#the maintain the green and silver theme

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms: Aemond POV

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter One

“You have each other. It would be nice if Helaena had a companion too.”

His mother’s words echoed in her chamber as the family sat down to eat their dinner. The King was not present of course. On the evenings he was well enough, he dined with Rhaenyra and her brood. Other times, he remained in his chambers being attended to by the Maesters. Aegon, engulfed in his cups, exuded the air of a habitual indulger, even in his young age, his shimmering silver locks catching the candlelight. Meanwhile, Helaena remained withdrawn, her violet gaze fixed on a tome detailing insects, intermittently glancing up between bites.

In stark contrast, Aemond’s unwavering focus on his mother painted him as the epitome of diligence, his attentiveness a testament to his filial devotion. It did irk him though. Aegon and Aemond did not have each other. Far from it actually, they could not have been more different. Aemond spent most of his time in his history and philosophy books, or with tutors attempting to master High Valyrian. Aegon, however, spent most of his time abed. And even when he was awake, he would terrorise the servant girls, secretly making his way down into Flea Bottom, or stealing wine from the kitchens.

Aemond wondered if things would have been different if Daeron had remained in Kings Landing, alas he was destined for Oldtown. From what he understood, it was a political strategy to ensure House Hightower maintained power as hosting a Prince of the Realm was a high honour. The brothers exchanged letters sometimes, but it was not like a physical friendship in the Keep.

The second son often found himself at the butt of his elder brother’s jokes, relentlessly teased for not having a dragon of his own to command; an injustice in Aemond’s eyes. Why should Rhaenyra’s very obvious bastards have dragons yet Aemond did not? Even Helaena had a dragon! Granted, she never spent a great deal of time with the beast. But still, they were Targaryens, and Targaryens were meant to have dragons. Nevertheless, Aemond just wanted to belong. They were supposed to be a family. Their father ignored them enough so they should at least stick together. Yet Aemond always found himself the odd one out.

“I need you to make her feel welcome and be on your best behaviour. Aegon,” Queen Alicent commanded with a warning, her brown eyes glaring at her oldest son.

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Why me?”

“Because you treat the servants horrendously already,” Alicent reasoned, taking a bite of her food. Aemond looked ahead at the empty chair in front of him, the chair that was meant for Viserys, but was mostly always empty. Perhaps it would be nice for the chair to be filled.

In the vast expanse of the throne room, every corner was adorned with intricate craftsmanship and lavish ornamentation. Gilded pillars rose to meet the high ceiling, where frescoes depicting ancient legends stretched across the expansive canvas. Golden sconces cast a warm glow upon the marble floors, reflecting the flickering light of the numerous candles that lined the room.

Alicent and her children, resplendent in their fine green attire, stood in a line, awaiting the arrival of their guests. Alicent's gown, intricately embroidered with delicate patterns of ivy and emerald thread, spoke of her Hightower lineage and refined taste. Aegon's doublet shimmered with silver accents, catching the light with every movement, while Helaena's gown, adorned with subtle hints of amethyst, complemented the violet hues of her eyes. Aemond, ever the dutiful son, wore a crisp green tunic embellished with subtle motifs of dragons, a symbol of his family's legacy.

As the grand doors creaked open, the imposing figure of Lord Jasper Wylde strode into the room, his presence commanding respect and deference. His short dark hair was meticulously styled, while his neatly trimmed beard added an air of gravitas to his countenance. Dressed in robes of turquoise and gold, embroidered with intricate patterns reminiscent of ocean waves and sunbursts, he exuded an aura of authority befitting his station.

Beside Lord Jasper, a young girl emerged, her presence a stark contrast to the solemnity of the room. Her dark brown curls tumbled in tight ringlets down her back, framing a cherubic face alive with curiosity and excitement. Clad in a matching ensemble of turquoise and gold, her dress sparkled in the ambient light, accentuating her youthful exuberance. With hands clasped together in anticipation, she approached Alicent and her children, her eyes alight with the prospect of meeting her new companions.

“Podgy thing, isn’t she?” Aegon snickered down Aemond’s ear as they approached, earning a smack on the back of his head from his mother. As they neared, Lord Jasper executed a deep bow, a testament to his reverence for the crown. The little girl, following her father's lead, curtsied gracefully, her demeanor mirroring his humility.

“Lord Wylde,” Alicent's warm voice echoed across the chamber, her regal presence welcoming them.

“My Queen, My Princes, Princess,” Lord Jasper acknowledged with reverence, his voice carrying a note of gratitude. “I must thank you again for this tremendous honor. May I present my eldest daughter, Lady Maera.”

Maera's face lit up with a radiant smile, her chubby cheeks flushed with excitement. “I am pleased to meet you all,” she said with youthful exuberance, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Alicent returned the smile, her heart swelling with joy at the sight of another young girl in the castle. “How old are you, sweetling?” she inquired, her tone gentle and inviting.

“Nine, your Grace,” Maera replied, her voice steady and polite, a reflection of her upbringing.

“She looks big for nine,” Aegon remarked with a mischievous smirk, his voice laced with playful teasing as he leaned towards his brother, Aemond.

“Aegon,” Aemond chided firmly, his gaze shifting to Maera, empathetic to her plight as she navigated the unfamiliar courtly environment.

However, Maera seemed unfazed by Aegon's jest, her composure unshaken as she turned towards him, curtsying once again with a twinkle in her eye. “And you must be Princess Helaena. I will be delighted to braid that unruly hair of yours,” she quipped, her words causing Aegon's smile to falter and even coaxing a giggle from Helaena, a rare and precious sound in the solemn halls of the throne room.

Lord Jasper's firm grip on Maera's shoulder sent a jolt through her, prompting her to whirl around and shoot her father a reproachful frown, silently demanding an explanation for his sudden intervention. “Forgive my daughter, my Prince,” Lord Jasper interjected, his tone carrying a hint of apology as he addressed the royal family. “Her mother has passed, she has no older sisters, and my wife has her hands full with her own children.”

He leveled a stern gaze at Maera, silently conveying his expectations. “Having many older brothers means she does not know the ways of a Lady. I am hoping that is something she can learn under your care, my Queen.”

Alicent nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic as she regarded Maera. “Most definitely, my Lord,” she assured him with a gentle smile, extending her reassurance to the young girl.

Feeling the nudge from her father, Maera snapped back to attention, realizing her duty as a representative of House Wylde. With a graceful curtsy, she turned towards Princess Helaena, her movements guided by her father's silent cue. “Princess, in honor of our new friendship, I have brought you a gift you may enjoy,” she announced, her voice tinged with earnestness.

Lord Jasper's gesture summoned a squire who presented a small wooden box, a token of House Wylde's regard for the royal family. Aemond couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight. What could a minor house possibly offer to a Princess of the Realm?

As Maera opened the box, revealing its contents, Helaena approached with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, her violet eyes alight with wonder. “Ugh, is that shit?” Aegon blurted out in disgust, earning a reprimanding dig from his mother.

“No!” Maera retorted defiantly, her cheeks flushing with indignation at Aegon's crude remark. She watched intently as Helaena reached into the box and delicately stroked the elongated brown lumps nestled within.

“They are chrysalises,” Helaena declared with a mixture of fascination and delight, her initial skepticism giving way to genuine intrigue.

Lord Wylde's laughter rang out awkwardly, breaking the tension that lingered in the air. He bent down to Maera's level, his expression a mix of amusement and mild reprimand. “What happened to the bracelet you made her?”

Maera shrugged nonchalantly, her tone matter-of-fact. “That? Oh, it was awful,” she declared with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Also, why would a Princess need a bracelet from me? I bet she has hundreds!"

Aemond couldn't help but chuckle to himself at Maera's boldness and unfiltered honesty. She was a refreshing departure from the usual courtly decorum, clearly intelligent and unapologetically herself.

Before Lord Jasper could issue a warning, Princess Helaena's voice cut through the conversation. “I do not recognize the pattern on the shell,” she observed, her curiosity piqued.

“They are called Perisomena. I do not think you have them in King's Landing,” Maera replied with a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We have lots of them in Rainwood, so I thought I would bring you some. I understand you have a keen interest in insects.”

Helaena's face lit up with genuine excitement at Maera's thoughtful gesture. “Yes, I do,” she admitted with a shy smile, her fingers brushing over her cheeks in a subtle display of uncertainty. “I have accumulated quite the collection.”

Maera's enthusiasm was palpable. “Truly? That is incredible! Do you have any beetles from Essos? My brother says in his letters they are much more colorful in the East.”

“Indeed. Would you like to see them?” Helaena offered, her eyes bright with anticipation.

“Yes, please!” Maera replied eagerly, her excitement evident in the way she bounced on her heels. Helaena seized her by the forearm, leading her away from the throne room to her chambers, the excitement evident on both girls’ faces as they shared a secret moment. Glancing over her shoulder, Maera waved goodbye to the others with a warm smile. Her gaze lingered on Prince Aemond, who returned her smile shyly, their eyes meeting briefly before she turned away.

As Maera’s head turned, Aemond’s attention was drawn to the striking silver streak entwined with her dark locks. He had never seen anything quite like it before, and though it was unusual, it only served to enhance her unique beauty in his eyes. A sense of intrigue sparked within him, igniting a newfound curiosity about the enigmatic girl who had just departed.

A chuckle escaped the Queen’s lips. “Gods be good. That went better than expected.”

“Indeed, my Queen,” the Master of Laws smiled. “I know my daughter is a little rough around the edges. But she will be a good companion to the Princess. Hopefully she will be able to bring her out of her shell.”

The days passed swiftly, and Aemond found himself immersed in the solace of the library, a break from the company of his brother or tutors. Rows of towering bookshelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes and scholarly volumes. The scent of leather-bound books and parchment permeated the air, mingling with the faint aroma of beeswax candles that flickered on ornate brass sconces.

Aemond settled into a cozy alcove, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the pages of a tome written in High Valyrian. The book, its pages weathered with age, contained intricacies of the ancient language spoken by the noble houses of Valyria. With furrowed brow, Aemond traced the elegant script with his finger, committing the words to memory as he jotted down notes in a leather-bound journal beside him.

His quill scratched across the parchment, capturing the nuances of pronunciation and grammar, as he diligently practiced the tongue. With each stroke of the pen, Aemond delved deeper into the mysteries of High Valyrian, his thirst for knowledge driving him to master the language of his ancestors. He was not sure if this was genuine interest, or a way to prove himself, but it was a skill that would surely make him stand out as opposed to just being labelled ‘the second son.’

Delving into the intricacies of dragon commands, he was interrupted by the soft patter of approaching footsteps. Glancing up from the pages, he beheld the sight of Lady Maera standing a few paces away, her presence unexpected yet oddly intriguing.

“Good afternoon, my Prince,” Maera greeted him with a radiant smile, executing a polite curtsy with practiced grace.

Returning her greeting with a nod of acknowledgment, Aemond couldn’t help but feel a sense of curiosity stir within him. Why had she sought him out? What prompted her to engage in conversation with him? Though he resolved to maintain his composure and politeness, a subtle wariness lingered in his demeanor. “Should you not be with my sister?” he inquired, his gaze returning to the pages of his book, his curiosity veiled behind a façade of casual indifference.

“The Princess is in an embroidery lesson with her Septa,” Maera explained, her fingers fidgeting nervously with the folds of her sleeves.

“And you do not partake?” Aemond questioned, his puzzlement evident in his tone.

A blush painted Maera’s cheeks as she emitted an awkward giggle. “Truthfully, I am terrible at it. I do not think I possess the fingers or patience for such a skill,” she admitted candidly, her vulnerability shining through her words.

Aemond couldn’t suppress a genuine laugh, the sound rich and warm as it filled the air. Lord Jasper Wylde’s intentions to refine his daughter’s ladylike qualities were evidently not misplaced, but Aemond found himself appreciating Maera’s candidness and authenticity. There was a refreshing genuineness about her that resonated with him.

However, what caught him off guard was the sudden closeness of the girl, who scooted herself into the alcove next to him, her turquoise skirts rustling softly as she settled into a comfortable position. Aemond’s cheeks flushed slightly, his heart skipping a beat at the unexpected proximity.

“What are you reading?” Maera asked inquisitively, her green eyes sparkling with genuine interest, drawing Aemond's attention away from the words on the page and meeting her gaze head on.

Aemond drew in a steadying breath, his violet eyes meeting Maera's as she leaned in, her curiosity palpable. “It’s called Fire and Blood: A full history of House Targaryen,” he replied, his voice steady despite the slight flutter in his chest.

Maera's eyes widened with interest. “You enjoy reading about your ancestors?” she inquired, her tone laced with genuine curiosity.

“I think it’s important to remember the past, as well as learn from the mistakes of old,” Aemond declared, his conviction evident in his words.

As Maera nodded in agreement, she leaned in even closer, her proximity causing Aemond's breath to catch in his throat. He couldn't help but notice the subtle scent that enveloped her – rainwater with a hint of vanilla – a comforting aroma that stirred something within him. He watched intently as she squinted her eyes, studying the text on the page with keen interest.

“It is written in High Valyrian,” she concluded with a determined nod as she leaned back, her observation leaving Aemond momentarily stunned. Even Aegon struggled to identify some of the words on the page, yet Maera seemed to discern the language effortlessly.

“How do you know that?!” Aemond asked, a frown of suspicion creasing his brow.

“I am learning,” Maera stated with a raised brow, taken aback by the Prince’s reaction.

“Are not,” Aemond challenged teasingly, shutting the book abruptly to shield its contents from her view.

“Am too!” Maera retorted, her voice rising in defiance as she stood up from her seat, crossing her arms in a display of determination.

“Prove it,” Aemond challenged with a playful smirk, his gaze locking with Maera's as they stood poised on the edge of a friendly competition of wits.

Maera’s initial reaction to Aemond’s challenge was one of outward fluster, her cheeks flushing with uncertainty at the unexpected request from the prince. Despite her momentary hesitation, she squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin with determination, accepting the challenge laid before her. “Nyke gūrēñagon kesrio syt issa muñnykeā ȳdratan,” I’m learning because it was my mother’s language, she stated confidently with a cheeky shake of her head.

Aemond’s initial shock was palpable, his eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his lips parted slightly in disbelief as he watched her form the unfamiliar words with ease.The flicker of curiosity that had ignited within him earlier now blazed into a roaring flame of intrigue, his admiration for the young girl deepening as he realized the depth of her knowledge and skill. Her smirk widened at his reaction.

“Impressive. But your accent could use some improvement,” the Prince remarked with a playful glint in his eyes, a hint of teasing in his tone.

Maera simply laughed, her amusement bubbling forth like a spring. “Such criticism, and yet I have yet to hear you speak it,” she countered, her tone light and teasing.

Aemond couldn’t help but bite back a smile before responding in High Valyrian, “Nyke sepār gūrēntan ao kostagon ȳzaldrīzes ziry rȳ,” I am just surprised you can speak it at all, his words laced with a mixture of admiration and surprise.

Lady Maera hummed thoughtfully, uncrossing her arms as she took a step closer to him. “Good, but I do have one improvement you could make,” she remarked, her tone shifting to one of encouragement.

Aemond’s brow furrowed in curiosity. “Oh?” he prompted, intrigued by her suggestion.

Maera leaned in, her playful jab in his shoulder accompanied by a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speak it with more confidence, or else no one will be able to hear you. You are a Prince, and should be proud you can speak the language so well,” she advised, her words carrying a genuine sincerity that resonated with Aemond.

Aemond’s mouth practically fell open at Maera’s straightforward yet uplifting feedback. There were no veiled compliments or hidden agendas, just pure honesty and positive reinforcement. They shared a moment of laughter, the tension dissipating like morning mist under the warmth of their burgeoning friendship. As they stood there, Aemond couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it was like to have a true friend within the confines of the Red Keep – someone who accepted him for who he was and encouraged him to be the best version of himself.

The moment between the friends was shattered by the sudden clamor of books crashing to the floor and the sharp rebuke of the Maester echoing through the library. Startled, Aemond and Maera turned their heads towards the source of the disturbance, their camaraderie momentarily interrupted by the chaotic disruption.

Emerging from behind the shelves, Aegon staggered slightly, his state of slight drunkenness evident in the unsteady sway of his movements. Aemond couldn't help but sigh inwardly at the sight of his older brother, his heart heavy with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. If the natural order of things had prevailed, Aegon would be the heir to the throne instead of their older half-sister Rhaenyra. Thank the Gods that would never happen, Aemond thought.

With a careless disregard for his surroundings, Aegon reclined back in the alcove, propping his dirty boots on top of the cushions without a hint of respect or consideration. Aemond and Maera exchanged a knowing glance, their silent communication betraying a shared sentiment of disappointment and exasperation at the elder Prince’s behavior.

“What are you two doing in here?” Aegon slurred, his words dripping with mockery as he let out a drunken giggle. “Reading dirty books?”

Before Aemond could formulate a response, Maera interjected, her voice steady despite the underlying tension. “Prince Aemond has been kind enough to give me a tour of the library, my Prince,” she declared, her tone laced with a hint of defiance.

“Awww, that’s so sweet,” Aegon sneered mockingly, his theatrics accompanied by exaggerated batting of his eyelashes. “Have you got your eye on her, Aemond? Perhaps when she flowers, you could ride her like the Pink Dread. She’s certainly built like him,” he added with a cruel laugh, his words dripping with venom.

Aemond felt his frustration simmering beneath the surface, his cheeks flushing with indignation. He could sense Maera’s questioning gaze upon him, but the memories of the Pink Dread – the cruel jape gifted to him – stifled his urge to confide in her. Instead, he redirected his attention to his brother, his voice tinged with thinly veiled irritation. “What are you doing in here?”

Aegon’s response was dismissive, his tone dripping with arrogance. “I am bored, dear brother, so I have come to seek entertainment,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“Entertainment? You do not strike me as the type of person to find that within a library, Prince Aegon,” Maera retorted with a teasing grin, her boldness and fire evident in her words.

Aemond’s initial grin widened as he observed Maera’s boldness in teasing Aegon, a rare display of defiance against his usually unchallenged older brother. Her ease and fiery demeanor in addressing Aegon sparked a sense of admiration within Aemond, who found himself silently cheering her on.

However, Aemond’s grin faltered and his heart sank as Aegon leaned forward and cruelly grabbed a fistful of Maera’s hair, pulling her close with a mixture of confusion and malice evident on his face as he studied the mixture of colours.

“What is with this silver bit in her hair?” Aegon demanded, his fingers still tightly knotted around Maera’s locks, his drunken haze masking any sense of empathy or restraint. Aemond’s eyes widened in disbelief as he witnessed the older prince’s callous actions towards his friend.

Watching Maera’s reaction, Aemond’s heart twisted with a mixture of anger and sympathy. Despite the obvious pain inflicted upon her by Aegon’s rough handling, Maera remained resolute, her jaw clenched and her gaze unwavering. Determined not to give Aegon the satisfaction of seeing her falter, she refused to utter a yelp of pain, though tears welled in her green eyes, betraying the hurt she endured.

Aemond felt a surge of protective instinct rise within him, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled with the conflicting emotions swirling within him. “Let her go, Aegon,” he demanded, his voice laced with barely contained anger.

His older brother simply laughed, his breath hot against Maera’s face as he leaned in closer. “Oh, my little brother is so taken with you. You are his delicate little flower. His Mayflower! Yes, I like the sound of that!” Aegon’s words were laced with mockery, his grip on Maera tightening despite her struggles.

Maera wriggled and twisted, attempting to free herself from Aegon’s grasp, but his hold remained firm. Aegon sighed theatrically, turning his attention back to Aemond. “If you can answer my question, Aemond, I will let her go,” he declared, his tone slurred with the effects of his drunkenness.

Aemond huffed in frustration, his mind racing as he searched for a response. He doubted his brother’s sincerity, but he couldn’t risk Maera’s safety by ignoring the demand. “She has a rare pigment condition. The reason the streak is silver is probably due to the fact she’s part Targaryen,” he stated firmly, his words carrying a note of authority.

Aegon’s surprise was evident in the faltering of his grip, allowing Maera to yank herself free and take refuge beside Aemond, who cast her a reassuring glance before turning back to his brother. He could still see traces of Maera’s brown and silver strands wrapped around Aegon’s fingers, a stark reminder of the confrontation that had just unfolded.

“You? You are part Targaryen?” Aegon questioned incredulously, his tone laced with skepticism as he eyed Maera with suspicion.

Maera could only nod in response, her composure regained as she stood tall beside Aemond, her gaze steady despite the lingering tension in the air. Aegon hummed dismissively. “I don’t believe you,” he retorted, his arrogance palpable.

“Have you not been listening at our dinners?” Aemond shot back angrily, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

Aegon snickered, his laughter tinged with disdain. “Of course not,” he replied flippantly, his disregard for their family’s conversations evident in his dismissive tone.

Aemond's frustration boiled over, irritation clear in the furrow of his brow as he realized he was the lone listener during their family's evening gatherings. “We all share the same great-grandfather, Aegon. Lady Maera is the granddaughter of Archmaester Vaegon,” he retorted, his voice edged with annoyance at his brother's ignorance.

Aegon's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Oh, so you are not a real Targaryen then, are you?” he teased, directing his mocking gaze towards Maera.

“Neither are you,” Lady Maera hissed back, her voice tinged with defiance as she brought her hair around her shoulder, stroking it soothingly. “You’re part Hightower,” she added with a pointed emphasis, her words a sharp retort to Aegon's taunts.

Aegon's temper flared at her words, his fists clenching at his sides as he stood up from his seat, his towering form casting a menacing shadow over them. “I am more Targaryen than you,” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he advanced towards them.

Maera stood her ground, her stance defiant as she positioned herself protectively in front of Aemond, much to his shock as he attempted to pull her back. His heart raced with a mixture of concern and bewilderment at Maera's audacity, her willingness to stand up to Aegon both admirable and disconcerting.

“Only because of your ridiculous hair. You won’t even be the King,” Maera sneered, her words cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife, her defiance unyielding in the face of Aegon's fury.

Aegon's anger reached a boiling point, his face contorted with rage as he struggled to find words to match his escalating emotions. “You insolent little-”

“Enough!” a voice boomed from around the corner, cutting through the heated exchange like a sudden gust of wind.

From behind the shelf emerged old Maester Mellos, his weathered features etched with annoyance at the disruption of his previously quiet library. Aemond and Maera clasped their hands together, their heads bowed in a display of respect and contrition, each feeling a pang of guilt for their role in the altercation. Aegon, however, scoffed at the old man's interruption, his defiance evident in the dismissive curl of his lip.

“My Prince,” Maester Mellos addressed Aegon calmly, his tone tinged with authority. “The Queen knows you are back. And she is looking for you,” he added sternly, his words a clear indication that further disobedience would not be tolerated.

Aegon huffed in annoyance and stormed out of the library, his departure leaving behind a palpable tension that hung thick in the air. Maera and Aemond released a collective breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding, their shock giving way to nervous giggles in the aftermath of the altercation, but their levity was short-lived as they were promptly chastised by the stern old man.

“This is a place of study, not a nursery. You must keep noise to a minimum,” Maester Mellos admonished, his tone carrying a weight of authority that brooked no argument.

“Yes, Maester,” Maera replied with a sickeningly sweet edge to her voice, her contrition palpable as she met the maester's stern gaze. “It will not happen again.”

The old man huffed in response before retreating back to his desk, leaving Maera and Aemond to pick up the fallen books scattered by Aegon's drunken stumbling, restoring order to the quiet sanctum of the library.

Once the books were back in their rightful places, Maera broke the silence, her voice soft with gratitude. “Thank you, my Prince, for sticking up for me as best you could,” she murmured, her eyes reflecting a mixture of appreciation and lingering unease.

Aemond smiled sadly and nodded, his gaze flickering with a hint of regret. He wished he could have done more to protect her, but the reality of his brother's towering aggression loomed large in his mind, rendering any attempt futile.

He watched as Maera made her way over to the alcove, gathering Aemond's scattered belongings before approaching him with a quiet determination. “And thank you... for remembering my mother, and our shared blood,” she confessed softly, her vulnerability shining through in the tremor of her voice. “In truth, I don’t get to talk about her often. I don’t think my father likes it.”

Aemond accepted the items from her, their fingers brushing in a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through him, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. He cleared his throat, struggling to maintain his composure. “Like I said, it is important to remember history,” he replied earnestly, his words carrying a weight of sincerity as he met Maera's gaze with a shared understanding of the significance of their shared heritage.

As they exited the library and made their way down the corridor, Maera couldn’t contain a mischievous giggle bubbling up from within her.

“We should get him back for that,” Maera chortled with a twinkle of mischief in her green eyes.

Aemond watched her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “What do you suggest?”

“Well… the Princess has a millipede we could use.”

Before he could fully comprehend her intentions, Maera grabbed his hand, sending a jolt of nervous excitement coursing through him. Feeling her touch, Aemond’s palms grew sweaty with anticipation as they ran down the corridor together, their fingers intertwined in a silent pact of solidarity.

Despite the lingering tension from their encounter with Aegon, Aemond couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope blossoming within him for the budding friendship he shared with Maera. In that moment, as they raced through the castle hallway hand in hand, Aemond dared to believe that perhaps the pair of them had found a kindred spirit in one another.

Notes: Thought we could all use a break and have some fluffy baby Maemond as well as Aemond’s perspective on everything. But to do that we gotta go right back to the beginning. So I’ll be posting these intermittently, probably maximum get about ten chapters out of him. But yeah, this was nice to write. Aemond POV chapter three though is going to be back to our usual nasty dark horrible shit 🤣 Also points to everyone who can point out callbacks from previous chapters 🖤

Tags: @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @manipulatixe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @0eessirk8

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house wylde #hotd helaena #Aemond POV #aemond fluff

[10point-must]

Instant Classic: Haney-Garcia 04.20.24

Ryan Garcia upset Devin Haney in Brooklyn on Saturday night - and count me as in the population of people who still do not understand what I witnessed. It was a stunning result, a great fight and good looks from both fighters. Lets break down the gear.

Haney had a look I appreciated -- it was both conservative while also pushing barriers -- even though on the whole I found it lacking in a couple of regards.

His entire look, save for his gloves was by Fear of God - Essentials, which is basically a collection of sweatpants and sweatshirts.

The entire look appeared to be made of traditional sweatpants/sweatshirt heavy cotton in a moss gray/green color.

The waistband even included a drawstring. The trunks were otherwise largely plain aside from the black bar logo across the front, ESSENTIALS FEAR OF GOD in small font along the front left leg, a couple of subtle logos on the back and a subtle HANEY across the back waistband.

It seems to me that in a 12 round fight - with the likelihood of heavy perspiration and the possibility of blood, that such material might get discolored (and heavy) as the fight wore on. Indeed, we saw some indications late that the material was absorbing sweat:

Haney's shoes were the most remarkable part of his look:

As noted here, these are Fear of God "Mock Knit High" designed by Dominic Chambrone. How much structure is under this is anyone's guess. Matched well at least.

Haney's gloves were a slightly incongruous silver:

These appear to be TSDK Customs collaboration with Everlast.

The negatives overall for Haney here were the gray/moss color (which I found a bit dull) and the trunk material (which, while interesting, I think is likely a net negative for a prize fight). However I like Devin's fashion forward approach and the thoughtfulness that he seems to put into his gear.

Ryan Garcia had a very clean look that I thought worked very well. He wore a look styled by Emporio Armani's EA7 line (aside from his shoes and gloves).

Great EA7 robe (and can't forget the supposedly $1M crown). The robe matched his trunks:

A great vector tribal arrow pattern in white and black, with KING along the front waistband and RYAN along the back waistband. The trunks have no other distractions aside from an EA7 logo on the lower left leg.

A bit of trunk detail will show that the tribal arrows are actually dot-point:

He wore white Rival gloves:

....and blue and black Nike footwear (note sure why these didn't maintain the color theme of the rest of the look, but coincidentally matched a bit with his blue corner tape):

Overall a great fight with memorable looks, and outstanding efforts by both fighters.

Respect box.

#everlast #brooklyn #emporio armani #ea7 #fear of god #essentials #nike shoes #nike #rival

[josiesaltzmanstyle]

We’re Being Punked, Pedro

Episode three, babyyy!

I always forget that Josie has another outfit before the t-shirt and shorts combo she spends most of the episode in.

Experimenting with some modest lighting/color correcting for these caps this time around.

Josie starts off the episode in her second blazer of the season. I remember at least two more, making it undeniably the most blazer-heavy season for her; from what I remember, they became less common in her wardrobe as time went on. But they’re good for establishing her as a serious and academically-minded student who cares about what she looks like. It’s also cropped slightly and the ends are angled, making it a somewhat trendier look than a traditional blazer, which gives it more personality.

It’s also yellow, which is another common theme with her this season, and has those interesting single pleats in the middle. Yellow’s an interesting color choice to associate so heavily with a character who performs happiness while struggling to admit when she’s struggling so much.

Unfortunately, /I/ struggled to find where the exact blazer hails from. Alas, alack. If anyone has any info on it, please feel free to reach out!

Gasp. Shock face.

What shocked me about this outfit is the shirt she wears under her blazer. if you look closely, it’s almost certainly this white Modcloth blouse with a Peter Pan collar that she wears in both 2.02 and 3.18. I was surpised not only because an item from her wardobe got repeated three times (though that’s always a pleasant surprise in my book, as it makes the world feel more grounded), but because I didn’t even know they had this shirt for her by early season one. It maintains some of her common motifs (the material is textured and tranlucent and the Peter Pan collar has interesting detail work - black stitching that matches the sleeves), but it’s a little more youthful, playful, and trendy than similar blouses we’ve seen her in thus far. I’ve always associated it with her early season 2 wardrobe shift, so it’s interesting that she already owns it here! Also interesting: despite being a beautiful piece that stands on its own, it’s far more covered up here than it is in its other two appearances; appropriate as Josie is still more reserved and buttoned-up than she may come to be later.

She accessorizes with a red tie and interestingly pairs the outfit with pants this time. I’m pretty sure they’re black slacks, despite the filtering on the scene skewing green in a major way. What captures my attention about this though; what exactly is the school uniform? I’ve always assumed it was: a button-down and/or blazer with the school symbol sewn to one or the other, the plaid skirt, or plaid pants. But Josie’s pants are, to my knowledge, pure black. So maybe the plaid is optional? Idk. (Edit: I found her pants! They’re listed further below. They’re actually navy, so I now have even more questions.)

Also, a moment of appreciation for Kaylee Bryant’s hair. Wowza. It’s obviously curled and styled, but I’m glad they’re letting it fall and frame her face more this time around. Her space buns were cute, but they kept pulling all of her hair away from her face and forehead in a way that looked a bit strange to me.

The color palette of this outfit kind of has a lot going on, but I’m not actually mad about it. I think the red and yellow work especially well together here (and they’re two colors we’ll see her pair at least one more time this season) and I like the contrast of the smooth but rigid blazer and the likely soft but textured shirt she’s wearing. Lots of variety.

Speaking of pants! Here are her navy slacks, from Banana Republic. They're practical, but the scalloped hem at the ankle gives them a little edge.

I’d say the one thing I’m not really a fan of is these silver Aldo heels.

They’re very similar to the Aldos she wore in 1.01, (and that indeed seems to be the shoe brand they’ve tied her to so far), but they don’t really match the vibe of the rest of the outfit. I think they’d work in a little bit of a more formal look but… shrug. I just think they’re a miss here.

I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be the same day since Alaric called the girls in from class to tell them they had to do community service. It seems strange that they all changed outfits, but I guess it checks out that they might not want to wear their preppy takes on their school uniform off-campus. It’s also quite possibly hot out—the show isn’t always super clear about the timeline.

What I find notable here is that Lizzie and Josie both pulled their hair into a half-up, half-down look. (A ponytail for Josie and a bun for Lizzie.) Styling can do a lot to show that even when they’re fighting, they’re sisters through and through.

I would bet money that this yellow t-shirt with blue bows on the sleeves is actually printed with bows, rather than being separate accessories. (EDIT: After getting a better look at the angle of the bow, I can clearly see it’s an attached accessory. Despite being wrong? ironically, I feel a lot better about not being able to find it. There are a LOT of yellow t-shirts out there.) However, I’ve searched high and low for the shirt, and I can’t find it anywhere. One of these days, I’m going to make a post and not know where ANYTHING is from, LMAO. As it is, I still only know where the Modcloth shirt and the shoes are from, because I couldn’t find the shorts either, lmao.

But! They are black and high-waisted, and the waistband, when visible, is blue and plaid, coordinating nicely with those elusive bows. She also seems to be wearing something else under her t-shirt; perhaps an isolated collar, but I’m actually wondering if it’s the polo she wore in 1.01.

It’s a relatively simple outfit with just a few little details, but it comes together nicely!

Number of Outfits: Just 2 this time!

Favorite Look: The Modcloth shirt is probably my favorite piece, but since we'll get a better view of it later, I opted for her day clothes while volunteering.

Simple but cute! This outfit is a nice change of pace for Josie so far, but doesn’t feel so out of left field.

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. As always, if you have any information about a piece, I’d love to add it here and would be happy to credit you.

#legacies #legaciesedit #legacies meta #josie saltzman #josie saltzman meta #1.03

[stardust-swan]

My Dream Home

aka where I'd live if I was rich and had time to maintain all of this

Outside

Powder blue, with murals painted on the side

There will be roses, violets, lavender, petunias, marigolds, peonies, mayflowers, and a cherry blossom tree in the front garden

And tomatoes, potatoes, strawberries, blueberries, onions, mint, courgettes, garlic, sage, thyme, basil, lettuce, peas, carrots, and cucumber in the back

Pretty birdbath

A wrought iron bench

Lanterns and string lights to light up the garden at night

A marble or bronze statue of Aphrodite

A calm fountain

Bonsai trees

Bedroom

Satin and silk bedsheets in ballet pink, lavender, baby blue, and duck egg green, and floral quilts and duvet covers

Beaded clothes hangers on the clothes rack

Fluffy fur rugs on the floor

An illuminated vanity with my favourite makeup, perfume, and Pandora charm bracelet on display

A nook for a shrine to Aphrodite

A clothesline of theatre programmes I've gone to on the wall

A large shelf for my collector barbies

A light up shoe rack big enough for my (vast) collection of shoes

Plushies on the bed

My closet and drawers will have sachets of potpourri and scented soaps in them so that my clothes will smell beautiful

A velvet headboard

Heavy drapes on the bed

Kitchen

Delicate floral ceramics in the kitchen

There will always be fresh-baked cookies and pastries for when guests drop in

A cupboard stocked full of herbal teas

Will always have a soup cooking on the stove and a pie cooling on the windowsill

The fridge will be stocked with vegetables and berries from my garden, fresh eggs, whole milk and good butter and cheese, cured meats, smoked salmon, macarons, homemade limoncello and cider, jam made from my own berries, and jugs of water with cucumber, lemon slices, and springs of homemade mint

Other foods will include: an array of spices and herbs, fresh bread, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, green and black olives, brown rice, veg that I canned and pickled myself, kimchi, almond milk, rice milk, mochi, marzipan, white chocolate with raspberries, dried fruits and nuts, honey, and fresh pastries

A six burner stove

Marble countertops

Elegant silverware

Living Room

Homemade throws on the chairs

A large bookshelf and more books on the windowsill

Will always smell delicious because of the candles I burn every evening

Will always be filled with the sound of classical music or jazz

Lots of cushions on the sofas

Sconces with frilled shades on the walls

A dining table with a beautiful centrepiece and elegant table settings

A comfy armchair for me to sit on while reading and crocheting

Bathroom

Jurlique rose handcream and fancy rose-pink soaps by the sink

Fluffy, thick, soft towels in white, pale pink, baby blue, lavender, and mint green

A vanity which has a mirror with soft pink lights, and enough storage space for my creams, body butter, exfoliater, face masks, toner, body mist, etc

Patterned toilet paper

Shower curtains made of silk or satin

Sea salt scented diffusers and a potted plant to make it feel fresh, and aromatherapy candles to make it feel calm

A bidet!

Mosaic tile walls and marble flooring and countertops

A clawfoot bathtub with elegant curves and gold accents

Plush rug next to the bath and a pretty toilet seat cover

Antique bathroom accessories, like a silver soap dish and crystal toothbrush holder

Maritime and botanical themed artwork on the walls

A built in sound system to play relaxing music while I bathe, like classical music, Native American flute music, or my Aphrodite playlist (on days where I'm having a long pampering session).

A large mirror with an ornate frame

A stained glass mirror so nobody can look in

Multiple Rooms/Other

Gilded framed pictures of my loved ones throughout the house

A potted houseplant on the side of each step of the staircase

Wide windows with velvet or satin curtains that let in lots of natural light

Prints by local artists on the walls

Vases of flowers taken from my garden in each room, even on the bathroom counter

Deep, plush carpets on the floor

Soft lighting from salt lamps and fairy lights

South-facing windows, so that the house will be full of light

The walls will be painted in pastel colours or will have a delicate wallpaper

Lots of pretty trinkets on the surfaces

Sapphic artworks that portrays lovers or the female form

Crystal handles on the cabinets and cupboards in the house

Lavender incense

Lace doilies on the side tables

Ribbons and bows everywhere

[nyxeren]

Since I'm new over here, purrhaps some introductions are in order? I'm Nyxe, and I've been making derpy screenshots for my main, Phae, since HW! I started out as a pink-haired miqo on Insta, but several dozen fantasias later, Phae's "true" form is definitely midlander hyur.

Phaemera - Leviathan - Primal

Birth name: Fhlae Mercer (yuck?)

Hails from a rich merchant family in Ishgard, youngest of four children (twin brothers are the eldest, one older sister). Disgusted by their cutthroat techniques and willingness to do anything to get ahead, and aware of the disdain from other families in Ishgard (who merely tolerate the Mercers because of their effectiveness), Phae left home at a young age to make her own way in the world. She hasn't spoken to them since, and avoids any attempts to find her. To her annoyance, Rowena seems to know both Phae's family and true name.

Natural white hair and blue-green eyes, tendency to dye hair pink. Known to change names, eye and hair colors to suit her mood, or to avoid attention. Sometimes disguises herself as other races entirely. Adept at appearing boringly average when called for, but prefers to let her personal tastes shine.

As a teenager, she was caught trying to pickpocket a member of the Rogue's Guild in Limsa Lominsa and subsequently taken under their wing. While she has come far and learned many other trades since then, she does not forget her roots, and still considers the Guild to be family. Became a Machinist out of respect for Stephanivien's vision and willingness to break from his family's tradition, as well as admiration for the Admiral. Became a Dark Knight at a low point in her life, stuck with it to harness the powers of darkness in a positive manner so that others need not walk the path of shadow.

Embraced the Warrior of Light mantle readily, and welcomes the title of Lightbringer. She considered it a chance to do the most good in the world, even if she knows at times the legend is far more impressive than reality. Feels it's important for the people to have a symbol to look up to; her affinity for stars and celestial themes stems from this, and a wish to be a "light in the darkness."

Easily bored, slightly absentminded, always restless. Zero respect for authority unless earned, speaks her mind with little regard for the consequences. Hates fake or formal people. Outwardly optimistic, spontaneous and easygoing, with a desire to see the best in people that sometimes borders on irrational. Inwardly less cheerful and naive, but still maintains a desire to believe in others. Despite her empathetic nature, she has trouble getting close to others and only has a handful of close friends. Sullen and moody at times; on these occasions, she withdraws to a number of "hiding places" to clear her mind. As her family rose to power with no regard to whom they stepped on, Phae desires to leave things better than she finds them, in whatever minor ways she can. Rarely stays in one place for long.

Canon mounts: Black Pegasus, Amaro, Battle Panther, SDS Fenrir. Canon minions: Silver Dasher, Byakko Cub, Amaro Hatchling. Canon weapons: Outsider, Makai Hand Mortar, Xiphias Eureka, Edenchoir Greatsword. Favorite earrings: White Ravens.

Influences: Ax (my original RP character, a loud, foul-mouthed, cheerful but troubled human warrior), Arya Stark (A Song of Ice and Fire), Tohru Honda (Fruits Basket), chaos (Xenosaga), Lyra Silvertongue (His Dark Materials)

That's all for Phae, I'll do more introductions for the rest of my characters when I'm less lazy!

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv oc #wol #warrior of light #midlander #hyur midlander

[kiriiqt]

Hello! I'm new here, but I must say that I'm having a good time on your blog, and I specially like the Ather theme!! I don't know how to properly request something, but, if you don't mind... I was wondering if you could write modern headcanons for Lumine, please? I hope you have a nice day 🤍

modern au lumine headcanons

- random modern au headcanons for lumine regarding her style, behaviour, hobbies and life overall!

characters: lumine (modern au)

a/n: I'm glad you’re enjoying my blog, and thank you for your request! i’m not entirely sure if you mean modern lumine in general, or the format i used for xiao and aether, but i chose to just write general headcanons (the profile format is coming up though, so if that’s what you meant, no worries). feel free to send another request if i misunderstood anything! also, as something new, i tried to add pictures. links at the bottom of the post.

warnings: none!

Sidenote; my modern au “vision”, if you could call it that, has the twins in highschool, but these can also apply to them in college or overall. I’ll just be referring to school related things. I sorted them into categories bc why not.

General

I view modern au Lumine as someone pretty confident and bold, but also kind of quiet. She’s a bit of a hothead at times, especially when she’s passionate about something, but knows how to pick her battles. Actually, she’s pretty in tune with her own emotions, and knows how to calm herself down and think rationally.

She’s an ambivert, and can work with most people, but prefers to keep a small and close circle of friends. She’s also more outwardly protective of people than her brother is.

Also, the travelers can both be little shits, so Lumine is not above playing small pranks and sassing people. She’s mastered the deadpan expression, and only Aether can beat her in sarcasm.

Closet reveal

Her style is comparable to tech wear, but the more alternative/street fashion inspired one, if that makes sense. So lots of cargo pants, buckles, boots, and those layered two-piece crop tops. It’s mostly black, with some grays and purples.

However, on the other end of the scale, she likes to wear more casual clothes. This is especially for moments where pulling up like you just stepped out of a dystopian sci-fi movie adaption isn’t appropriate. Regular-fit jeans, big sweaters, loose button-ups and t-shirts are staples for her. She mostly wears light tones, like white, gray, blue, green, and occasionally purple. All jewelry suits her, but she prefers silver, only sticking to gold when she needs some contrast in her outfit. She has simple accessories, like pearl hair clips and small necklaces. Flowers are common themes there.

Social

Again, Lumine is an ambivert, she’s a solid 50/50 when it comes to her social life. She can appreciate her own company just as much as she can appreciate others’. She’s really popular in school, but I feel like it’s a case of “a lot of people are friends with Lumine, but Lumine isn’t friends with a lot of people”. What I mean is, she’s naturally nice and when you get past her slightly intimidating appearance, she’s super easy to get along with and eager to help - so a lot of people know her and like her. She prefers to have a few close friends. She’s also busy, so it’s hard for her to maintain contact with most people.

Xiangling is her best friend, and they hang out almost every day. They usually cook together, watch anime (slice of life or horror), go on walks and take photos. They have a scrapbook that they share, and when they haven’t seen each other for a while, they can easily spend a day updating it. The scrapbook is fairly new, but they’ve been doing similar stuff since they met (first week of middle school).

By extension, she’s quite close with Chongyun and Xinqiu as well; all 4 of them hang out once a week minimum, and she works out with Chongyun. Her and Xingqiu like to debate for fun (and they both suffer over homework together)

She’s known Hu Tao since they were kids (they were on the same gymnastics team), and they just stuck together, so they’re almost like siblings. Equally crazy about sports, and they play on the same basketball team.

She’s cool with some of Aethers’ friends as well, namely Xiao and Albedo. Also, she doesn’t actually hate Venti, they just love to bully each other (lovingly).

Hobbies

Lumine is actually pretty athletic and has been on multiple competitive teams; She did competitive boxing for a short while, but stopped due to an injury. She picked it up again casually after recovering. As a child, she did gymnastics and track until the end of middle school, which is how she met Hu Tao and Xiangling. She plays on the school basketball team, and loves running as well.

She got into cooking and photography because of Xiangling.

She’s really into the sciences and learning about how the world works, and she watches a lot of lectures online. She’d like to pursue a career in STEM one day, but it would have to be a flexible one.

She loves to travel, and plans to take a gap year after school to go see the world. She also hopes that whatever she decides to study and work as will allow her to travel around.

Various likes and dislikes

Ironically, her least favorite class is physics, mainly due to the workload (and also, the stuff they do in high school just isn’t all that interesting to her)

She prefers math class, because she works more efficiently, and unlike English, she doesn’t risk getting stuck in a back and forth analytical debate.

She's not a big fan of tea or coffee.

She prefers spicy food.

Her music taste is varied, but I’d say she likes bands like mother mother, paramore, palaye royale and måneskin, among others.

If she had to choose between writing an essay on a book or doing a math exam, she’d choose the math exam.

She strongly dislikes having long hair, which is why she cuts it quite often.

Her favorite season is spring, specifically when the first flowers start to break through.

Her favorite candy is sugar frosted slime.

She prefers rainy weather.

Random facts

While Aether was obsessed with slimes as a child, Lumine was obsessed with geovishaps; she has an old wallet shaped like one from a zoo (I think that in a modern au, certain creatures like geovishaps are extinct, like dinosaurs in real life), and she knows an excessive amount of random facts about them

The main cast are active twitter users, and Lumine mostly uses hers to roast Venti or post photos of her cats. Her header is a photo of her and Xianling holding hands, and her icon is one of her cats who’s named Aria.

Her and Aether have 3 cats; Aria, Sonnet and Canon.

Lumine sometimes helps out in Xiangling’s family’s restaurant and refuses payment for it, but her parents find a way to pay her back anyway.

She has the most cursed camera roll that you’ll ever see - she never cleans it out, which results in an abomination of random photos, awful memes, photos of the classroom board, text screenshots, and too many accidental pics of the ground. Also, she has memes so cursed that none of her friends have managed to locate the side of pinterest she finds them on.

Replying to a text can take her anywhere between 2 hours to 7 business days, but if you call her, she’ll pick up immediately (unless you’re Venti)

She’s definitely the person who just says “get well soon” if you’re crushing on a guy and send her a photo of him.

If you ask her for the assignment answers the day they’re due, she’ll deliberately ignore your text until 5 minutes before the deadline. Otherwise, she’s happy to help. This totally isn’t because she’s doing it last minute, either.

pic 1 pic 2 pic 3 pic 4 pic 5 pic 6

I hope this was okay! I tried to make it make sense without explaining too many details irrelevant to the post. I’m iffy about the cat names, but for anyone who’s wondering; they’re the names of the 3 moon sisters in genshin.

#genshin impact lumine #genshin modern au #genshin headcanons #headcanons #genshin impact

[umbrellagoblin]

A Game of Cat and Arse

Hello!

I was, once again, greatly inspired by @kwillow 's characters and I wanted to write up something interesting, as well as delightfully-torturous for Ambroys to go through. So why not make him old and grumpy? Oh, AND there's also older Mortimer who has some devious plans looming ahead of Comte DeLuxe! Now, I know this is very, very self-indulgent, but I might as well make it a series since I just love tormenting the pissy, prissy angelpony so damn much. We'll just see about that...

// CW Mental Anguish/Torture, Medical Themes, Nightmare Sequence, Harrowing Displays of overall Despair and Fear.

The last days of summer are a truly depressing time. The early harvest is long gone from the once-ripe fields, the greenery’s starting to wilt even before the calendar obliges it to, and the last rays of scorching sunlight make their way across dry, worn-out land. It’s summer, still, so the warmth is there for the most part, and there’s still plenty to enjoy! About the good days, that is. 

Yet today was certainly not the day to enjoy such pleasantries. 

It’s pouring as if out of a bucket. The sky is dim and maintains a veil of boring-gray. It’s also foggy, somehow. Certainly not the best time to enjoy a vacation from town and overall noble duties. And yet, one flamboyant count got an interesting stroke of luck by arriving just a day early for his well-deserved rest. The old-timey coach was brought up close to Bringham Manor - a quaint, isolated nook of English architecture amidst gorgeous rocks of Massif Central, surrounded by red brick and more cobblestone than one could possibly fathom in one gaze. And it’s so, so green and quiet and simply nature-filled here… Truly a perfect vacation spot.

Saint Maud’s Monastery’s bells could be heard, as the structure of olden cobblestone rests right nearby - hence why most locals simply dub it the manor’s chapel. There is always someone out to greet guests by the manor - even in such cranky weather. With the coach arriving, the half a dozen nuns standing close by, huddling beneath three umbrellas in their delicate hands, tensed up and prepared for the count’s arrival. Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait long to see their sponsor once more after nearly a year of absence: 

Lord Ambroys DeLuxe always knew how to make a frivolous entrance. Though, this time, he chose to be more conservative with the fanfares. Dressed in naught but a three-piece suit of vibrant pumpkin color, with gold embroidery woven into it in tiny bits and pieces of course, the shining light and the paragon of virtue let his hair down loose. A mixture of gold and silver alike, the halo shone brighter than ever - in spite of a few wrinkles making it onto the glimmering unicorn’s face. His hands remained just as nimble, sharp nails and fingertips toying around with a crimson neckerchief as he stepped out of the coach. Thankfully, all this beauty would not be presented for the sisters in vain - as they rushed over to hold their umbrellas over Ambroys’s weary head instead of theirs. 

“Your Eminence, careful!”

“Here, let me hold it for you!”

“You’ll get wet, Your Holiness, come closer!”

“Thank you, thank you, that’s enough, my holy darlings~” Ambroys crooned with mirth in his voice as the flock of lambs tended to him. His silky-smooth voice oozed over their ears like honey, simply forcing others to pay attention to it instead of rain’s constant pitter-pattering. And of course, the holy sisters fell silent, gazing up at their living saint and biggest benefactor with admiration. “...Well! First order of business,” Ambroys continued after a short pause, “Take me to the inner courtyard, please. I yearn to see how my rose bushes are faring!”

And so, Lord DeLuxe’s little helpers did just that. The walk inside was still quite long and a little tedious - especially since the dandy unicorn’s hooves felt cold and wet. The insides were… Average. To Ambroys, of course. He’s so used to baroque furniture, gold embroidery everywhere, and ornate patterns and columns that he simply passes by all the beauty within. The beauty without is what really makes him cherish the Manor nowadays. Ambroys is pacing through the corridors with unseen swiftness. Has he really been that desperate just to see how a dozen of his thousands was faring? Perhaps even so. Lord DeLuxe hasn’t had a chance to rest up so well in a while. 

It doesn’t take long for him to reach his destination. Sister Ovis, a once low-ranking sheep of the flock now running the manor’s chapel, has been waiting for him there since early morn. Ambroys really picked up gardening as a major hobby here, and it is of utmost importance that the tools for such were presented to him immediately and whenever necessary. Ovis held just the right size of the garden scissors, alongside a watering can in her other hand and a tiny shovel. One small problem, though - the sheep is right in the hurried unicorn’s way. Ambroys stopped, greeted Ovis with a subtle bow of his head, then dismissively gestured to her with a hand just so she could step away. This instant. 

Ah yes, and there they were! The magnificent, poofy roses of white and beige, some even slipping into yellow as a matter of fact. It wasn’t just this particular palette, though - there were as many roses in the inner courtyard as there were natural colors. But the centerpiece was, of course, tended to the most, as it was His Lordship’s favorite. The nuns, in the midst of Ambroys gasping and preening over the flowers, went off to the corner just to gossip and plan on their future arrangements for the count’s vacation. Because, in fact - it was Sister Ovis that requested Ambroys to come down and rest for a week. In a place he’s grown to adore so much for such pleasantries, no less. 

The unicorn’s delicate hands reached to gently brush over the raindrops atop his roses. He didn’t care much for getting wet anymore - he was home, his servants and the nuns alike will find something for him to be modest in. For now, all he cared for was the state of his pretties. And they were kept up just about perfectly. His halo glimmering, rendering raindrops around it into steam with a loud hiss, Ambroys almost crouched down and went in to give them a whiff… Honeylike and fresh. Delightful, simple as. Though, it’s evident he reached in a bit to deep, as suddenly: 

“Auh! Nnff…” A surprised yelp slipped past the count’s lips. He retreated the grasping hand, only to find his fingertip pricked by one of the thorns. And so, his halo flared up in suppressed rage for the first time in ages… The younger Ambroys would have scorched the bush to the ground, even if it was his favorite. And yet, age muddled this prissy pony down. He simply laughed it off and went back in, just to ruffle those pretty flowers of his. And yet, as his hand was turned the other way, Ambroys could see the back of his palm start to… Bubble. Dark warts suddenly appeared on his fingers and ravaged his delicate skin with pus. Naturally, the unicorn gasped in horror and shook his hand away. Ambroys quickly stumbled back, and his eyes caught a shadowy figure - more cloak than man, really - disappearing behind the courtyard’s columns.

“Your Holiness! Milord, what happened?!” Ovis and others yelled out loud, rushing over just to see… A pricked finger. Typical Ambroys - such a drama queen over such minuscule inconveniences. 

Though, at least Ambroys had the decency to shake off others’ worries - or at least try to: “Nothing! Nothing, I’m alright,” he said. Though the sisters and servants both flocked around him to see the pinprick with a droplet of golden blood coating it. 

“...Are you sure you’re alright, Your Eminence? It’s almost like you saw a ghost,” Ovis inquired, whilst urging him to come back inside. Ambroys, in turn, made a content face and nodded along, stepping aside and out of the rain. 

“Oh, there’s no such thing as ghosts around here! Especially with you safeguarding it, Ovis, dear,” Ambroys continued, schmoozing the stalwart nun who made him wipe his hooves on the carpet. “I ah… I thought it was a wasp, and I don’t quite like those, as you know, hm-hmh!” 

Still, His Lordship looked quite shaken-up by the experience. He must be cold and tired from the long trip here, Ovis thought. Thus, with a somber nod of her head, and with a rude little whiff down his side, she concluded: “...You need a bath. And a fresh set of garments before dinner. And swiftly, Your Eminence.”

Surprisingly enough, Ambroys wasn’t one to argue currently. So, while still bringing the whole thing down, he nodded in affirmation: “Certainly. Let that be arranged, lest you already have.” 

Something strange is happening with the Manor. Yet Ambroys chooses to ignore it and get his rest anyway. Out of sight - out of mind! 

“Ahhh…” A warm bath certainly hits the spot. Finally left in complete solitude after exchanging pleasantries with local servants and Ovis, his beloved manor-manager, Ambroys cherished the quiet and his own thoughts being less intrusive. No more rich garments - only natural perfection. Though, the rose-prick stung a little as he sunk in, steam rising from a bath of both porcelain and brass while the water levels changed altogether. Ambroys sunk down deeper, deeper, until all that peeked out of the rippling water was his weary head and wet mane. 

Truly, the water’s embrace was more warm and comfortable than a blanket’s. A veil of soothing, transparent void enveloped the whole of Ambroys’s body, and he let himself relax - slowly, muscle by muscle. The intrusive thoughts stopped for a while, as, indeed, the best way to confront these was alone and directly. Perhaps Sister Ovis was right. Perhaps he is seeing things thanks to exhaustion from the trip. A moment of weakness others allowed him to have - but nothing more than that! And so, all worries melted away with the strain and stress within Comte DeLuxe’s muscles… He opened his eyes, and let the glimmer of candles take up his vision, with many other pleasantries surrounding him, too.

Ambroys felt himself going stiff again. It was time to change poses, or actually wash through the wet golden mane. And so the water rippled again, as the count stood tall and proud with oils and floral soaps making their way into his hands. Eyes still in a haze of sorts, Ambroys then used the big brass ladle by the side to douse himself in more flower water, washing the whole of his tiresome state off along with all that soap. He spent about three minutes enjoying the remaining heat and preening himself, all in the privacy he oh-so missed in Ovis and others’ presence. Little did he know it’d come to bite him in the shin: 

As the count’s glimmering eyes looked down again, they found Ambroys’s silhouette in the still-rippling reflection. But alongside it - there was that same hooded, shadowy figure, pinned to the ceiling by its own claws. Ambroys’s face froze in terror, as it slowly craned its neck back, and then - krr-kHRRk - it snapped backward, with its cheshire-cat grin glimmering in dim candlelight. 

“GAH!-” Ambroys let a shrill scream slip through his lips, as his own neck craned back and nearly snapped on its own accord. That caused the count a lot of pain, and, as he reached to grasp at his wincing spine - his own hooves slipped on the tub. 

The thud was loud, but the splashing that followed was louder. And as Ambroys stared at the ceiling with a bitter scowl - no one was there to be found, once again. In pain and frustrated beyond reprieve, his own bodily heat got the water boiling, but then - Sister Ovis came by, and the count had to steady himself before his most trusted agent.

“Milord? Are you alright?” Ovis’s voice faintly came through the door. 

“Why yes! Of course I’m alright, I err…” Ambroys paused, then continued with a slight stammer in his voice: “I ah… I tripped in the tub. Embarrassing, I know-”

Sister Ovis’s dramatic gasp then interrupted the count. “Oh my days! Are you hurt?!” she inquired, as the door handle twisted and she was ready to barge in. 

“No!!!” Ambroys raised his voice, all of a sudden. Truly, he didn’t wish to be in his birthday suit before Ovis of all people! “Ahem, I mean - of course not, I’m quite alright,” Ambroys continued, now in a less volatile manner. 

It seems crisis has been averted. Ovis fell silent for a short while, but then replied: “...Well, regardless - I do hope you’ll have the time to come by for dinner. We’ve prepared a whole feast for you, Milord - and my experience tells me you’re going to love it!”

“Right on, Ovis, dear! I’ll be there in fifteen,” Ambroys raised his voice again, yet with a certain jive - he sure made the naive nun think everything’s alright with him... When everything was, in fact, not fucking alright. 

Even as Ambroys haphazardly put his shirt and pants back on, and fixed the pre-tied bow over his neck, he still couldn’t get the shuddering out of his body. Just what… Was that creature?! Something about it spoke of a familiar experience, way deep in the past. And yet after such a long time, who knows just what might have happened. But this was certainly not fitting the “seeing things” theory anymore. Someone is sending harrowing visions his way, and there might be someone dangerous really close by. That all-too familiar feeling of restlessness and paranoia returned. There will be no rest in this manor any longer for Count DeLuxe. He needs to find the traitor, weed him out, and - oh! Dinner is just about perfect for attending to it.

The once-shimmering unicorn came to dinner with his hair still wet and mop-like. Furthermore, all of the makeup washed off, and the subtle, yet noticeable flaws of his physique were slowly revealing themselves to the public: Decades of secretive bloodletting left Ambroys’s skin pallid and ridden with unhealthy freckles. Constant stress and paranoia made the dark bags under his eyes so prominent it’s almost as if he doesn’t sleep at all. Poor diet was starting to take its toll on the once-nimble body, too, as Comte DeLuxe appears much less toned, even if his garments remain the same, and flatter him just as well. Worst of all, the scars from that aforementioned endeavor were barely withering away, so he certainly had to wear long sleeves around others. Always. And that sure made him a little bothered within, especially since the dining hall was warmed by a grand, ornate fireplace. 

Nevertheless, Ambroys took his rightful seat at the head of that grand table, and, indeed - the table was stuffed aplenty with all sorts of delicacies. In particular, the count noticed some of his favorites laying around. The golden rose-petal jam simply called to him… Now, it would be uncouth to start off with dessert, so Ambroys indulged in some other dishes placed around here. Oh, the potato salad was simply gorgeous! And yet, nothing seemed to halt his train of thought. 

There it was, the cowardly gaze, scanning the table in search of oddities in pleasantries’ stead. Nothing entertained the count in his cozy castle anymore. All he thought about was that harrowing visage, of some thing grinning at him. Surely, there must be a demon somewhere around here! And, with his undisputed expertise, he shall find it. However, that stare Ambroys has surely attracted Ovis’s attention. She says nothing, sitting by his side, but the tension is there. Ambroys keeps looking, with fork still in hand and salad dripping back onto the plate… Nothing. Until the shadowy figure suddenly makes its entrance, and it’s right there! At the table! Dining at the other end! 

“There it is!” Ambroys bellowed, jumping up from his seat and aiming his fork at whatever he just saw. The nuns, the servants, and the occasional guest shuddered and leaned back in sheer terror. Ambroys was supposed to be the paragon of virtue, and yet - he looked ill. Malnourished. Mad. And as the count tried to rush himself towards the seat by the other side, Ovis tried to interfere. 

“Milord, what happened? What did you see? What are you doing? Please, put the utensils away, let us talk!” Ovis pleaded, holding onto the limping unicorn’s forearm. And yet nothing could stop Ambroys in his quest for the shadowy silhouette he just saw. Only to be made a fool again, as the seat was utterly empty, alongside most of the others at the back. 

“But… But it was right there… He was sitting right there, I saw him with my own eyes!!!” Ambroys raised his voice yet again, standing still and holding the knife as if it was glued in his fist. Ovis tried her best to remove it, then simply urged him to try and sit down, but - the stubborn arse didn’t budge. 

And yet again she inquired, this time without much hope: “What was there, Milord? Who was it that you saw? What is-”

“The Killjoy Mage!!!” Ambroys bellowed, hysterically shaking and trembling in sheer rage and fear. This was a fit like no other, truly. “I see him everywhere,” he continued, “At the bathchambers, in my own garden, in- In my private quarters! He chases me! There must be a witch around here… Yeees, there IS a witch here…”

Delusional as he was, Ovis chose to step away, her own hands trembling in terror the demented, frightened little nobleman brought into her. And still she looked up to him. He needed help! But sometimes, help isn’t able to come where it matters. 

“Which one of you betrayed me, you loathsome bastards? Who let a witch into my own sanctuary?! WHO?!” Ambroys continued yelling, and slammed his knife into the ornate table. His halo burnt brighter than ever, with clouds of steam puffing out of his nostrils, clouding his enraged face in the midst of it all. 

“If no one confesses, I will personally gh… G-Grngh…”  Something interrupted the raging donkey. He couldn’t swallow - his throat swelled up within, to unimaginable proportions. It was like something was stuck in there, and, simultaneously, caused the worst heartburn of his many years on here. The free hand grasped at his chest, trying to tear the shirt off, as his eyes, nose, and lips suddenly got wet with their respective fluids. He was crying, but stiff and unable to perform any expression but a perpetual gasp. It was difficult to breathe. Ambroys was heaving in and out, with gross, sloppy gurgles oozing past his grit teeth. Has he been… Poisoned?! 

The warts returned. Not just to his hand, no - they slowly spread across the entirety of his body. Furthermore, it seems as if fungus starts to take over while he’s still there, breathing, somewhat. Ambroys collapses onto the table, holding on for dear life, feeling tremendous pain across the whole of his body, and the shadowy figure sitting right next to him. That paw. Its silvery claws stroke through his mane. The too-hot touch all-too familiar to the angelic being. And soon, as his lungs grow tired and collapse over themselves, Ambroys DeLuxe slips into the blissful retreat of unconsciousness… 

***

Fire. It was close by. The wood’s crackling way too loudly for it to be real, and yet - the flame’s glimmering feels like such. It seems that Ambroys received a smooth awakening right next to the fireplace. His skin felt… Waxy. Strangely enough, it didn’t feel unpleasant - it’s more so a consequence of how tiresome and stiff his joints have become. Slowly, but surely, the count tried to open his eyes - and although his eyelids felt heavy, too heavy, he managed to open them and give his surroundings a look-over: 

To be frank, it wasn’t his manor anymore. Far from it. The house he’s in is darker, dimmer, simpler in design. And with that in mind - a fair bit more sinister. Nothing feels right about it, even though the warm tones of furniture around him create an aura of some coziness. Ambroys’s eyes dashed around, as they couldn’t focus on the fireplace alone. The fire was too much. Somehow, this fire is too much even for someone like him. And boy does his wood creak as he tries to move his neck elsewhere! Wait. Wait a second - wood?! That wasn’t right. Nothing besides his eyes could move, and the texture of whatever lied beneath was wooden, for some reason. Ambroys could feel it - he could feel the fire getting closer, warming him up within and without, until he could possibly catch fire and suffer in surprising silence. 

Then, Comte DeLuxe’s pink peepers glanced at the mirror: What in the name of the Lord… He’s been turned into a puppet! Indeed, Ambroys was only a third of his “normal” size, yet most of his body still looked quite similar to one of flesh. It was no cheap mockery, but rather - something a possible admirer of his could build. Something to truly immortalize him in heart and mind. Though, of course, he looked a lot younger, especially since he was dressed in his old, pastel-pink garments. It was the same bow, the same pantaloons… The same buttons, even. The replica was almost-indistinguishable from his earlier portraits, and yet - something was certainly off. About everything this new body of his represented. 

“Gnn… Gnneeehh!...” Ambroys’s artificial jaw fell down, revealing more of his teeth of real ivory, alongside ornate fangs of gold. By God, someone tried to make him real QUITE fervently, huh? It’s some movement and noise, at least. Maybe someone, or something, that occupies these grounds would notice him. As, still, something was awfully familiar about this place. Maybe that’s where he gets the sinister chill down his spine from.

Then - it was that voice that made Ambroys remember everything. Indeed, it was him. The Killjoy Mage. Someone who haunted him for decades after making  a deal with him - one of many haunting bastards, go figure! And yet, this one’s special. This one’s persistent, and fervent like hell when it comes to getting what he wants. Either way - his voice sent more chills down Ambroys’s spine: “Ah, wonderful. It seems that my little lordling is finally awake. Splendid, we have lots to catch up on…” The shadowy, hooded figure said, and, after taking said hood down - stepped out of its comfortable darkness: 

Even by looks alone, it is evident that Baron Killjoy and Mortimer Killinger are two separate personas. While Ambroys remembers Morty to be a timid man, always focused on his books and research instead of socializing, Baron Killjoy was his “real” self - to be put out into the world and be admired, or harrowed, by the masses. 

Not much changed about Killjoy, but the imperfections were polished off with age. And, speaking of age - Killnger aged like fine wine: His once-black fur now stood at a classic gray for his breed, the somewhat-short muzzle of a British Shorthair ever-expressive. With the fur graying out, mind you, the hair, too, followed the Killinger line, and turned snow-white instead of the nut-brown he once possessed - trimmed short and layered neatly into a “doctoral” side-part. And the garments, oh, the garments! Simple, but effective. A black, double-breasted coat encapsulated his entire upper half, though the beige sleeves and collar of his shirt still made him look a-la Gepetto of sorts, beneath all that fancy leather. His workpants, too, seemed a little too casual for such an encounter - and the heavy, studded workboots seemed a little out of place for someone as gentle as Morty usually is. He’s playing a character, however, and he’s doing it exceptionally-well. 

Ambroys still couldn’t move, mind you - and he wouldn't. Not in this damned Mage’s presence. Killjoy, in the meantime, stepped forth and let his gloved hands caress through the silky-smooth mane of the puppet. His puppet. And then, the hands picked the little pony up by his waist, letting him see the big, paunchy cat’s face from up close… As well as such minor details as his own cadaver laying down in the shadows. The room seems to be neverending, and there’s nothing to look at besides Mortimer’s smug, grinning mug. With gray fur, his eyeliner is much more noticeable. And, somehow messier. Indeed, it dribbles down almost to his dimple-ridden cheeks! And boy does it work as a tactic of intimidation! 

“You wouldn’t believe what lengths I had to go to just so we could meet in person again, Amby,” Mortimer said, still grinning. 

“What… What did you do? Give me my real body back, you foul sorcerer! Release me at once!!!” Ambroys replied. Wait - he replied! Yes! And now he could move his limbs around, too! Naturally, he went in to try and slap, as well as kick, Killjoy where it counts, but alas - that was comical. Almost akin to a baby trying to protest being put to bed. 

And just like how his movements returned, they once again stopped in their entirety. Now Ambroys couldn’t even move his eyes around - only make a few faint noises through the crackling voicebox wedged down his throat. 

“Now-now, this isn’t how we greet the host, do we? Ah, perhaps you’re cold - let me move you closer to the fire!” Mortimer spoke, swiftly, making decisions upon decisions for Ambroys and in his stead. The puppet was, once again, placed in its respective seat, and moved so close to the fire there was a danger of sparks setting it on fire. And by God was it hot. Ambroys can’t stand it, he yearns to move away, and yet - all there is to it is some frantic whinnying and whimpering out of the damned voicebox. 

While the shimmering unicorn-muppet is straining and suffering, Mortimer continues to monologue, unencumbered and unbothered with his captive’s harrowed state: “You must understand, my darling Count, that this isn’t a permanent fixture. You’ll return back to your mortal shell in a good few, but I still wanted for you to have a… Temporary vessel. So that you could witness just what it is like, to be a witch in the less tolerant times - just how you left me behind, actually. I really needed your help, and you were nowhere to be found as the mob swarmed our frat house. Don’t you remember, Amby? Well, I do. And now you get a bitter aftertaste of MY memories…” 

Whatever Mortimer meant by that could not be anything good. Sparks flew closer and closer to the armchair, as Ambroys couldn’t move his eyes away from the flame. It was getting too dry, too hot, too uncomfortable. And as he sits there, helplessly, the fire licks at his lacquered booties. Suffering of the past, the present, and the future comes in assaulting tidal waves of visions through the firepit, causing his mind to flow into overdrive already. The panicking donkey is making just a bit too much noise, so Mortimer buries a nut in between its jaws… Then another one, and another one, enjoying the sight whilst using his puppet like a nutcracker. 

“Mm. Feel it already, don’t you?” Morty asked, cheekily chuckling, “Usually, you suffocate with carbon monoxide before the flames engulf your body in full, but, well - it’s a fireplace… A single spark can’t do much harm to you anyway, right? Oh, my little Pinocchio - you have so many debts to repay! Not just to me, but all that you’ve duped - and I will make sure you repay all of them, and way, WAY above, in full! Ha-ha-HEE-HAWW, you slimy, frilly, fffruity fucking donkey! You will HEE-HAAAW for my entertainment, for ALL eternity, you conniving little shit! Ha-ha-haaahhh!!!”

Truly, by the end of his monologue, the accursed mage turned as unhinged as Ambroys once was. A spark finally hit his stocking, and it started going ablaze. The pain was unbearable, and yet the trapped count couldn’t even scream. He saw dozens, hundreds of replicas just like his mind was placed into, hanging off the walls in various poses, with various tools used to pulverize their bodies. And as he’s gone fully ablaze, the smell of burning lacquer soon filled his nostrils. Baron Killjoy’s deep, sinister laugh filled his consciousness, until all he could hear were his own, shrill screams of pain and terror. And then… It was no more. 

***

T’was a rude awakening for Comte DeLuxe. Eyes open wide, his chest heaved as he felt the rush of adrenaline from the fever dream he’s just woken up from. And yet, Ambroys didn’t move. He chose not to, because the worst heartburn of his life and the muscle pain from the poison still flooded his senses - as soon as the adrenaline wore down, somewhat. He was conveniently placed under a blanket, which covered him from the neck down, and it was… Comforting. Seems to be cold, too, which is surprising all things considered. 

“Musta been here for a while,” Ambroys said out loud, after feeling just how sticky and wet his back has become. And, in the midst of it, he heard voices. One of Ovis and one of… No. It couldn’t be. Was Ovis of all people not smart enough to figure out she shouldn’t bring strangers into the Manor?! Frustrated as he is, Ambroys chose not to lash out this time, and instead - carefully listened to what the “good doctor” and his supposed most loyal servant were talking about: 

“I don’t… I don’t even understand how something could happen, you know?” Ovis spoke, audibly nervous and on the verge of tears, “Comte DeLuxe does have a temper, but this wasn’t him there. It wasn’t like him, Doctor, I just…”

“You panicked, Sister, I understand,” the physician replied, somber and calm in comparison, “Perhaps it was simply out of your reach. I am glad you called me for help right away, however. I have been conducting therapy with Comte DeLuxe for ah, quite some time, so perhaps I can provide some proper assistance.”

A pause followed suit, as if they listened to the count breathe through the door. “So, what could be the reason for such a… Flip-out?” Ovis asked, sniffling and trying her best to calm down. 

The doctor, in turn, didn’t reply for a good few seconds: “Hmm… It’s hard to say for certain at this stage, Sister. But as I have experience with Monsieur Ambroys, his mental health condition has been severely neglected by himself and his surroundings.”

“Y-Yes, yes, that much I know,” the nun stammered, “But maybe… Any predictions? Wild guesses? Please, Doctor, I just want to know how I can-”

Ambroys could still see their silhouettes. With each sentence said, his nightmare was becoming more and more real. The doctor’s round, feline ears flickered, and his paw was raised to stop the scared sheep from speaking. She might say too much. And so, the doctor spoke, instead: 

“Help him, Sister? In all honesty, the best you can do is provide care as if nothing odd is happening. If my theory and experience might help you anyhow, I do believe the Count is going through a severe episode of depressive psychosis. We don’t usually get such strong outrages from diagnosed patients, but who knows. He does have inclinations towards antisocial personality disorder, as well, from what reports I have read on the matter…” 

Ovis was shocked. And oh, Ambroys couldn’t scream, either - he’s too tired and terrified to even blubber out some sort of distress signal. In the meantime, the higher sister broke down crying, in spite of her best attempts to steady herself:

“Dear God, I… I don’t know how it could of happened, Doctor, I’m-” 

“Devastated, I know. Perhaps the Count you knew and loved is buried somewhere beneath this veil of madness. I’ll do my best, I promise. I will help Comte DeLuxe return back to his holy, lovable self.”

Mortimer pat Ovis’s shoulder, and then guided her towards the door: “So - shall we check in on our patient? I believe I heard some rustling nearby, which means he must be doing better, somehow…”

A short nod from the sheep’s side later, the two of them entered Ambroys’s smaller, yet oh-so private quarters. Indeed, the worst possible scenario for Ambroys was unraveling right before his eyes. Dr. Killinger was right there, next to a devastated Sister Ovis, dressed quite formally and rocking a white labcoat once again. His red cravat contrasted well with that beige shirt of his, and, oh boy - he appeared almost the same as he was in Ambroys’s harrowing nightmare. The eyeliner’s cleaner, however, and his gloves are a sickly-cyan - ones expected to be found around proper medical doctors. Amber eyes hidden behind big and round, metallic glasses, he still held Ovis by the shoulder as if to comfort her. 

“I h-heard… Every-thing you said…” The Count hissed, as his eyes fixated on Mortimer instead of Ovis. And then, they flickered on over to the nun, staring her down with judgment and sorrow: “Do you… Do you actually believe this man, Ovis? What did I tell you about letting strangers into-”

“I apologize, Milord, but I believe it is no stranger,” Ovis suddenly interrupted Ambroys, “He is your court physician of many years. Mortimer… Killinger, was it?” Mortimer nodded. “Yes, yes - he was written down in your phone-book, and he also ended up to be quite nearby, so…”

“So I came running,” Dr. Killinger said, “My, you certainly look a lot worse than I thought. Maybe it’s the heat?”

“The heat… The heat?!” Ambroys asked, giggling in the most unhinged manner possible, as his eye twitched, and he tried to yank himself out of the bed. And yet - it didn’t budge. His limbs didn’t. Ovis was quick and careful enough with the blanket, and the Count could see just how utterly fucked he was: His wrists, ankles, waist, and neck were strapped in shut. The cowhide wouldn’t budge, but the straps in question also didn’t hurt - the bracelets are padded well enough for that to never-ever happen. His head and mane are both wrapped up with more straps - ones that monitor his brain activity, while his right forearm bears a needle taped taut to it, and a drop counter with a mysterious, transparent fluid. 

Ambroys tries to yank himself up, again and again. And when that doesn’t work - steam oozes out of his nostrils. Ambroys prepares to use fire, and burn this whole place to the ground! Everyone around him is a traitor, now! Misguided fools! And yet - nothing comes of it, as well. 

“My… My halo. Where’s my halo?!” The Count bellowed, as if to himself, his eyes going wide at the realization: The magic within his blood is-

“Suppressed, for the time being,” Mortimer said, “You could pose a danger to yourself and others, Comte DeLuxe. Please, remain outstretched, struggling won’t get you anywhere.”

Oh yeah. Now Ambroys is terrified. His teeth grit shut, his gaze shifts to the sniffling, misguided sheep once more: “Ovis? Sister Ovis. What did you do? What did you let him put IN me? What is going on?!” The unicorn stammered, as his body still shifted and squirmed in an attempt to at least loosen the straps. 

“I-It’s for your own good, Milord,” she said, “It’s some sort of suppressant, I’m not quite aware of it, the- Dr. Killinger knows better. I…”

Ambroys, in the midst of it, continued to rile himself up more: “Ovis, please, y-you can hear me now, I am coherent, I am truly and utterly sane, release me. Release me at once, th- this is treason, you can’t-” 

“I think it’s best you go, he’s getting rowdy again,” Mortimer said, and Ovis obeyed. All to the utter horror and despair of Ambroys DeLuxe: “Ovis! No! Stay here! Observe what you did to me! D-Don’t leave me with him! Don’t leave meeee!!! Please!!! Please…”

Now it is the Son of God who’s on the verge of tears here. Ovis stormed out of his chamber and locked the door shut. And from this point on, Mortimer and Ambroys could speak tete-a-tete. 

“Hm-hm-hmh! You sure got me, you sssslimy motherfucker,” Ambroys hissed at the big cat in front of him, giggling some more afterward, “So? What’s it going to be? Magic? You’re going to show off just how cool of a puppeteer you are, by guiding all of MY sheep to do YOUR bidding? For shame, you’re pathetic, you’re disgusting, and I was right to le-EENNFF!!!”

A gloved paw clasped over Ambroys’s muzzle. And then - Mortimer grinned like the Cheshire Cat he is. “You look upset,” he chimed, “Why don’t we check your stomach out a little? It must ache quite a lot after such a plentiful feast, Milord.” And with that said, Dr. Killinger reached in for his bag, and pulled out a strange metallic contraption. It looked like braces, of sorts, but the teeth were meant to be slotted into the surrounding metal sheathing. And there was this harrowing “tongue” meant to pin one of flesh strictly downward. There was also a long, long thin tube of plastic ready to be shoved in… Oh no. 

It isn’t often Ambroys would prefer to keep his mouth shut - but now is one of those rare occasions. His jaws are clasped taut, and steam keeps oozing out of his nostrils in clouds. There isn’t much he can do, but Mortimer simply sighs in disappointment, and clasps the gloved hand over his nose, instead. “Really, Ambroys? I thought you already knew better than to resist my assaults. Especially when you’re this powerless,” Mortimer kept talking in the meantime, all-too condescendingly at that. Still, Ambroys at least tried to be brave in the face of the enemy. And even though his struggle was valiant - it was, indeed, rather pointless. With his lungs burning and his mind about to shut down again, the shimmering unicorn relented and parted his jaws for a gasp - all for Dr. Killinger’s convenience. 

A taste of polished steel soon made its way onto the Count’s tongue. His jaws were forced to part just a little wider, so that the “feeding vessel” could fit in without any interruptions. With the tongue pinned and the teeth sheathed by more sturdy metal, Ambroys started to yell obscure obscenities at the healer-mage - in a last-ditch effort to summon Ovis, someone, anyone to help him. That help never came, so the unicorn shook his head and tried to make it as hard as possible for Mortimer to work. Though, with a knee roughly pinning his chest further down, Ambroys couldn’t quite move anywhere else. And so, with more yowling to come - the semi-transparent thing slowly made its descent through the stubborn bastard’s maw. 

“GhkhKHAAAUFF!- GhRGHRL- GHRNGHKK!!!-” Ahh yes - there it is. The muffled noise of sheer desperation and the gag reflex working against one’s whole body. Ambroys thrashed and held his eyes wide-open, while Mortimer only continued to shove it further down his esophagus. 

The doctor, in the midst of his captive patient’s agony, simply enjoyed himself and kept on babbling: “Ahh, so you can feel it already, huh? Silly little lordling, you think I’d waste my magic to torment some trash of your kind? You’re still so naive, even after all these years! No, why would I use my precious resources, when I can make you sob like a bitch with some metal and plastic? Ah, looks like I missed a spot, hold on…”

All of a sudden, Mortimer yanked the tube back from Ambroys’s trachea, and crudely shoved it back again, causing the Count to retch and hurgle while still pinned in place. A few more ins and outs followed suit, nice and slow. The feeling was horrible. It’s almost like Ambroys was ready to spill his breakfast out, and yet - his pathways for such were blocked off by that damned instrument. Dr. Killinger smiled quite fully and smugly while he tormented Ambroys, casually pushing the tube in and out to his desire. After all, “he’s just observing.” Ambroys’s whole body was stiff. His fists repeatedly slammed against the bed while still strapped in - not unlike his younger self throwing a pitiful temper-tantrum. His stomach vibrated from the amount of times it tried to spill its contents, then disallowed to do so. Truly, pain would be preferred to this sort of draining humiliation…

This went on for several minutes. Ambroys counted seconds. In, out, in, out, in, out… He lost count by the time Mortimer’s done. His whole face, and the pillow beneath, is coated in tears, snot, and drool, as well as whatever other bodily fluids Ambroys could possibly produce in his sorry state. His bellows and yowls were reduced to pitiful whimpering. His whole body was trying to move away from “his” healer, utterly terrified of what else he could do. But, all Mortimer concerned himself with was wiping the filth off his patient’s face, and gently petting through his gilded mane. 

“I believe we’re just about done with the examination part,” he said, “You, my little lordling, have one hell of an ulcer. We will have to put you on a strict diet and see if it improves in a week or two.”

“Gh-Ghhmmff… Pweeebff!...” The unicorn pleaded and tried to reason with Killinger, still trapped and entirely in his grasp. 

“Please what? Oh, don’t you worry - I’ll set you up alright! It’ll be a full-body detox for a sick stomach, and a sick mind alike,” the good doctor replied, finally dismounting Ambroys and taking a seat next to him. Seems like he has some notes prepared in his clipboard… As well as a spare pencil, and a few sheets of paper. Those are all given to the simpering count, as he lays and tries to regain some forces before the next bit of his “healing process.”

“Now,” Morty continued, “Before we begin - I must say, dear Ambroys: Out of all the four dozen shit-smeared angels I’ve found over the years, you are still the most entertaining. That’s good for you, long-term. Because it means you aren’t boring to me. And I hate boring people, which meeeaaans you still get to live! After we’re done, of course- But that’s besides the point! Let me explain how we’re going to do things around here…” And so, Mortimer leaned in really close, his ever-present smile vanishing in place for a horrible, dead-within face: 

“I will ask you questions. Many of them. You will give me a detailed, but straightforward answer. Depending on how well you answer these, your healing process could be swift or slow. I will not let you be until all have been answered, and I have been satisfied with the quality of said answers. Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh, Uh-huhhmf!” Ambroys nodded and desperately mumbled. He got the assignment, alright. 

“Good. Now for the consequences: Avoid the answer, resist, go off on a tangent - I don’t care. This all counts as dissatisfying me. Dissatisfy me once, and I’ll force-feed you the leftover slop from that feast. Dissatisfy me twice, and I’ll ensure you get a daily, thorough colon-cleansing with ginger-water. Continue to act like a lowly ass, and I’ll find ways to make you talk. Believe me. You do not, want, to resist me this time. Do you?”

“Nghogh! Nogh aff aghll!” The olden angelic bastard shook his head for emphasis, and thus - received some more head-petting for cooperation. With the pencil already in his trembling hand, he’s ready to answer questions - just to get rid of his tormentor as soon as possible. And so, without any more instructions - they could begin their long, arduous process of putting Ambroys DeLuxe back on good track. Though, the first question already made the poor count wail, as Mortimer leaned back and casually ordered: 

“...Tell me all that you know about the trials and whereabouts of Lord Hyden.”

To Be Continued.

#amaranthine #ambroys deluxe #mortimer killinger #baron killjoy #my writing #prose #short story #self-indulgent stuff #boy does this absolute ass fit a lot of medical tubes into him #imagine being an angelic witch-pawn

[sorcerymuses]

Winx Club Fairy Transformations (Enchantix)

//And here we are with more fairy redesigns for my upcoming project that I still haven’t named. A big change is going to be that the achievement of Enchantix is not going to be the so-called final exam at Alfea because that’s kinda counterintuitive. It is a ‘special’ graduation requirement though due to it demonstrating a readiness for a deeper connection to the fairy’s individual power source.

Enchantix in order of achievement ›

General Rule › Outfit is related to the respective fairy's personality; wing shape and colour is related to power-set, and very large (allows for higher altitude flight); all Enchantix have transluscent elbow-length gloves that match wing colour, soleless sandals that match wing colour and power theme, and a choker holding their fairy dust; hair accessories are generally clips that match power theme unless the fairy is a princess

Aisha (Sacrificing a cure for a curse in order to save Queen Ligea) ›

Green leotard with a lime green ruffled ballet tutu and matching ruffled bolero

Sandals are decorated with Morphix chips shaped like discs

Wings are blue and shaped to emulate waves with pink tips

Hair is restyled into cornrows leading to a half updo of high pigtails, dark pink highlights are added

She wears a green circlet with dark pink Morphix chips

Stella (Saving her father at the cost of her magic) ›

Orange bikini style top with silver straps and a petal skirt with pink and silver accents

Sandals are gold decorated with both white and peach moonstone chips shaped like stars

Wings are silver and shaped to emulate sunbursts with gold tips

Hair is restyled into a half updo of high pigtails with platinum highlights

Wears a golden tiara decorated with star cut chips of peach moonstone

Musa (Rescuing Princess Galatea from a fire at the risk of her own safety) ›

Maroon button down shirt, tied under the bust, with matching flare skirt; both have violet accents

Sandals are decorated with pink music notes

Wings are pink and shaped to emulate sound waves, with violet tips

Hair maintains style, but gains purple highlights

Wears music note clips at base of each pigtail

Flora (Saving her little sister from falling into poisoned water) ›

Pink dress with an empire waist and a loose ruffling, pastel green boy-shorts peak out under the hem of dress

Sandals have emerald leaf decorations

Wings are pastel green and shaped to emulate flower petals with darker green tips

Hair is restyled into a half updo with blond highlights braided into twin buns

Wears flowers around buns

Tecna (Sacrificing herself to close an imploding portal that would destroy the dimension) ›

Lavender bandeau top and boy-shorts with neon green circuitry across her midriff

Sandals have no decorations but are neon green and emulate circuitry

Wings appear as if they are only made of neon wire framework in the outline of butterfly wings

Hair gains green highlights

Wears a wire clip that holds her bangs back

Bloom (Restoring Domino) ›

Blue tiered dress with pink accents and pink boy-shorts peaking under hem

Sandals are decorated with teardrop shaped chips of sunstone

Wings are light blue and shaped to emulate flames with red tips

Hair is restyled into a simple half updo with blonde highlights

Wears a tiara decorated with teardrop-cut sunstone pieces

#post: headcanon #fairy form: enchantix #(Aisha) freedom of waves 🏄🏾‍♀️ #(Bloom) princess of domino 🐉 #(Flora) a little bit greener 🌿 #(Musa) the magic of music 🎤 #(Stella) fairy of the shining sun 🌓 #(Tecna) technomagic ftw 📱

[gojira007]

I know this is old, but I'd really love to see you expand your Ringranger concept from a while back.

So OK, I realize this has been sitting around my inbox for a bit longer than I intended? But that's only because, well, I also would love to see me expand my "Ring Ranger" concept from a while back. XD So I figured I'd take the time to offer up some of the details I've had mulling around in my brain for the last couple years about the idea. Check 'em out under the cut!

In my head, this is basically the Theme Music.

As originally conceived, my intent would be to use Humanized Versions of the "Sonic" cast, even as the one pic I've done of the idea thus far uses the original Furry/Mobian designs. x3

We'd have two Teams of Ring Rangers, one Good and one "Evil" (but this is Sentai, so of course the Evil team would inevitably turn out to be Not That Evil and join the Good Team). The Good Team would consist of Sally (The Leader/Red), Sonic (Blue), Knuckles (Green), Bunnie (Yellow), and Amy (Pink), while the Evil Team would consist of Shadow (Black), Silver (Silver, duh XD), and Blaze (Gold).

The premise is basically What If SatAM But Super Sentai: the Great Mobian Kingdom, led by King Maximillian Nigel Timothaeus Acorn, reigned in peace for many years, serving to protect The Golden Power of Gaia, the God who created the world.  But, seeking to take this power for himself, King Acorn’s military commander Julian Kintobor betrayed the Kingdom, using his machines to conquer the Kingdom and attempt to corrupt the giant Warp Ring which served as the gateway to and conduit for Gaia.  His efforts were only partially successful; though he could not reach Gaia itself, Julian was successful in corrupting the Ring, spreading a terrible darkness across the land and transforming him into Robotnik The Imperious, a machine-monster whose cursed touch could transform anyone and anything into a mechanized monster at his command.  This power did come at a price, binding Robotnik to the fallen Castle Acorn, but it also enabled him to create Robians out of innocent civilians and even ordinary machines to act as Agents of his will.  But hope was not lost: King Acorn’s daughter Sally and a group of her most trusted friends and allies were able to escape Robotnik and went underground, beginning a Freedom Fighter movement to liberate the world from Robotnik’s tyranny.  The key to their victory lies in finding and restoring the broken pieces of the Warp Ring, which in theory would undo the Curse.  To this end, the team’s scientific ally Rotor created the Ring Spinners, special devices modeled after the original Warp Ring which can not only track the location of the fragments, but allow our heroes to tap into a fraction of Gaia’s power, transforming them into the Ring Rangers!  But Robotnik is also intent on finding the Warp Ring fragments, and his mechanical abilities have allowed him to make Ring Spinners of his own....

Each Ring Ranger can summon their own special Chao through the power of the Ring Spinner.  This Chao is bonded to them and acts as their partner, able to transform both into their Wispons (which draw on ancient spirits called Wisps to use their powers) and into their Golems, mechanized suits of armor which allow the Rangers to fight at giant scale.  When the Rangers’ hearts are as one, both the Wispons and Golems can unite together into their ultimate forms, though not only is it hard to maintain the emotional balance needed to create and maintain these combinations, but the nature of the Rangers’ work is such that they aren’t always together to make those combinations happen in the first place.

That’s about as much of it as I’ve had mentally sketched out at this point.  I dunno when I’ll get around to actually realizing any of it, but I thought you might appreciate knowing what I had so far, and I hope you like it ^_^

#sonic the hedgehog #archie sonic #super sentai #tokusatsu #fanfiction #writing #alternate universe #au #gojira007 #thanks for the ask

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

“No. No, that cannot be right.”

As the news of her pregnancy sank in, Maera's initial shock gave way to a sense of denial, almost as if she were trying to resist the reality of the situation. Uncertainty clouded her features, and her mind raced with conflicting emotions. The ongoing war cast a dark shadow over her thoughts, and the unsettling prophecies of Helaena added an additional layer of worry.

The specter of death in childbirth loomed large, a heavy concern that intertwined with the complexities of the world around her. In the midst of this emotional whirlwind, Maera found herself grappling with the profound implications of bringing a child into such turbulent times.

The maester maintained his composure and explained, “I am quite certain, Princess. The babe will likely arrive in seven moons.”

Maera, still grappling with the revelation, attempted to find reason. “But what about the bleeding?” she asked, standing up from the bed.

Maester Orwyle reassured her, “Sometimes, when a babe is forming in the womb and nestles into its place, it can cause some bleeding. It is usually nothing to worry about, but I will monitor it closely to ensure your health and the babe’s.”

Despite the Maester's reassurance, Maera found her mind continuing to race with anxious thoughts. As she rose from the examination bed, she couldn't help but pick at the golden and sapphire ring on her left hand, something precious that Aemond had previously gifted her.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Maera took in the image reflected back at her. Her hair, dark brown with the distinctive silver streak, was braided and adorned with a golden headpiece. Widened green eyes stared back, framed by the mourning attire she wore—a black dress with embroidered golden dragons on the collar. She contemplated how her body might change as the pregnancy developed, adding another layer to the uncertainty that had taken hold.

A sobering thought crossed Maera's mind as she processed the news of her pregnancy. While the birth of a new child into House Targaryen would typically be celebrated as a blessing, the recent tragedies weighed heavily on her. The brutal murder of four-year-old Jaehaerys and Helaena's heartbreaking loss had cast a somber pallor over the household. In the wake of such sorrow, Maera couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the right time for the joyous news of a new life to be shared. The timing seemed almost cruel against the backdrop of recent events, adding a layer of complexity to the emotions surrounding the revelation.

Turning to the maester, Maera expressed, "Tomorrow is Jaehaerys' funeral, and news of a new baby would be a massive blow to the Queen. Can I count on your discretion until at least after the funeral?"

The maester nodded understandingly and replied, "You have my word, Princess. However, you should consider informing your husband as soon as possible." Maera nodded in acknowledgment, recognizing the wisdom in involving Aemond before anyone else. The weight of both grief and unexpected joy pressed upon her as she contemplated the delicate balance she needed to maintain during such trying times.

After leaving the Maester's rooms, Maera chose to avoid her own chambers, finding solace in the temporary refuge of denial. Facing Aemond would mean confronting the reality of the pregnancy, a reality she wished to postpone just a little while longer. Instead, she sought out Helaena's chambers, longing for the comfort of her friend's presence. However, her attempt to enter was thwarted by the vigilant guards, denying her access as Helaena was still not accepting visitors. Desperation to see her friend warred with the understanding that Helaena's mind remained deeply troubled, leaving Maera caught between a longing for connection and the harsh reality of the present.

Attempting to seek comfort in another manner, Maera hesitated to face the Grand Sept, haunted by the painful reminders of little Jaehaerys and Helaena's unborn child. Opting for a more intimate space, she made her way to the smaller Royal Sept, situated across the courtyard from the stables. In contrast to the grandeur of the main Sept, this smaller place of worship exuded a humble tranquility. Marble altars dedicated to each of the Seven Gods adorned the space, enveloped in the comforting scent of incense and the flickering glow of numerous candles. Kneeling before a small statue of the Mother, Maera sought solace in prayer as her mind began reeling with troubling and worrying thoughts.

Closing her verdant eyes, Maera pleaded for guidance and mercy as she grappled with the unexpected news. In the sacred silence of the Royal Sept, her thoughts unraveled like fragile threads. The looming prospect and expectation of delivering a son to further the Targaryen legacy, felt like an unspoken demand echoing through the corridors of her thoughts.

Her body, once a vessel of her own, now became a subject of scrutiny, a canvas on which the eyes of the court would fixate and criticise. In the hallowed silence, Maera’s thoughts involuntarily turned to the woman whose memory lingered as both a beacon and a phantom—her mother, Lady Gael. In the solitude of prayer, Maera silently wondered how Lady Gael navigated the complexities of carrying an heir. Her mother had weathered the trials of three pregnancies, the final one claiming her life. The untold tales of Lady Gael's experiences, the joys, and perhaps the fears, now hung in the air like a sacred whisper.

“Maera?” A voice echoed in the sacred space. Turning slowly, she found herself facing her mother-in-law, the Dowager Queen.

Alicent, clad in black mourning attire adorned with deep green detailing, stood before Maera with a demeanor of surprise. Her auburn hair was meticulously pinned atop her head, veiled as if to shield her grief. Brown eyes widened as they met Maera's, forming a silent connection in the quiet expanse of the sept.

As Maera rose from her prayer, the weight of her recent news settled heavily on her shoulders. Without conscious thought, she moved swiftly toward Alicent, her steps a mixture of fear and confusion. Abruptly reaching out, Maera initiated a desperate hug, as if seeking refuge from the storm of emotions within.

In that moment, vulnerability painted across Maera's face, she didn't disclose the cause of her turmoil. Alicent, perceptive to the unspoken distress, responded after a moment with a tender embrace. Though it wasn't the exact solace Maera had yearned for, the warmth of Alicent's arms provided a lifeline through the turbulent sea of emotions that defined the remainder of that challenging day.

After another prayer shared with Alicent and a brief apology for her emotional outburst, Maera resorted to yet another tactic of evasion. Seeking refuge in her father's quarters, she requested to dine with him, a request Lord Jasper willingly granted.

As they sat at the dining table, Maera played with the food on her plate using her fork, her gaze fixed on her father. She abstained from consuming a single mouthful, her mind preoccupied. Lord Jasper, with his distinguished appearance—dark hair and piercing grey-green eyes—engaged in lively discourse about his duties as the Master of Laws. Despite his animated prattle, Maera's attention wavered, consumed by thoughts she struggled to voice.

Observing Maera's distracted demeanor, Lord Jasper tactfully shifted the conversation, taking a mouthful of potatoes before saying, “You know, I have received a number of letters from our House via raven over the last few weeks.”

This piqued Maera’s interest, and she looked up from her plate. “What news do they bring?” she inquired.

Lord Jasper, sensing her need for a lighter topic, smiled and replied, “Well, your eldest brother, Guston, wrote. Seems his new baby girl is thriving. He also mentioned that he is completely wrapped around her little finger.”

A chuckle escaped Maera’s lips. “Really? I thought Guston wanted another son.”

Lord Jasper nodded, sipping his wine. “Indeed, he did. But you know how it goes. Daughters have a way with their fathers when they’re tiny and cute.”

As Lord Jasper shared more family news, Maera sipped chamomile tea from a nearby cup, absorbing the updates. Her father mentioned, "Cedric has been officially invited to the Citadel to train as a Maester."

A bright smile lit up Maera's face. "That's wonderful news, Father. I am sure he'll make us proud."

Lord Jasper nodded, expressing gratitude to the Gods. "Yes, thank the Gods. It is a way for him to honor House Wylde. I had low hopes for him with his quiet nature, but this opportunity is a blessing."

Sensing her father's veiled criticism, Maera cleared her throat, silently conveying her disapproval of bashing her brother. Lord Jasper, understanding the unspoken message, shifted the conversation. Taking a sip of his wine, he continued, "Dermot sent his congratulations for your wedding and expressed concerns about the war with Princess Rhaenyra. He stated if he could offer aid, he would, but I am unsure how he would plan on doing that." Maera nodded, a hint of discomfort crossing her features at the mention of the impending war.

Lord Jasper, picking up on the pause, smoothly transitioned to a more neutral topic, “And it seems our family to be blessed with more weddings very soon.”

“Oh?” Maera replied intriguingly, leaning in, prompting Lord Jasper to reveal further news.

“Gwyn is now betrothed to the younger sister of Lord Edwin of Tarth.” Maera cocked her head, absorbing the information. Lord Jasper elaborated, “It’s a strategic match, further allying Tarth to the Greens cause.”

Nodding in understanding, Maera encouraged him to continue. Lord Jasper revealed, “Luthor has now been matched with Lady Cassandra of House Baratheon. He will soon depart from Rain House to wed her and will remain at Storm’s End during his marriage.”

A smile played on Maera’s lips. “I hope Luthor finds happiness in his match to her,” she remarked, genuinely wishing well for her older brother.

Lord Jasper continued, "Happy or not, Luthor will do his duty, and produce as many heirs as possible."

The mention of heirs rekindled nerves within Maera, a silent reminder of her own pregnancy. Lost in her thoughts, she went quiet, unknowingly prompting her father to share more. Lord Jasper revealed, "Lord Borros still lacks an heir. If Luthor and Lady Cassandra were to produce a boy, the child could be named Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

Maera, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, stood abruptly, the sound of cutlery jingling as she knocked against the wooden table. Lord Jasper, concerned, asked, "Are you well, daughter?"

Claiming to have lost track of time, Maera stated, "I should return to my chambers." With a polite bid for a good night, she departed, the urgency of the impending conversation with Aemond now impossible to ignore. She knew she would have to face the reality of her pregnancy and share the news with her husband, a task that seemed daunting in the wake of the recent emotionally turbulent events.

As Maera stepped into the chamber, the familiar sight transformed into an unsettling tableau. Shadows clung to the edges, rendering corners obscure and accentuating the silence that hung in the air like a heavy veil. The eerie quiet heightened Maera's awareness, each footstep echoing with a gravity that matched the weight of the news she was about to share.

The unlit candles, their wicks whispering traces of smoke, stood as silent witnesses to the unspoken tension within the chamber. It was a stark departure from the usual ambiance, setting the stage for a conversation that promised to alter the very fabric of their shared existence. And yet Maera knew only one reason why the room would be this dark and quiet so early into the night- Aemond was struggling with his lost eye, the throbbing and piercing pain of it being dulled by the darkness and silence.

With the subtle chime of a bell, Maera's maid, Thena, materialized in the quiet chamber, ready to attend to the princess for the evening. The room, shrouded in a solemn atmosphere, seemed to come to life as Thena approached her duties. With practiced hands, the maid delicately removed her golden headpiece and unpinned Maera's hair from its intricate updo. Cascading in a blend of brown and a striking silver streak, the locks tumbled down, framing Maera's face. Next, Thena carefully unlaced Maera's dress, the fabric surrendering and pooling at her feet. Left in her shift after Thena's assistance, Maera dismissed her maid with gratitude.

Alone in the quiet chamber, she approached the four-poster bed, revealing the figure of her silver-haired husband beneath the covers. Aemond lay on his side, the moonlight outlining his toned arms and torso. Silver strands of hair glinted in the dimness, and the brief silhouette of his jaw hinted at his rugged charm. In the darkness, Maera discerned that his eyepatch and the sapphire usually nestled in his eye socket, had been placed in a golden dish on the bedside table.

As Maera removed her shift, she revealed herself entirely, a curvaceous silhouette in the moonlit room. Aemond, a man who favored the intimacy of constant skin-on-skin contact, had an aversion to her wearing clothing during sleep. It brought a sense of vulnerability, to be so bare before one another consistently. Maera knew her husband was not a man of many romantic gestures or poetic words of devotion, yet she knew being able to feel each other brought him great comfort, as it did her.

With a deliberate gentleness, Maera lifted the sheets and slid into bed, ensuring minimal disturbance to Aemond's rest. The weight of the impending revelation about her pregnancy could wait until the morning. As she lay back, head touching the pillow, preparing to close her eyes, she sensed a subtle movement behind her. Maera felt his warm torso press against her back, one arm sliding under her pillow and another snaking around her waist, pulling her closer.

In the hushed tones of sleep coating his voice, Aemond gently spoke to her. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

Consumed by her own thoughts and reluctant to burden him with her news, Maera kept her response brief. “I had duties to attend to, my Prince.”

A hum was Aemond’s only response. Molding his body to hers like a warm cocoon, he offered a silent reassurance. Attuned to her tension, began to run his fingers up and down her bare arm, eliciting subtle goosebumps. Maera, appreciating the comfort, found solace in the rhythmic movement of his fingers and the warmth that encapsulated her.

After a moment, he spoke again, “I assume all is well? After your visit to the Maester?”

Not wanting to disclose the news of her pregnancy just yet, Maera simply replied, “Mm-hmm.” Before Aemond could delve further, she redirected the conversation, asking, “How is your head?”

Aemond, propping himself up on his elbow, allowed the sheet to slide further down his toned torso as he continued the rhythmic motion of running his fingers up and down Maera's bare arm. A subtle smile graced her face, a silent acknowledgment of the comforting touch.

Leaning down, Aemond whispered into her ear with a seductive edge, his warm breath sending a shudder down her spine,“It is better now that you have returned to our bed.” With gentle care, he moved a strand of her brown hair and pressed a light kiss to the delicate shell of her ear.

The Prince’s lips then descended and pressed firmer to just at the start of her neck, a small smile gracing her face at the feeling. Where her neck met her shoulder, Aemond’s kisses became wetter and more urgent, sucking on the skin so it began to to turn a pale shade of purple. Maera revelled in the feeling, her body reacting on its own as she tilted head back against his shoulder to allow him greater access.

She could feel that familiar ache in her core as he nipped and licked at her shoulder, desperate to forget about the news she had been told and wanted to surrender to the pleasure her husband could give her. Maera’s could feel his now hardened cock digging into her backside and experimentally titled and rolled her hips into him, causing a gasp to leave both of their mouths.

Aemond emitted a silent chuckle before the hand on her arm disappeared beneath the sheets, and made its way to her breast, kneading the flesh and pinching the hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation had Maera rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to find some relief, a noticeable slick of arousal starting to form.

She almost scolded Aemond when he removed his hand from her hardened peak, only for it to drift south and press flat against her stomach. A kiss onto Maera’s shoulder turned into another bite, causing her to gasp once again and arch her back into him. Aemond took full advantage of this, grinding against her once more, harder this time, his cock now slipping between her legs.

Her body was aching with desire, so she began to rock back against him, his length gathering her slick as it glided between her folds. A sleepy moan left the Prince’s lips as he slid the hand on her stomach to rest firmly on her hip, grasping at it as he matched her grinding, a rhythm becoming established. The tip of his cock brushed against her sensitive bundle of nerves, a squeak leaving Maera’s lips as a blush began to coat her cheeks.

Seemingly done with torturing her, Maera felt Aemond grab his length and line it up with her now dripping entrance. Once in place, his hand returned to her hip, and with a swift movement, he pushed himself entirely inside her, a low rumble leaving his chest as he did. The stretch she felt from his cock at this angle was incredible, the familiar sensation of pleasure beginning to bloom as she felt every part of his length nudging against her walls.

Aemond pulled out slowly before immediately thrusting back in, filling her to the hilt, the fingers on her hip digging in so harshly that they were sure to leave bruises. Maera could not help but cry out as his cock hit that spongey spot within her over and over again, the sensation causing her to throw her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed and jaws slack as she completely surrendered to him, as she always did.

The fucking was deep definitely, thanks to his generously sized manhood, but it was not the usual hard fast pace that Maera was used to. It was slow, steady, almost sensual if you could call it that. It was the type of sex that the poets wrote about; to feel completely at one with the other person, to be so in tune with them that your connection goes beyond mere words. It was beautiful, and although not her preferred type of fucking, it just what she needed at this time.

She was snapped back to the moment when she felt Aemond’s hand move from her hip and dip between her thighs as he continued to thrust deeply into her. The Prince’s long, skilled fingers quickly found her pearl, and began swirling gently around it, causing her to cry out as pleasure began to build in the pit of her stomach. The intensity of the feeling grew as Aemond continued his ministrations and Maera rocked desperately against him, chasing her high. She felt his sweat-covered forehead press against her shoulder, the sound of sighs and soft groans leaving his lips filling her with a sense of pride and excitement.

As the coil wound tighter and tighter in her stomach, her hips began to stutter in their movements, causing Aemond to thrust upwards with greater intensity. After hitting the sensitive spot within her once more, the coil finally snapped with her, causing her to cry out in ecstasy as he fucked her through her peak, her own arousal coating her inner thighs, his cock and his skilled fingers that continued to rub against her bundle of nerves.

The Prince found his release shortly after, letting out a low, contented groan as he spilled his seed within her, ropes of hot white liquid painting the inside of her walls. After a moment of basking in the afterglow of sex, their ragged breaths of exhaustion beginning to slow, Maera felt her chin being grasped by Aemond’s thumb and forefinger. He slowly turned her head and captured her lips on a searing his, their mouths moving in tandem and hearts racing as the fuzzy warmth of pleasure encapsulated them both.

When he pulled away from the kiss, Aemond withdrew his cock, a hiss leaving Maera’s lips as she felt him pull out, a mixture of his seed and her own slick now coating the sheet beneath them. Aemond lay on his back and Maera followed suit, lying flat against the mattress as her bare breasts moved up and down as she took some steadying breaths. She turned her head to look at her husband with a soft smile, who also seemed to be recovering from their passionate encounter, a sheen of sweating covering his body.

With a gentle gesture, she lifted her arm and coaxed him toward her. “Come here,” she whispered gently. Aemond, his furrowed brow revealing a hint of confusion, hesitated. Maera spome once more, a sterner yet playful edge to her voice. “Do not make your Princess ask you again.” After a brief pause, Aemond relented, laying his head against her chest and allowing his hand to come up and cup her breast, causing her to giggle.

As she pressed her nose to his silver head, the scent of leather and dragon smoke, formed a sensory tapestry that spoke of familiarity, comfort, and shared history. In this intimate moment, every worry, including the weight of her pregnancy news, seemed to momentarily dissolve. And Maera was able to recognise a profound connection—one that extended beyond the complexities of royalty, duty, and impending challenges. The rare sight of Aemond laying his head on her chest, exposed a side of the prince not known to anyone else. It stirred a deep affection within Maera, an affection she remembered she had for him when they were young.

She marveled at the strength and warmth emanating from him, and the realization of what she felt for Aemond dawned upon her. This marriage was not merely duty, their past, or even just the lust they shared for each other, but a genuine and profound love. Maera was aware that this made her entirely vulnerable to him, but in this moment she did not care.

Tomorrow's concerns—the looming funeral, the war, her pregnancy, the vulnerability of her affections —all faded into insignificance. In the quiet of the present, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of Aemond against her, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath, and the simple joy of holding each other. It was a moment suspended in time, where the weight of the world momentarily lifted, allowing them to find solace as they were both pulled into sleep.

Notes: Fuck me, I find smut so challenging to write. After editing it so much, it’s not even sexy to me anymore 😅 oh well, I hope y’all enjoy it at least 🖤

Tags: @abecerra611 @blue-serendipity @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house wylde #hotd helaena #chapters

[wellliveflorist]

Different Types of Preserved Roses Available

Preserved roses offer timeless beauty that lasts far beyond traditional fresh flowers. In Singapore, a variety of preserved roses are available, each offering unique characteristics and charm.

Classic Roses: These are preserved using advanced techniques to maintain their natural shape, texture, and color. Classic roses come in various shades, from vibrant reds to delicate pastels, making them suitable for any occasion or décor style.

Rainbow Roses: For a burst of color and vibrancy, rainbow roses are a popular choice. These preserved roses are dyed in multiple hues, creating a stunning gradient effect that adds a playful touch to arrangements and bouquets.

Metallic Roses: Metallic preserved roses feature a luxurious sheen, achieved through a special coating process. Available in gold, silver, rose gold, and other metallic tones, these roses exude elegance and sophistication, perfect for upscale events or décor accents.

Glitter Roses: Add a touch of sparkle to any arrangement with glitter preserved roses. These roses are coated with fine glitter, enhancing their beauty and creating a magical, eye-catching effect. Glitter roses are ideal for special occasions or themed events that call for a bit of dazzle.

Jewel-Toned Roses: Deep, rich jewel tones like emerald green, sapphire blue, and amethyst purple bring a regal elegance to preserved rose arrangements. These roses make a bold statement and add a touch of drama to any setting.

Pastel Roses: Soft, delicate pastel hues evoke a sense of romance and tranquility. Pastel preserved roses are perfect for weddings, baby showers, and other events where a gentle, feminine aesthetic is desired.

Monochrome Roses: For a sleek and sophisticated look, monochrome preserved roses offer simplicity and elegance. Available in a single color, such as white, black, or grey, these roses create a chic and modern vibe that complements any minimalist décor.

With such a diverse range of available preserved rose Singapore, you can easily find the perfect blooms to suit your style and occasion. Whether you're looking for classic elegance, vibrant colors, or unique textures, preserved roses offer endless possibilities for stunning floral arrangements and décor accents.

#Preserved Rose Singapore #Rose #flower

[almiqatshadenet]

1. White:

Reflectivity: White shade nets reflect sunlight more effectively than darker colors, making them suitable for reducing heat buildup and maintaining cooler temperatures in shaded areas.

Light Diffusion: White shade nets provide uniform light diffusion, promoting even distribution of light for optimal plant growth and photosynthesis.

Visibility: White shade nets offer higher visibility and brightness, enhancing visibility in shaded areas and reducing the need for artificial lighting.

2. Blue:

Aesthetic Appeal: Blue shade nets add a decorative touch to outdoor spaces and landscaping projects, complementing water features, pools, or coastal themes.

UV Protection: Blue shade nets provide UV protection and reduce glare, making them suitable for recreational areas, such as swimming pools, playgrounds, and outdoor seating areas.

3. Yellow/Orange:

Insect Repellent: Yellow and orange shade nets are known to repel certain insects, such as aphids and whiteflies, helping to protect crops from pest infestations.

Pollination: These colors can attract pollinators, such as bees and butterflies, benefiting flowering plants and enhancing biodiversity in agricultural and garden settings.

4. Red:

Promotes Flowering: Red shade nets are believed to stimulate flowering and fruiting in certain plant species by enhancing the red/far-red light ratio received by plants.

Temperature Regulation: Red shade nets absorb more solar radiation and may increase temperatures slightly compared to other colors, which can be beneficial for promoting growth in cooler climates or during colder seasons.

5. Silver/Aluminum:

Heat Reflection: Silver or aluminum-coated shade nets reflect a significant amount of sunlight and heat, providing effective heat reduction and temperature control in shaded areas.

Light Intensity: These nets can create dappled light patterns, which are desirable for certain plants that prefer moderate to low light intensity.

6. Multicolored:

Decorative Effect: Multicolored shade nets featuring patterns or gradients can add visual interest and enhance the aesthetic appeal of outdoor spaces, gardens, and architectural structures.

Customization: Custom-designed multicolored shade nets allow for creative expression and branding opportunities in commercial and residential projects.

When selecting a shade net color beyond the traditional options of green, beige, and black, it’s essential to consider factors such as sunlight intensity, heat reduction requirements, aesthetic preferences, and specific plant needs.

#green shade netting #shade net house #shade netting #greenshadenet #shade net #blue shade netting #white shade net #shade net sharjah

[bathroomtilesadelaide]

Beyond White: Exploring Colorful Options for Bathroom Tiles

Bathrooms are no longer confined to a palette of whites and neutrals. In recent years, homeowners and designers alike have embraced the idea of using colorful tiles to transform bathrooms into vibrant and personalized spaces. Moving beyond the conventional white tiles opens up a world of possibilities, allowing for creativity and self-expression. In this article, we will delve into the exciting realm of colorful bathroom tiles Adelaide, exploring various options that can add personality, style, and a touch of luxury to your bathing space.

Nature-Inspired Hues:

The incorporation of elements from the natural environment into the design of bathrooms is currently a popular trend. Earthy greens, tranquil blues, and warm browns are examples of color schemes that are gaining appeal now that they are inspired by nature. You may transform your bathroom into a relaxing and revitalizing getaway by using these colors, which create an atmosphere that is both tranquil and invigorating. To get a more natural atmosphere, you might want to think about using tiles that include botanical patterns or subtle leaf themes.

Bold Patterns and Geometrics:

Dare to be different by incorporating bold patterns and geometric designs into your bathroom tiles. Opt for hexagonal, chevron, or Moroccan-inspired patterns in a mix of vibrant colors. This approach injects energy and dynamism into the space, transforming it into a visually stimulating environment. Balance these patterns with neutral elements to prevent overwhelming the room.

Vintage Vibes with Pastels:

If you have a penchant for vintage aesthetics, pastel-colored tiles can evoke a sense of nostalgia while maintaining a contemporary feel. Soft pinks, mint greens, and powder blues can infuse your bathroom with a retro charm that is both timeless and stylish. Consider combining pastel bathroom tiles Adelaide with brass or gold fixtures for a touch of glamor that complements the vintage vibe.

Mosaic Magic:

Mosaic tiles offer a versatile and artistic approach to bathroom design. Choose a vibrant color palette and create a mosaic feature wall or an eye-catching border. Mosaics allow for intricate detailing and customization, enabling you to express your unique style. Whether you opt for a Mediterranean-inspired mosaic or a modern, abstract design, these tiles can elevate your bathroom's aesthetic appeal.

Dark and Dramatic Tones:

While many associate bathrooms with light and airy colors, dark and dramatic tones are gaining ground in contemporary design. Deep blues, charcoal grays, and rich blacks create a luxurious and sophisticated atmosphere. These colors can be used as accent tiles, backsplashes, or even for entire walls, adding a touch of opulence and drama to your bathroom.

Terrazzo Trend:

Terrazzo, with its speckled and textured appearance, has made a triumphant comeback in interior design. Choosing colorful terrazzo tiles for your bathroom floor or walls can be a chic and playful way to incorporate a variety of hues into the space. Terrazzo adds a modern touch while maintaining a timeless appeal, making it a versatile choice for those seeking a balance between tradition and contemporary style.

Artistic Tiles and Murals:

Transform your bathroom into a gallery by incorporating artistic tiles or murals. Hand-painted tiles featuring intricate patterns or scenic landscapes can serve as focal points, turning your bathroom into a work of art. This personalized touch allows you to express your individuality and create a space that is truly one-of-a-kind.

Metallic Accents:

Infuse a touch of glamor and sophistication into your bathroom by incorporating metallic-accented tiles. Gold, silver, or copper metallic tiles can be used as borders, accents, or even as full tiles to add a touch of luxury. The reflective quality of metallic tiles can also contribute to making the space appear larger and more luminous. The days of bland and uninspiring bathroom tiles Adelaide are long gone. Embracing colorful options opens up a world of design possibilities, allowing you to create a bathroom that reflects your personality and style. Whether you opt for nature-inspired hues, bold patterns, vintage pastels, or dramatic tones, the key is to experiment and have fun with the process. The variety of colorful tiles available today provides endless opportunities to transform your bathroom into a personalized haven that goes beyond the limitations of conventional white. So, break free from the norm and let your bathroom be a canvas for creativity and self-expression.

#Bathroom Tiles Adelaide

[dmm15]

What role does color psychology play in office room design?

In the realm of office room design, color isn't merely a decorative element; it's a potent tool that can influence mood, behavior, and productivity. Color psychology plays a crucial role in creating environments that enhance employee well-being, stimulate creativity, and reflect a company's identity. Let's explore the significant role that color psychology plays in office room design.

1. Setting the Tone

Color sets the tone for an office room and can impact how employees and visitors perceive the space. Warm colors like red and orange can evoke feelings of energy and passion, making them suitable for areas where creativity and collaboration are essential. In contrast, cooler colors like blue and green tend to promote calm and concentration, making them ideal for areas where focus and productivity are prioritized.

2. Boosting Productivity

Certain colors can boost productivity in the workplace. For tasks that require intense concentration and precision, such as data analysis or programming, a color palette dominated by blues and greens is effective. These colors can help reduce stress and increase focus, which is why they are commonly used in office room designs for these purposes.

3. Enhancing Creativity

For workplaces that emphasize creativity and innovation, brighter and more vibrant colors like yellow and orange can be particularly motivating. These colors are associated with energy and inspiration, making them ideal for design studios, marketing firms, and other creative spaces.

4. Reflecting Company Values

Color choices in office room design can also reflect a company's values and brand identity. For example, a tech company aiming to convey innovation and modernity might incorporate sleek and futuristic colors like silver, white, and shades of blue. In contrast, a company focused on sustainability and environmental responsibility might use earthy tones and green accents to convey its commitment to eco-friendly practices.

5. Creating Balance and Contrast

Color psychology isn't just about choosing a single dominant color; it's also about creating balance and contrast. The careful use of complementary colors, accents, and neutral tones can create harmony in an office room while highlighting specific areas or elements. Balance can help maintain a sense of order and calm in the workspace.

6. Improving Employee Well-Being

Color can significantly impact employee well-being. Offices designed with calming and soothing colors can help reduce stress and promote relaxation. On the other hand, vibrant colors can boost morale and create a positive atmosphere, encouraging employee engagement and satisfaction.

7. Spatial Perception

Color can influence the perception of space. Lighter colors tend to make a room feel more open and spacious, which can be valuable in smaller office rooms. Darker colors can create a cozier, more intimate atmosphere in larger spaces.

8. Personalization and Identity

Color can be used to personalize office rooms and establish an identity for different departments or teams within a company. Using a specific color theme for each team's workspace can foster a sense of belonging and collaboration.

9. Cultural Considerations

When designing office spaces for multinational or culturally diverse companies, it's essential to consider the cultural significance of colors. Certain colors may have different meanings or connotations in various cultures, so designers should be mindful of this to ensure a respectful and inclusive environment.

10. Evoking Emotions

Colors can evoke specific emotions and responses. For example, red can stimulate excitement and energy, while purple may convey luxury and sophistication. By strategically using color, office designers can create environments that elicit the desired emotional responses.

In conclusion, color psychology is a powerful tool in office room designer, influencing not only the aesthetics of a space but also the mood, behavior, and overall experience of the occupants. When employed thoughtfully and strategically, color can foster productivity, enhance well-being, and convey a company's values and identity. Successful office room designs leverage the principles of color psychology to create spaces that are not only visually appealing but also conducive to the goals and culture of the organization. One can achieve these by getting in touch with the renowned design and build firm such as Flipspaces, who can help you with the same.

[7amnails]

Stunning Wedding Nails, Gel-X Manicures, and Holiday Glam

Your wedding day is one of the most significant moments in your life, and every detail counts, including your nails. When it comes to preparing nails for wedding, Gel-X manicures or gel extension manicures have become a game-changer, offering not only long-lasting beauty but also versatility. And let's not forget about the magic of vacation nails that can add that extra sparkle to your festive celebrations.

On your wedding day, your hands will be on display, whether you're exchanging rings, holding your bouquet, or simply waving at your guests. This is why having perfect nails is a must. Traditional nail polish can easily chip or fade, but gel extension manicures offer a solution. These gel extensions are durable and flexible, ensuring your nails stay flawless throughout your special day. You can choose from a wide range of colors, from classic nudes to glamorous sparkles, to match your wedding theme and personal style. Gel-X nails are also customizable, allowing for intricate nail art or simple, elegant designs.Wedding nails are love!

Gel extension manicures have gained immense popularity in recent years due to their many advantages. These nail extensions are gentle on your natural nails, as they don't require harsh filing or drilling. They are applied using a specially formulated gel that bonds to your nails, offering a strong yet flexible finish. The result? Beautiful, long-lasting nails that won't damage your real ones. Whether you prefer a short and natural look or want to flaunt dramatic, stiletto-shaped nails, Gel-X can cater to your desires. Plus, the quick application process means you spend less time at the salon and more time enjoying your gorgeous nails.

The holiday season calls for a touch of glamour, and your nails should be no exception. Holiday nails are all about embracing the festive spirit with bold colors and playful designs. Whether it's Christmas, New Year's Eve, or any other special occasion, holiday nail art can elevate your look. Think glittering reds and greens, sparkling silver and gold, or even intricate snowflake and reindeer patterns. Gel-X nails are an excellent choice for holiday manicures, as they can withstand the wear and tear of festive activities and maintain their shine throughout the season.

#Wedding Nails #Gel-X Manicures #Holiday Nails

[cucumberwedge]

Power Rangers has only ever had one orange ranger as a mainstay member in its 30 year history, and there’s never been a stated reason why. From that I had an idea:

What if there was a conspiracy to keep orange members off the team?

Hence my game idea: Color Bearers (title pending)

The “Color Bearers” are an elite squad of 5+ members w/ multiple colored suits which bestow elemental and generic superhuman abilities.

Each member has a “shuttle” or mech vehicle which combine into a larger humanoid mecha

There were originally 7 members, each one a different color of ROYGBIV. Indigo was the first to be axed, bringing it down to ROYGBV.

Orange was later cut from the team due to a field accident causing their death, of which started a chain of orange bearers dying in an untimely fashion.

Violet was later changed to pink as a marketing plow, which resulted in the original violet bearer being replaced.

Additional members were frequently added and cut, including: a black beater and white bearer who were cut as they didn’t fit the theme. Metallic bearers such as gold, silver, and bronze, who were also cut for not being strictly color.

The “Color Bearers” have only been around for 20~ years or so, as such members have been continuously replaced.

Indigo and violet only had 1 bearer each as they were cut very early on.

Pink has had 5 bearers, as they needed to be seen as the “young and hip girly-girl” member. Each bearer had been cut after their 22nd birthday to maintain the status quo.

Yellow has had 3 bearers, meant to be seen as a “stoic-tomboy,” who isn’t very feminine but also isn’t confrontational. The previous bearers had been replaced due to sociopathic tendencies, which resulted from their mandate of not emoting outwardly.

Green has had 6 bearers, who much like pink was meant to be a “young and hip” member, but had a more rebellious teenage-spirit. And much like pink, green bearers had been cut after they turned 20, as they were no longer teenagers.

Blue had had 2 bearers, set as “the smart one,” and was shown to have a more practical usage on the actual field of battle. The first bearer had actually been killed in battle, and was replaced by his son more recently.

Red has had 2 bearers, set generically as the leader. The first bearer had actually died early in the bearers’ history, and was quickly replaced by the 2nd bearers, who has stayed the red bearer for over 20 years.

Orange has had 5 bearers, and was originally set to be “co-captain,” someone more level-headed and with less of an ego than red. There hasn’t been an orange bearer that has lasted more than 7 months, all of which “accidentally” died in the field of battle. This has led many on and off the team to think of orange as a bad omen, or just that the color is cursed.

All previous orange bearers had been chosen specifically by the red bearer, as they were seen as equal in potential capabilities as red.

#game idea #just spitballing here