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khawla-gfm2 · 27 days ago

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📰Khawla's Family Campaign Update: 105📰

$38,164/$80,000 as of November 29th [10pm CDT]

Currently $836 away from $39,000 as a short term goal!

If 2,090 people donated $20 the fundraiser would reach it's set goal!

Please consider donating even just $5, $10, or $20 to help the fundraiser further along. And remember that reblogging/sharing to reach more people can help a lot!

[for more information on the campaign: check my pinned post, the campaign page itself, or message me directly if you have any questions]

[tag list under the cut]:

@corpsenurse @vita-e @guiltycrunch @onetruesirius @gaysebastianvael @inplodinggofer616 @d3lph1unkn0wn @confusedsheepsblog @p33rpressure @ahperrytheplatypus @your-13th-suffers @hericanee @murderbot @arceusbeta @tam-shade-song @coleheinous @diberhaze @space-batzz @devilmeows @gizdathemxel

@slowbrobutch @hotsugarbyglassanimals @dubiousyuri @pinetreesdoodles @mores0 @suzu-by-starlight @sparky-is-spiders @hellotheretraveler @hahvdh @archferret @softeninglooks @moronic0xymoron @darthferbert @virgincognito @animebabe55 @profoundlyscreechingkryptonite @princessnessa2017-blog @neptuneschaos @the-mold-under-your-bed123 @ropes3amthoughts

@wild-forest-bee @rsquid2 @faerie-lights @lapastelr0sa @allegedlysicktomystomach @number-1-carrie-white-fan @adept7777 @cam24fan @strflwers @tremendousdreamtragedy @soullessjack @backgroundcharacterno15 @west-of-the-styx @apocalypsegay @something-writing @suburbananarch @fr0gie @stretchedbumhole201 @exltwounds @cori-randomstuff

@one-cold-witch @d1anna @esoteric-brustle @lpslover6669 @anakalos @buildmeupbuttercup14 @skkfujoshi @chaos-axolotl-reblogs @def-not-kaz-brekker @invulnerable-vaguewomen @dlxxv-vetted-donations @candycrypt1d @gryficowa @ocipiala @zaminami @mjthefaeva @nako-funky @kenniex2 @hananono @centi-pearl

@that-one-vangogh-painting @sappy-asphie @lotionlamp @kenniex2 @yeskhya @hyper-fucks-sake-tion @jauximeowmeow @lady-misaki @reymcmuffin @sufferswallow @thequeendied @a1m3v @parkerpresentz @extremereader @thetwistedarchives @absolutedoorknob @worowelf @hold-me-till-winter @beeware-of-lulu @littleladybaker

@plswtfdontdoitagain @footlongdingledong @cherrraty @heheheeheeh @fleurxduxmal @pintrestparasite @louisblue02 @clowdwatching @eldritch-something-or-other @sanguivorouscorvid @neoneone0 @p33p33p00p00 @mahougirlys @bi0feed @peppimeco @chiomn @himbo-noxx @louddragonphantom @futuristiccherryblossoms @market--land

@jellyfishinajamjar @rainbowpuppet @names-hard @deviouscowboy @moosebebignwatching @ginnyjuicee @dogbound1128 @greybear35-blog @dangerous-tangerine @wolfcubjim @l-dot-k-2 @yung-lean-hates-you-2 @ssak-i @koobird @mininightmare2 @strawberryglitterkiss @transexualcow @bluelunas @whenyou-wheni @bolas-de-berlim

@thesignpaintersstuff @sumthing69 @sentienceoverload-29 @theresamouseinmyhouse @kurtismcilroy @aswho1estuff @ratsnvermins @transvalkilmer @pipervonviper @cemetery-circus @tryceratops4 @woodwood6000 @katagawajr @aliensmoothie @nonbinarycryptology @the-number-1-iono-fan @mythicalbinicorn @talkswiththem @voidpumpkin @half-asleep-star

@luvdisc69 @ghostb3loved @fuckcapitalismasshole @no-clue-just-vibin @twashcat360 @amythestvaporeonbackup @lazy-but-amazing @dusty-brain @loucygoosey @bichi2004 @stalinistqueens @wynsummers @sad-cat-02 @rottingoranges @thingfromanoutherworld @ak1w1i @apinklion01 @cloxwork @polvuz

@therearenonutsforsomeendermen @noxumblog @ashkaranast @donationsmatter @punkeropercyjackson @callie-flower @patchoulitoes @stonedustghost @ofishally @stellaristcs @redmystery314 @asquidnotkid @omorimoroii @tanoroe @slightly-foolish @sergeantsarga @thebluespacecow @reusablebagofrats @eptck @577-6523

@killer-wizard @sapphicdragons-1 @rainy-clawz @afunlessland @dwarf-enjoyer @juchily @classyeyeballs @jeynees @ajatheoleander12 @sentienceoverload-29 @manic-pixie-dream-cock @jinnazah @1ikeavirgil @darlingbookworm @wetccarpet @chthonianalacrity @samurotting @aldryrththerainbowheart @mochipuppy16 @darinaethelaianprophet

@this-deadgirlwalking @rob-os-17 @moonbisexualsharktamerr @screamnpatches @luvdisc69 @ghostb3loved @fuckcapitalismasshole @no-clue-just-vibin @twashcat360 @amythestvaporeonbackup @lazy-but-amazing @dusty-brain @loucygoosey @bichi2004 @stalinistqueens @wynsummers @rottingoranges @thingfromanoutherworld @ashkaranast

@wetccarpet @chthonianalacrity @samurotting @aldryrththerainbowheart @mochipuppy16 @darinaethelaianprophet @rob-os-17 @moonbisexualsharktamerr @weakestwarrior @v1rtualv4mp @fiapple @tryna-sleep @snapcracklepop-myjoints @l-art-stuff-l @minosbull @duskstarshit @cosmicgamerboy @squidkiddoesstuff @attaboy-art @fireflyingaway

@blackcrystalball @lookineedsleep @lampthehealthminister @therealdjpocky @holyeaglecupcakesposts @amberspacedf @teeethbrush @bunnannie @lesbitching @lonelypotato23 @swaggy-hairy-thang @murenaaaaa @karlmarxmaybe @littlegaypancake @zimislockedinthefreezer @catboywillferal @yetisidelblog @tspicer23 @galax-dragon

@redpinejo @orphancat @sea-200 @literally-one-million-bees @aroacedisasterr @blvvdyindustries @sunmooneclipseandstars @theandroidsentbycyberl1fe @reblogingstuffrandomly @animatorfun @r4yt0r0f4nb0y @fazar234 @mstormcloud @theguiltygearheritageposts @doubleedgemode @millionthcephalophore @white-mirrors @cherubsaliaa @ash24601 @willhelmthewhale

@cipherinator @sister-lucifer @missivorystone @4de2ssy0 @alpabett @99orangeblossoms @totally-six @sematary-drive @knittedquails @masterofthepistachio @gagreflexoxo @owlchow @specificiumray @valentinemailbox @patzweigz @papus-clown-enclosure @montewave @chilewithcarnag

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brucie-baby · 6 months ago

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richard siken // batman v3 #105 // caitlyn siehl // batman: the knight #5 // vita sackville-west // batman: the knight #4 (caption from batman: the knight #9) // batman: the knight #8 (caption from batman: the knight #9) // hannibal // batman v3 #104 // stick season - noah kahan // batman: the knight #6 // shelby eileen

#divorced married pining enemies partners fuckbuddies best friends all at the same time. nobody's doing it like them #batman #bruce wayne #ghostmaker #minhkhoa khan #ghostbat #web weaving

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tamamita · 1 year ago

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(apologies ahead of time if this is something you already talked about) you're very invested in this conflict and I am genuinely confused by some things, you seem to support hamas but from my pov they're a fascist organization that took power with military might, and oppress their own people. according to people I know living in israel they've been kidnapping, r@#!ing, and killing civilians. and I've been told any palestinians who speak against it or try to escape are labeled as traitors and executed. basically what I want to know is if you support hamas despite all that, why? what am I missing here? is everything people are saying despite being documented or even personal expereince from people I know is a lie? I understand not supporting israel and I understand supporting palestinians but I don't understand supporting hamas

I'm disappointed, because you say that you've been in touch with a bunch of Israelis, yet you've made no efforts to consult with a Palestinan. The Israelis aren't suffering; the Palestinians are and have been ever since the Nakba of 1948 (which I hope your Israeli friends mentioned), 105 years if we count the Belfour declaration. So next time, please consult with a Palestinian if you want to understand the occupation better than to consult with a bunch of privileged people living in an illegal settler colonial state. It's even more evident that you'll hastly accept any information from Western and Israeli-sponsored media, e.g Hamas mass r*pe, beheaded children, etc, despite the fact that they've been debunked to death now.

I support violent resistence against colonialism and imperialism. Israel has been occupying Palestine for 75 years, so the Palestinians have actively been resisting the ever expanding settler colonial regime. Once again, Hamas at its conception was initially funded by Israel as an attempt to undermine the secular and socialist resistance groups in Palestine. Indeed, the former IOF Brig. Gen. Yitzhak Segev confessed to Mehdi Hassan that Israel funded Hamas (thus being complicit in the creation of its outdated 1988 charter). The Israelis did not expect the blowback when Hamas grew to power after they secured power in Gaza. Hamas, for me, is just a resistance group that continuous to uphold its legacy of decolonization by actively fighting against the apartheid regime. Now you may ask, why not peaceful resistance? Habibi, the last time a peaceful protest was held, 200+ Palestinians were shot to death during the Great March of Return. Israel seeks to undermine any attempts for Palestinian self-determination.

As for the death and kidnapping of those Israelis. This was inevitable. Israel is NOT a safe & peaceful country, it is keeping an entire population of people inside a cage, while blocking them from food, water, electricity and humanitarian aid. Even UN secretary general António Guterres said, what happened on October the 7th, did not happen out of a vacuum, that was the culimination of 75 years of oppression against the Palestinians. It was obvious that the resistance movement would fight back, it is the government's damn fault for putting its citizens and settler villages close to world's largest open-air prison, while expecting everything to run smoothly. Indeed, surveys show that Israelis are blaming the IOF and the government for the lack of security which resulted in the death of the Israelis.

Now, even if Hamas was removed from the equation, did you forget about the Palestinians in the West Bank who are constantly being targeted by violent settlers? Do you think Palestinians have no right to self-defense when they are being subjected to harassment, torment and systematic oppression? Palestinian children and women are constantly kidnapped, r*ped, tortured to death, blackmailed, jailed for life under a conviction rate of 99% under Israeli courts. You tell me how Palestinians feel first before you consult with a bunch of Israelis who will never suffer a fraction of what the oppressed are going through.

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martassimsbookcc · 2 years ago

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• .package • Base game compatible • Collection file included • • 𝔻𝕆𝕎ℕ𝕃𝕆𝔸𝔻 • Ad-free as always at my website! 🤍𝕂𝕠-𝕗𝕚 𝕥𝕚𝕡𝕤 𝕛𝕒𝕣 | ℙ𝕒𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕠𝕟🤍

【 ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕤 】 Mesh and textures: @ts4novvvas | Original Sims 4 post: ⚪

- - - APRIL 2023 - - - • ALL OBJECTS: updated specular map; • Coffee table, Credenza, West Elm Bookcase and Wall Unit: added slots too; • Added collection file.

• Polycount, buy category, price § and more useful information ↓ •

* Books 1: 1962 verts | 1484 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 250§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset

* Books 2: 1400 verts | 878 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 150§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Coffee Table: 2480 verts | 2068 faces >> Found under Coffee tables | 295§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel >>>> 21 slots for Small/Medium/Large objects

* Couch: 9788 verts | 13442 faces >> Found under Sofas and loveseats | 850§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels

* Couch Blanket: 4661 verts | 6737 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 150§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Couch Cushions 1: 4863 verts | 9077 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 140§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels + 5 presets

* Couch Cushions 2: 4142 verts | 5763 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 130§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels

* Credenza: 2636 verts | 1468 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous surfaces | 450§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels

* Eucalyptus: 18699 verts | 13033 faces >> Found under Plants | 225§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Ferm Living Vase: 32338 verts | 13950 faces >> Found under Plants | 260§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Ferm Living Wonder Clock: 2034 verts | 1904 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 325§ >>> Recolorable - 3 channel + 2 presets >>>> Can be moved up/down on wall

* Ficus Elastica: 12114 verts | 11266 faces >> Found under Plants | 350§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Floor Lamp: 2926 verts | 3160 faces >> Found under Floor lamps | 225§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels

* Hand Sculpture: 25201 verts | 9824 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 215§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels

* Muuto Vases: 2377 verts | 4596 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 105§ >>> Recolorable - 3 channels

* Plant with Books: 4889 verts | 5557 faces >> Found under Plants | 150§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Rug: 1266 verts | 1967 faces >> Found under Rugs | 420§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel + 10 presets

* Secretary: 2929 verts | 1838 faces >> Found under Desks | 450§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels

* Succulent 1: 9167 verts | 7613 faces >> Found under Plants | 75§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Succulent 2: 9854 verts | 9588 faces >> Found under Plants | 75§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Succulent 3: 7251 verts | 7356 faces >> Found under Plants | 75§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Table Lamp: 3329 verts | 3316 faces >> Found under Table lamps | 50§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels

* Teak Armchair: 9937 verts | 13259 faces >> Found under Living chairs | 285§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels

* The Poster Club Horizontal: 60 verts | 34 faces >> Found under Paintings and posters | 300§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel | 10 different arts

* The Poster Club Horizontal V2: 64 verts | 36 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 300§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel | 10 different arts

* The Poster Club Square: 60 verts | 34 faces >> Found under Paintings and posters | 150§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel | 10 different arts

* The Poster Club Square V2: 64 verts | 36 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 150§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel | 10 different arts

* The Poster Club Vertical: 52 verts | 34 faces >> Found under Paintings and posters | 250§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel | 20 different arts

* The Poster Club Vertical V2: 56 verts | 36 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 250§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel | 20 different arts

* Vitra Standard Dining Chair: 4592 verts | 6094 faces >> Found under Dining chairs | 195§ >>> Recolorable - 3 channels

* Wall Mirror: 2740 verts | 1958 faces >> Found under Mirrors | 350§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Wall Unit: 827 verts | 479 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous surfaces | 950§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels >>>> 55 slots for Small/Medium/Large objects

* West Elm Modern Cabinet Bookcase: 498 verts | 296 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous surfaces | 500§ >>> Recolorable - 3 channels >>>> 30 slots for Small/Medium/Large objects

#sims3 #ts3cc #s3cc #4to3 #s4tos3 #novvvas #livingroom #thesims3 #comfort #surfaces #plants #lamps #mirrors

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hellsgate-roadhouse · 8 months ago

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Abandoned hotel

North Korea 🇰🇵

It was supposed to become the world's tallest hotel. Instead, it became the world's tallest abandoned building. The pyramid-shaped Ryugyong Hotel is 330 metres (1,080 ft) tall and one of the most prominent features of Pyongyang's skyline. The structure consists of 105 floors and it was originally intended to house five revolving restaurants, and between 3,000 to 7,665 guest rooms

Construction began in 1987 and it was North Korea's response to other high-rise development taking place in cities around the West and Asia during the Cold War. For North Korean leadership, it was also an attempt to bring western investors into the marketplace. The hotel was scheduled to open in June 1989 for the 13th World Festival of Youth and Students, but problems with building methods and materials delayed completion.

In 1992, after it reached its architectural height, construction halted due to the economic crisis and famine in North Korea following the collapse of the Soviet bloc. By then, the hotel's construction cost $750 million, consuming 2% of North Korea's GDP. For over a decade, the unfinished building sat vacant and without windows, fixtures, or fittings, appearing as a massive concrete shell while A rusting construction crane remained at the top.

In 2008, construction resumed by the Egyptian Orascom company. The company had also made a deal to operate North Korea's telecommunications network and installed antennas on top of the building. By 2011 work had finished. Ryogyong Hotel was fitted with windows but not much work had taken place in the hotel's interior. Since then, there have been many rumors of the hotel finally opening but until today it remains unoccupied.

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whencyclopedia · 2 days ago

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Origin of the Sweat Lodge

The sweat lodge is a temporary or permanent structure integral to Native American culture and frequently used in spiritual ceremonies. The lodge is often a low, dome-shaped, structure heated by hot rocks which produce steam as water is poured on them, raising the temperature to induce heavy sweating among participants and physical and spiritual cleansing.

The sweat lodge is part of the seven sacred rites of the Sioux, and the Lakota refer to the rite of purification, in which the lodge plays a central role, as inipi ("to live again") as it is believed participants shed both physical and non-physical impurities through the ceremony. Once freed, or even in the process of liberation from what has been holding one back from becoming one's true self, a participant might receive a vision directing that person's future path (beneficial to themselves and others) or delivering a message for the good of the wider community or the world.

The sweat lodge is also an important aspect of the Sun Dance and of many other ceremonies in different nations. As with all civilizations, each nation likes to lay claim to being the first the gods favored with some important gift or discovery and so it is with the Origin of the Sweat Lodge from the Piegan people of the Blackfoot Confederacy. This origin story not only explains how the sweat lodge came to be but also how intimately the sun, moon, and stars – and, by extension, all of the universe – are intimately connected to human beings. It also emphasizes, as many Native American tales do, the cultural value of the primacy of communal over individual good.

The Piegan

The Piegan are a part of the Blackfoot Confederacy along with the Kainai and Siksika and once lived in the vast region stretching from modern-day Saskatchewan, Canada, through Montana, USA, and areas east and west. The Piegan are the largest band of the three and seem to have come originally from the Great Lakes region before becoming a part of the Plains Indians culture. The three nations are bound by a common language – Algonquin – but otherwise have their own distinct culture.

All three celebrate the Sun Dance and make use of the sweat lodge as well as observing other practices and rituals common to many, if not all, Native American nations, such as the recognition of 'medicine' – spiritual power – and the use of the 'medicine bag' – a pouch containing items of transcendent power which have meaning to the specific individual carrying it. The common term for a holy person of a nation, 'medicine man' or 'medicine woman', comes from that person's highly developed personal spiritual power, but every person has access to the spiritual world and the Great Spirit, and this relationship is both symbolized and maintained through practices such as the keeping of one's medicine bag. Scholar Michael G. Johnson writes:

religion included the wide use of "bundles" containing symbols (usually remnants of birds, animals, and objects) of the power of dreamed or vision experience. These personalized sources of power were opened at times, with accompanying rituals for group benefit, for health, hunting, and prestige. (105)

The sweat lodge was one such time a medicine bag would be opened by the person leading the ceremony for the good of the participants but, individually – and on a daily basis – the bag helps to maintain one's balance in life through the reminder of connection to all other living things and, in the story of the Origin of the Sweat Lodge, though the bag is not mentioned, it would have helped maintain the kind of relationship with higher powers that causes Morning-Star to look down and take pity on the young man who is the central character.

Whether a medicine bag is opened during a sweat lodge ceremony or remains closed is up to the person presiding over it and the perceived needs of the participants, but, opened or closed, the ceremony held – and still holds – tremendous spiritual and cultural significance.

#History #19thcentury #AdeleNozedar #BlackfootConfederacy #WHE #[#]

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brokehorrorfan · 6 months ago

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Friday the 13th (2009) will be released on 4K Ultra HD on September 17 via Arrow Video. Gary Pullin designed the new artwork for the Platinum Dunes remake; the original poster is on the reverse side.

Marcus Nispel (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre) directs from a script by Damian Shannon and Mark Swift (Freddy vs. Jason). Jared Padalecki, Danielle Panabaker, Aaron Yoo, Amanda Righetti, Travis Van Winkle, and Derek Mears star.

The limited edition set comes with a booklet featuring new writing by Matt Konopka and Alexandra West, a double-sided poster, and a Crysal Lake postcard.

The theatrical version and "killer" extended cut of the film are presented in 4K in Dolby Vision with original 5.1 DTS-HD Master Audio. Special features are listed below, where you can also see more of the contents.

Disc 1:

Theatrical cut (97 minutes)

Audio commentary by director Marcus Nispel (new)

Audio commentary by writers Mark Swift and Damian Shannon (new)

Interview with director Marcus Nispel (new)

Interview with writers Mark Swift and Damian Shannon (new)

Interview with cinematographer Daniel Pearl (new)

A Killer New Beginning - Video essay on Friday the 13th and horror remakes by film critic Matt Donato (new)

Terror Trivia track excerpts

The Rebirth of Jason Voorhees featurette

Hacking Back / Slashing Forward featurette

The 7 Best Kills featurette

Deleted scenes

Teaser trailer

Theatrical trailer

TV spots

Electronic press kit

Image gallery

Disc 2:

Killer cut (105 mintues)

Audio commentary by film critics Alexandra Heller-Nicholas and Josh Nelson (new)

A group of oblivious teenagers choose Camp Crystal Lake as the destination for a weekend getaway. Among them, the young Clay Miller (Jared Padalecki) is not looking for fun and frolics, but for his sister Whitney who disappeared around the lake six weeks earlier. The trip turns into a waking nightmare as the bloodthirsty Jason emerges from the shadows, wielding a deadly machete and out for blood. Cut off from civilization, these youths discover too late that Crystal Lake bears the scars of a violent past as they uncover the terrifying events that spurred the masked killer’s quest for violent vengeance.

Pre-order Friday the 13th (2009).

#friday the 13th #jason voorhees #friday the 13th 2009 #jared padalecki #derek mears #danielle panabaker #aaron yoo #amanda righetti #travis van winkle #arrow video #dvd #gift #gary pullin #horror #marcus nispel

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thorsenmark · 9 months ago

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flickr

Taking in the Whole of a Hoodoo Setting at Sunrise Point (Bryce Canyon National Park) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A wide angle view looking across the hoodoos and other eroded formations present at Sunrise Point in Bryce Canyon National Park. What also drew me into the setting was the trees and how they added a color contrast to the earth-tones present in the rest of the lower portion of the image.

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mapsontheweb · 11 months ago

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105 years ago today 🇺🇦 Ukrainian People's Republic and West Ukrainian People's Republic have signed a Unification Act in Kyiv

#maps #ukraine #1919

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asumofwords · 1 year ago

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Blood, grief, stabbing, death, PTSD.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies! Well..... I know a lot of you prayed that the last chapter was a dream... It wasn't. And apologies for that haha. But we aren't finished just yet, we have 5 chapters to go!!!! I hope this satiates your little desires. Enjoy <3

Chapter 105: A Crown Forged in Blood

“When I’m Queen, we shall fly to Essos and eat as many lemon tarts, star fruit, and pies as we wish.” You had smiled at the older boy, sitting in the Gardens, hidden away from the searching eyes of the Septa.

Aemond grinned, both eyes creasing as you spoke, “When I claim a dragon, we can race there.”

“Syndor would beat you any day.”

The young Prince pouted, “We shall see if that’s true.”

“Yes, we shall.” You had said haughtily, lifting your chin higher as you tried to squeeze the smile from your face.

“When I’m Queen,” You had stood, looking down at him in mock regality, “I shall make you my knight, so that you may always be at my side to bring me lemon tarts.”

Aemond’s button nose scrunched, “Why not make me your King? Then we can make Aegon be our cup bearer.”

You snickered, “You’re right! How did I not think of that? Gods, I've been so blind, Aemy! I would have no other man by my side but you.”

The older boy blushed, looking away shyly.

You sat down beside him again, nudging his shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

Aemond shook his head, “Nothing.”

“Don't you lie to me. It's a sin to lie. What would the Septa say? What would your Lady mother say?”

The young boy gave you a glare, to which you giggled lightly.

“You mock me.” The Prince whispered.

You frowned, “I don’t mock you, Aemy. Never you.”

“Do you think being wed to me would be a punishment from the Gods?” His voice was so small, so quiet, and your ears had strained to hear it come from his lips.

But there it was, his ever present self doubt, lack of self worth, and constant state of anxiety. Aegon no doubt being the thorn in Aemond’s side, which continued to grow and press meanly into the wound, festering into the young boys confidence.

“Kepus,” You grabbed his small hand in yours, shaking it about between the two of you, “I think that being wed to you would be the greatest gift the Gods could ever give me. Who else makes me smile but you?”

Petrichor floated over the realm, the soft earthy smell of rain settling atop Kings Landing after the storm had finally passed, making its way further West, where it would eventually run out of its rage, and dissipate into the sky.

Your chambers smelt coppery, irony and thick, from the blood that had begun to coagulate beneath you, beside you, on you. Much like the blood that had begun to coagulate within his own body, that lay still and cold at your side.

But the smell of rain lingered in the chambers, if only just so, as the sun slowly rose into the sky, the first glow of morning light filling the room.

Your hand continued to brush through his hair, soothing his silken strands whilst your palm cupped his cheek with each movement. Admiring his beauty, committing his image to your memory forever more.

His eye was now closed. For you had brushed it shut with shaking fingertips, and pressed another kiss to his lips. Just as the prophecy had said.

Another eye will close.

And it had.

The tears on your cheeks had dried, and your sobbing had ceased.

The ache that had once settled deep within your chest had gone cold, and now a subtle numbness spread through your limbs, up your arms, all the way down to your toes.

Shifting amongst the sheets, you looked down at the man you loved, the chemise against you cold and sticky with his blood, clinging to each and every curve of your body. Your love's blood.

The man you had killed for.

The man who had killed for you.

And the man, you ultimately killed with your own hands.

His face was soft, and he looked at peace. Finally at rest.

No more sneers, or scowls, or frowns. No more anxiety, or worry, or anger.

Just him.

Your Aemond.

Sister, A voice whispered in the low light of the chambers.

Your head moved slowly, sluggishly, as though your body had been frozen in ice, or as though you were moving through thick layers of snow in winter. Winter had finally come for you.

At the side of the bed, stood the young boy who had been taken first. The first loss in the sea of losses. The first life to have been taken in this war. The first person to pierce all who had been close with grief.

His dark brown curls were dry atop his head, cow-like eyes blinking at you gently, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks, and atop his lips was a small and sad smile. His robes were no longer wet as they had been during the night, and his cheeks held the soft rosy blush that they used to.

It’s time, Lucerys spoke again.

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

It’s time.

With one last glance at Aemond, lips pressed against the cold of his forehead, you slowly stood from the bed. Joints aching and sore, but only just. The chemise stuck to your flesh, and the coldness of your hair that had settled in his blood sent shivers down your spine.

But it was time.

And you had been waiting for this moment since you first arrived.

Every move you had made had come to this, every piece of the board you had meticulously placed had finally fallen to where it had needed to be. Every hour of suffering, of agony, of isolation, was so that this moment could come to fruition. From the moment you had stepped back into the Red Keep with Aemond, the pieces had been moving.

As you started to walk across the chambers, almost in a dream like state, you turned one last time, in the hopes that you would see his chest rise and fall, the colour come back to his cheeks and the violet of his eye open to look at you.

Hoping to see him sit up in the bed, sheets tucked around his waist as he looked at you in disappointment, for him to chastise you, mock you, call you to him. To give you a lecture, tell you were a fool, tell you that he forgave you.

To have him hold you, and kiss you, and feel him against your skin. To plan a future together, more children, and convince him, truly convince him to flee with you. To leave Kings Landing and start anew, somewhere far away.

To say, 'See? This is what would have happened. Now we know what we must do. Now you can see I was right. Now we can leave, be together.'

But he didn’t, and he was still, and he would be still forever more.

The glinting of the blade on the bed caught your eye, and so with fingers dried with his blood, you picked up the Valyrian steel and gold dagger, red on its blade and hilt, splashed against the emerald stone of one dragon. You spun, taking slow steps across the chambers towards you brother.

Lucerys turned his head, looking to the table.

And there it was.

The Conquerors Crown.

Sitting where it had been placed the night before, in wait for Aemond to rise that morning with the sun and place it atop his head. But the Targaryen man would not rise that morning, nor would he rise ever again to place that crown atop his head, or rise to place a kiss against your lips.

Nor would he rise to see the suns gentle warmth or feel its rays. Nor would he reach out and grasp it with his long fingers. Nor your hands, not your face, nor your body, or his goblets of wine. Not his tomes that he loved reading, or his quill that he spent countless hours writing with, nor the reins of his dragon he had lost an eye for.

Aemond Targaryen; a son, a brother, an uncle, a nephew, a lover, a husband, a King, was no more, and grasp, or hold, or sneer, or kiss, or smile, or breathe he would not. Never again.

The crown of Aegon the First.

Valyrian steel that had been passed down generations, its sharp edges and points curved to its peaks at the front, and smaller ones at its sides stared up at you. The ruby in the centre, a blood coloured stone, round and perfect sat at its front.

The last one left.

No more were the others flanking its sides and around the entirety of the crown.

Were they plucked by greedy hands, or lost to falls or breaks? Or did they never truly exist in the first place?

Fingers wrapped around its rim, small smudges of blood smearing atop the steel, you turned it in your palm. It was heavier than you had remembered, the weight of the crown balanced in your hands.

But the weight of the crown atop your head was barely felt.

Some say, the weight of the crown can drive men to madness and cruelty, or impassivity in the face of adversity, but was it the true weight of the physical crown, or the weight of what it represented. The weight of the duty that it carried alongside. The weight of the realm at your finger tips.

But to you, the weight was both overwhelming and not there at all, and it was only when Lucerys whispered your name in your ear did you look up, catching your reflection in the mirror of the vanity at the far wall.

The chambers were filled with an amber glow of the early morning sun, a warm orange that touched all inside, casting shadows atop the furniture and art, illuminating the ruby at the front of the crown.

And there you stood, bare except the blood stained chemise that clung to your curves and the crown that sat atop your head, smeared in the blood of the King. Silver white locks were clumped with blood on one side, whilst a smear of red appeared across your cheek, where Aemond had held your face in his dying palm.

But it was your eyes that truly caught your notice. Not the crown, or the blood, or the dagger that was still clutched in a loose hand by your side. It was the violet of your eyes that had seemed to darken, seemed to have dulled, in the way Aemond’s had.

It was as though you were looking at a stranger.

They’re coming, Luc whispered again behind your shoulder, head turning to look at the door.

And there, at the entrance, stood Helaena. Dressed in an apricot gown, hair pulled away from her face in the braid she wore every single day. Never changing, never evolving. She stood and watched.

Waiting.

Your throat felt dry as your aunt stared at you, her face void of any emotion, ghostly white and silent. Her lavender eyes were locked on you, never once straying to Lucerys or Aemond.

And she stood where you knew you had to go.

She stood where you knew you had no choice but to.

She stood in the room alongside her only niece and deceased nephew, her younger brother still, and bloodied on his bed. The last of Alicent's children to fall. The last of her brothers to meet the same fate as her.

All gone.

All lost.

Taken by the stranger.

Hand on door, you pulled at the handle, slowly sliding it open, the weight of the wood against your stained palm, bare feet pressed into the cold stones of the floor. Your heart thumped steadily in your chest as you stepped out.

You looked down the wing, eyes searching the walls and space before you. The corridor was quiet, no maid nor servant moving through your wing of the Keep as they usually would.

The knight at your door was gone.

He knew.

And so you left, leaving your chambers behind you, the corpse of the man you loved, bloodied and cold in your bed. Leaving it behind to do what you knew you needed to do. Like an invisible string pulled and guided you, down the corridors, down the halls, the many stairs and steps, with not a single guard present.

Not a single knight to be seen.

Nor Lord.

Nor Lady.

Nor maid.

Empty.

Too early for the morning rush of the higher Lords, racing to their duties.

Too late for the maids and servants to not be racing about.

But none were seen.

As though the Gods had cleared you safe passage, ensuring you go undetected for as long as inhumanly possible.

They were helping you, you thought, after all you had done.

And so you kept on, toes having gone numb from the cold stones below, and all feeling in your body disappearing; like you were floating. Hovering above the stones, body as light as a feather as you moved. The feeling of being foreign in your own skin, bones not feeling at all like your own, thoughts lost to the cool morning air.

And then suddenly there you were, standing in the large chambers of the Iron Throne alone.

Empty.

You stared up at the mangled and broken swords, crafted to create a monstrous throne that would and should spark fear into any enemy in its presence. Into any man who dared to defy it.

The embodiment of the Targaryen dynasty. The legacy of fire and blood. A promise of dragons and death.

A silent tear fell from your cheek.

“Your Grace?”

You blinked, brows twitching, the hand holding the blade at your side tightened, hidden amongst the folds of the chemise that was caked with Aemond's blood.

A noise came from behind, a thumping against the stones.

Clunk.

It seemed to echo in the space around you, jolting your brain with each step as it became louder and louder behind you, coming nearer and nearer.

Closer and closer until it was right behind you, and a large hand had reached to press itself against the flesh of your shoulder, fingers curling over you gently, a position that could shoot back quickly if needed.

You slowly looked over at the hand that gripped your shoulder, nails were cut neatly back to the cuticle, and a singular gold ring upon its forefinger.

A bee engraved in its centre.

You followed the hand up its wrist, to its elbow, then all the way to his face.

Larys Strong stood behind you with caution in his Strong brown eyes.

Eyebrows knitted in concern.

Uncertainty.

He took in your appearance, eyes roaming down your bloodied body, chemise clinging to your skin, stiff backed and quiet, crown atop your messed waves of silver white hair.

“Where is the King?” He asked, voice quiet as he looked at you.

You breathed in audibly, throat rasping as you parroted him back, “The King.”

“Where is your knight?” Larys Strong’s voice became sharp, prickled, as he looked about the chambers in search of the man who had known, who had fled, who had most likely had warned others to go with him.

You shook your head, body still facing the throne, hand tightening against the blade as your knuckled creaked. Eyes unblinking as you took a shallow breath.

“I must-“ Larys began, but the words were halted in his throat.

You had spun.

Quicker than you thought you would have.

Not unsure of what you were truly doing, but following instincts.

The instinct to survive.

His cane fell to the floor loudly, rolling away from him, as his brows pulled down in agony.

A cough of pain bubbled from his lips, spittle laced with blood dribbling down his chin. His deep brown eyes finally dropped down, your fist pressed against his stomach, the blade of your dagger thrust deep within his gut.

He opened his mouth to cry out, but you jolted the blade upwards, using all the strength you had left, his hands gripping your shoulders painfully as you held onto one of his, keeping him on your blade.

You looked into his eyes and leant forward, whispering beside his ear, “A dragon devours the sheep and wolves whole, Lord Larys. I warned you of this. And I always keep my word.” Your voice came out smoothly, softly, as though a coin had been tossed, and the shock of Aemond’s death had fallen away like a curtain, drifting down to the stone below.

“I- you have-“ He gasped, one hand moving to grasp your wrist, to try and pry the blade from where it was nestled in his flesh, blood spreading outwards on his green and brown robes, the soft dripping of the thick, viscous liquid hitting the stones below.

“The King is dead, Larys." You pulled back to look at him, "And I am the Queen.” You yanked the blade from his gut, stepping back as you watched him stagger backwards and fall to the ground with a thump, his iron foot scraping against the floor loudly.

“You-” He coughed, blood dripping from his lips, and overflowing from his hands where he clutched desperately at his robes, “Y-ou have p-layed the ga-me well.” He praised brokenly, another pathetic cough falling from his lips, a thin string of bloodied saliva dangling from his chin.

“I have not played the game, Larys. I have won it.”

You turned away from him, and slowly made your way up the steps of the Iron Throne, Lord Larys Strong watching weakly from the stone floor where he bled heavily against the grey stones, his crimson spreading across it rapidly.

They would be fed once more.

Blood dripped from the blade with every step you made, a long trailing path following you up to where you finally stood, eye to eye with the monstrosity.

The Iron Throne.

You thought of all the blood that had been shed for this throne.

All the suffering that had been endured.

All the loss.

For, Aegon the Conqueror, who slayed each man and took their swords to create it. To Maegor the Cruel, who was destined to flood the Keep with blood from those who defied him, and the men who built it. To Viserys, your Grandsire, who let blood be spilt in his inaction. In his complacence. Incompetence.

To Aegon.

To Aemond.

And now, you.

And in that very moment, as you stood before something you had desperately craved as a child, which you had thought you would be promised, which was yours by birthright, it caused nothing but hatred and despair.

A throne which had taken so much of you. So much from you.

But when you fight for the Iron Throne, you either win, or you die.

The Greens had declared war.

And you were still standing.

After all odds, you were still here.

You turned to face the room, looking out at the many large stone pillars, the stained glass windows, the unlit torches, and slowly sat atop the throne, looking down at Larys as he lay on his side, chest rising weakly as he blinked sluggishly up at you.

It was cold, the throne.

The sharp edges beneath your flesh poked at you threateningly, but it did not break the skin, nor tear at you chemise. A reminder of the threat of sitting atop it. Perhaps the true intentions of Aegon the First when he had the throne made. Have a throne that reminded you of the threat that was sitting atop it. A reminder of the enemies, the usurpers and turncloaks alike that would nip at your heels and back when you blinked.

The dangers of even your own self.

And yet even still, you were not cut. As if the Gods had made it so.

And they had.

You sat and watched quietly as Ser Larys Strong, The Master of Whispers, took his last, dying breath against the stone floors of the Iron Throne chambers. You watched as his head rolled limply against the cold floor, and the hands clutched at his stomach loosened.

You let yourself smile, an angry smile, and rage filled smile, small on your lips as you looked at the corpse below you. A man who had done so much damage, who had taunted and teased you, mocked and provoked.

A man who had whispered in Alicent's other ear, whilst Otto purred in the other, pushing her to choices which started the pieces that would fall. That would start the pieces of all her children dying.

To her being alone.

The blood beneath him pooled thickly, reflecting the ceiling of the chambers like a puddle.

They were coming.

And you would wait.

Dagger in hand, crown atop your head, seated upon the Iron Throne, you would wait.

And so you did, for a time, until the familiar screech of a dragons flew over the Red Keep, and the deep rumble of another crossed closely by. Shadows sweeping across windows, distant screams, men running, and the sound of dragon fire.

But you could not pull your eyes away from the doors as you waited, not as you saw men run past the Iron Throne chambers, nor when you heard rumblings from Flea Bottom.

You were to wait.

And wait you did.

As though you had gone into a dreamlike state, a meditative state, no worries, nor cares, nor thoughts within your head. No feeling but the cold numbness that creeped through your pores and crawled through your bones.

Time moved differently.

And the noises became louder.

Until there, at the far end of the room, stood a pair of silver hair and violet eyes.

One much larger than the other, taller and broader, the other smaller and dainty, a golden crown atop her head. Their eyes were open in shock, in relief, in fear, heads snapping from Larys and then to you.

Daemon and Rhaenyra had returned to the Red Keep.

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