#all that stonework looks alike

[theazureblade]

[ PUSH ] + [ REVERSE ] (from Kijin cause he's weak as hell to the cold fhghg)

Blizzard Prompts | Accepting!

[ PUSH ]: having just rescued the receiver from a blizzard, the sender insists on pushing the receiver closer to a fire to warm them up first.

“Had I known you were planning to visit tonight, I would have told you to come another time,” Aymeric said, arms folded across his chest as he surveyed the shivering miqo'te in his entryway. “The storm is nothing to be trifled with, and to think, you even got lost out there! You do realize that you could have died, do you not?”

X'kijin looked a miserable mess, covered in half melted snow and dripping onto the carpet. His ears and tail were drooping, and his shoulders were slumped. He was still shivering, even though he was inside the house, where the fires were burning bright and hot.

Aymeric sighed and shook his head. “Well, take off your jacket. And your boots, if you please,” he said.

Once that was done, Aymeric realized that X'kijin hadn't even been properly dressed for the weather, if the fact that he was still looking like a drowned cat was any indication. The wetness had seeped through layer after layer. No wonder he was so cold. He would have to strip down to his small clothes and wear something of Aymeric's tonight – because Aymeric was not sending him back home in this weather.

But for now...

Aymeric took X'kijin by the shoulders and marched him into the sitting room, where the fire was warmest. He gently pushed the miqo'te onto the rug. “Sit. Warm up. I'll have some tea made, and you can have a hot bath after tea.”

[humanpurposes]

We're Born At Night

Chapter 2

Lady Rhaelle Targaryen of Runestone travels to King's Landing to plead for her sister's life, though the King she must bow to is a kinslayer three times over, and the very man who slaughtered her father

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Rhaelle Targaryen (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, politics, mentions of death and war, Aemond is a bit of a dick but that's his job

Words: 5.9k

A/n: I was aiming to post this on Sunday (but a pretty girl said I was cute and I went a bit insane 😌)

“Cheat!”

Rhaelle conceals her delight as she claims the ivory King piece from the cyvasse board. “It is not cheating, dear sister, it is strategy.”

Sunset is not long away. Rhaelle and Daena have spent most of the day in their chambers, waiting, flicking through the small collection of books from the shelf, playing cards and games of cyvasse which all end in the same way, a decisive victory for Rhaelle.

She cannot stomach the thought of food or sweets, cider or wine. She just feels her heart drumming in her chest, pulsing through the blood that runs under her skin. Aemond’s voice is still a whisper in her head and the other faces in the throne room are a blur, like trying to remember details from a dream. She should have been more attentive. The number of potential allies at court might be few but they will be invaluable if they are to advance here. 

So they wait. Wait for Lord Corlys to give them some indication that the King has acknowledged their cause, that he has even heard it.

She glances down at her fingers wrapped around the King piece, at the hand he kissed a matter of hours ago. Aemond had been rather welcoming in the throne room, she supposes, at least publicly. 

“But you tricked me!” Daena protests, looking in despair over the few pieces she has left on the board.

“I acted within the rules of the game,” Rhaelle says simply.

Daena makes a disheartened but determined huffing sound and starts to set the pieces out again, when there is a knock at the door. Morra answers and returns with Ser Willis, donned in his white cloak, with his helm under his arm and a broadsword proudly by his side.

Rhaelle taps her fingers on the table in front of Daena to get her attention and rises. “Lord Commander,” she says, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Lady Rhaelle,” he greets with a small bow of his head. “I have a request from the King.”

Her heart leaps. Finally the waiting is at an end, but she contains herself. “Which is?”

“His Grace often takes his niece and nephew for a walk about the gardens in the evening, before the Prince and Princess are put to bed. He is unable to fulfil this duty tonight and asked if yourself and Lady Daena would like to take his place?”

She catches Daena’s eye for a moment and sees the same brightness in her gaze, the same hopefulness. 

Aegon, her heart whispers to her. Aemond has invited them to meet with their brother.

Ser Willis leads the way, Morra following behind as they head towards the courtyard, to the lowered drawbridge of Maegor’s Holdfast. The halls here are closer than inside the rest of the castle and the windows are smaller so the light is lower. Ser Willis leads them through locked doors and flights of stairs, until they come to a series of apartments that are bright and grand, with wide open rooms and paler stone walls that reflect the light.

At last they come to a room where pale blue is the most prominent colour. The stonework is adorned with images of flowers and dragons alike, and a fire crackles pleasantly in the hearth.

There are two settees in the centre of the room. On the one facing the door, a little girl with silver hair in a light blue gown stares intently at the book on her governess’ lap. Her lavender eyes follow the words as the woman reads to her.

And perched on the windowsill is a boy, a little older, with a wooden knight in his hands. He turns his head when he hears the door open and stares right at them, with his lips downturned and his violet eyes wide and unblinking. He looks like Daena did when she was small, with neatly combed silver hair instead of her dark brown curls.

The governess closes the book and gathers the children to stand before their visitors. “Forgive us, my Ladies, we have been waiting patiently for you, haven’t we children?”

The girl clings to the woman’s hand, staring up at them like she is holding back tears, while the boy stands straight with his hands behind his back.

“Princess,” the governess says, ushering the girl forward, “these are your cousins, the Lady Rhaelle, and the Lady Daena.”

Jaehaera, the orphan Princess, the last of her family save for her uncle Aemond. She had a twin once, and a baby brother. Prince Jaehearys was beheaded only a short walk away from this room, before the eyes of his mother, his grandmother, and his siblings. It was in the early days of the war, a son for a son, at the order of Daemon Targaryen. 

The little Princess takes a tentative step forwards, clinging to the sides of her gown as she curtsies steadily and gracefully.

Rhaelle curties low and rises to offer the girl a sympathetic smile, because losing a mother is a terrible thing, a lonely thing, which she knows all too well.

“Prince Aegon,” the governess says next, ushering him forward, “these are your sisters.” There is no warmth to her voice like she has for Jaeheara, but no contempt either, just an unsure sort of bluntness. 

Aegon looks between them. “My father’s daughters,” he says softly.

Rhaelle extends a hand to him. Those eyes are so precious, she thinks, the eyes that had to see his own mother burned and devoured by his uncle’s dragon. Her heart shatters for him, for both of them, that they have had to witness so much horror.

“We have wanted to meet you for some time,” she says.

Aegon nods and holds her hand tightly. In the corner of her eye she sees the governess watching them.

Ser Willis and another Kingsguard, Ser Gyles Belgrave, accompany them to the gardens. When the governess goes to follow, Rhaelle holds up her hand. “No need,” she says, “my sister and I should like to acquaint ourselves with her family. We will be no longer than an hour.”

Neither the governess nor the guards protest.

The gardens are nothing like the countryside around Runestone, gravel paths and fountains, rows of carefully trimmed hedges, walkways covered in red ivy and trees that have begun to shed their golden leaves. They stay in sight of the castle, and Ser Willis and Ser Gyles are never far behind them.

Daena is delighted with young Aegon. She runs her hands over his hair, kisses his cheek, asks him about his favourite books and if he has held a sword yet.

Jaeheara was quiet at first but has warmed up, letting Rhaelle take one hand and Morra take the other. Her hand is small, soft and delicate, so much that Rhaelle worries she might break her if she holds her too tightly. She babbles on about the things children do. She says her favourite colour is blue, like her gown and like the sky. She says her governess is teaching her how to read, count and dance, but she wants to learn to sew.

“What would you sew?” Rhaelle asks.

Jaeheara knits her brow in thought. “Butterflies,” she says, “and spiders, and ladybirds.”

“You like insects?” Morra says.

“I can’t decide,” says Jaehaera, “but mother liked them very much.”

Rhaelle so desperately wants to bring her into her arms and hold her close to her chest. “Did your mother sew too?” she asks.

“Oh yes, she had a gift for us every day.” She keeps her eyes on the gravel shifting beneath her feet. “That means she was kind, doesn’t it?”

Rhaelle stops and turns to Jaehaera, bending her knees a little so their eyes meet. A flash of silver catches her attention instead, back towards the castle. She looks past Jaehaera’s shoulder, to a balcony overlooking the gardens. She knows it’s him, if the hair doesn’t give him away the black eyepatch against his pale skin does.

“Your mother was kind to me, when I knew her,” she says, gently.

Jaehaera’s eyes widen. Rhaelle worries she might start to cry but instead she smiles. “Uncle Aemond says she was kind.”

Her heart is humming again and her hands are starting to tremble. He must be watching them, watching her.

A little further down the path, Aegon and Daena are picking blackberries from a bramble bush, giggling as they place them in their mouths.

Rhaelle can hardly help herself but cup one of Jaehaera’s plump little cheeks. “We might find some insects in the bushes, what do you think, little Princess?”

“I often see ladybirds on the bramble bushes,” Jaehaera says. “I think they must like blackberries.”

Aegon calls his cousin’s name and waves at her with one hand, while cupping something in the other. He has found a caterpillar and shows it to Jaehaera. She stares down at its little green body with an endearing wonder, before deciding she wants to hold it too and show Morra. 

While the children are distaced, Rhaelle steps close enough to Daena that they can speak softly to each other, without having to lean in too obviously.

“He said he knows all about us from Alyssa,” Daena says, “she used to tell him about us, about Runestone. Then he asked me if she was dead too.”

Rhaelle almost flinches. 

“He is not yet seven years old and he has watched most of his family die,” Daena whispers bitterly, glancing towards the guards, out of earshot. 

Rhaelle watches them too, far too busy with their own conversation to be listening to them and only sparing occasional glances towards the children. Then she looks back to the castle, hoping Aemond is still there, and he is.

When Ser Willis says it is time for the children to be taken back to the Holdfast, Rhaelle and Daena oblige. Jaehaera’s hands and mouth are covered in purple fruit juice and she is delighted with herself. 

They pass under the balcony where Aemond stands as they reenter the castle. Daena and Morra are walking arm in arm. Aegon and Jaeheara are excitedly talking about caterpillars and butterflies and all the places they would fly to if they could grow wings.

Rhaelle sees him though, and catches his lone eye. His face is unreadable, stern and soft, dark and light.

Instinct, a reckless urge that she justifies as a risk, drives her towards a doorway leading off from the entrance hall. Daena and Morra will wait for her in their chambers once the children have been seen back to the nursery. The doorway leads to a hall, then a small winding staircase. She hitches her skirts and climbs it quickly, ensuring not to lose her footing in haste. She feels like she is chasing something intangible and follows it along a gallery, then to the balcony beyond that.

Aemond is still standing there with his hands behind his back and his head tall, looking south, over the gardens and Blackwater Bay beyond that. The noise of the castle does not reach her ears here, only the sound of the wind and the waves rolling over the shore beneath the Keep. In the west the sky burns like fire and in the east it is already getting dark.

She approaches him slowly, her shoes making enough of a noise against the flagstone floor to alert him of her presence, but softly enough so as not to disturb him. She comes to stand beside him on his seeing side, keeping her head straight but watching him, always watching him. “Your Grace,” she says quietly.

The corner of his mouth is curled. Is he smirking? Or is he irritated by her presence? “My Lady,” he returns.

Her hands are shaking. She brings them before her, clasping them together so she cannot fidget. “I had assumed you had other business this evening.”

“You assumed,” he says without looking at her.

“Ser Willis said you invited us to see the children.”

“I thought you might like to.”

“I did,” she insists, turning her head to face him. “I did. I am grateful. Daena and I are both grateful.”

Aemond hums, low and cryptic. It makes her feel weightless for a moment. He finally turns his head towards her. “The boy has mentioned you before, his Royce sisters, each of you.”

Coming from any other’s lips she might have taken her mother’s name as a compliment, and it could almost be that given the softness of his voice as he says it. But something else is written in the way he holds himself, the intensity in his eye, the striking gleam of silver hair falling over black leather: he is a true Targaryen, and she is an outsider.

Perhaps if she looks into his eye for long enough she’ll be able to read his thoughts. She finds nothing, save for an unsettled feeling in her chest and stomach. So she looks away, back out over the gardens. “I am glad my brother is being treated so well,” she says.

“Why should that surprise you?”

She tilts her head and gives him a rather pointed look. She asks herself if she would dare answer that question seriously. He still has the knife on him, maybe he’ll draw it and cut her throat for treason if she presses him hard enough.

Instead he hums a small laugh. “Prince Aegon is my heir until I have sons of my own. You needn’t fear if your brother is being mistreated.”

For now.

Then he adds in a quieter voice, “he is good with Jaehaera.”

Aegon was an older brother after all, and meant to have a younger sister of his own until the outbreak of war.

“The Princess is a delight,” Rhaelle says, “she is easy to love.”

Aemond’s eye lights up and he almost smiles. “She’s a sweet little thing, just like her mother was. Jaehaerys was the same…” he seems to regret this train of thought when he takes a slow breath and frowns to himself.

Rhaelle watches his chest rise and fall, this formidable man, a King forged in a time of war, determined not to crumble in the face of his own grief. She can almost pity him, and perhaps she does when she feels a gnawing sort of feeling knotting and twisting inside of her. She aches for him, for his losses and for her own.

“I see my own mother in many ways,” she says, taking a step into him. Aemond looks to her again, darkly but patiently. “I see her in my sister when she is stubborn. I see her in myself sometimes, all the times I thought she was being overbearing. I see her when I ride through the hills at Runestone. I feel her hovering over my shoulder when I draw a bow.”

Aemond has turned his body to face her now, not completely, just a little. One of his hands rests on the balustrade brought into a gentle fist, and he’s standing close to her, enough that she can hear each breath he takes and smell the leather of his jerkin.

“Because we don’t truly lose them,” she says, “at least I hope not. I can scarcely remember my mother’s face but I still know her love.”

“And that gives you comfort?” Aemond says.

“It does.”

“And what of your father, what love do you have for him?”

His question steals the air from her lungs. What love does she have for him, the man she hardly knew? The man her mother hated. The man who gave her his name and the burden of his legacy. Daemon’s blood runs through her veins as much as Rhea Royce’s does, life beyond death, enduring and damning. 

Aemond is watching her intently, waiting for her answer, searching her face for a sign of weakness, but always with that gleam of amusement. Did he look for weakness in Daemon before they mounted their dragons at the God’s Eye? Did he find the fear he seems to feed off?

“The same all girls have for their fathers, I suppose,” is her answer.

“And do all girls love their fathers?”

“As best we can.”

“How diplomatic of you,” he says, smirking. He’s toying with her, testing her like a hunting trap.

“You distrust me,” she says. 

He tuts. “I would very much like to trust you.”

“Yet you do not.”

“Do you trust me, cousin?” 

It’s like asking if she would trust a snarling beast with a taste for her blood. “You are my King,” she says.

“And as King, it is my duty to identify threats, to my rule and to the realm.”

His gaze does not falter, and so she will not allow hers to either.

“Am I a threat, Your Grace?” 

He considers her for a few moments, like he did in the throne room, studying her as closely and thoroughly as a scholar studies an ancient tome. All the while he curls his lips like he has a secret. “My brother was King before me,” he says in a low voice, taking another small step into her. “You are aware of the end he met?”

“Poison,” she says.

“And I took Larys Strong’s head for it, a man who served my mother for many years, who saw Jaeheara to safety during the war, who helped Aegon return to King’s Landing when it was taken from him. I could have all manner of enemies in these very walls, those who might seek to replace me with a child, more easily controlled than I am. Wearing a crown did not spare my brother from death and it will not spare me.”

He can trust no one, he means. A crown has become comparable to a death sentence as of late, and Kings and Queens are perhaps not as invincible as they once seemed. 

“You are not your brother,” she says.

“No. What am I then?”

She parts her lips to respond, but she cannot give him an answer. In truth, the thought of being face to face with him, to ask for his mercy had terrified her when she first left Runestone. Aemond Targaryen, the man who started a war when he killed his nephew, who burned armies and put innocent men, women and children to the sword, who killed her father.

She has often wondered how he did it, if the battle was quick, or if it was long and bitter. She has wondered if the dragons tore each other to pieces, or if Aemond had been able to look his uncle in the eye as he claimed his life.

Before all of that he was a child with a gruesome gash in his face, who had tried so hard to hide his pain from her. 

He hums cryptically and she feels him lean in closer to her, coming close enough that she can see the imperfections and the details in his face, the lines around his mouth and the texture of his skin. The edges of his scar appear as thin lines now. It is a striking element to his appearance, but other than that, she supposes he is merely a man.

“I have asked you once but I shall ask again: have you come to ask something of me, Lady Rhaelle?”

Lord Corlys would warn her to be patient. There is a strategy that must be employed, a set order in place for making a request of the King. She must be delicate, for Alyssa’s sake.

She spots his hand on the balustrade and places her own over it, barely tracing her fingers over his. She feels his gaze on her all the while. “Our house has been divided for too long. Shouldn’t we seek to heal this rift between our families?”

He watches where their hands meet and lifts them until their palms are against one another. Rhaelle’s fingertips press into the grooves of his fingers, against his warmth and the rough calluses of his skin.

“Hmm,” he says, threading his fingers through hers, closing over her knuckles. “You have a way with choosing your words carefully.”

Naturally. Her survival depends on it. “As must we all, Your Grace,” she says.

He mutters under his breath, like she’s played a winning move in a game of cyvasse, “very good.”

She can still feel him when she returns to her chambers, the gentlest brush of his fingertips and the heat of his hand against hers. She can mistake a gentle draft or breeze for his breath ghosting over her face, the sound of the wind beyond the window as the sound of his voice.

Lord Corlys visits them after dinner. She offers him some of the leftover roast beef but she shakes his head and instead asks for a cup of wine as he makes himself comfortable in an armchair before the hearth.

Rhaelle joins him, bringing two cups with her while Morra carries the decanter of wine. Daena gathers a fur throw, a pillow and a book, and settles on a chaise by the window. She doesn’t usually like to read, especially not at night when she can scarcely see the words.

Rhaelle smiles at her, sceptically. Daena shrugs her shoulders and lowers her eyes to the page.

“I have news from Driftmark,” Lord Coryls says, “Baela and Rhaena have accepted their invitation to the King’s Tournament and will set sail for King’s Landing in three days time.”

This is supposed to make her happy. From what she remembers at their mother’s funeral and the wedding feast, her half-sisters were agreeable enough but still unfamiliar. Baela, the older twin, was a little more forward than her sister, a dragonrider from a young age and it showed. Rhaena was far quieter and more cautious. They must be changed now, being right in the heart of Rhaenyra’s war.

“The King’s Tournament?” Daena’s voice calls from the window.

“Tourneys, feasts, dancing; a celebration to mark the betrothal of the King to Lady Floris Baratheon,” Corlys says, raising his glass. 

A romance for the ages: he barged into Storm’s End looking for an army to support his brother’s claim, and she was the most agreeable of four sisters.

“The eyes of the realm will be on the two of you,” Lord Corlys says.

“I do not see why we would attract such interest,” Daena says.

“Aemond still needs to secure his rule. His heir is a child and the son of his brother’s rival. After that his closest competitors for the throne are his uncle’s daughters.”

“My sisters and I have no desire for a crown, Lord Corlys,” Rhaelle says.

“You are Targaryens and you have a claim to the throne whether you desire it or not. That invites challenge. Half the country has been devastated by war and the rest will struggle through winter. I’m afraid your matter will take time.”

“How much time?”

He gestures vaguely with his hands. “You will appear before the King tomorrow. You will renounce your father, your step-mother and your late betrothed. The King will accept, and you will ask only that Lady Alyssa be spared from the headsman.”

“He would have her killed?”

“It is a matter of contention amongst the members of the Small Council, but as I understand it, His Grace has little desire to spill any more blood than is necessary.”

Daena chuckles quietly to herself.

Lord Corlys’ brow raises, but he does not comment on it. “In return for your loyalty, I expect the King to welcome you wholeheartedly into his court. When Aemond and Floris are wed you may be given positions in the Queen’s Household. You’ll be able to stay here permanently, you’ll get to see your brother and sisters often, and eventually you’ll make good matches to rich and powerful husbands, as befitting your royal blood.”

She wouldn’t have her mother’s cousins pestering her about the absence of the Lady of Runestone, eyeing the seat that belongs to her sister. Hers and Daena’s futures would be secured. 

“And what of Alyssa?” she asks.

“I will ensure she is kept alive and well, and in time, we may convince the King to release her.”

May convince. The thought does not feel particularly assuring, but what else can she do?

She wakes at dawn the next morning, dresses and readies herself for court as she had done the previous day, taking her sister’s arm as they walk into the throne room. There is no grand entrance this time, they are led to an adjacent chamber and enter through a small doorway that leads them to the far end of the hall.

She and Daena stand to the right, below the steps that lead to the throne, behind the members of the Small Council, Lord Corlys, Lord Tyland, Maester Orwyle, Lord Unwin Peake, Martyn Hightower and his brother, Garmund. These men have no doubt argued over the matter of her sister’s imprisonment. “A matter of contention,” as Lord Corlys had said.

Aemond sits upon the throne again, comfortably poised, and she is amongst the first to lobby him. 

Lord Corlys steps forward to announce her as she approaches the Iron Throne. She comes to her knees before him and allows herself to look up. She half expects to find him smiling, but his lips are in a thin line, not amused or prideful, but curious, his eye fixed upon her face.

“Your Grace,” she says, mustering all the courage she can to give her voice a clear demand without pushing too far. “I come before you once again as your loyal subject, to speak for myself and for my sister, Lady Daena.”

Aemond crosses one of his legs over the other, with his arm resting upon the throne, amongst the sharp edges of the blades. He brings his fingers to his chin and tilts his head, a command to continue.

She feels her pulse quicken, the words threatening to catch in her throat as they had done before, but she forces herself through it. “I renounce my late father, the traitor, Daemon Targaryen. I renounce my late step-mother, Princess Rhaenyra and her attempt to supplant the true line of succession. I renounce my former betrothed, the late Prince Joffrey. I–” she catches Lord Corlys’ eye and he nods to her. 

She thinks of Alyssa, her brave, beautiful sister, who held her and soothed her when Ser Gerold explained that their mother would never return to them, whose wisdom she worshipped and whose arms she sought comfort in until the day Daemon took her to Dragonstone. Once the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, now condemned to death if Rhaelle does not save her.

“I come before you again, to pledge my loyalty to you, and to our house,” she says, keeping her head down, waiting for the sound of Aemond’s voice or his footsteps.

“Come to me,” he says.

It’s like her body is set alight, heat, fury and excitement rising in her belly, her blood running hot beneath her skin. There is anger too, because she cannot read him, because she cannot tell if this is a show of favour or if he means to insult her somehow. She resents his incessant staring. She resents his cold, impassive nature. She resents the light feeling in her limbs as she climbs the steps to stand before him.

He rises to meet her, his hand outstretched and his lips threatening to break into a smirk. 

Most of what she had heard of her father was that he was a jealous and ambitious man. He coveted this seat, held by his brother, promised to his niece, ultimately claimed by his nephew. Daemon killed for it, he died for it, and now she is close enough that she could reach out and touch it.

She places her hand in his and he holds her gently, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. She clenches her jaw as she tries not to shudder.

“I accept your pledge,” he says, then loudly, so the others in the room may hear him. “It is not my wish to punish you for the sins of your family.”

The room hums with curious murmurs, nods of approval and whispers.

“Forgive me,” Rhaelle says quietly, as if this were a private exchange, as if they were not on display before the court. “You asked me yesterday if I had something to ask of you, and the truth is I do.”

Aemond’s brow raises, but the rest of his face is solemn. “Go on,” he says.

“My sister, Alyssa, is currently your prisoner, declared to be a traitor by your brother’s order. Spare her life, cousin, I beg you.”

Suddenly the silence in the hall is tangible. What must they be thinking, the Lords and Ladies before them, the men of the Small Council, Lord Corlys?

She does not spare a glance for any of them. She tightens her grip on Aemond’s hand and when she looks into his eye she does not plead for pity or sympathy. She is a Targaryen just as much as he is, with fire in her blood and pride in her heart.

“Lady Rhaelle,” Aemond says, “you are the acting Lady of Runestone.”

“I am, Your Grace.”

“You do a fine job of it, so I understand?”

She hesitates. She ensures the castle, its lands and people are kept well. She advises Lady Arryn when it is required of her. “As best I can, Your Grace.”

He leans in closer to her, close enough that she feels his breath on the shell of her ear and her neck. “Do away with modesty, it is a waste of my time,” he mutters. When he pulls away the corner of his mouth is curled so that it could almost be a joke. “Lady Rhaelle,” he announces, addressing the room, “in return for your loyalty to the crown, I hereby grant you the title of Lady of Runestone and all its inheritance.”

The room applauds this decision but Rhaelle is struck by dread. She looks to Daena, equally surprised, equally powerless. She looks to Lord Corlys, who seems to accept this too. The faces of Lord Tyland, Lord Unwin, and the Hightowers are less pleased.

She turns back to Aemond and keeps her voice low, “Your Grace, I cannot accept–”

His grip on her hand becomes a painful one as he turns his face in towards her. “You will accept,” he says with a cold fury. “While I am moved by your devotion to your sister, she must remain a prisoner and forfeit any and all claims she was previously entitled to.”

His face is dark and severe and her stomach drops like she is standing at the edge of some great height, one step away from a fall. She might be wise to fear this side of him, she thinks, but she is tempted to refuse him, to take that final step from the edge if only to see what anger he can truly unleash. She’d take pride in it, and maybe it’s her Targaryen nature, but suddenly something in the back of her mind thirsts for chaos.

It is her choice to make, but her life and the lives of her family will be at risk if she makes the wrong one.

And so she must choose her words carefully, unsure if it will bring her closer to her goal or drag her further from it.

“It would be an honour, Your Grace.”

Rhaelle and Daena dine alone that night. She is starving, but then the meat is brought out, a cut of roasted lamb, rare meat still on the bone that bleeds when Morra starts to carve it for them. It repulses her. She cannot even look at it. She downs a cup of apple cider instead and manages a mouthful of bread.

Daena can see that something is wrong, but does not question her.

Morra, on the other hand, offers her more cider and something that might be softer on her stomach. “Blackberries?” she suggests with a kind smile.

“Please,” Rhaelle mutters. 

Morra brings her a small bowl of them, dusted with sugar. At first she is thankful for how refreshing the taste is on her tongue, until she looks down at her fingertips and sees them stained red. 

She forces her hand away from her lips in a sudden jolt of movement, and in her haste knocks her fork to the floor with a jarring clatter of metal against stone.

It doesn’t matter, she thinks, starting to wipe her fingers against her napkin, but the red will not fade. She tries harder, dragging the fabric against her skin until it almost burns, but it won’t come out, it will not–

“Lady Rhaelle?” 

She throws her napkin down on the table and covers her mouth, fighting the urge to gag. “I’m fine,” she tries to whisper, “I feel unwell is all.”

“I’ll draw you a bath,” Morra says.

Rhaelle shakes her head. “No, I just…” but she cannot find the words. She cannot decide what she needs.

“Come, sister,” Daena says, having risen from her seat and come to place her hand on her shoulder. “I think you need to rest.”

Rhaelle lets herself be led away into her bedchamber. Daena helps her to remove her jewellery and lays out a night shift on the bed for her. Once Rhaelle has undressed, she reaches for the pins in her hair.

“Let me,” Daena says softly, and Rhaelle’s hands fall away. Daena’s touch is unsure but gentle. She would never have had as much practice at doing another’s hair, not as the youngest sister, but it is a welcome comfort.

Rhaelle stares at her reflection in the mirror as Daena brings a brush through her hair. She watches candlelight and shadows flicker over her face, over both of their faces. Their eyes look dark in the lowlight, almost black, like their mother’s, not the striking violet that makes them their father’s daughters.

“Do you think the Gods will punish me for this?” she utters.

“Punish you? Whatever for?”

She swallows thickly, her vision starting to blur. “I offered a hundred men at arms to Lady Jeyne to fight in the war. I could have offered more. I could have mounted a horse myself and met our father at Harrenhal. I could have written to Rhaenyra and asked her to send Alyssa back to Runestone. I could have offered men to defend King’s Landing, or to hold Dragonstone. There is so much I could have done, and now I have forsaken our family, our own blood because I was too weak to do anything before–” she gasps to catch her breath. The tears have spilled from her eyes now, they sting against her cheeks and taste salty and bitter on her lips.

Daena’s hands vanish from her hair. Rhaelle instead finds herself cradled in her sister’s arms.

“Alyssa is our family,” Daena says. “It was not Daemon Targaryen who protected us when mother died, it was our sister, it was our cousins, it was House Royce. We remember, you taught me what that means.”

Daena presses a kiss to her head and strokes her hand over her hair, like Alyssa used to when they were girls, like the way she has always imagined her mother would. “Aemond will favour our cause,” she whispers. “He has to. He has to.”

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny

Series taglist: @adragonprinceswhore @persephonerinyes @gemini-mama @aemondzyrys @snh96 @magnificentdelusionr @aegonx @xxxkat3xxx @dahlias-and-marigolds @mandiiblanche @thaisthedreamer @heavenly1927 @herfantasyworldd @heimtathurs

[dinthoqaf]

(You used to have) Dreams of Grandeur

The air was hot, stiflingly so. Nothing moved, not even a wary breeze bothered to cross the bedroom, and it began to make Dinthoqaf's skin bristle with sweat. Its trickle upwards from hot to hotter to unbearable continues on until the man has no choice but to kick off his blanket while gasping for air through a painfully dry throat and mouth. He tasted blood. It had gotten to the point that his lips stuck to his teeth and his tongue ground across the surfaces in his mouth like coarse sandpaper. He needed water to dislodge the discomfort and reaching for his nightstand offered nothing. No drink? No anything? Damn. He sighs and moves to stand, his balance teetering in the weary hours of the morning as the battle for sleep and wakening do their rounds to try to win him over. He'd make for the sink to rectify the situation, sweaty feet clapping on the stonework as his trek went on without a hitch.

The knob turns as Din puts a glass under the faucet, eyes closed as he tries to save himself from waking up fully. The weight of the water hits and he hums, leaving the faucet running just to bring the glass up to drink. What came was hard and gritty, drier than... Desert Sand. Dinthoqaf spits, choking on it before opening his eyes to see sand coming from the faucet, black and fine, just like what was in his glass. [ Clap-clap-clap-clap feet moving up and down again ] The sound of his wet feet carrying him across the floor echoed as if it was the first and only sound he'd ever had grace (or curse) his ears. [ Count, count, count, count the numbers of your roster again... ]

The thoughts continued to intrude to the point the sound of his wet feet on the stone became deafening, and painful, in each step to the point the glass fell from his hands, shattering just for the sand from it and the sink to start to lift and swirl around him. His hair starts to flutter and flip in the current and soon the coarseness of the sand starts to buff and scrap, scratch, and gnaw at his skin to scrub him raw. [ Don't—don't—don't—don't—look at what's in front of you. ] He had no choice like someone stuck watching a volatile accident play out. Somewhere within he knew it would lead to disaster, but his eyes slowly peel open to see whatever it was that demanded he not look upon it. Feet. Not just any feet. His feet, he knew his feet and to make sure, he wiggled his toes, too wiggled and caution and concern began to move to curiosity and a cat-like disregard. Higher and higher his eyes climb and with every inch, he becomes more settled that what he looked at was himself, but, it wasn't. Something about him wasn't right, something was different and no amount of fingers could pinpoint what it was. This was no reflection, but something else.

A sudden jolt as his head was grabbed and he was forced to look into a black-eyed version of himself. [ try-Try-TRy-TRY TO THINK OF SOMETHING DIFFERENT! ]

Visions assault him, bombarding his psyche with the speed of rapid-fire machined guns. Monsters, Abominations, Men and Women of all races and origins clash across a ruined landscape. Black tides washing forth with him standing over the lot. Hands outstretched much like a puppetmaster working the strings of his creation. His Sanctum, oh how it had grown with so many faces, so many bodies, so many things. He recognized some of them. [ If—your—eyes—drop—they will get atop o' you! ] The fear of losing everything he was pushing for suddenly hit him like a hammer in the chest, causing an audible gasp escape that forced his eyes closed. The pain subsides as quickly as it came and with it, his eyes reopening to a different scene entirely. Everyone was dead. His Sanctum, dead or dying. His stoutest people fight on the piles of corpses of enemies and allies alike as the pressure builds, taking them down one by one. Each death ripped from him a substantial strength that made him feel frail and weak. [ Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin' em ] You had dreams of Grandeur, dear Defiler, now... now you grow complicit. A fate to come for those comfortable in their stations...

Dinthoqaf bolts up from his bed, breathing hard and soaked in night sweat. The room was quiet and the breeze licked at his hot body, causing a chill as it ran across sweaty flesh. He shudders and looks around. Zalilirah slept soundly next to him and a sigh of relief came. He knew this was coming. Ever since his 'other half' presented itself as recovered and present, the visions were to return. He exhales and slips back into the bed, ignoring how sweaty he is as a leg hangs out of his blanket to offer some relief as he turns over onto his side, facing the outside of the bed. A foot moving to intermingle with Zali's own in some small sense of romanticism as they become entangled. His eyes drifted shut, sleep beckoned... His eyes flew open and there it was, on the nightstand. A single drinking glass of blackened sand. (Want to make sure I offer proper credit as the inspiration to help me write this little bit came from the poem 'Boots' by Rudyard Kipling. I've been trying to think of a way to write this scene for a while and after hearing it today it all sort of fell together.)

[wuxiaphoenix]

Druid vs. Zombies: A Drink With a Friend

“I take it back.” Garnet sipped her lemonade in eyes-closed bliss; a few snake heads peeked out of her petal-red hair, flicking tongues at the fruity scent. “Getting a shipment of fruit stuffed into a slow-time pouch and shipped upriver was worth every silver.”

“And it’s better for you than needle-leaf tea,” Sionnach reflected. “Save me the seeds.”

“Oh?” A dark-scaled snake curved, echoing the upward slant of Garnet’s brow. “I thought lemons couldn’t grow north of the Platinum Coast.”

“Not yet.” Sionnach eyed seeds she’d picked out already, drying carefully on birch paper. “I have ideas.”

“You are the strangest druid I’ve ever heard of.”

“Just old-fashioned,” Sionnach grumped. “I wasn’t planning on letting them loose. But cold-shaped lemon trees in town, or on farms where hives can gather the nectar? We’re supposed to take care of all of nature. Bees count.”

“Do they?” Garnet countered. “The stones here say bees are old, but honeybees are new.”

“New here, yes,” Sionnach admitted. “If by new you mean came five centuries ago with humanoids to the Craglands, after the Eldritch who built the Labyrinth managed to wipe themselves out. New to handmade hives? We’ve been keeping bees as long as we’ve been writing spells! I know the Forgemaster’s priests talk a good game, about how their fire purifies crops and herds. And it does work. But who do they think tamed them in the first place?”

“Hmm.” The way Garnet absently stroked down a serpent and her hair, she wanted time to think about that before she ventured opinions. And possibly send a letter of query so a fellow wizard might poke around the history in the nearest arcane library.

Fair enough. “I’ll trade you a few more lemons if you want to make more later?”

“I’m not sure I want them lying around for someone who might not appreciate them.”

Sionnach sipped her mug. “You’re frustrated.”

“Mistress Gray would have assigned me an essay on the necessity of being dangerously polite in Infernal if I’d taken this long to apologize!”

“Huh.” Sionnach kept an eye on hissing snakes. She knew better than to offer to pet one. They were not separate entities, even if Garnet sometimes swore her snakes bit idiots on their own.

“I can’t believe you’re not more upset!”

Sionnach had to smile. Garnet was a wizardess with stone, exacting in her stonework and spellwork alike. But endless precision was too exhausting for any person. So away from magic, the half-medusa was sometimes a writhing ball of passion.

Which was probably what had attracted the bladesmith in the first place. Sionnach hoped it was. If she ever heard one hint that Devin was boasting about a monstrous conquest, they’d never find all the pieces.

Nax would probably figure it out. But he and the Watch Commander would probably silently agree that some people were just suicidally stupid.

“You’re plotting something evil to do to my boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“Just one thing?” Sionnach tried to look innocent. “I have been wondering why he didn’t offer a barter. I get herbs for Jaan the Baker, tubers for the Lazy Horse Inn soup, bark and lichens for Hal Papermaker - smiths need odds and ends for their crafting recipes too. I’m no expert on ores, but I know who quarries and mines, and what they need. Why didn’t he ask?”

“He didn’t-?” Garnet drew in a hissing breath, snakes ducking under dark hair. “Ooo, Zachry!”

Sionnach leaned back, giving her space. “What’s he done now?”

Lord Mayor Zachry was a good mayor for Quarrytown. Kept trade flowing, kept more powerful nobles from meddling with the frontier town, and kept an honest Watch Commander who cracked down on theft and murder but was more than willing to let drunk brawlers sleep it off behind bars. A good mayor. Most of the time.

“He wants everyone to deal in coin!”

Which was easy to record, and thus easy to tax; just ask anyone who’d had to keep an infirmary stocked when every passing troop commander decided to take “just a tenth of what you’ve got”. Of course Zachry wanted coin. Sionnach tensed. “Nax didn’t tell me about this.” And usually the investigator knew every legal move the Lord Mayor planned to make. Self-preservation.

Maybe he didn’t on purpose-?

No. Unlike many knights she’d met, Nax had never given her reason to doubt his honesty or integrity. He clutched his secrets close as a cloak in a blizzard - yes, he had secrets, she’d seen how sharp his teeth grew when he was upset - but he’d never lied to her.

She had guesses about those secrets, but if he didn’t want to talk, she wouldn’t ask. Forest guardians knew how many things she didn’t want to talk about.

“Devin said he was only asking upstanding merchants first, so they could lead by example.” Garnet pressed bright-painted lips into a thin line. “I laughed, and so did he. I thought he saw how stupid that was.”

“All the quarry workers will have a fit,” Sionnach mused. “There’s not much coin in Quarrytown to start with.” Only what people had brought with them. Most who’d come here had spent what little true coin they had on the road, and buying land if they could. Beyond that they’d brought tools, skills, and a willingness to work hard. People got by.

And the caryatids, marble, and pearls they sent downriver did bring in coin. But most of that got dispersed in pay, which then went to buy everything Quarrytown couldn’t make. Yet.

I came out here to get away from noble politics....

Sionnach sighed. Every creature to its own nature. Beavers built dams, bees made hives, humans crafted nets of obligations, favors, and sometimes downright cruelty. “We need to tell Nax about this.”

Garnet gave her a look askance. “Nax won’t go anywhere near the Lord Mayor.”

Of course not. Nax was sane. “But he or the Watch Commander ought to know who has been near the Lord Mayor,” Sionnach said practically. “If paying in coin is just something he’s dreamed up, then getting enough cranky people together might change his mind. If it’s not, if it’s official from the crown....”

“It’d be a disaster,” Garnet predicted. “I can pay all my bills in coin. Devin can. Apothecary Dandelion can. But you get paid in eggs.”

“Not true,” Sionnach said wryly. “Sometimes I get paid in garden vegetables!” Though she drew the line at zucchini. No.

Garnet snickered. Shook her head. “Still. You, so many others....”

Disaster. Yes. “We’ll think of something.”

[themculibrary]

Spring Masterlist

A Day in Spring (ao3) - ros_bui G, 3k

Summary: "So, as he did a hurried inspection of his immediate surroundings, he was honestly surprised to find this initial prediction to be entirely wrong. For, he pleasantly saw he was most certainly not alone...For underneath one of the few trees, scattered amongst the intricate stonework of the main courtyard, sat Doctor Stephen Strange."

A moment of friendship and lightness between true friends.

A (Not So) Relaxing Stroll (ao3) - gnatromanoff clint/natasha G, 1k

Summary: Within five seconds of walking outside, Natasha sneezes.

Before she can protest it, Clint has a finger in her face as he laughs and laughs.

"You have allergies!"

(She's going to kill him.)

Get Messy (ao3) - storiesfortravellers steve/sam T, 605

Summary: For this prompt at comment-fic on livejournal: Steve/Sam, Sam shows Steve how to have fun again

Hopeful Romantics (ao3) - CobaltStargazer yelena/kate M, 3k

Summary: It was winter when they met, spring when they got married. Kate and Yelena on their wedding day.

In Bloom (ao3) - themirrordarkly G, 1k

Summary: The pink explosions of color so different to the fiery ones two years ago at this very place. Soft petals gently rained down, not burning soot and twisted metal.

"He pulled me out, you know." Steve said, without looking at Sam.

Sam pulled up and walked over to Steve. "Of course, he did."

*** Sam finds Steve reminiscing about what happened two years ago.

in time of daffodils (ao3) - imposterhuman bucky/tony G, 49k

Summary: Tony Stark, Prince of Spring, knew that he was being married off to the Winter King. He knew he'd hate it, he was prepared to hate it.

What he wasn't prepared for was the Winter King himself.

Love is in the breeze (ao3) - Mimisempai loki/mobius G, 506

Summary: Just a tender moment in the spring breeze

One Flower a Day (ao3) - Eva_Swan matt/karen G, 6k

Summary: Matt and Karen are in a good place. But Foggy is growing impatient: he wants his friends to get back together as soon as possible. A wish Maggie shares. She thus gets Matt to tell her all about his plan to win Karen back... and executes it without his knowledge. For a week, she'll send Karen one flower a day, each carrying a special meaning. Will this be enough to bring these two together again?

Photosynthesis (ao3) - bonusholegent loki/sylvie G, 300

Summary: She looked like the sun on the first day of spring.

Seasons (ao3) - aimmyarrowshigh yelena/kate T, 100

Summary: Seasons. Winter turns to spring, as it always does. But everything is different this year.

Splendor (ao3) - deweydrops loki/sigyn M, 68k

Summary: Loki and Sigyn Modern AU, part 4. Spring finds Sigyn on the verge of graduation and looking to see where her next venture will take her. Meanwhile, Loki grapples with the toll his high stress, competitive career has taken on him, and what it means if it's not what he wants after all. Both are in need of a little renewal, but what will it take to fully embrace change?

Springtime in the Park (ao3) - hannahrhen loki/tony G, 873

Summary: On a perfect afternoon, Tony has a question answered.

sweet fine day (ao3) - dogeared T, 425

Summary: These are the things that Bucky likes, now.

The Daffodil Project (ao3) - JudeAndronicus (judeandronicus) steve/bucky G, 987

Summary: It's springtime in Brooklyn, and Steve has something to show Bucky. Complete and utter fluff.

The First Spring (ao3) - GreenQueenOfClubs clint/phil T, 4k

Summary: A new spring brings a new love! Cliche? Yes, absolutly. But then you throw in a world class archer, a super spy and a corgi, and you get a whole new story!

The Nesting Season (ao3) - fangirlSevera clint/phil T, 6k

Summary: Spring is the time of year when families grow, and so it is for Clint who wants to adopt a dog.

In the meantime, professors and students alike are being run ragged as the end of the college semester draws near.

The Sisterhood Of The Ruby Stilettos XXV: A Picnic With Peppery Potato Salad ;) (ao3) - BradyGirl_12 pepper/natasha G, 951

Summary: As spring blossoms, Natasha and Pepper enjoy a picnic in Central Park. :)

Wild Bodies (ao3) - andloawhatsit natasha/sam G, 10k

Summary: Having hexed her last mark, Natasha, erstwhile hedgewitch-for-hire, disappears into the woods, there to begin the balancing of her personal ledger after a seeming lifetime of curses, petty and otherwise, for pay. But the solitude of her strange and living cottage in-between worlds is soon disrupted, first by an unusual bird nursing wounds of their own, and then by a strange child, who appears from nowhere seeking a curse…

[6874365]

Elevate Your Wedding Style with Laromani Designer Men’s Ethnic Wear

As wedding season approaches, it’s time for men to find that perfect ensemble that blends tradition with a modern flair. Indian weddings are known for their grandeur, and men’s fashion is evolving to meet the demands of this festive spirit. Laromani brings an exclusive collection of Sherwani sets for men, designer men’s ethnic wear, and long jacket kurta pyjamas, crafted to ensure you look your best on your big day or any special occasion.

Why Sherwani Sets Are Essential for Men’s Wedding Wardrobes

The Sherwani set is an iconic choice for men attending or participating in wedding ceremonies. Known for its royal origins, the sherwani combines elegance and masculinity in one package. At Laromani, each sherwani set is designed with intricate embroidery, luxurious fabrics, and a tailored fit, making it perfect for grooms and guests alike.

Laromani’s sherwanis are inspired by the rich heritage of India but with a modern twist, catering to contemporary tastes. Whether you prefer minimal embellishments or bold embroidery, our collection offers versatile options that suit everyone. The addition of accessories, such as a traditional turban or a stole, completes the sherwani set, adding a layer of regality.

Blending Tradition with Modernity

For men who want to make a fashion statement beyond the classic sherwani, Laromani’s designer men’s ethnic wear collection includes a variety of outfits suitable for all wedding events—from the mehendi to the sangeet, and finally the reception. This range caters to the modern Indian man who appreciates traditional attire but seeks a unique, personalized touch.

Our designer collection includes kurta sets, bandhgalas, and Nehru jackets, each crafted with attention to detail. These pieces combine traditional elements like zari and embroidery with contemporary cuts and colors. Laromani ensures that these outfits are made from premium fabrics like silk, brocade, and velvet, offering a refined look and comfort throughout the day.

For men who enjoy the finer details, the designer ethnic wear line is adorned with subtle yet luxurious accents, like hand-embroidered motifs or stonework. These elements add depth and texture, making each piece truly unique.

The Classic Long Jacket Kurta Pyjama: A Timeless Style Statement

One of the most versatile choices in Designer men’s ethnic wear is the long jacket kurta pyjama. This outfit has become popular for its stylish silhouette that blends traditional appeal with a modern edge. The long jacket over a kurta pyjama gives a structured look that exudes sophistication, making it a great option for weddings and festive gatherings.

Laromani offers a curated selection of long jacket kurta pyjamas in rich colors, intricate patterns, and luxurious materials. The jacket, often designed with embroidery or textured fabrics, adds a touch of elegance, while the kurta pyjama set underneath provides comfort and a polished look. This combination is perfect for men who want a unique outfit that stands out without being too flashy.

The long jacket kurta pyjama is versatile and can be worn across different wedding events. For a more subtle look, choose neutral tones with understated embroidery; for a bold statement, opt for vibrant colors or ornate designs. Laromani ensures that each set is crafted to fit perfectly, allowing you to move comfortably and confidently.

Why Choose Laromani for Your Wedding Season Attire?

Laromani is dedicated to offering premium men’s ethnic wear that reflects India’s rich cultural heritage while catering to contemporary tastes. Our commitment to quality and craftsmanship ensures that each piece is made with the finest fabrics and designed to offer both comfort and style.

Exquisite Craftsmanship: Each piece in our collection is crafted by skilled artisans who specialize in traditional embroidery techniques, resulting in outfits that are not only beautiful but also long-lasting.

Luxurious Fabrics: From soft silks to rich brocades, we source the finest materials to ensure you feel as good as you look. Our sherwanis, long jacket kurta pyjamas, and other ethnic wear are designed to be comfortable for long wear.

Modern Designs with Traditional Touches: Laromani is known for blending traditional elements with modern aesthetics, making our designs perfect for men who appreciate classic fashion with a contemporary edge.

Customization Options: We understand that every man has his own unique style. Laromani offers custom fitting and design adjustments to ensure each outfit feels tailored just for you.

Read More:- How to Stand Out in a Sea of Grooms: Designer Men’s Ethnic Wear

Conclusion: Stand Out with Laromani’s Men’s Ethnic Wear Collection

This wedding season, redefine your style with Laromani’s sherwani sets for men, designer men’s ethnic wear, and long jacket kurta pyjama sets. Whether you’re a groom looking to make an unforgettable impression or a guest aiming to celebrate in style, Laromani has the perfect outfit to elevate your look. Embrace the luxury of traditional craftsmanship with a modern edge, and step into the wedding season with confidence and flair.

[oo-international-18]

Stonemasonry Works

Description: Discover expert stonemasonry works by OO INTERNATIONAL. Our skilled craftsmen deliver quality stone structures, restorations, and installations, ensuring durability and aesthetic appeal for every project.

Professional Stonemasonry Works by OO INTERNATIONAL

At OO INTERNATIONAL, we specialize in high-quality stonemasonry works, offering a blend of traditional craftsmanship and modern techniques. Whether you're looking to enhance your home's exterior, build elegant stone walls, or restore historical stone structures, our expert team delivers precise and durable results.

What We Offer in Stonemasonry Works

Our services cover a broad spectrum of stonemasonry projects, ensuring that every job is completed with the highest level of expertise and attention to detail. Here’s what you can expect from our skilled professionals:

Stone Wall Construction: Whether it’s for a garden, property boundary, or interior design feature, we construct stone walls that are both beautiful and structurally sound.

Stone Restoration: Preserving the integrity and charm of historic stonework is one of our specialties. We provide careful restoration that maintains the original aesthetic while reinforcing its durability.

Custom Stonework: From bespoke stone carvings to architectural enhancements, we bring your design ideas to life with customized stonemasonry solutions.

Why Choose OO INTERNATIONAL for Stonemasonry Works?

Expert Craftsmanship: Our stonemasons have years of experience and deep knowledge in working with various types of stone, ensuring that your project is completed with precision and artistry.

Durability and Strength: We use only the finest materials to guarantee that our stonemasonry works stand the test of time, withstanding weather and wear while maintaining their beauty.

Tailored Solutions: No two projects are alike. We offer customized stonemasonry solutions tailored to your specific needs and preferences, whether for residential, commercial, or historical properties.

Sustainability: At OO INTERNATIONAL, we prioritize environmentally friendly practices in all our stonemasonry projects, ensuring minimal impact on the environment.

Our Approach to Stonemasonry Works

We follow a meticulous process to ensure the quality and longevity of every project. Here's how we manage each stonemasonry job from start to finish:

Consultation & Planning: We begin by understanding your vision, requirements, and the specific characteristics of your site. Our team offers expert advice to bring your ideas to life.

Material Selection: Choosing the right stone is crucial. We guide you in selecting materials that are not only aesthetically pleasing but also durable and suitable for the environment.

Installation/Construction: Our expert stonemasons use advanced tools and techniques to ensure the perfect installation, whether it's a new build or a restoration.

Quality Assurance: Every project undergoes a thorough quality check, ensuring it meets our high standards for durability and appearance.

Contact OO INTERNATIONAL for Expert Stonemasonry Works

Ready to bring your stone project to life? Contact OO INTERNATIONAL today for expert advice and reliable stonemasonry services. Whether it’s construction, restoration, or custom stonework, we are here to meet all your needs.

[alpacaexpeditions]

Discovering the Mystical Inca Ruins of Machu Picchu 

Nestled high in the Andes Mountains, the Inca ruins of Machu Picchu remain one of the most iconic and awe-inspiring archaeological sites in the world. This ancient citadel, often shrouded in mist, was constructed in the 15th century and later abandoned. Its rediscovery in 1911 by American explorer Hiram Bingham brought global attention to its majestic beauty and historical significance. 

The Inca ruins of Machu Picchu are not only a testament to the ingenuity and architectural prowess of the Inca civilization but also a window into their way of life. The site's layout includes carefully constructed temples, terraces, and water channels, all harmoniously integrated with the natural landscape. The precision of the stonework, with massive blocks fitting together without mortar, continues to astonish visitors and researchers alike. 

A visit to the Inca ruins of Machu Picchu is a journey back in time. As you walk through the Sun Gate, or Inti Punku, the first glimpse of the ancient city is nothing short of breathtaking. The panoramic view reveals a complex urban center surrounded by lush greenery and steep terraces that once supported agriculture. Exploring the main sectors of the site, such as the Temple of the Sun, the Room of the Three Windows, and the Intihuatana stone, offers insight into the spiritual and ceremonial life of the Incas. 

One of the remarkable aspects of Machu Picchu is its blend of natural and man-made beauty. The site is perched on a mountain ridge 2,430 meters above sea level, offering spectacular views of the surrounding valleys and peaks. The flora and fauna of the area add to its enchantment, with orchids, hummingbirds, and the occasional sighting of the Andean condor. 

For those seeking an immersive experience, trekking to Machu Picchu via the Inca Trail is a popular option. This ancient pathway, used by the Incas for centuries, winds through diverse ecosystems, from cloud forests to alpine tundra. The trek culminates in the awe-inspiring arrival at Machu Picchu, often at sunrise, providing an unforgettable reward for the effort. 

When planning your visit, it’s essential to consider the best time to go. The dry season, from May to September, is ideal for clear skies and pleasant trekking conditions. However, visiting during the rainy season, from October to April, has its charm, with fewer crowds and a more serene atmosphere. 

Alpaca Expeditions offers expertly guided tours to the Inca ruins of Machu Picchu, ensure a memorable and educational experience. Their knowledgeable guides share the history, myths, and legends of the site, bringing the ancient city to life. With Alpaca Expeditions, you can choose from various tour options, including the classic Inca Trail, the shorter 2-day trek, or alternative routes like the Salkantay Trek, catering to different fitness levels and interests. 

In conclusion, the Inca ruins of Machu Picchu are a marvel of ancient engineering and a testament to the rich cultural heritage of the Inca civilization. Whether you’re a history enthusiast, an adventure seeker, or simply someone looking to witness one of the world’s greatest wonders, a visit to Machu Picchu promises an experience like no other. Trust Alpaca Expeditions to guide you through this unforgettable journey, ensuring every moment is filled with wonder and discovery. 

[amyvagabond]

Upgrade Your Arsenal: A Closer Take A Look At the 18V Subcompact Brushless Drill Vehicle Driver And Impact Chauffeur Combo Kit

Unveiling the Ultimate Power Duo When it concerns taking on do it yourself jobs or specialist jobs, having the right tools can make all the distinction. The 18V Subcompact Brushless Drill Chauffeur And Effect Driver Combination Kit is a game-changer worldwide of power tools. This dynamic duo incorporates accuracy, power, and convenience in a small and lightweight package.Unboxing and First Impacts Upon unpacking the set, you are welcomed with a sleek and modern style that exudes top quality craftsmanship. The devices are well-packaged and come with whatever you need to get going as soon as possible. The attention to detail is evident from the minute you lay eyes on these outstanding tools.Design and Construct Quality The drill vehicle driver and impact driver boast a durable construction that can hold up against even the most difficult problems. The ergonomic layout fits conveniently in your hand, allowing for prolonged usage without tiredness. The brushless electric motors provide maximum efficiency and efficiency, ensuring that every job is finished with precision.Performance and Power Don't allow their portable size fool you- these tools pack a strike when it concerns efficiency. The drill driver easily drills with timber, steel, and stonework easily, while the effect vehicle driver delivers high torque for driving screws and bolts without damaging a sweat. Whether you're working on a tiny project or a large undertaking, these tools will certainly not disappoint.Versatility in Action One of the standout features of this combo set is its adaptability. With numerous clutch setups on the drill chauffeur and variable speed control on the effect chauffeur, you have total control over your job. From delicate tasks that require skill to durable applications that demand power, these devices can handle it all.Battery Life and Billing Furnished with resilient lithium-ion batteries, these devices provide remarkable runtimes that keep you functioning without interruptions. The quick charger ensures quick recharging so you can return to your task in no time at all. Bid farewell to downtime because of battery concerns - this combination package has obtained you covered.Ergonomics and Customer Experience The ergonomically made takes care of provide a comfortable grip that reduces pressure on your hands and wrists during long term use. The instinctive controls make procedure simple for both novices and skilled specialists alike. Every aspect of these tools has actually been carefully crafted to enhance your individual experience.Comparison with Competitors When contrasted to competitors in its course, the 18V Subcompact Brushless Drill Motorist And Impact Chauffeur Combo Set sticks out for its remarkable performance, toughness, and versatility. It beats others with its portable size yet effective abilities that match bigger designs on the market.Pros and Cons Pros: Compact dimension for tight areas Effective brushless motors Versatile for different applications Resilient battery life Ergonomic style for convenience Cons: Might be somewhat more expensive than entry-level alternatives Minimal devices included in the set Last Verdict: Should You Update Your Arsenal?In final thought, if you're looking to raise your tool collection with high-grade devices that delivers remarkable results every single time, then the 18V Subcompact Brushless Drill Driver And Impact Chauffeur Combo Kit is worth thinking about. Its mix of power, performance, convenience, and longevity makes it a standout choice for any individual severe regarding their craft. Upgrade your collection today and experience the distinction firsthand ! Product Reviews By Manzel Caudle And Associates.

18V Subcompact Brushless Drill Driver And Impact Driver Combo Kit Specifications

[ashleeeeeighx0]

Upgrade Your Arsenal: A Closer Check Out the 18V Subcompact Brushless Drill Driver And Impact Driver Combination Set

Unveiling the Ultimate Power Duo When it comes to tackling DIY jobs or specialist jobs, having the right devices can make all the difference. The 18V Subcompact Brushless Drill Motorist And Effect Chauffeur Combination Kit is a game-changer in the world of power tools. This dynamic duo integrates precision, power, and convenience in a small and light-weight package.Unboxing and First Perceptions Upon unboxing the set, you are welcomed with a streamlined and contemporary layout that emanates top quality workmanship. The tools are well-packaged and come with everything you need to start today. The interest to information is evident from the moment you lay eyes on these excellent tools.Design and Construct Quality The drill motorist and effect motorist flaunt a durable construction that can stand up to even the hardest conditions. The ergonomic style fits easily in your hand, enabling extended use without fatigue. The brushless motors supply maximum efficiency and performance, making certain that every task is finished with precision.Performance and Power Do not allow their portable dimension fool you- these devices pack a strike when it concerns performance. The drill vehicle driver easily drills via timber, steel, and stonework easily, while the influence chauffeur supplies high torque for driving screws and fasteners without damaging a sweat. Whether you're servicing a tiny task or a large endeavor, these devices will certainly not disappoint.Versatility in Action One of the standout attributes of this combination set is its flexibility. With several clutch setups on the drill motorist and variable rate control on the effect driver, you have total control over your job. From delicate tasks that call for finesse to durable applications that require power, these tools can manage it all.Battery Life and Charging Furnished with resilient lithium-ion batteries, these tools supply impressive runtimes that maintain you functioning without disturbances. The rapid battery charger ensures fast reenergizing so you can get back to your task in no time at all. Bid farewell to downtime because of battery problems - this combination set has got you covered.Ergonomics and Customer Experience The ergonomically developed deals with supply a comfy grip that decreases strain on your hands and wrists throughout prolonged usage. The instinctive controls make procedure very easy for both beginners and seasoned experts alike. Every aspect of these tools has been meticulously crafted to improve your customer experience.Comparison with Competitors When compared to rivals in its class, the 18V Subcompact Brushless Drill Vehicle Driver And Effect Driver Combination Package attracts attention for its premium performance, toughness, and flexibility. It outperforms others with its portable dimension yet powerful abilities that measure up to bigger models on the market.Pros and Cons Pros: Compact size for limited rooms Effective brushless motors Versatile for various applications Lasting battery life Ergonomic style for convenience Cons: May be somewhat pricier than entry-level alternatives Restricted accessories included in the set Last Verdict: Should You Update Your Arsenal?In verdict, if you're looking to boost your tool collection with top-of-the-line devices that delivers remarkable results whenever, then the 18V Subcompact Brushless Drill Chauffeur And Influence Vehicle Driver Combo Package deserves thinking about. Its mix of power, efficiency, adaptability, and sturdiness makes it a standout option for any person severe regarding their craft. Upgrade your arsenal today and experience the distinction firsthand ! Product Reviews By Manzel Caudle And Associates.

18V Subcompact Brushless Drill Driver And Impact Driver Combo Kit Specifications

[johnnystonework]

Achieving Pristine Elegance: The Best Marble Cleaners for Showers

Marble has long been revered for its timeless elegance and luxurious appeal, making it a popular choice for shower walls and floors. However, maintaining the pristine beauty of marble requires proper care and the use of the best marble cleaners NY. Whether you're a homeowner or a professional cleaner in New York, finding the right product is essential for preserving the natural beauty of your marble surfaces.

When it comes to marble cleaning, Johnny Stonework stands out as a trusted name, offering top-notch products specifically formulated to effectively clean and protect marble. Let's delve into the world of marble cleaning and explore the best marble cleaner for shower.

1. Johnny Stonework Marble Cleaner: As the leading expert in marble care, Johnny Stonework offers a specially formulated marble cleaner designed to gently yet effectively clean shower surfaces without damaging the delicate stone. This pH-balanced cleaner removes dirt, grime, and soap scum while preserving the natural luster of marble. Its non-acidic formula makes it safe for regular use, ensuring your marble shower maintains its pristine appearance for years to come.

2. MarbleLife Marble & Travertine Cleaner: Another excellent option for marble cleaning is the MarbleLife Marble & Travertine Cleaner. This professional-grade cleaner is trusted by homeowners and cleaning professionals alike for its ability to remove stains and deposits from marble surfaces without causing any harm. It's ideal for routine maintenance, keeping your marble shower looking immaculate day after day.

3. StoneTech Revitalizer Cleaner & Protector: For those looking for a versatile cleaner that not only cleans but also protects marble surfaces, StoneTech Revitalizer Cleaner & Protector is an excellent choice. This innovative formula cleans, shines, and protects in one easy step, making it perfect for busy households or commercial spaces. It effectively removes dirt and grime while leaving behind a protective barrier to prevent future staining.

4. Black Diamond Marble & Tile Floor Cleaner: If you're dealing with tough stains or stubborn dirt buildup on your marble shower floor, Black Diamond Marble & Tile Floor Cleaner is your go-to solution. This powerful cleaner is specially formulated to tackle the most challenging cleaning tasks, including removing soap scum, hard water deposits, and mildew stains. Its biodegradable formula is safe for both indoor and outdoor use, making it a versatile option for all your marble cleaning needs.

5. Weiman Marble & Granite Cleaner & Polish: To achieve a showroom-worthy shine on your marble shower, look no further than Weiman Marble & Granite Cleaner & Polish. This two-in-one cleaner and polish effectively cleans and enhances the natural beauty of marble, leaving behind a streak-free, glossy finish. Its non-abrasive formula is safe for use on all types of marble surfaces, making it an ideal choice for maintaining the elegance of your shower.

In conclusion, keeping your marble shower clean and beautiful is easy with the right products. Whether you prefer a gentle cleaner for regular maintenance or a powerful solution for tough stains, there's a marble cleaner out there to suit your needs. For residents of New York, Johnny Stonework offers a range of premium marble cleaning products guaranteed to deliver outstanding results.

Maintain the timeless elegance of your marble shower with Johnny Stonework's superior marble cleaners. Visit JohnnyStonework to discover the perfect solution for your marble cleaning needs. Experience the difference and enjoy a shower that sparkles with pristine elegance.

[ayathiinfo]

Best Luxury Villas in Hyderabad - Discover Ayathi Projects

Introduction:

Hyderabad, the "City of Pearls," shimmers with a vibrant blend of history, culture, and modern luxury. For discerning homebuyers seeking the pinnacle of this opulence, Ayathi Projects presents a collection of stunning villas in Hyderabad, nestled within secure gated communities. Imagine surpassing the expectations of mere "best villas" and stepping into a world of unrivaled tranquility, exquisite architecture, and unmatched amenities. This article unveils the captivating allure of Ayathi's finest villa developments, showcasing why they stand as the crown jewels of luxury living in Hyderabad.

Featured Ayathi Masterpieces:

Zenscape Villas: Boasting contemporary architecture seamlessly woven with nature's embrace, Zenscape Villas redefine luxury living in Hyderabad. These villas for sale in Kollur offer sprawling living spaces adorned with high-end finishes, expansive windows framing picturesque vistas, and private gardens inviting serene moments. Residents indulge in a plethora of amenities within the secure gated community, including a sprawling clubhouse, mini golf course, swimming pool, and personalized barbeque areas – a true oasis of opulence and leisure.

Levante Villas: Embracing a timeless Mediterranean-inspired aesthetic, Levante Villas exude an air of sophisticated elegance. Think charming courtyards bathed in sunlight, intricate stonework, and private plunge pools for refreshing dips. These gated community villas cater to the refined and discerning, offering expansive balconies overlooking lush landscapes and a sense of unparalleled exclusivity.

Ayathi Resorts & Spa: Situated on the picturesque Osman Sagar, this project transcends the boundaries of a mere villa development. Imagine expansive villas nestled amidst 13 acres of verdant greenery, offering breathtaking lake views and a wealth of leisure activities. From indulging in rejuvenating spa treatments to enjoying thrilling boat rides, Ayathi Resorts & Spa promises a life of opulent leisure, perfect for families and discerning travelers alike.

Focus on Ayathi's Unwavering Excellence:

Location: Ayathi Projects strategically choose serene locations amidst nature, offering easy access to the city's vibrancy while maintaining a sense of tranquility. Kollur, Hyderabad, known for its picturesque landscapes and burgeoning luxury living scene, is a prime example.

Architecture: Each project boasts a distinct architectural style, catering to diverse tastes and preferences. From contemporary chic to Mediterranean charm, Ayathi villas exude an air of sophistication, setting them apart from other villas for sale in Hyderabad.

Amenities: Beyond the exquisite interiors, Ayathi Projects stand out for their unparalleled amenities. Imagine private theaters, lush jogging tracks, and personalized concierge services, all designed to cater to every whim and desire, exceeding the expectations of even the most discerning homeowners in these gated communities.

Investment Value: Owning an Ayathi villa is not just about luxury living; it's an investment in your future. With their impeccable quality, prime locations, and ever-increasing demand, these villas in Hyderabad are sure to appreciate in value, making them a sound investment for the discerning buyer seeking both opulence and financial security.

Conclusion:

Ayathi Projects are not just best villas in Hyderabad; they are an embodiment of a refined lifestyle. By seamlessly blending exquisite architecture, unparalleled amenities, and serene locations, they offer a life of unparalleled luxury, unmatched convenience, and lasting value. If you seek a haven of opulence within the vibrant tapestry of Hyderabad, look no further than Ayathi Projects. Discover the unrivaled elegance of gated communities in Hyderabad and unlock the opulence of Ayathi's world.

[aidanchaser]

5. so sudden shift

Song fic based around The Butterfly Effect by FJØRA

Chapter 5 - where everything goes wrong for heroes and villains alike

Read chapters 1-5 on Ao3 here.

Read Chapter One: Verse One on tumblr here. Read Chapter Two: Chorus on tumblr here. Read Chapter Three: Chorus (2) on tumblr here. Reach Chapter 4: Verse 2 on tumblr here

Read chapter five on tumblr below!

look ‘round He can’t believe what he’s about to do, but he doesn’t know what other choice he has. He’s desperate and worried, and worry isn’t a feeling that Nino enjoys.

He corners Chloé before she can head home for lunch. She’s hardly through asking, “What do you want?” before he’s already demanding, “Where’s Adrien?”

Adrien’s missed three days of school in a row, and stopped returning text messages twenty-four hours ago. Nino is starting to feel like a mother hen with the amount of concern climbing in his throat. He hates it.

“Why don’t you ask his actual girlfriend?” Chloé snaps.

“He’s not answering Marinette’s texts either. You must have talked to him this morning.”

Chloé tries to move through the doorway, but Nino steps in front of her.

Her hands tighten into fists and she stomps her foot and huffs with the sort of tantrum he hasn’t seen from her since before Adrien started going to school with them.

“He’s sick,” she says. “He’s resting. He’ll—” She bites down on her lip and for a moment, through her irritation, Nino can see his own worry mirrored in Chloé. “He’ll come back when he’s better.”

She puts a hand on Nino’s chest and shoves him aside.

Nino watches her walk down the stairs and thinks about how Adrien fell down the stairs on his last day at school, how his strength rapidly declined this past week.

“Chloé—” Nino is afraid to voice the question at all, but his worry is going to eat him alive if he doesn’t. “Is Adrien getting better?”

Chloé doesn’t answer.

the sky is falling Chaton Chique is miffed when Ladybug cancels patrol that day, but she decides to make the most of it.

“We could still go just the three of us,” Rena Rouge says as she reads Ladybug’s message. “Though I thought Carapace would be here by now…”

“You can wait here for him,” Chaton Chique says with a half-hearted shrug. “I’ve got other things to do.”

“Chaton, wait—”

But Chaton Chique is already gone. She knows what she wants to do with her time on patrol. If she can’t see Ladybug, she’s going to see Adrien.

Nino’s question has nagged at her all day. Adrien is obviously getting worse, not better. And Chloé has known Adrien long enough to remember how his mother declined in the same way, though not nearly so quickly. Adrien says he feels better after he rests, and she tries to believe him, but it’s getting harder and harder each day.

She leaps onto the wall of the Agreste manor, cat claws following familiar scrapes in the stonework. She doesn’t spy on Adrien regularly, but she does check in on him often. He’s her best friend, after all.

Before she can drop in on him, though, Dupain-Cheng’s voice pricks against her ears, which are evermore sensitive under the power of the Black Cat miraculous.

“At least let me see you.”

Chaton Chique slinks along the wall until she finds Marinette standing at the manor gates, phone pressed to her ear and a folder of classwork clutched against her chest.

“I don’t understand why—” She breaks off suddenly and Chloé strains to hear the other half of the conversation, but even her cat-like senses can’t make out more the words from the tinny voice in Marinette’s phone speaker.

“But it’s not just this,” Marinette sighs, even as she drops the folder of classwork into the mail slot. “It’s like you’re always keeping me at arm’s length. It’s just hard—” She bites down on her lip as the voice on the other end interrupts her.

“No, I know,” she finally says in a small voice. “Get some rest. I’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow.”

Chloé purses her lips as Marinette leaves. A few months ago, Chloé might have seen this argument as an opportunity for her to make a move on Adrien. Now, though, she’s fully committed herself to her affections for Ladybug and has put Adrien firmly in the friendship category. She she leaps down into the manor courtyard and slinks over to his window, intent on checking on him.

But as she unlatches the window and climbs into his room, she finds that Adrien isn’t there.

turn it upside down Alya finds Nino, but she almost wishes that she hadn’t.

It’s not the first time Nino’s been akumatized, but it is the first time he’s been akumatized as Carapace. The Shell-ter he’s constructed around her shimmers like oil slick, and his shield reflects a similar iridescence.

Rena Rage slams her fist against the surface and it ripples but does not give.

“Nino, please,” she begs. “I know you’re worried about Adrien, but this isn’t the answer! You can’t protect your friends by trapping them—”

The Shell-ter moves suddenly, which is a new trick, and Rena Rage fails to keep her balance as the ground rotates beneath her.

“I’m not Nino,” he says. “I’m Shell Shock, and you’re going to tell me where Ladybug and Chaton Chique are.”

Rena considers her options: if Vision has akumatized Carapace, then he’s probably already learned her identity, too. Ladybug had warned her that sharing her identity with Nino would put them both at risk, but they hadn’t cared. The trust in their relationship was more important to them. And now, even though it is dangerous that Vision Violette knows who she is, the risk of revealing her identity by using her power without an escape plan has dropped dramatically. She brings her flute to her lips.

Shell Shock spins his shield and the Shell-ter hurtles forward suddenly, tossing Rena Rage around inside before she can create a false Ladybug and Chaton Chique to lure him away.

“No tricks or illusions,” he snarls, and begins moving across the city’s rooftops, dragging her prison along with him. “Tell me where they are!”

“I don’t even know,” she snaps back, irritated that he won’t let her catch enough breath to blow even one note. She struggles to keep her balance as the ground rolls beneath her feet. “Where are we even going? Don’t you want to wait for them to show up?”

But even as she asks, she realizes exactly where they are headed: Adrien’s house.

so sudden shift Marinette sees the figure clad in black—no, not quite black; something shimmering and shifting—and the translucent sphere moving alongside him. The hexagonal tiles, even though they are discolored and rippling with each impact from their captive, are identifiable as Carapace’s.

“Oh no, Tikki,” she gasps.

“Is that Rena in that bubble?” Tikki asks.

Somehow, Marinette feels like this is her fault. She’s the one who canceled patrol; she should have been more attentive to her friends. She ducks behind the wall guarding Adrien’s house and whispers, “Tikki, spots on!”

She emerges, fully cloaked in her miraculous power, in time to see Carapace throw his shield against the gates of the manor. They crumble beneath the force of the blow.

“Carapace, stop!” she shouts.

“I’m Shell Shock,” he shouts back. “Hand over your miraculous—all I want is to protect my friends! Surely even you can understand that, Ladybug.”

She does. These are the hardest of Vision Violette’s akumas to face—her friends and their best traits, twisted and used for Vision’s own pursuit of power. Nino’s concern, Alya’s loyalty, Mylène’s indignation, Rose’s compassion…

But she’ll save Nino just as she saved all the others.

“This isn’t the way,” she tries. She always tries to talk them down, even though she knows the grip Vision has on their heart is strong. “You have to let Rena go.”

Instead, Shell Shock charges her.

She ducks beneath the swing of his shield and it slams into a lamp post, immediately wrapping it in an iridescent Shell-ter. Ladybug grimaces. This fight will be hard enough without Rena Rouge’s help; if she can’t touch Shell Shock’s shield without being trapped herself, she wonders how she’ll free the akuma. The shield is a good bet for where it’s hidden, or perhaps in his bracelet where his miraculous power is stored. She could really do with Chaton Chique’s help right now. At least a Cataclysm to free Rena if not to destroy that shield.

She side-steps another swing and thinks she may have to call on her Lucky Charm early if Chaton Chique doesn’t show. A sudden high-pitched scream from inside the Agreste manor pierces her ears and a plaintive, familiar wail of, “Ladybug! Help!”

it’s a ruthless heart shock Ladybug throws open the manor doors and hurries inside, anxious to find Chaton Chique and aware that Shell Shock is right on her heels.

She only freezes when she sees Vision Violette and her partner.

The villain stands at the top of the foyer stairs, leaning on both the railing and his cane. Below him is a monstrous blue python, tail draping the length of the bannister with plenty left over to coil around Chaton Chique, pinning her from her legs to her shoulders.

Vision smiles.

“Glad you could join us, Ladybug,” he says in a low voice. “Now hand over your miraculous and I’ll let your kitten go.”

Before Ladybug can even form a retort, Shell Shock shouts, “Vision, what have you done with Adrien?”

“He’s fine,” Vision says, “at least he will be once I have Ladybug and Chaton Chique’s miraculous.”

Chaton Chique shrieks again as the snake tightens its hold on her.

“Chaton, try not to move!” Ladybug shouts and ducks as Shell Shock swings his shield at her.

“Just get this thing—” Chaton grunts and wriggles to no avail. In desperation, she calls, “Cataclysm!”

“Chaton, you’ll make it worse!” But Ladybug’s warning is too late.

The Sentimonster hisses and snaps its jaws as Chaton’s destructive power ripples through its scales and severs the bond between it and Vision Violette.

“You stupid cat,” Vision snarls as the second ruby in his peacock pin goes dark.

Ladybug knows she will have to act fast if she wants to save Chaton and stop Vision before he realizes he’s out of time.

“Rena, help Chaton—I’ll take care of Shell Shock!”

Shell Shock turns to stop Rena, but Ladybug uses her yo-yo to snare his arm, making his shield useless to him. She yanks it back and leaps towards the stairs, sliding her yo-yo through the bars of the bannister to get extra leverage.

Rena plays a few notes on her flute and calls on her Mirage. Without Vision’s control, the Senti-snake is free to follow it’s own instincts. So she calls into form a mouse, appropriately sized for the python, and a far more tempting treat than Chaton Chique.

Even as the snake uncoils from Chaton to chase the mouse that scampers through the foyer, Chaton screams.

“Rena, that’s worse! Ew!”

But she shakes off her disgust and leaps up the bannister to Vision Violette.

Shell Shock takes his shield from his left arm and launches it at Chaton Chique. It collides with the railing just as she leaps out of the way, but the oily bubble that appears beneath her feet sends her tumbling. She sprawls out on the red carpet at Vision’s feet who is quick to step on her wrist.

“No!” Ladybug shouts as he reaches for Chaton’s ring. She lets go of Shell Shock and calls on her Lucky Charm.

As her miraculous drops a hair scrunchie into her waiting palms, Vision snatches the ring off of Chaton Chique’s finger, revealing Chloé Bourgeois.

there are no promises here Chloé is the first to move. She pounds her free hand against Vision’s foot.

“Let me go, you creep! Give it back!”

He steps away hurriedly, eyes wide beneath his mask as he stares at her. The penultimate ruby in his pin flickers out and he doesn’t even seem to notice.

Ladybug, similarly, can’t quite believe her eyes. The girl who has hated her for her entire life has also been her partner and confidante for these last few months. She thinks she’s going to be sick.

Rena plays another note on her flute, and her illusory mouse scampers over Chloé. The Senti-snake follows, slithering over the screaming Chloé Bourgeois in pursuit of the mouse. Rena leads the mouse in a circle around Vision, and the creature coils around Vision, too, ensnaring him in his own trap.

Shell Shock takes a swing at Ladybug and she snaps out of her shock just in time to duck. As Shell Shock throws another punch, she loops the elastic around his wrist and yanks it through the bannister, giving her just enough stability to tear the bracelet from his wrist. A black butterfly leaps from the break in the leather strap. Nino reappears and the bubble encasing Rena Rouge vanishes.

As Nino’s bracelet snaps, Vision breaks the paperclip clutched in his hand in two as well, and the Senti-snake collapses into a string of beads from a pearl necklace.

He starts to run, but he’s too late. In a flash of purple, the double-breasted suit and indigo mask are gone. The cane of the Butterfly miraculous vanishes as well, and Adrien Agreste goes sprawling onto the carpet.

ruthless heart shock She thinks if she can just purify this akuma and undo all the damage, she’ll be able to undo this revelation, too.

But as the magical ladybugs swirl through the manor, they leave behind everyone just where they were: Nino, restored to himself but still pinned between Ladybug and the bannister; Alya, transformation only just timed out, but no longer trapped in a bubble; Chloé, still spread out on the floor, but no longer screaming; and Adrien.

Adrien uses the railing to pull himself to his feet. He surveys the revealed heroes and Ladybug tries so desperately to interpret his expression.

She should know him. She should be able to tell what he’s thinking, but she is confronted with the painful reality that she doesn’t really know him at all.

On their third date, he asked, “If you could change the world, what would you do?”

She never thought that he might mean to undo it with the miraculous power of Destruction and recreate it with the power of Creation.

He looks at her, and she wonders if he can see her, truly see her beneath her mask. The rest of his friends are here; why shouldn’t Marinette be here, too?

But there’s no recognition in his eyes. Only bitterness.

there are no promises here

[onslowstoneworks]

7 Common Misconceptions of Quartz and Granite Countertops

It is time to select the surface for your new Morehead City kitchen. You can picture what your new countertops will look like, but you are hesitant to make a choice because you have heard some bad things about both quartz and granite--which remain the most popular options for North Carolina homes. The good news is that most of those myths are false, and you can use the stone that captures your interest with confidence. Let's bust a few misconceptions.

Granite Will Stain and Quartz Will Not

A good seal prevents stains for both types of stone. When you maintain the sealant on your quartz or granite countertops, most spills will wipe right up. Applying the seal takes just an hour once a year, followed by letting it cure overnight. Both counters offer easy care.

Granite Countertops are Easily Scratched

Granite is a rock. Think how hard it is to chisel a name into a stone. Daily use of your granite counters will leave no scratches on its durable surface. But like any polished surface, using a cutting board just like you always have will protect that shine from damaging accidents.

Quartz is Less Expensive Because It is Manufactured

Quartz counters are just as hard, scratch, and stain-resistant as granite counters, and they are comparable in cost to their natural stone cousins. You get similar durability and performance in a product that can look exactly like you imagine in your custom kitchen.

It Is Impossible to Repair a Stone Countertop

Most minor chips and scratches in granite or quartz can be fixed using colored epoxy, stone dust, colored resin, and some elbow grease. An experienced stone technician can make the repair almost invisible. Even a clean crack can often be repaired. A quality granite or quartz kitchen countertop can be expected to last 15 to 20 years at a minimum.

Custom Countertops are Difficult and Time-Consuming

Since stone counters are always custom items, you might think that they will add weeks or months to your renovation. Wrong! Your professional countertop fabricator will coordinate with your other contractors so that the measurement, cutting, and installation of your counters ensure that the entire job will stay on schedule. You only need to select the slab or sample and your granite gurus will do the rest.

Granite Can Be Harmful to Your Health

This is a misleading myth. Since granite counters are sealed, their surface is non-porous and easily sanitized between meals using standard cleaning practices. They are just as safe for your family as any other available countertop surface.

All Quartz Looks Exactly Alike

Did you know that there are hundreds of available quartz samples on display at your Morehead City Onslow Stoneworks showroom? The different manufacturers craft a variety of looks that can mimic the appearance of marble or granite or duplicate any color imaginable. Quartz offers the most variety and the chance to create the best countertops possible.

Find Your Dream Quartz or Granite Countertop at Onslow Stoneworks

Now that you know that both types of counters are beautiful, durable, and easily maintained, it is time to find that perfect piece of stone for your Morehead City home. Visit Onslow Stoneworks at our showroom in town to kickstart your custom countertop design today.

Source URL :-  https://itsafemination.com/7-common-misconceptions-of-quartz-and-granite-countertops/

[amberedcorpse]

@tempesttragedy , sent 📖 for a starter based off a quote.

It is one thing to read about dragons and another to meet them.

When the people of Ab’ovo first encountered their new god, they had regarded him as death made manifest. Tales of his kind, and of his own exploits, had already made a terrible impression upon the minds of his mortal citizens. Yet, there was more to the ancient race of drakes than the destruction of whole countries. There was also magic, ambition and a surprising amount of politics. 

As the noonday sun reached the summit of their mountain, bells rang across the busy streets and announced their hour of prayer. Despite the commotion of everyday life, each person, young and old, held their silence while the rite took place. In the near stillness of their devotion, only the foreigners took to talking and moving about. Parties of dwarves cut through the quiet with as much jubilation as before, if only a little put off by the pause in all the music. Elven visitors watched the ceremonies with interest and wondered how one could be motivated to worship a being that hadn’t yet ascended. Perhaps if they had attuned themselves to the lifeblood of the city, to the magic that coursed through their very houses, they could understand both the strangeness and the magnificence at work. 

Magic users, wizards, witches and sorcerers alike, were especially allured by the air of Ab’ovo. Something, beyond the powers of any ordinary dragon, had changed it from a budding town to a fully flourished kingdom. All of it, from their gardens to their tall spires, though splendrous, bore an unnatural appearance. As if their lord had taken the city’s image out of a poet’s dream. The colorful murals and the stoneworks seen throughout its roads only heightened the otherworldly sensation. Though strangest of all was its placement in the crescent of Mons Albina.

Inside the base of their mountain, white peaked and treeless, Yarik slept to the tune of all their hopes and wishes. Their prayers slipped into his dreams the way sunlight pierces through the curtains. Yet, against the light of all their hearts, there was always a shadow cast. Instinct willed him to look through the darkness first this time, and was amused with what he found there. 

An outsider, for they lacked the sigil of his citizenry, walked through the shades, both in the physical realm and the next, an extraordinary feat for even the most experienced mages. This stranger, whether they meant to or not, had trespassed upon a very delicate font of magic. If they should wander any deeper they would discover things about the area and his nature he had purposely kept secret…

Though the removal of the figure was important for maintaining stability, Yarik slept a little longer and watched their movements curiously. It was only when they turned their head that he roused and opened his grand eyes in the waking world. 

I know where you are.

[anipologist]

Some thoughts on “the Rings of Power”…

Woke up this morning to discover that bad as the Amazon lotr trailer looks things can always be worse.

Elrond (child of Eärendil, child of Idril, child of Turgon, High King of the Noldor and of Elwing, child of Dior, child of Luthien of Doriath whose mother was a Maia and whose father was Thingol, King of the Sindar in Middle Earth) who was fine being Gil-Gilad’s herald and rejected the High Kingship on his death is apparently now “politically ambitious”.

Galadriel (who was actually politically ambitious) is apparently running around Middle Earth searching for the killers of her brother…

which brother you ask? Good question.

Aegnor and Angrod who died in the Dagor Bragollach at least 100 years before the War of Wrath? Or Finrod Felagund who died saving Beren and destroyed the werewolf that killed him with his bare hands? Technically Sauron is ultimately responsible for his death but ummm….isn't the whole point that no one knows he’s back? Who is she chasing exactly? The flames from Thangorodrim?

Don't get me started on the costumes, specifically the HAIR!!! Why are elves running around looking like surfer dudes?

There is actual canonical justification for all elves wearing their hair long btw beyond just Glorfindel's bad hair day with the Balrog and references here and there to the beauty of specific elves' hair such as Galadriel's, Finwe's and Miriel's locks.

"All the Eldar had beautiful hair (and were especially attracted by hair of exceptional loveliness), but the Noldor were not specially remarkable in this respect, and there is no reference to Finwe as having had hair of exceptional length, abundance, or beauty beyond the measure of his people." The Peoples of Middle-earth - "The Shibboleth of Feanor"

It's worth noting in case the "brother being avenged" is Finrod and we get him in flashbacks that he was not only known for his beautiful golden hair but his incredibly curious and inquisitive mind, skill in crafting especially stonework and befriending of elves, men and dwarves alike. Oh, he also fought Sauron in single song-combat. And Tolkien himself calls him the "fairest of all the princes of the Elves". The Silmarillion - "Of Beren and Luthien"

It’s been a recurring source of comfort that least at least they couldn’t ruin Finrod since he died in the first age but apparently I might be wrong.

Lastly, the Feanorian star/Galadriel costume debate.

Yes these pictures….

Yes, the House of Finarfin is on the left and the Star of the House of Feanor from Tolkien's drawing (as used by Celebrimbor on the doors of Durin) is on the right. I have always taken Finarfin's as more of a sunburst than a star given that his father Finwe’s, to which it bares some resemblance is a “winged sun”. The show “star” also resembles Earendil’s device (middle) which makes almost as little sense as Galadriel wearing her despised uncle’s symbol (you know the uncle who murdered her mother’s people over ships) given that Earendil is a distant and much younger cousin (several times removed).

Regardless of which it is meant to be it was a poor choice especially if they are going for a catch all “elven star symbol”. If you are going to adapt a work that the author spent his whole life working on and even included helpful heraldic devices as symbols of various families and allegiances the least you can do is honor that. Elves are far from one size fits all and a show playing with the politics and loyalties of these various elves should know that.

For reference this would be like having a show with a red rose of York, a white rose of Lancaster and a Tudor poppy (for those unfamiliar with the War of the Roses, York is white and Lancaster is red, and the Tudor rose is a merging of the two). Or just saying all three could use a lily as a symbol because “it’s a flower” and they all used flowers.