran snaps, because how dare anyone insinuate he doesn't love his brother? Because he does—no matter what, Ezran loves his brother—but he just doesn't love the way Callum does. His brother never does anything halfway; not magic or his fiery temper or his fiercely protective nature. He loves like an explosion, a super nova, a tidal wave.

Ezran has never loved like that. It's not in his nature. It's what makes him a good (miserable) king.

Ezran slams a piece down, not really looking, but knows in an instant he's made a mistake, because Aaravos grins, wide and sharp, like a cat about to eat a canary.

"Hm, not your best, little king," he says, and bumps a glossy monster-pawn up to where Callum lies. "Checkmate."

Ezran wakes up, clammy and hoarse, his throat tight and heart racing. Bait grunts from somewhere near his hip, the glow toad still asleep, and Ezran is careful not to touch him lest he wake him, and stares at the ceiling of his war tent instead.

He exhales, slowly, and gets out of bed to wash his face.

Tomorrow, he will be thirteen years old. He will give speeches at the crack of dawn and command troops and he and his brother, who's acting as one of his generals, will try and muddle through a conversation without arguing.

Ezran scrubs at his eyes and can't quite fight back the tears. But for tonight, in the privacy of the dark, he can be a little boy who's tired of losing.

He's so tired of losing.

[vee-crytraps]

Good Luck, Babe! | CH 1-1 | Ice Cream for Breakfast

{Trigger Warning/Themes Masterlist} This is split into a billion parts because it's long as hell! Read on Ao3 to avoid the headache!

It isn’t unusual to be up before everyone else in the house. To say that the people in your adoptive family were night owls is a total understatement. Most mornings, Wayne Manor was full of the haunting sort of quiet you would expect in any normal residence during dead of night. Only a handful of years ago, you couldn’t stand the eerie halls of the East wing before ten am. The tall windows leaking pale light onto the antique dark wood, the ornate, unblinking portraits that loomed over you with eyes that seemed to follow. Total daylight horror vibes. You still felt like that sometimes. Especially as you grew older, and nearly everyone else moved out.

Dick was out in California with his West coast lollipop brigade before he settled in Blüdhaven. Jason, you had barely gotten to know before he died, and upon his resurrection (and subsequent rehabilitation), he moved out and never looked back. Tim was…Tim. Overworked, overtired. He’d moved out before he was even legally an adult- but he basically a CEO at that point anyway. It only made sense that he carve out a little something for himself in the world, especially when Damian came along and assumed the Robin mantle. And then there was Damian- the only current permanent resident aside from yourself, Bruce and Alfred. You wouldn’t say that you were friends exactly, but you had certainly developed an understanding in the quiet moments you ended up spending together. So yeah, most of your older brothers were onto greener pastures. As much as it sucked to see such a large house so empty, you knew better than to whine about it. It had been a long time since your brief stint as Robin when you were about eight years old, but even then you could register that the vibe in the bat cave was…tense, to say the very least. You had felt it in the manor, too- the anger and sadness swirling around your family of vigilantes. And Bruce, your godfather, Batman- at the very center of it all. There was a saying in the city- that if you ever saw Batman, trouble wasn’t far behind. He was Gotham’s own Mothman, bringing omens of collapsing bridges, bizarre hostage situations and stuck up banks. Still, chasing Batman made for cool stories and dynamic photos, with only a minor threat of personal harm on a good day. Despite the good sense of the Batman Rule, Gotham city residents leaked into the streets for a peak of the curling cape and badass rocket car. If you saw the bat family, however, you were well and truly fucked. These days, your family only really got together on cataclysmic occasions, the stuff one step down from the bone chilling, universe ending Justice League shit. Well, that. And your birthday. It was why you seized every opportunity to take advantage of the situation, seated in the large dining hall with a plan in place. Pressing the tips of your fingers together in a super-villain worthy steeple, you rest your elbows on the ancient oak of the dining table. You were at the far end- the very head, in a chair that was usually reserved for Bruce. “You wouldn’t want to set a bad example by reneging on your promise to me, now would you?” A mischievous smirk curled on your lips as you released your hands from their position, to point to the paper birthday crown you’d fashioned for yourself in the early morning. “For my first decree,” you started, offering a dramatic wave. You gestured to the table, littered with spoons, bowls, and most notable- several pint sized containers of ice cream. Smaller silver dishes housed sprinkles, cherries, crushed candies and other fixings. “Ice cream for breakfast.” Part 2

[queenmarytudor]

Mary I's Fight For The Throne

1st October - Mary is crowned England's first Queen Regnant

On the 31st September, the day prior to her coronation, Mary had processed through London "sitting in a chariot of tissue, drawn with 6 horses, all betrapped with red velvet". 1 The Earl of Oxford bore the sword before her and Sir Edward Hastings led her horses. After the queen's chariot came another covered in cloth of silver "and therin sat at the end, with her face forward, the lady Elizabeth; and at the other end, with her back forward, the lady Anne of Cleves." 2

There were a variety of different pageants across the city, including one by the Florentines where "an angel clothed in green with a trumpet in his hand [...] was made with such a device that when the trumpeter who stood secretly in the pageant did blow his trumpet, the angel did put his trumpet to his mouth as though it should be that he blew the same." 3 Arches in the display included an image "of the Queen triumphant [and under] was written Salus Publica [Public Welfare]. Under the image of Pallas (Athena) Invicta virtus [Invicible Virtue]. Under the history of Tomyris, Libertatis ultrici [Avenging of Liberty]. Under Judith, Patriæ liberatici [Liberator of the Country]. 4

Another one involved "children clothed in women's apparel, the middle having a crown on her head and a sceptre in her hand called Grace, the other on her right called Virtue with a cup and the third Nature with an olive branch. When the queen passed they knelt down and sang." 5

Many featured children and singing; children from the schoolhouse in Saint Paul's church sung verses to Mary, and "there she stayed a good while and gave diligent ear to their song." 6 Another had children holding burning lit tapers "made of most swete perfumes." 7

The star of the show was an acrobat on Saint Paul's steeple, that stood on the weather vane and shook a little flag with his hand, and "after standing on one foot did shake his other leg, and then kneeled on his knees upon the said weather cock, to the great marvel and wondering of all the people which beheld him, because it was thought a matter impossible." 8

The next day, 1st October, Mary's Coronation officially takes place. The streets are "again covered with flowers and decked with stuffs." 9 as Mary goes "from the Hall of Parliament and Justice to the church, in procession with the bishops and priests in full canonical dress." 10

In the church, "the Quire [was] very richly hung with cloth of arras [and] well strewed with rushes, and the place between the high altar and the chair." 11

Once she had entered, "She mounted a scaffolding that was erected at the church for this purpose, and showed herself to the people." 12 The scaffolding had "stairs up to the same and down to the altar, and thereupon a throne of seven stairs, whereof the four uppermost covered with fine baudekin, and the other stairs covered with carpet. And in the middle of the throne set a great royal chair, covered with baudekin damask gold, with two cushions; one black velvet embroidered with gold very richly, and the others of cloth of tissue; the said chair having pillars at the back, whereon stood two lions of gold, and in the midst a turret with a fleur de lys of gold." 13

The Bishop of Winchester conducts Mary to the four corners of the dais and cries "If any man will or can allege any cause why queen Mary should not be crowned, let them speak now :" and then the people in every place of the church cried, " Queen Mary!" 14 He then proclaims the queen's pardon, and Mary is "brought unto the said throne again, and immediately removed into a rich chair by the gentleman ushers before the high altar, upon which altar her Grace offered her pall of baudekin [and money], verifying the words of Scripture,' Thou shalt not appear void before the Lord God." 15

She then returns back to her chair, where a cushion of velvet is then "laid before the altar, upon the which her Grace lay prostrate while certain oraisons were said over her." 16

After oath is taken and the Litany chanted, Mary prepares to be anointed. She had requested fresh oils from Rome to be anointed with, as she had "a scruple that the holy chrisms prepared in England may not be such as they ought because of the ecclesiastical censures upon the country." 17

Now she has "a pall holden over her by four knights of the Garter, the Bishop of Winchester applying the holy oil and chrism and saying unto her certain words, with divers oraisons and prayers. Then after the inunction the Bishop of Winchester did dry every place of the same with cotton or linen cloth." 18

Mary is then brought to the alter again, where she offers up a sword, before returning to her throne at the high alter where "the Bishop of Winchester and the Duke of Norfolk brought unto her Highness three crowns; to wit, one King Edward [the Confessor]'s crown; the other the imperial crown of the realm of England; the third, a very rich crown purposely made for her Grace. Then the crowns were set one after another upon the Queen's head by the Bishop of Winchester; and betwixt the putting on of every crown the trumpets did blow." 19

After the crowning, the choir sing Te Deum accompanied by organs. While the singing occurs, "a ring of gold was put on her Grace's marrying finger by the Bishop of Winchester." 20

Mary is then given bracelets of gold and precious stones by the Master of her Jewel House, before being delivered the royal sceptre, Saint Edward's Staff, the royal spurs, the ball of gold, and the regal of gold by various nobles. 21

"And the Queen thus sitting in her chair apparelled in her royal robes of crimson velvet, containing a mantle with a train, a surcoat with a kirtle furred with the wombs of miniver, pure, a riband of Venice gold, a mantle lace of silk and gold, with buttons and tassels of the same, having her crown imperial on her head, her sceptre in her right hand, and the ball in her left hand, was conveyed again to the throne to St. Edward's chair; having a pair of sabatons on her feet, covered with crimson cloth of gold, lined with crimson satin, garnished with a ribbon of Venice gold." 22

The nobles gathered then pay homage to her, while the Lord Chancellor declares "a goodly large and ample pardon for all manner of offences except certain persons and conditions [...] not worthy to be pardoned." 23

After, Mass is sung while the Gospel is brought to Mary, who kisses it. At the offering part of the Mass ceremony she makes an offering of bead, wine and a pound of gold, and after is conducted to the alter where the Bishop "took the crown from her head and set it on the said altar. Then she was conveyed again into her traverse, and the Lord Great Chamberlain received of her all the regalia, and delivered them to the Dean of Westminster, to be laid upon the said altar. Then her Grace was unclad of her apparel, and other royal apparel given to her by the said Great Chamberlain, a robe of purple velvet with the kirtle and surcoat overcoat, and a mantle with a train furred with miniver and powdered ermine, and a mantle lace of silk and gold, with buttons and tassels of the same, and riband of Venice gold, the crown set upon her head, and a goodly canopy borne over her by the barons of the cinque ports." 24

By this time it is almost 4pm, and Mary has "in her hand a sceptre of gold, and in her other hand a ball of gold, which she twirled and turned in her hand as she came homeward" 25 out of the church.

Mary is carried from the church to Westminster Hall, where a banquet is prepared. After she leaves the church, there is a "scramble for the cloth and rails." 26

At the banquet Mary sits "on a stone chair covered with brocade, which they say was carried off from Scotland in sign of a victory, and was once used by the Kings of Scotland at their crowning", 27 and is served by earls, lords, knights and officers.

The Bishop of Winchester sits on Mary's right, while on her left is her sister Elizabeth and former stepmother, Anne of Cleves. 28

After the first course, "there came riding in on two goodly coursers the Lord High Steward of England, and the Earl Marshal, both richly apparelled, and their horses trapped according to their estate". 29 After the second, "the Queen's Champion appeared upon a courser richly trapped with cloth of gold, holding in his hand a mace, and on the other side of him a page, one holding his spear, another his target with a herald before him. The usual challenge having been made, and repeated thrice, the champion received the cup as his fee from which her Majesty had drunk to him." 30

While the "earls, vassals, and councillors paid homage to her, kissing her on the shoulder", 31 "The Queen's style was then proclaimed by Garter with the rest of the officers of arms, in Latin, French, and English, concluding with ' largesse, largesse, largesse.'" 32

This leads to poor people swarming the kitchens for the left over meat, "And when they had done casting out meat there was no less scrambling for the kitchen it self, every man that would plucking down the hordes thereof, and carrying it away, that it might well be called a waste indeed." 33

After, Mary stands with Elizabeth and Anne of Cleves while the Mayor of London brings another "goodly standing cup of gold to the Queen's Majesty, and after her Highness had drunk so, gave the Mayor the cup." 34

Mary finally withdraws to her private Parliament chambers, and after changing back into her original clothes, is conveyed by water back to Westminster palace, where there is yet more "feasting and cheer." 35

As a relived Simon Renard writes after the event, "the ceremonies came to an end without any of the interruptions or troubles that were feared on the part of the Lutherans, who would rejoice in upsetting the Queen's reign." 36

At the age of 37, Mary has finally achieve her birth right and is the first crowned Queen of England.

Sources:

1. Wriothesley's Chronicle

2. Wriothesley's Chronicle

3. Wriothesley's Chronicle

4. Giulio Raviglio Rosso’s Historia, somegreymatter.com

5. Wriothesley's Chronicle

6. Wriothesley's Chronicle

7. Wriothesley's Chronicle

8. Wriothesley's Chronicle

9. Spanish State Papers, 3rd October 1553

10. Spanish State Papers, 3rd October 1553

11. Crowns & Coronations: A History of Regalia

12. Spanish State Papers, 3rd October 1553

13. Crowns & Coronations: A History of Regalia

14. Wriothesley's Chronicle

15. Wriothesley's Chronicle

16. Wriothesley's Chronicle

17. Spanish State Papers, 9th September 1553

18. Wriothesley's Chronicle

19. Wriothesley's Chronicle

20. Wriothesley's Chronicle

21. Wriothesley's Chronicle

22. Wriothesley's Chronicle

23. Wriothesley's Chronicle

24. Crowns & Coronations: A History of Regalia

25. Wriothesley's Chronicle

26. Chronicle of Queen Jane and Queen Mary

27. Spanish State Papers, 3rd October 1553

28. Crowns & Coronations: A History of Regalia

29. Crowns & Coronations: A History of Regalia

30. Crowns & Coronations: A History of Regalia

31. Spanish State Papers, 3rd October 1553

32. Crowns & Coronations: A History of Regalia

33. Chronicle of Queen Jane and Queen Mary

34. Crowns & Coronations: A History of Regalia

35. Crowns & Coronations: A History of Regalia

36. Spanish State Papers, 3rd October 1553

[skvaderarts]

These builds use DLC items, so just a heads up! More details about each build are below if you are curious. Thanks for voting! And if you spread the poll, EXTRA THANK YOU! I appreciate it! A larger sample size makes this more fun!

Saint of the Bud: An Arcane/Faith/Dex Scarlet Rot build using the Antspur Rapier with the Poison Flower Blooms Twice Ash of War and the Poleblade of the Bud. The Ant Skull Plate shield is a great contender for this build. I'll also be using spells such as Pest Threads, Pest-Thread Spears, Scarlet Aeonia, and Rotten Butterflies. Will use the rotten stray summon and makes liberal use of crafted items such as rot pots and fly pots. Wears the Full Bloom Chest piece and the Mushroom Crown for a truly unhinged look. Utilizes Maleina's Great Rune/Rykard's Great Rune.

Finger Witch: A Strength/Intelligence build with a possible touch of Arcane. This build specializes in finger weapons and spells. Uses a dueling shield. Both the Gazing Finger and the Ringed Finger scale best with strength, and despite the scaling of the staff that boosts finger sorceries requiring arcane for a spell class that USES NO ARCANE (Fromsoft stop doing crap like this. I like arcane staffs, but this was a weird one to pick for that) I will be using it and possibly adding the oracle bubble spells so that I have something to do with the Arcane requirement late game. It utilizes all of the finger sorceries such as Glintstone Nail, Glintstone Nails, and Cherishing Fingers as well as both finger weapons. One hammer and one colossal weapon. An interesting combo, to be sure. It will also use the new finger summon and the finger robes which are VERY disturbing looking. Utilizes Morgott's Great Rune/ Radahn's Great Rune.

Blasphemous Knight: A Dexterity/Faith (optional intelligence) build that uses the Blasphemous Blade (Which, funny enough, I've actually never tried despite how popular it is!) and the Spear of the Impaler. It included the now-fixed Messmer's Flame Incantations which include Rain of Fire, Messmer's Orb, and Fire Serpent. It may optionally include Rykard's Rancor (which is where in intelligence requirement would come from since it needs a whopping 40 Intelligence!) and could possibly include the Blood Incantations but only if Arcane is added to the build, so that's not likely. The core build is just the Messmer fire incantations and the two remembrance weapons. Wears the Hoslow/Messmer Knight sets. Utilizes Rykard's Rune. Still seems like a fantastic build!

Putrescent Death Bird: A Strength/Intelligence/Faith/character with an optional touch of Arcane for status build-up. Themed after the Death Birds. Wears the Death Gravebird's Blackquill set. The set boosts jump attacks like the Raptor's Black Feathers set in the base game. They specialize in different types of death sorcery. They can cast spells such as Rykard's Rancor, Ancient Death Rancor, Spectrial Rings of Light, Explosive Ghostflame, and Vortex of Putrescence. Not Tibia's Summons, though. I have standards. Putrescence Cleaver, Helphen's Steeple, and the Spirit Glave. The Eclipse Great Shield would be a good pick. Essentially, It's a very fancy frost build. Utilizes Radahn's Great Rune.

Beastial Tree Sage: A Strength/Faith build focused on pure holy damage. (which is shockingly good in the DLC but more tricky in the late main game due to the number of bosses with extreme Holy resistance.) The weapons consist of two colossal weapons that both scale to Strength and Faith and an optional dagger for a faster option if needed. Those are the Great Club and the Shadow Sunflower Blossom. The dagger is the Cnquedea. The Erdtree Greatbow is also a great fit for this build and will be included as an additional ranged option. They would specialize in Beastial Incantations such as Stone of Gurranq and Gurranq's Beast Claw as well as Holy spells like Wrath of Gold, Elden Stars, Land of Shadow, and Crucible Incantations such as Thorns, Bloom, and Breath. Wears Freya's set and uses Radahn's Great Rune.

Fire Prelate: A build focusing on strength and Faith. Utalizes the Prelate's Inferno Crozier and the Cranial Vessel Candlestand. It also uses the Giant's Flame incantations, such as Giant's Flame Take Thee and Flame Fall Upon Them. Uses either the Hoslow Set or the Fire Prelate set for cosplay purposes. A very powerful and versatile fire build. Uses Radahn/Morgotts/Malenia' Great runes. BONK.

Spellblade Cannoneer: A Strength/Int Build using the Moonrithyll's Knight Sword, the Great Mace with Waves of Darkness, and Rabbath's Cannon. It also may use the Jellyfish Shield, Carian Dueling Shield, or the Cuckoo Great Shield. It utilizes Carian Sword Sorcery such as Magic Glintblade, Greatblade Phalanx, Carian Peircer, and Carian Greatsword. It also contains Glintstone Sorcery such as Gavel of Haima, Cannon of Haima, Spiral Shard, and Loretta's Greatbow, and Moon Sorceries such as Rellana's Twin Moons. It uses Relanna/Loretta's armor sets and Radahn's/Morgott's Great Rune.

SO! Thanks for reading! I appreciate your interest in my builds XD If you want the stat sheet for any of these, just let me know and I'll post them! And if you want to see these builds in action, I'll be streaming them on Twitch. I'm SkvaderStreams. Original, I know lol! But feel free to come and lurk. It's a good time! Thanks again! It's always fun having someone to share my build ideas with. If you ever want one, let me know!

Have a great day!

[mslanna]

beauty and the beast Tav x Raphael preview anybody?

i have just the thing under this lovely cut. (Tav made a deal with Mephistopheles for Rapahel's life. oops)

Raphael returns his attention to Tav. "You cannot leave the House of Hope."

"Excuse?"

"You cannot leave," the devil repeats.

"Oh, really?" Tav arches a brow. "Plan on keeping me? How?"

Raphael takes a deep breath. "You are free to leave. Just know that Mephistopheles now has great interest in your demise. He'd love nothing more than to gloat over your soul."

Tav grimaces. They had not thought this through.

"There is nothing that keeps him from killing me?"

"Nothing at all." The devil shakes his head thoughtfully. "You don't know him the way I do." The words are shot through with pain.

"I cannot be that important," Tav insists. "I'm just a simple soul."

"You are a soul I coveted and he now can claim." The admission takes Tav's breath away. "If he can have you, he will. It would be a lesson taught, a show of how I never can escape his grasp and everything I do is doomed to fail, to fall into his hands."

"So it's nothing personal," Tav surmises. "At least not personal where I am concerned."

"I am afraid not. You are, as you so acutely observed, just a simple soul." He steeples his fingers, scrutinising the mortal over the crown they just delivered to him. Unasked, well asked for yes, but unbound by a deal or promise.

"I will give the situation some thought. So should you but first," he shakes his head in disapproval, "you should clean up. You are positively rancid."

With that, he leaves Tav to their own devices.

[peculiarbeauty]

WHAT IS YOUR TRUE ROLE IN THE STORY ?

the "chosen one"

back again young one? still not comfortable with your new title? yes, I can see you are one that prefers the simpler things in life but you do deserve the rank they have given you. oh little sparrow, have you just now realized you are an owl? soaring the skies with gleaming, outstretched talons. you lived your life blinded to your own abilities, but now the truth is out. you did not ask to be a hero, which pains my heart to the core. but alas, the people have given you something so true and bittersweet you cannot bear to refuse them. for they have given you their trust. they praise you, songs will be sung of you, ballads written, feasts in your honor. but "why me?" you quietly whisper to the stars. if you could speak their language you'd hear their simple reply, "because." you, out of the finest candidates were chosen to be a sacrificial lion in golden chains. your loved ones chanted your worth as it echoed from the steeples. but what was your say on the matter? I guess you had little to none, and unfortunately, neither do I. but destiny is not a burden, it is a gift, you feel weighted by the entire world, your shoulders ache from the hopes, fears, and dreams of the people who have chosen to follow you. but their adoration isn't blind my dear. you are strong, you are worthy of the armor, of the crown. when you look back you will realize that you, my young god, were truly the savior many called you. do not run from your purpose, seek it. and I do not mean the heroic of sorts, no, search for what makes you alive young hero, for here's a secret, you are just as much a hero to others as you are to yourself. it wouldn't make you a villian, to tell them no...

tagging : @seachant @bornofthedawn @verreprincesse @dragetunge + anyone else that is interested since i'm so limited on tags.

[scotianostra]

St Giles Crown Spire.

The Crown Spire of St Giles’ is arguably one of the most distinct structures in the Edinburgh skyline. The steeple an open structure comprising eight flying buttresses meeting to support the central pinnacle.

The high kirk, or church, of the ancient burgh of Edinburgh, to give the building it's correct name, is dedicated to St Giles, the patron saint of the city. Although established in the 12th century most of what is visible externally today only dates from the 19th century.

The exception is this fine crown spire which originally dates from the 1460s with repairs and alterations done about 200 years later in 1653.

In 2020 the tree-rings of the spire’s supporting timbers were analysed showing that the timbers used had been felled in the winters of 1453/54 and 1459/60. These were ancient oaks from one of Scotland’s last remaining native forests; the Royal Forest of Darnaway in Morayshire. That's some distance to come, it's over three hours in a car on modern roads, it must have been some journey heading south. The forest is just south east of Nairn.

Additionally, the Kirk’s earliest bells (since melted and recast) also dated from the 1450s and 1460s showing that an important period of building was taking place at this time. This would have coincided with St Giles Cathedral being given collegiate status by the Pope in 1466.

The crown spire is so called because its 8 flying buttresses, which spring from the corners of the tower and the centre of its sides, intersect to form the shape of an imperial crown. At the time this type of spire was a hugely significant and grand political statement. This was because they were a symbol of royal power rather than religious power as they represented the fact that the king held unrivalled sovereignty within his realm.

The symbol of the crown spire was recognised across Europe and signified the beginning of the end of the united Christendom of previous centuries.

There were rooftop tours for a time, but I have not heard of them restarting these since the pandemic. St Giles is definitely worth a visit but not next week as it is closed due to the sausage fingered big eared guy coming to Edinburgh.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Tagged by @inafieldofdaisies to takes these two uquizzes for my ocs

What is your ocs true role in the story?

The "Oh" quiz

Tagging: @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @direwombat @voidika @statichvm @florbelles @cassietrn @shallow-gravy @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @clicheantagonist @voidika @aceghosts @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @chazz-anova @wrathfulrook @jillvalentinesday @madparadoxum @stacispratt @henbased @unholymilf

the "chosen one"

back again young one? still not comfortable with your new title? yes, I can see you are one that prefers the simpler things in life but you do deserve the rank they have given you. oh little sparrow, have you just now realized you are an owl? soaring the skies with gleaming, outstretched talons. you lived your life blinded to your own abilities, but now the truth is out. you did not ask to be a hero, which pains my heart to the core. but alas, the people have given you something so true and bittersweet you cannot bear to refuse them. for they have given you their trust. they praise you, songs will be sung of you, ballads written, feasts in your honor. but "why me?" you quietly whisper to the stars. if you could speak their language you'd hear their simple reply, "because." you, out of the finest candidates were chosen to be a sacrificial lion in golden chains. your loved ones chanted your worth as it echoed from the steeples. but what was your say on the matter? I guess you had little to none, and unfortunately, neither do I. but destiny is not a burden, it is a gift, you feel weighted by the entire world, your shoulders ache from the hopes, fears, and dreams of the people who have chosen to follow you. but their adoration isn't blind my dear. you are strong, you are worthy of the armor, of the crown. when you look back you will realize that you, my young god, were truly the savior many called you. do not run from your purpose, seek it. and I do not mean the heroic of sorts, no, search for what makes you alive young hero, for here's a secret, you are just as much a hero to others as you are to yourself. if wouldn't make you a villian, to tell them no...

*honestly could not ask for a better result for her, that's absolutely the role she plays in her timeline and while the groups that see her as the hero change, that is very much the title she is given. Also the "sacrificial lion in golden chains"??? UQUIZ STOP!!

the first meeting

life is normal. it's scripted. it's functional. then one day, you meet them, and... Oh. you fix your posture, you're a little nervous, and it's totally possible you're just projecting -- but this could be something. and the only thing that makes this different from the hundreds of other times you had that exact same thought only to be disappointed is... this is the time that counts. things change. you were looking for someone whose very existence re-contextualized yours. which is not to say that you were incomplete, but... aren't we all? isn't that the essence of being a being who changes? and what completes us if not the love of something or someone beyond us? sure it's still new, and anything could happen from here, but there's something in your shared brain chemistry that makes it feel like good things are in motion. how exciting!

*another fantastic result. That whole first bit is very much how things start for Kit and Jacob, she's going through the motions of fighting the cult when she hears his voice and the things he says and she can already tell there's something different about being around him. That slideshow was the moment sparks went off tbh (even the fixing the posture is spot on with her putting on that rigid soldier posture for him). As for re-contextualizing her existence, and her feeling incomplete before him, oh yeah, that's their whole thing. Finding someone that completes her, someone who makes her more of herself instead of being scared of it. And the shared brain chemistry...too spot on really