#Northern Lights Centre

[rabbitcruiser]

Watson Lake, YT

The pioneer road completed in 1942 was about 1,680 miles (2,700 km) from Dawson Creek to Delta Junction. The Army then turned the road over to the Public Roads Administration (PRA), which then began putting out section contracts to private road contractors to upgrade selected sections of the road. These sections were upgraded, with removal of excess bends and steep grades; often, a traveler could identify upgraded sections by seeing the telephone line along the PRA-approved route alignment. When the Japanese invasion threat eased, the PRA stopped putting out new contracts. Upon hand-off to Canada in 1946, the route was 1,422 miles (2,288 km) from Dawson Creek to Delta Junction.Border crossing at Port Alcan station

The route follows a northwest then northward course from Dawson Creek to Fort Nelson. On October 16, 1957, a suspension bridge crossing the Peace River just south of Fort St. John collapsed. A new bridge was built a few years later. At Fort Nelson, the road turns west and crosses the Rocky Mountains, before resuming a westward course at Coal River. The highway crossed the Yukon-BC border nine times from Mile 590 to Mile 773, six of those crossings were from Mile 590 to Mile 596. After passing the south end of Kluane Lake, the highway follows a north-northwest course to the Alaska border, then northwest to the terminus at Delta Junction.

Postwar rebuilding has not shifted the highway more than 10 miles (16 km) from the original alignment, and in most cases, by less than 3 miles (4.8 km). It is not clear if it still crosses the Yukon-BC border six times from Mile 590 to Mile 596.

Source: Wikipedia

[quiltofstars]

The Northern Lights at Elginfield Observatory in Ontario, Canada // Katelyn Beecroft

[theliverpudlianuk]

✨ A world-renowned art installation, 'Borealis', that recreates one of nature’s most magical phenomena, The Northern Lights, is coming to Liverpool for the first time at Royal Albert Dock from the 20th to the 30th of March 2025.

✨ Created by artist Dan Acher, Borealis combines technology and the elements using beams of light to travel through cloud particles.

✨ Having exhibited in over 40 cities across Europe, Australia, Asia and the US, including Tokyo, Melbourne and Paris. Borealis has captivated audiences across the world, even gaining a permanent installation at Singapore’s iconic Gardens By The Bay Supertrees.

✨ Read the rest of our article on TheLiverpudlian.com for more information: https://www.TheLiverpudlian.com/post/world-renowned-art-installation-borealis-is-coming-to-the-royal-albert-dock-liverpool

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[rcannon992]

Seabirds of Rathlin Island (NI)

[galedekarios]

thinking about how gale's love language is acts of service.

people have talked at length about how he cooks for everyone at camp.

"the hand that feeds is the hand that's loved. it'll never leave your side now."

but that's not all of it, and it's a red thread that weaves itself through almost all his interactions throughout the game.

"magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as I can remember. would you like to experience this?"

gale shows the protag his world, his life, trying to connect them to the weave as he had once been, when he was still a chosen, still an archmage. it's not quite the same, it doesn't come quite as easy. still.

"i'm so very glad you came. to share this with me. i know this is all unreal, but i created it for you. you must know that you're... that you're very special to me. if things were different, if we were home, i'd have taken time to do things properly. to say it all better. but time is short. i'm in love with you."

gale knew he was living on borrowed, he knew it would run out eventually, even well before elminster came to deliver mystra's instructions.

he can't give the protag something different and they aren't home and they're not going to go home at the end of this. he knows this. time that once seemed so infinite when he was young is now whittled down to a single last night.

a last night that he uses to turn a dark and cursed land into a beautiful forest, northern lights dancing across a starry sky. he can't go home, he can't take the protag home, but he can give them an illusion of the centre of his universe, with all the well-loved things in it. there's no pretention here. books strewn across the floor, across the desk. sculptures, paintings, music. a view of home. the smell of the sea breeze.

baring his heart as well his soul in the little time he still has left to use how he sees fit.

"let me show you more. when you wake, it will be back in our small, dirty, bloody patch of existence. but stay with me now. there are endless worlds out there. countless ways to declare love. infinite ways to express it. too much for one night... but we shall try."

let me show you waterdeep, let me show you my home, my universe. let me show you how it would have been, could have been, if i did have time. let me show you more. let me show you how much i love you in the one night we may have left together.

let me give my soul to you, in confidence.

"i'd actually been thinking of introducing the two of you anyway. over a sumptuous home-cooked meal, if that sounds at all to your taste? i make it to my mother's recipe."

he wants to give the protag a chance to get to know tara, the one constant in his life, the one who became his only friend, his safe haven in the storm, the one that bore witness to his greatest triumphs and most abject failures. he wants to cook for them. he wants to take them home so very badly—

and yet he knows he won't make the date.

"then have me, but have the best possible version of me. [...] think of what i offer: the vastness of eternity to explore, the weave at our fingertips... you would really prefer me as i am?"

he could be more for the protag, if they wish him to be. could be more, could be better.

without all the flaws, without all the things that make gale only who he is. the things that sometimes simply aren't enough. he could be everything that plain old gale dekarios, that even the wizarding prodigy gale of waterdeep, could never be.

[sayruq]

The Israeli army is likely to carry out a fresh massacre in the northern Gaza Strip town of Beit Lahia, initiating a new round of forced evacuation orders against its estimated 50,000 citizens who remained in the area. The UN and other international parties need to take immediate action to protect Palestinian civilians. After declaring the town of Beit Lahia to be a "dangerous combat zone" and threatening to "act with extreme force," the Israeli army started to launch heavy air and artillery attacks on the town, followed by fresh evacuation orders. The Israeli army set up shelters for the town of Beit Lahia's residents to evacuate towards known shelters in blocks number 1770, 1766, but these were originally destroyed areas that are unfit for any form of life and lack water supply as well as functioning sewage systems. The two designated evacuation points are unsafe areas and, like all areas of the town of Beit Lahia in particular, and the northern Gaza Strip in general, have previously been subjected to widespread destruction, including shelter centres and public facilities, as a result of the ongoing Israeli military attack since October 7. In light of the ongoing crimes of genocide and forced displacement policy in the Gaza Strip, every area designated by the Israeli army as a military operation area is completely destroyed, subjected to a strict and oppressive siege, and horrifically massacred, as the remaining residents have nowhere safe to flee. In the absence of strong international accountability mechanisms and any swift international action to put an end to these crimes, which have been going on for six months, the military operation that the Israeli army launched in the town of Beit Lahia will result in more serious crimes and violations of international humanitarian law and international human rights law. The town of Beit Lahia was the scene of multiple large-scale military operations by the Israeli army during the previous seven months of its military assault on the Gaza Strip. One such operation occurred at the end of December last year, which resulted in extensive damage to homes, infrastructure, and civil and service facilities, with the town's buildings and infrastructure being destroyed to the tune of approximately 90%. The Israeli army's Beit Lahia military operation is taking place on the 200th day of the massive military assault on the Gaza Strip, which has had horrific consequences due to its direct and deliberate targeting of Palestinian civilians amid the shameful international inaction to oblige Israel to abide by international humanitarian law and the orders of the International Court of Justice to stop its genocide crime.

[medlilove]

↓↓DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED VEILGUARD + Click for full res.

Harding’s mother knew her daughter's work had taken her far and wide, and she had connected with many different people. But never did she ever imagined so many would come.

It was a stunning sight. In robes and armour, in scarlet and blue and gold and green, they had journeyed across all of Thedas to their sleepy little hamlet. They had filled the humble inns and the surrounding fields, full of spring heather, transformed into colourful campsites. They had come, with gold jewellery and shining armour, they had come with holes in their shoes and worn-out leathers, they had come and sat side by side. To honour her sacrifice and celebrate her memory. She had seen then how her daughter had known the whole world, and in return, the whole world had loved her—the hero of the final blight, the hero from Ferelden.

(click for a lot more detail) ↓

Her home away from home—the Veilguard—had arrived first and stayed the longest, some had helped set up, others had gone about fixing old roofs, helping the farmers repair their equipment, planting gardens, bringing ingredients from all over and cooking large meals, and talking to her and her husband about all Lace had done.

Then more and more started arriving, celebrated for three days and three nights. Many Harding’s mother had not known at all—Tevinter civilians, assassins from Antiva, fortune seekers, and seers from Rivain. There had been Elves with beautiful, delicate tattoos from far-off northern forests, Grey Wardens in uniforms so different from what she had known, Dwarves dressed in peculiar garb who had not stayed long, and Nevarran scholars with dark jewellery, black robes, and warm, generous dispositions.

And old friends too.

Commander Cullen, Lily Trevelyan, and their young family had brought fruit and fruit seeds from their small farm in the valley over.The Iron Bull—the tallest Qunari Harding’s mother had ever seen, and the kindest and most respectful—he and his Chargers had brought crates of honey mead, before starting up a game of sport with the village children. Soon after, they had been joined by Sera, Lace’s fellow archer, who had offered to let each child try out her bow. Watched by Dorian, who had soon grown bored and returned to the garden to Neve, whom he had walked around and introduced to old friends.

Josephine had arrived late, flushed, and emotional without a hair out of place, but had made up for it by immediately taking charge of herding the crowds this way and that. The Herald, Lavellan, had sat outside in the sun watching her young daughter play in the grass, frail and weakened by what the mark had left—and was still taking. Yet she had spoken to every person who had passed by. Many faces had wandered through to sit beside her and speak. In particular, Lady Cassandra—silver lines of hair mixed with her black—had sat with her the longest. Both had been stricken with the loss and the burden of leadership, a hole in each of their hearts for the knowledge that Harding had died dressed as an Inquisition Scout.

Harding’s mother had never seen the Divine up close, but had heard a great deal about her from Lace. Her strength as a spellsword, quick wit and sharp mind had made her an intimidating idea. Yet, she had come dressed in simple robes—perfectly tailored and beautiful, but simple. With just a cape and a modest headdress. No guards. If you hadn’t known who she was, you would have been forgiven for mistaking her as a high-ranking Circle mage—nothing more. She had arrived with no great entrance, heading immediately to her and her husband. She had sat with them for an hour, as the sun had glistened in a golden afternoon light, before walking with them to the small chantry that sat in the centre of the village. After that, she had gone to old friends, sitting on a wooden bench beneath the cherry tree, speaking with a rugged, rough-looking man with a black beard streaked with grey and looking like he had lived a thousand lifetimes—a complete contrast to her well-kept, elegant appearance.

As the friends and family had gathered for the formal ceremony, Vivienne, had performed the Chantry rites. Afterwards, a few people had taken turns to speak. The Herald, then Rook—their young leader of the Veilguard—before the dragon hunter, tall and stoic, and so young, who had been so blunt and informal it had been almost funny. The days spent in Harding’s home with her mother had softened Taash’s heartbreak just enough.

The Inquisition Spymaster and the Witch of the Wilds had made an odd pairing as they had stood away from the rest, beneath the oak tree on the hill. They had stood so close you might have mistaken them as sisters—or perhaps simply two people who had experienced too much together. Later, as the sun had begun to set, they had been joined by another. A man, around the same age, but his face had been in shadow. He had worn simple travelling robes, and a cloak with his hood up, a strawberry blond beard speckled with silver, and a sword at his side. The three had stood informally in a line looking down at the gathering. Later, in the evening, as guests had begun to wander off for rest, the man—brown eyes, heavy yet still shining—had asked to speak to Harding’s mother and her husband privately, to pay his respects to a “Hero from Ferelden.”

(if there is anyone I forgot to mention, they were also there, what do you think they were doing?) I had this idea for months but could only finish it now. I hate that it feels like it was meant to be harding, the sacrifice.

[heartofmortis]

Lionheart ✶ Chapter Two

Robb Stark x Taryn Baratheon (oc)

word count: 2.4k

masterlist

Robb Stark was eight when he learned what real summer felt like. In the aftermath of a rebellion in the Iron Islands led by his father and the King, Robb and his twin sister, Alys, travelled to King’s Landing with their father to attend Robert Baratheon’s Name Day celebration. Spring had passed and the snows around Winterfell were low. Robb spent half the journey complaining about how he wanted to ride his horse next to his father while their septa told him to pay attention to their lessons. Watching the country change shape along the Kingsroad did keep Robb moderately interested — glimpsing the lands outside of the North was rather novel. Alys shared Robb’s adventurous instinct and they ran amok, hiding between trees and tents of their father’s company every time they stopped for a meal. But there were only so many games two eight year olds could play.

For all Ned Stark had told his children about King’s Landing and the Red Keep, Robb found it all rather underwhelming. There was no grand welcome for the Starks when they arrived. The city streets were too busy and the air was too hot.

Robb and Alys were brought before the Iron Throne — the hideous, towering King’s Seat made with a thousand melted swords — to be presented to King Robert Baratheon, their father’s oldest friend. Robb was aware he had been named after the King (just as his half-brother Jon had been named after Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King). Perhaps Robb’s father saw greatness in his son’s future, a boy worth naming after a king. Robert Baratheon was not the formidable giant Robb had expected to meet. Robb could imagine the warrior king that had won the throne and broke the Greyjoy Rebellion and hoped he would never fight in a war.

The Starks were escorted to their guest rooms for the duration of their stay. Alys and Robb’s rooms lay next to each other. Before Robb could finish unpacking his chest, Alys snuck into her brother’s room. She laid back on his bed, Robb made a fuss when his sister got her boots on the sheets.

“I want to explore. Will you come with me?”

Robb did not hesitate before he nodded, a grin spread across his face. Unpacking was boring anyway.

The twins barrelled through red corridors, ducking under maids and Kingsguards. The castle was theirs for the taking.

The Red Keep was bigger than any of the Northern castles the twins had visited before, full of labyrinthine corridors. A maze without a centre for Robb — but Alys seemed to know where she wanted to be.

Robb and Alys were stopped in their tracks when Robb almost tumbled into a girl. She was their age, if younger by a few moons, dressed in pink and gold with dark blonde curls. A huge black cat with a grumpy expression was clasped in her arms. Alys recognised the girl first. Robb felt a winter chill blow through him, tethering him frozen in place. The girl was pretty like a colourful bloom in the snow. She looked at the twins, wide-eyed and curious. She held the kind of warmth the North only felt during fleeting spring days. Alys punched her twin brother in the stomach and Robb mimicked her bow.

Taryn Baratheon smiled, a pink glow on her freckle-dappled cheeks. “You must be the Stark twins. Father told me about you.”

“Can you take us to see the dragons?” Alys asked quickly, eagerly rocking on the balls of her feet. “I thought I knew the way but…”

The Princess paused, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. The cat in her arms jumped free — he rounded the twins, giving judgemental looks, and brushed against Alys’s legs before darting away. “They’re all underground now,” Taryn explained. “We aren’t supposed to visit them, but I know the way.”

It was evening by the time they entered the cellar room beneath the castle. Golden hour light faded, leaving the underground room in growing shadows. Robb had not been as enthusiastic as Alys and Jon about House Targaryen in all their lessons, but his heart thundered in his chest, mouth agape when he saw the nineteen dragon skulls.

The smallest dragon skulls were even smaller than direwolves, tiny dog-sized creatures but their teeth were still dagger-sharp. As the three children ventured down the room, the dragons grew bigger. Taryn explained that many of them were unknown. Robb wondered how magical it must have been to live centuries ago and see dragons patrolling the sky. The largest dragon skulls were those of Meraxes, ridden by Queen Rhaenys, Vhagar, ridden by Queen Visenya, and Balerion the Black Dread, ridden by Aegon the Conqueror. Most dragons have more than one rider, but later riders paled in comparison to the conquerors.

“This one is Vermax,” Taryn told Robb, pointing to another dragon skull halfway down the room. “Ridden by King Jacaerys, First of his Name. He married a Stark. An Arya, I think.”

Robb turned to his sister to tell her that one of their ancestors had married a dragonrider, but Alys had stepped away. She was distracted by another dragon.

“That’s Syrax,” Taryn said quietly to Robb. “She was ridden by Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Alys touched Syrax’s skull and smiled wistfully. “She was yellow.”

Taryn tensed. “I don’t think we’re allowed to touch them. I’m not supposed to come down here after dark.”

Robb approached his sister, whose stormy eyes still gazed wistfully at the dragons, and touched her arm. “Let’s go to the kitchens. See if they have lemon cakes.”

Finally, Alys looked away and nodded. She cracked a smile. “But don’t tell Sansa — she would be upset if we had cake without her.”

Together, the children left the cellar room. Robb stared at the dragon skulls for as long as possible as Taryn closed the door. To see a dragon fly over Winterfell… He sighed sadly and wished there was more magic left in the world.

Taryn showed them to the kitchens. Alys skipped on ahead, wondering out loud about how wonderful it must be to live in the Red Keep. Taryn was happy to fuel her daydreams. They scurried up a spiral staircase, for once Robb did not challenge his sister to a race. Which was probably a good thing as Alys was ahead and she did not see him trip up the stairs. Robb threw his hands out, scraping his skin against the rough stone to catch himself. Taryn looked at him and Robb turned red, embarrassed to make a fool of himself in front of the princess.

Taryn helped him up. Blood from a small cut on Robb’s palm smeared onto Taryn’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s only a little blood. Here–” She sat them down on the step and took the hem of her dress to dab away the blood.

Robb clenched his fist and moved away. “You’ll ruin your dress.”

Taryn took his hand back, gently uncurling his fingers. “That doesn’t matter.”

She dabbed at the thin beads of blood, holding for a few seconds. They waited as the blood stopped spilling. “I’ll ask one of the cooks to help you.” Taryn stood and reached out to take Robb’s other hand. He took her hand gratefully and stood. “Don’t worry,” Taryn added, “We all fall sometimes.”

Dawn arrived with the northern sun trying to claw its way through soft grey clouds. The royal carriage crawled towards Winterfell in such a slow fashion that Taryn was growing restless. She was quite tired of these early mornings that had plagued them all for a month. Having already thumbed through the books her Uncle Tyrion had allowed her to borrow for the journey, the Baratheon Princess could tell you everything about Dragonglass but nothing about how to entertain her younger siblings who were even more bored than she was. The evenings were usually easier to sit through, when everyone relaxed after a day’s travel and Taryn could finally source a moment of peace.

Taryn had visited the northern reaches of Westeros before, but only once, when she was ten. She had travelled by herself, with only guards and ladies-in-waiting by her side — it was the furthest she had ever travelled without her  mother. That time, Taryn had taken a boat from King’s Landing to White Harbour, for a quicker journey, and made the unfortunate discovery that she suffered from violent seasickness. Her last experience was part of the reason her family was now making their journey along the Kingsroad instead of quicker paths — Taryn’s mother had insisted that her eldest daughter's comfort be a top priority — as well as her father’s love of hunting, which had their party taking frequent breaks for expeditions deep into the woods. Taryn would not have minded the hunting trips if her younger brother, Joffrey, had not brought her a rabbit that he had killed and showed her how to skin it for supper. (She had screamed then and eaten nothing but bread and vegetables for two weeks after, even when any other kind of meat was placed in front of her.)

“We’re almost there, I promise,” Cersei Lannister said as she considered the tired expressions across her three children.

Taryn stared out of the window at all the men on their horses. Even though she couldn’t ride, she wanted to be out there with her father, her brother, her uncle On horseback, Taryn could go anywhere and move at her own pace. But in the carriage, she was stuck. Her mother and two youngest siblings (Myrcella and Tommen) were never bad company as she loved them all so dearly; she almost felt guilty when she dreamed of having her own space again. But when Winterfell finally came into view, Taryn’s complaints washed from her mind like a summer storm, and she knew the long journey would have been worth it.

Robb Stark stood in line with his family to greet their King and his family. With his father on his left and his twin sister on his right, Robb was the Heir of Winterfell and he needed to prove himself worthy of his place. As stoic and noble as he tried to present himself, Robb could not calm his thunderous heart. He almost trembled with anticipation. The King’s visit to Winterfell was the greatest honour, but it also came with the promise of a new chapter and the return of the spring to his winter.

He tried not to glance sideways at his twin, Alys, as he knew she would take the piss out of his hopeful demeanour in all her annoying and particular ways. And as King Robert rode through the gates with his eldest son and second child, Prince Joffrey, and their Kingsguard and carriages, nothing could dampen Robb's high spirit.

His eyes searched as the riders and carriages poured into the confines of Winterfell, almost completely distracted from the King coming forth to greet Robb’s parents, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell: Eddard and Catelyn Stark. Robb counted the seconds until the formalities would conclude. And then he saw her again. It had been more than five years since Robb had last seen the Princess. More than five years since their fathers had decided their eldest children should marry when they reached better ages.

Dressed in pale pink silk, golden curls like sun rays, Taryn Baratheon followed her mother out of their carriage, which could scarcely fit through the gates of Winterfell. Soft as a spring bloom and thrice as sweet, Taryn had always been beautiful. Robb watched as she helped her siblings down from the carriage too, holding her youngest brother under his arms so she could spin him around and make him laugh before setting him down. Taryn’s brown eyes reached Robb's blue, and he tried to look away before she could find him staring at her, but she was too quick. Taryn gave him a bright smile and a small wave — it took everything for Robb to not break into a grin.

Finally, the introductions came to a close. Robb and Taryn’s fathers went off in the direction of the crypt and the maids and servants snapped back into action to tend to the royal family. As soon as he could move without appearing rude, Robb closed the distance between himself and Taryn. She was ordering their septas and handmaidens to bring her siblings into the castle when he approached (although ordering was too strong a word for the politeness and care Taryn showed her staff). Robb knew others would not be so kind, but this was Taryn’s unshakable nature. When her siblings were taken care of, Taryn turned to search for Robb and beamed when she found him before her.

Robb bowed. “Your Grace.”

Taryn giggled, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. “Please, you don't need to be so formal.”

Though it had been almost six years since they had last breathed the same air, they had not been lax with communication — Robb and Taryn had written to each other almost every month in the years they had been apart. Their first meeting had left both of them hopeful for the future, even though they were only ten and eleven, but the letters had allowed Robb to truly begin to know Taryn. Neither of them was marrying a stranger, Robb was grateful for that at least.

Robb noticed her fingers fidgeting with the chain around her neck.

“The castle seems bigger than I remember,” Taryn said, staring up at Winterfell with wonder in her eyes. Then she looked at Robb.  “And you too, of course.”

Breaking into a short laugh, Robb asked, “Is that such a surprise?”

Taryn shook her head. “I was taller but you were so much faster than me — I hated that.” She giggled. “I felt like I was always chasing after you.”

Robb stretched out a hand to take the bag Taryn had strung over her shoulder, and she allowed him to take it. “You’re staying in your old room, if that’s alright?”

Taryn smiled and nodded, tucking blonde curls behind her ears. “Of course. As long as you don’t challenge me to a race this time.”

They both laughed and began walking across the courtyard together. Robb grinned. “Don’t hold your breath.”

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers: Character Interviews (Kant/Bison Focus)

So this proved to be super interesting. Let us see what can be gleaned from these brief little interview segments with Kant and Bison.

Immediately, I'm struck by how serious and stoic Kant comes across. He has a very mature aura, and is quite hard to read (which I guess is a plus considering what he gets up to). I didn't expect this, based on how flirty and forward he appeared to be in the trailer, and that makes me wonder if it's all part of a persona he's playing. Or whether the real Kant is in fact more measured and introspective, and Bison just brings out his playful side?

A notable trait that gets signposted repeatedly is Kant's care for his brother Babe. I believe Khao has made a similar comment about him being family-oriented. It makes a tonne of sense to me as to why Bison would be drawn to a 'family man'; someone who has strong family values, when Bison's essentially been rejected by his own.

"My goal in life is to make sure my brother grows up into a good man. I want to make sure he doesn't feel like he's lacking anything. We're all we've got right now." "I just live day by day, just keeping with my goal which is making sure my brother grows up well." This is so telling of Kant's mentality. Not only does it suggest that Kant is a stand-in parent of sorts, but that he doesn't live for himself. (Which could be something of a parallel to Bison - who is unable to live by his own rules). His goals centre entirely on his loved ones' needs being met and supporting them. This definitely gives provider with self-sacrificing tendencies.

"I feel like my goal is just to make sure my loved ones get to live their dreams. For now, I just want my brother to have a good life. But one day, if someone comes into my life and I love them, my goal would be to make sure they get to achieve their dreams." And yet another selfless, touching sentiment. The desire to aid your loved ones to actualise their dreams, possibly before or over your own. I expect Kant will be a very doting, nurturing soul. (Lucky Bison).

I wonder if Kant and Fadel will empathise with one another over their respective little brothers, and the sense of responsibility that comes with it. Bonding opportunity perhaps?

The most mysterious thing Kant says is "One more thing I'm not a big fan of is the beach." (The reason is personal). Curious. First has specifically talked about filming on the beach, where they were able to do a lot more improv. Any speculations on the above are wide open.

Now let's move onto our resident Murder Kitten. I've always said that Bison reads as a real sweetie-pie based on everything we've seen thus far. He's very animated and expressive. Khao very deliberately uses a softer, lighter vocal register as Bison, which just accentuates this cute, darling image. A real child at heart who wants to make up for a life he didn't get to lead. "I go out, I'm just trying to live outside the burger shop." His childhood dream about seeing the northern lights is just another example of a boy who has daydreamed of escape, and welcomes any excuse to be as far away from his actual life as possible. He also mentions being fond of a stray cat who resides near their burger bar, who he enjoys feeding and playing with. This precious boy, I cant. (Note: I need to have scenes of this in the show PURR-LEASE).

Everything about Bison as a person feels at odds with his violent lifestyle, which seems to be a central conflict in Bison's character arc. It does beg the question of what if Bison had never been adopted, what kind of life would he be living instead? And I think this drives Kant's desire to fight for Bison's chance at a new start. A boy with big dreams meets a man who wants to realise them. What a match.

Another comment we've heard before in the pilot is "I also don't like liars", no doubt foreshadowing the fallout when he finds out Kant did exactly that. I do think it's likely that whatever drives Kant to take the detective job has reasons to do with his own brother. He may wish to clear his record of anything untoward for his brother's sake. Based on this premise, when Bison does find out why Kant did what he did, I think that will help soothe any hard feelings.

On a side note - I've seen a comment mention that Kant apparently calls Bison 'kitten' in the novel. ERM HULLO?!! I will allow one spoiler, and that is whether this is true or not. And if so, I DEMAND that it is a featured pet name in the show, because why on earth would you miss an opportunity like that?!

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I'll be updating as the show airs.

[the-fiction-witch]

Yes My Lords

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark Couple - Jacaerys X Reader + Cregan X Reader Reader - Y/n (Winterfell Maid) Rating - 17+ (Playful flirting/ playful spanking/ lap sitting) Word Count - 1114

The summer snow swirled fiercely across the expansive hills of the north. The ancient castle of Winterfell loomed majestically over the pristine, snow-covered fields, its weathered stone walls reflecting centuries of history and resilience from the onslaught of winter. From every window of the castle, flickering flames casted a warm, golden glow.

The hearths crackled with life, their heat radiating through the thick walls, creating a comforting sanctuary from the bitter cold. Heavy wooden doors were bolted tight, ensuring that the howling winds and the biting chill could not invade the warm embrace of the castle.

Within the sturdy stone walls of the ancient castle, there lay an intimate chamber nestled high in the south tower. The room was steeped in a shadowy gloom, illuminated only by the flickering light of a handful of carefully placed candles. Above, an iron chandelier hung ominously, its numerous arms dark and cold, neglected in their duty to bring brightness to the room.

The faint crackle and pop of a fire danced in the fireplace, sending occasional bursts of sparks into the air as it consumed the dry wood. The warm flames flickered across the stark stone walls, creating shadows that leapt and swirled in a chaotic ballet. In the centre of the room, were two sturdy chairs, draped with soft, worn furs. Between them lay a thick, luxurious rug, shielding the floor from the chill that seeped through the castle’s ancient stones.

Despite the harsh winter storm raging outside, the air was filled with the joyful sounds of boisterous laughter and lively conversation, harmonizing in cheerful defiance against the howling wind and the crackling fire.

In one chair sat Lord Cregan of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Stripped down of his cloak and armour to only his leathers.

On the other sat Prince Jacaerys of House Velaryon, Heir to Queen Rhaynera Targaryen. Having also removed his snow-covered cloak now only in his fine black and red clothes.

Both held in their hands goblets of winter mead, bringing them to their lips often.

Jacaerys had arrived just a week prior, to propose an alliance and suppose of House Stark for his mother’s claim to the Iron Throne. The two had found a fondness for one another, the two cut from the same cloth, a mutual like and desire to be taken seriously and seen as men when the world around them saw them only as boys, even in the brief time they had together the two had felt like brothers. They had travelled to the wall together, trained in Winterfell's courtyard together, dined and drank together.

Now they sat beside the hearth, deep in their drink. Joking back and forth, telling tales and drunken jokes.

The only other soul in the room, was a young maid girl. Who was working late into the night as the two’s cup bearer coming with her large jug of wine to refill their cups whenever they demanded her. Which was often.

“…So then he says, well how was I to know the frog would jump out!” Jacaerys finished,

The two then burst into a rush of laughter,

“You are too much my prince,” Cregan laughed,

“You must relax every so often my lord,” Jacaerys laughed in return tapping his goblet to summon the maid,

She nodded and headed over to refill his goblet,

“Some of us have not had such pleasure to relax,” Cregan reminded,

“I suppose you’re right,” Jacaerys nodded his eyes falling from the goblet to the maid who filled it, he looked her over a little glancing at her well-braided hair pinned up on her head, her simple northern clothes and the body that lay beneath them, his eyes trailed over her and he captured his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes took their time over her stopping at her arse, “You’re very pretty,”

The maid was taken back surprised he spoke to her, “Oh- M-Me My prince?”

“Yes, you.” He nodded, “I hardly meant Lord Stark now did I?” He laughed,

“I feel somewhat offended my prince,” Cregan laughed,

“You’re very pretty too, Cregan” Jacaerys told him,

“Thank you,” He agreed sipping his goblet,

“But, you are very beautiful.” Jacaerys smiled to her, “A very very, pretty girl.”

“T-Thank you, My prince,” She nodded sheepishly,

Jacaerys gave her a soft stroke down her back and pushed her over to Cregan, “Isn’t she lovely,”

Cregan happily held his goblet for her, so she began to fill it for him, his eyes trailed over her more aggressively than Jacaerys had, and far less covertly,

Her eyes remained on the floor very aware of how the two were looking at her,

“She is isn’t she,” Cregan smirked, “Hello little thing,” he cooed giving her a firm smack on her backside,

“Ohh! My lord-” She gasped standing up straight and tall in her panic,

“It’s alright little maid, we won’t hurt you.” Jacaerys cooed leaning forward in his chair, “What’s your name?

“Y/n, My - My prince,” She blushed,

“Y/n… a very pretty name for a very pretty girl,” Cregan smirked giving her arse another smack,

“Ooh!” she gasped almost falling forward from the strength of the slap, fighting the urge to rub her skin to soothe it from the slap,

“She’s a bit jumpy,” Jacaerys laughed,

“She is, isn’t she?” Cregan laughed, “Sweet little Y/n, our guest is not used to these northern snow storms. Go and keep him warm now.”

“Y- yes my lord,” she nodded setting the wine jug down and going over to Jacaery’s chair, she stood sheepishly unsure what she was to do but he smiled up at her,

“Do not worry sweet thing, This dragon does not bite.” he cooed, setting his hands on her hips and pulling her onto his lap,

Y/n softly squealed at the shock of being so suddenly pulled, her body slightly trembling as she felt herself over him, “My- My prince I-”

Jacaery’s smirk only grew, he guided her hands to his shoulders and smiled up at her, “There we go, that’s more secure isn’t it, don’t worry sweet thing, you won’t fall. I’ll make sure of it.” he growled leaning back as far as he could in the chair, his fingers digging into her hips,

“That better my prince? Warmer for you?” Cregan laughed leaning his elbow on his knee watching with a sly grin,

“Much better my lord, much better.” he nodded slowly guiding her hips on him forcing her to shift against him,

“You’ll stay a while longer, won’t you y/n?” Cregan asked but spoke like an order,

Y/n glanced back and forth between them, and gulped,

“Please sweet thing, it would be so much more fun if you stay.” Jacaerys pleaded,

“Y-Yes my Lords.” She nodded,

“Good girl.” Cregan Growled,

[gulliblelemon]

Chapter 2

Simon and his mystery stranger have a writing session. Simon shares some things about himself, and is given something in return.

Simon is nervous. It feels… intimate somehow – writing at the same time as someone else, even if it’s different things, even if they’re… miles away. Although, for some reason, Simon feels like they’re not. Miles away. They’ve carefully established that they’re in the same time zone. And since they have both effused about the balmy summer weather, that puts them in the northern hemisphere. They’ve also discussed how much of a novelty that same weather is.

That means… probably Europe. 

So Simon is nervously getting his balcony ready to write beside a fellow European. Along with the setting sun. Because apparently this whole thing isn’t bizarre enough. Simon lights a candle that he found languishing in the bottom of a drawer and places it in the centre of the metal table. He looks at it for several seconds, then blows it out. Smoke curls up towards Simon’s face and he wafts it away, feeling foolish. Heat rises to his cheeks that has nothing to do with the extinguished flame and he shakes his head to try to rid himself of whatever notion that had been.

Read chapter 2 on AO3. Or start from the beginning. (Rated M, 9.6k/43k)

[blueiscoool]

Excavation in Egyptian Necropolis Uncovers 63 Ancient Tombs and a Trove of Gold Artifacts

Grave goods found in 63 burials from ancient Egypt include gold foil figures, pottery and bronze coins.

Archaeologists in Egypt have found the ancient burials of more than 60 people along with bronze coins and gold foil figurines, the Egyptian Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities announced in a statement.

The team found the burials in the city of Damietta on the northern coast by the Mediterranean. Some of the graves date to the 26th dynasty (688 to 525 B.C.) while others appear to date to the Ptolemaic period (304 to 30 B.C.), the statement noted. The discoveries include pottery and shabti figurines, which were meant to work for the deceased in the afterlife.

Researchers zeroed in on the 38 bronze coins found within a pottery vessel at the site. The coins date to the Ptolemaic period, a time when the descendants of one of Alexander the Great's generals ruled Egypt.

Thomas Faucher, the director of the Center for Alexandrian Studies in Egypt who was not involved in this research, said that from the released images, it appears that many of the coins are engraved with the head of Zeus Ammon. This deity is a combination of the Greek god Zeus and the Egyptian god Ammon (also spelled Amun), who is associated with oracles and prophecies. At least one coin in the images seems to have an eagle engraved on it with a cornucopia (a horn) depicted to the left of the eagle. Based on these details, Faucher dated the coins to the late third century B.C.

Egypt was going through political turmoil when this coin was minted. Around 206 B.C. a large-scale revolt broke out against the Ptolemaic dynasty.

"A large number of hoards were buried at the time of the revolt in Southern Egypt in 206 B.C." Faucher said in an email, noting that there was a coin recall after this, with recalled coins being assigned new values and given new additional markings. It's unclear if the newly found coins were buried during the time of revolt, and more details from the excavations may shed light on them. In any event, the discovery of the burials and coins "is significant, especially given the region's limited known material from this period," Faucher said.

Aside from the coins, the gold foil figurines buried with the deceased are also notable. From the images released, it appears that a few of the figurines depict "ba-birds" — creatures from Egyptian mythology that have wings and a human head. The "ba" in ancient Egypt represented part of the human soul and was sometimes depicted as a bird that could gather food to feed the deceased, according to Swansea University's Egypt Centre.

In addition to the ba-birds, some of the gold foil figurines appear to depict the 'eye of Horus,' a falcon-headed god. Artifacts depicting his eyes were popular in ancient Egypt and were believed to have a protective power.

By Owen Jarus.

[enodia-polymorphous]

I'm excited to share that the Sanctuary of the Crossroads will be celebrating our first Kleidous Agoge from March 29th 2025 - April 4th 2025!

What is Kleidous Agoge?

Also known as Kleidous Pompe or Procession of the Key, this significant festival originates from the Temple of Hekate in Lagina (modern day Turkey) which is also our only upstanding ancient Temple of Hekate.

A young, usually unmarried, woman related to the priest would be at the head of the procession with a sacred key, leading a group of torchbearers, worshippers, and musicians to the city centre of Stratonikeia. Days of feasts and festivities would follow!

Read more: https://knotmagick101.wordpress.com/2019/07/20/hekate-at-lagina/

A Festival, Revived

Piety @daggersandtorches and I are working together to revive the celebration as a week-long festival for the Sanctuary and any worshipper of Hekate, to honour our goddess, participate in communal worship, and commemorate the ancient ritual.

This festival observes the changing of seasons, abundance and renewal, and Hekate's epithets Kleidouchos (Keybearer), Propolos (Guide) and Phosphorus (Light-bringer/Torchbearer).

It is said that Kleidous Agoge took place on the first new moon of Spring, which is this deipnon for those in the Northern Hemisphere.

We'll also be hosting Kleidous Agoge for the Southern Hemisphere's first moon of Spring, on the dates October 21st - October 27th.

Anyone can partake, no matter your hemisphere, even if you're a new worshipper or just curious about the goddess! The only criteria is that you seek to respect and honour Hekate.

Celebrating Kleidous Agoge

I have put together this guide with all the details you need to celebrate Kleidous Agoge with us! Please take a look, as it includes a ritual I wrote for the festival and our plans.

Guide to Kleidous Agoge: https://bit.ly/kleidous-agoge

It's recommended that you come along to our virtual sanctuary on Discord to take part. You are more than welcome to post about your celebrations on other platforms (tag me if you do!)

Sanctuary Invite: https://discord.gg/s9nkvYfMu8

In our virtual sanctuary, you can find the channel #┆➷・kleidous-agoge

This has been made prior to the festival so you can chat about your plans, thoughts and questions leading up to the actual dates! This will be our central text channel for the festival itself.

Overview

Saturday 29th March - Deipnon and Crossroads Ritual Sunday 30th March - Devotional Writing Monday 31st March - Movie Screening Tuesday 1st April - Presentation of Writings Wednesday 2nd April - Games Thursday 3rd April - Time Capsule Friday 4th April - Conclusion

All of these events are available in the Events tab at the top of the server channel list for you to RSVP! The times and dates will show in your timezone.

We're so excited to bring this to you and make it happen!! I truly hope you can join us, whether you're new to Hekate or an experienced worshipper. This is being organised in devotion to our beloved goddess and may she look upon us kindly!

divider credits -> @enchanthings-a & @strangergraphics

[myladysapphire]

His Sapphire Princess (VI)

After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra is married to Laenor Velayron to protect the birth of her child. who in the years to follow is the only one of Rhaenyra's children that is believed to be his, she is loved by all in the red keep, even queen Alicent adores the girl, so when Rhaenyra proposes a marriage between Aemond and Rhaenyra's daughter Visenya, Alicent happily agrees.

The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?

word count: 2,647

CW: mentions of SA and rape and parent negligence

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen (can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclaimer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

Winterfell

Winterfell was beautiful, whilst cold and grey it gave a feeling of home. Though she was an outsider and always would be, to her winterfell felt welcoming, homely. Perhaps it was the snow swept roofs and hills, or the hot springs the heated the whole of winterfell, leaving no crook nor crevice cold. 

The gods woods were where she felt the most welcome, though she supposed she shouldn’t seeing as she did not worship the old gods of the north. But it was the only thing here that reminded her of the red keep. Though the red keeps gods woods was pitiful to that of winterfells. Here the woods were filled with never ending trees, caked in a sea of snow. Winter roses were scattered through the woods, mixed in with a few other northern native flowers, but the winter rose was the only flower that seemed to do the woods any justice, they evolved the trunks of the trees, made a natural path to the shining light of the gods woods, the ancient weirwood tree, a face carved into it, a face carved by the children of the forest, she guessed it was the face of one of the old gods, though as far as she knew the old gods, unlike the seven, did not present with faces or name. It was warm in the gods woods, despite what seemed to be the permanent layer of snow that coated the gods woods year round, with the hot springs out in the open and pooling into lakes she supposed it made sense, but she would never be used to feeling the need to shed her thick winter coat whenever she entered the gods woods.

With the godswoods at the centre of winterfell and spanning over 20 acres, winterfell easily or shadowed it, with greenhouses half the size of most castles in Westeros, allowing production of many crops all year round. Then there was the castle itself, though it was more grey that she was used to it was beautiful, and unlike the red keep, there was much less politics and tension, less debate over what the colour and exact shade of her dress and what it meant. She felt more free, less scrutinised. And she had more friends than enemies here, though the lack of her Aemond was ever present. 

The people of the north, originally hesitant and cold, soon warmed up to her (as much as notherns do to outsiders). They were a generous kingdom, despite them being one of the poorer kingdoms, with the lords and ladies lacking the selfish cunning of the south.

At first her being here only felt like a punishment and now it felt like a blessing, a much needed breather form her mother and the politics of her family, though one thing she did not need a breather from was Aemond, and he was the only thing keeping her from the feeling of home, here in the north. The people here in the north were very different, though they were known for their dislike of outsiders and yet the cold gazes felt kinder than the false niceties of the red keep.

There were many things she loved about the north, but Cregan stark has been her favourite part. 

Though she was sure her mother whisked away to the north in an attempt to become enamoured by him and for her to beg her betrothal to Aemond be broken in favour of Cregan. But instead she had found a dear friend. Whilst he was handsome, and a small crush had developed she could not deny her feelings for Aemond eclipsed any feelings for him.

Creagan himself was enamoured with the realms' beauty. And had it not been for his recent bethrothal to Lady Arra Norrey mere weeks prior to Rhaenyra request for her ward here, he was sure he would have loved the idea of potentially marrying her. 

To the north and to Cregan it was clear why this betrothal and fostering was sought after, the events at driftmark had spread quickly , of how her own brother had stabbed and maimed both her and her uncle.

The scar on her neck was hard to miss, though often strategically covered with high necks and necklaces, but that did not hide all the damage the scar had left, with Visenya often randomly flinching, her left hand unsteady and shaky from the nerve damage her own brother had left. The maester at winterfell had attetmpted physical therapy though it seemed that whilst she no longer shook it seemed that her grip and reflexes were permanently damaged. This led to her having to learn everything all over again, having previously been fully left handed, she had to relearn to right, to paint and even to ride her dragon. A enw saddle was built, designed to hold her left hand in place and allow her to street and be forced to dominate with her right hand instead. Though the vermothor seemed to hate the cold. She thought prephas it had something to do with his old rider, and Alysannes rumoured love for a certain northern lord. But his bond with his rider was strong and though he often flew to dragonstone, to his mate, he always came back.

Time flew fast and before she knew it, it was Aemonds 13th nameday.

Dear Aemond,

Happy name day!

I hope this reaches you in time. I miss you dearly, though it has only been a few moons. I had hoped to celebrate today with you, but the maester advised my arm may be too weak towithstand the whole journey, so instead I hope my writings may be of some comfort.

Aegon did write me recently, telling me of a surprise he had planned for your birthday, though he left no hints what it would be. But seeing as it's Aegon i dont have high hopes it will be a surprise aimed to please you. For that reason I hope this reaches you early, as to deter you from whatever Aegon has planned. 

I have commissioned you a gift, we both have always loved the gem and I myself have had a necklace and ring made from the stone,and now you have a matching eye, aswell as a ring. One I wish we may oneday use to commemorate our marriage. The sapphire itself was gifted to me by my father after he came back from one of his many trips. He had always said to me that this gem would always be a reminder of him for when he goes away, but now each of us shall have a piece of each other with us. And I have my fathers ring to rember him by instead. 

I mis you Aemond, so much. I wish i could just fly to kingslanding and see you, to spend the day with you. But I hope the lack of my presence does not affect your day.

As you know Jace has written to me, nearly as often as you, but the other week, after months on end with no acknowledgement from my mother, she wrote. Twisting some tale of how the thought of what happened to me was such a tragedy and she could not bare the sight of me in pain and needed to separate herself so as to not act on her anger at my condition. As if it were not the actions of her son and instead the actions of you that caused my pain. She seems to place the balme of that night entirely on you, and begs me to ask the king to break our engagement, as he refuses her requests. And then writes a paragraph of the rumors shes heard of Cregan, saying ‘i have heard he is quiet handsome, and a goods swordsman. He is only a few years your elder and the Starks are a good noble and loyal house, a marriage alliance would bring great benefits to our cause.’ OUR! What is this cause? The cause where a mother abandsons her child from birth? A mother who is so entitled that she does not see that the whole of the court does not worship the ground she walks on. Or prehas she has finally acknloegde the divide in court. The Blacks and the Greens, and how her own actions and negligence has caused and even bigger divide? Now of course i do not know the full ins and outs of the politics ive heard, on what makes it to the north and to be honest whilst i am here i do not find the need to care. Though, my dear Aemond, with the rumors I have heard perhaps I should care more. But that will be something I can only do when my mother sends for me from my fostering, a day which perhaps I should now dread.

I tire of her, Aemond, and their politics. How the simple colour of your gown can dictate your side in an imaginary war. 

My lessons here  consist more and more of politics. It turns out that though my mother neglects me she does not neglect my maester and my stuides. ‘To be my heir you must have the proper training and discipline, my father taught me much later than I teach you’ I? Seriously? ‘You must master the arts of politics before the art masters you, and learn your history before you become a part of it. All good leaders have learnt from the mistakes of their predecessors. Take Jaeherys for example, not only did he take the mistakes of the past and make them into his successes. Your grandfather tries to be him, though I love my father, he is no Jahearys. But I hope you will be.’ 

Me? No, I would not become a man so obsessed with the image of the house of the dragon that he would abandon his own children, banish them and cause their deaths all for the sake of image. My mother does not know me, and her letter only made that clear, and i ahte to burden you with this on your name day, but how can i not, I miss you Aemond, and it is clear to me that you are the only person who truly gets me. 

Please visit me soon.

Your Senya’

Two days after Aemond's birthday she got her reply, not a written letter, but him.

She woke to the sound of her window being forced open, and Aemond tumbling into her room.

“Senya” he wispherd, slowly approaching her bed. She was still laying down, half asleep. “ Senya”, he spoke again, he sounded frustrated, not from her but he sond sad, different, traumatised. “ please, senay! It's me!”

“Aemond?” she questioned, sowly arousing herself awake, “you’re here?”

He had grown in the last 8 moons, taller and more grown into his features. He was handsome. Though he never was ugly, but now he was handsome.

“Of course, you asked” he spoke, voice soft, but nowhere near his normal calm. 

He had received her letter the day of his name day, mere hours before he found out exactly what Aegons so-called present was, and mere hours after he had mounted Vaghar and fled north, leaving nothing but a short note saying he had gone to see Visenya.

“what’s happened?” she asked, as he approached and she reached forward taking his hands in hers. This was the first time she had seen him in so long, and without his eye too. And yet she did not look at him differently, her gaze the same as it always had been, if not more kind.

He took a deep shalky breath, sitting down beside her. His head dropped to her hands, kissing them softly. “Aegon.” he stutterd, “he-he” he couldnt get the words out, and instead his breath quicking. 

“Hey, hey” Visneya started reaching her hand to stroke his face, “look at me Aemond, and tell me what happened.” she spoke, worry clear in her tone, “please”

He took a moment, his face focused solely on hers, he took a deep breath and began. “Aegon,” he swallowed thickly “he-he took me to a brothel”

Her breath hitched, unsure what to think but she knew it couldnt be good, wouldnt be good. Because if it was she knows Aemond would not be here or looking at her with such sorrow if it was. She took his hand more fimly in hers, squeezing it in reassurance. 

“He…he said he had a surprise, as you said, he dragged me through the streets not telling me a thing, and then we arrived at ‘Chatayas brothel’, an-an older woman answered the door. She must have been older than my mother, she-“ he hesitated, looking down, as if in shame. “lead us through the door, grabbing my hand and Aegon- he said “time to get it wet”, he… he left me there laughing as this woman and … pushed me to the bed. She wouldn’t take no for an answer… she ignored me as i begged…i begged and beggedbut sdhe wouldnt stop, until Aegon came back, drunk and on who knows what, he was laughing and then” Aemond was fully crying by this point, something she had never know him do.

“ and then?” she proptmed slowly, whipping his tears.

“ he stopped, he looked at me and relasied what had happened, realsied what he had done and cried.” 

“cried?”

He nodded “i- he… started to explain, but i couldnt move, i was i didnt want to be here, didnt want to be near that woman, and he just cried. Eventually he must of regained his composure, for next thing i knew i was in my bed and then i ran, ran too you” he finished, “i dont even know what his reasoning was just something about you and wanting you and that this was the only way he knew how.”

“What?!” first her mother pushing Cregan on her and now Aegon traumatising his own brother to break of hedrr bethroal just to have her? As if she was something that could be won. “ why? Why would he do that, force his brother through something so, oh Aemond im so sorry, i-i dont even, i'm so sorry”

They must have fallen asleep at some point, as she woke up laying next to Aemond, to the sound of a maid knocking.

“Aemond!” she coaxed him awake,”Aemond! Get up before the maids see you!”

“Huh?” he mumbled, his head in a pillow.

“Hide” she shoved him gently, moving out of bed, and readying to open the door. That managed to get his attention, as he moved to reach for her as she got up, only to groan as he missed. 

“What?” he asked again groggy.

“Hide!” she whispered harsh;y, growing a blanket on the bed, “just hide!” she opened the door slowly, seeing her maid, Ana, holding her breakfast.

“My princess” Ana curtised, moting forward to push the door more open. 

Aemond finally took the hint, burning himself under the moutainfull of pillows and blankets Visneya had on her bed. 

“Just over there please Ana” she spoke pointing to her side table. “ oh and Ana, i am not feeling to well, can you please make Creagan aware and cancel my plans for the day?”

She curtsied nodding “of course, should i call the maester?” she asked, concern in her tone. 

“No, no, just need a day to relax and i should be just fine” she spoke, prompting Ana to leave “ thank you!” she spoke, closing the door.

Collapsing on the bed next to Aemond, she spoke, “you cant stay” she mumbled.

“I know” 

That was the last time she would see him for two years, the last time he would really speak to her and the letter she had received last moon, would be his last.  

next chapter

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

His sapphire princess: @cathy1514 @iiamthehybrid @melllinaa @aleemendoza2425-blog @cassandra1995-blog1 @deltamoon666 @aelora-a @ryiana @isa-beenme @unique7676 @adriennepoison

HOTD: @taragryenmoony

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter

General: @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @zillahvathek @dark-night-sky-99 @apollonshootafar

[pinturas-sgm-aviacion]

1942 10 24 Daylight over Milan - Graham Turner

After attacks on Genoa on 22/23 and 23/24 October, which were designed to coincide with Montgomery's El Alamein offensive, Harris at the morning conference at HQ Bomber Command on 24 October decided to switch targets to Milan. Unlike Genoa, with its ports and shipyards, or Turin, with its war industries, the attack on Milan - the political and commercial centre of northern Italy - was for morale purposes and the effect on the civilian population. As a result, this attack was unusual in not being one single night raid. Instead, Harris chose to split the attack: 5 Group's Lancasters by day - perhaps to highlight British air superiority over a major Italian city - and the other Groups' 'heavies' at night. This battle scene features the daylight attack, which saw 88 Lancasters take off to bomb the aiming point of 'Milan "A"' - the city centre - though this caused controversy afterwards when it became public that the Duomo had been the aiming point . Seventy-four aircraft dropped 51.8 tons of HE bombs and 81.5 tons of incendiaries on Milan. As cloud over Milan was down to 3,000 ft, and since the bombs dropped included a good number of 4,000-pounders, release from below this height was in some cases avoided so a number of Lancasters stayed above the cloud, bombing at between 8,000 ft and 12,000 ft. A number went below the cloud and down to 2,000ft to identify the aiming point, however, and this is depicted in this battle scene. One Lancaster even got down to 50ft, where, the Italian authorities claimed, it strafed buildings and machine-gunned people in the streets; indeed, the Lancaster of Wg Cdr J. M. Southwell, 9 Squadron's CO, admitted later to having 'used 7,000 rounds machine-gunning two trains on the Milan-Novara railway and strafing what he said was Novara'. Nonetheless, photographic evidence - taken both during the bombing and later on by a reconnaissance aircraft - revealed that a large amount of damage was inflicted - mainly by fire - on industrial premises all over Milan, and the railway lines to Bologna,Genoa and Venice and along the St Gothard route had been severed. The main railway station had been particularly damaged, as were areas around the Porto Novara Station and the Parco Solari and many industrial premises, such asthe GEC Engineering Works, Municipal Tramways and the Caproni aircraft factory. Mussolini publically admitted damage to nearly 2,500 houses, with 450 completely demolished. For the British, the losses were three Lancasters(3.4 per cent), one having crashed over Milan and two others shot down by Luftwaffe night-fighters around Caen in France. These were light considering this had been a risky long-distance run in daylight across Axis-dominated Europe.Damage to aircraft was another matter, however. Several bombers had been damaged either by flak over Milan or enroute, by colliding with a seagull over the target, by a Macchi C.202 Folgore, by hitting high-tension electric cables,or by crash-landing at an emergency airfield in Sussex. A total of ten aircraft (11.45 per cent) were damaged, half ofthem seriously. While the day raiders were landing at their bases in England, another force of 71 aircraft, comprising the Stirlings,Halifaxes and Wellingtons from the PFF, 1, 3 and 4 Groups, was already over Milan. Although thick cloud covered the target, they could see the glow of the fires started by the Lancasters five hours earlier, and proceeded to bomb those. Further destruction to Milan, although not extensive, was caused

[johnlyngfr]

The Andromeda Galaxy

In late summer and early autumn, the Andromeda Galaxy is high in the eastern sky after sunset in the northern hemisphere. This is the best time to capture a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy, the most iconic of astrophotography images.

Catalogued as Messier-31 or M31, it is the nearest galaxy at 2.5 million light years. It appears to have a similar size and structure to our galaxy, but there are significant differences. With this proximity, it appears too large in most backyard telescopes.

It is quite bright at the centre, and easily visible with binoculars. The challenge for astrophotographers is to render the faint edges without over-saturating the intense core. However, I keep the core lightly saturated to remind us that the Andromeda Galaxy has a super-massive black hole at the centre.

There is a tenuous halo of stars with darker dust around the galaxy, and the outer edges seem disrupted. Current thinking is that one or both of the smaller satellite galaxies in the photo (M32 and M110) passed through the Andromeda Galaxy long ago.

This is an ensemble of 180 photos where each was a 3 minute exposure (9 hours of astrophotography). I photographed M31 from my garden in Strasbourg France on 2 nights in September 2024.

More information about the Andromeda Galaxy: