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small ways zuko uses his fire bending besides fighting : ¹heat up food and beverages, ²candles / open flames are manipulated by his mood, ³he can emit his body heat to warm up surrounding people up to a 5 foot radius, ⁴fire breathing, ⁵absorbing heat, i.e. he can cool down something by absorbing the heat.
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𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗦 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗪𝗔𝗬𝗦 𝗠𝗔𝗗𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗗𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡. very rarely do they have the chance to do other, humaner activities; even rarer does he remember this at the forefront of his mind. empty shot glasses sit at the round table with his spine relaxed against the mold of couch cushions. the sigh that releases sinks him further in, a buzz sits at the back of his mind that still clings onto some conscious string of thought ( he still considers himself coherent, just socially loosened up ).
in raiden's preoccupied hands is one of the various backup guitars ▬ this one was practically plucked off the wall and currently sitting pretty in his lap. now, he would never consider himself instrumentally driven, but one single off-handed comment on how he always wanted to try has made some room for opportunity ( there have been occasions where he learned and observed by himself, though never in practice with someone else ). if he were truly sober, he would have quickly turned any offer down with chagrined embarrassment.
@rockerb0y: ❝ not bad, but only half-good. ❞
“ is that your way of giving out a compliment? ” phantom strings pull at one corner of his mouth, an actual sincerity which is followed by a brief scoff of half-disbelief. fifteen minutes of tuning and re-familiarizing with the fretboard ▬ for once, he could tell johnny was actually trying to give pointers. in between the shadowing as a body double, it's clear with the parties that the musician also knew how to cater a good time ( it also never really hurt to keep at their rapport ). “ never thought i'd be taking personal lessons from johnny fucking silverhand- ” the smallest, inconsequential laugh which scratches towards the back of his throat, “ first lesson's free, i hope. ”
// @lykaiia sent, ❝ I don't think it means what you think it means. ❞
he’s tired, he’s frustrated. and that which colleague had promised would work has failed to live up to his expectations. he scowls at the device in front of him, the readings that remain infuriatingly stagnant. he’d told ly it would work, with 100% certainty. it has done everything but work. ❛ it means exactly what I think it means. not my fault if the world doesn’t follow its own laws. ❜ nor, surely, can he be faulted for relaying the assurances of others. he slams his fist against the side of the device, as if the force will jostle it into functionality. it’s worked before. he sighs heavily when nothing changes. ❛ okay, so, I clearly did something wrong. ❜
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠?
YOURSELF :: you've forgotten what it means to be. you can no longer describe yourself. you are a mess of change and nothingness. who are you, really? are you everything that is inside your head? are you everything you could be? are you only what is seen by the people around you? are you the marks in the soil behind you? are you opportunity? are you a reflection? are you a legacy? you don't know. there are so many choices, and yet you can't choose any of them. one day, you will create something to is so unique that it can't possibly be anything but you. you will follow a path and become something, someone. you are someone new every day, yes, but there can be comfort in this. you are more, now, than you were yesterday. you are leaving marks, my dear. the world will remember you as you are, even if that is something that no one can define.
what pokemon type would your muse have
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@thefallenmutineer said: “ as days go, this is a weird one. ”
If Michael is calling a day weird, Tilly wonders just how bad things must be. After all, she can’t recall the last time they had a normal day, if such a thing even exists. Sometime back before the spore drive was operational, maybe, life had been normal. But no, that’s as much nonsense as anything else. Tilly decides she doesn’t believe in normal days.
❛ I mean, weird by what standard? Like, are we talking ‘weird universes where we’re all our worst nightmares’ weird, or are we talking ‘drank too many expressos in the morning and aren’t really sure what’s real anymore’ weird? ❜ Okay, okay, so she might have a slightly skewed definition of weird, and it says a lot that this is her sliding scale.
Weird for Michael might just mean ‘picked up unusual readings on the bridge’ or ‘had an awkward conversation in the hall’ or ‘witnessed an altercation between crew members’ or… look, weird just doesn’t give a whole lot of context, okay.
@fasciinating said: “ peace without war is still possible. ”
The assertion provoked a barking laugh, somewhere between incredulity and amusement. ❛ And just how do you propose we accomplish that? Surrender to the Klingons? Bargain away Earth, Vulcan, and the rest of Federation territory in a futile bid to end a war? ❜
Captain Gabriel Lorca, despite all appearances, could appreciate the benefits of diplomacy, the advantages of avoiding the conflicts in which they were presently embroiled. He was also no starry-eyed idealist, and pragmatism demanded they reconcile themselves to a grim, unyielding, unpalatable truth: the Klingons would not negotiate.
Gabriel doubted they would even accept a surrender; an easy victory would strip all the challenge, all the fun, from the proceedings. No, more likely they would hunt the members of Federation worlds to utter subjugation.
❛ Let me make a suggestion: your logic could be put to better use than attempting to avoid a war that there’s no stopping now. ❜
