#both have a trefoil design!

[cashmerecrow]

✨𝔊𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱✨

[parakeetlover3]

Hey Parakeet, what are your interpretations of the fallen children, such as their names and their personalities? Also, do you think that you could possibly make art of them?

Tysm for the ask! :D

Hmm, I’m not really that good at art, so I don’t have much rn unfortunately, but for now, have some gacha designs I made!

Putting my interpretations under the cut cus it might be rambling a lot lol

I personally headcanon the Soul colors to be a genetic thing, like eye and hair color. The traits are what I associate with them personally, rathar than their Souls

Their eyes match their Soul colors due to bekng dead, but during life, I headcanon humans to be able to have both eye colors we have irl and eye colors that only happen in fiction

Listed in my headcanoned order of falling into the Underground! (Yes, since Chara's Soul is red, I made the kids after that go in rainbow order lol)

Also, I hc that all the humans had SAVE powers to some degree, but not all of them really knew how to use it, and even the ones who did eventually grew exhausted of dying and lost the DT/will to keep going. Some only had a limited amount of reloads they could do before losing the ability, while others were exhausted before reaching that limit

Orange/Bravery

Name: (I haven't decided yet)

Pronouns: He/him

Age of fall/death: 11/11

Reason for fall: I haven’t figured it out yet

Time spent Underground:

- Due to Asgore's war declaration being fairly recent when he fell, he was found and brought to Asgore fairly quickly after leaving the Ruins

- Fought back, but was overpowered by the Guards. Never killed anyone, since he was quickly restrained and brought to the Castle

- Asgore wasn’t as worn out yet, so the battle was crazy hard, with Asgore dodging and stuff as well

- Discovered his SAVE ability when dying to Asgore or the first time. Was able to see the stars earlier, but never knew how they were used before this

- Didn’t know about needing to absorb his soul to go home, wanted to fight him until he found an opening to rush through the Barrier. Really didn’t want to straight-up kill anyone, which also made his fight with Asgore harder

- Attempted to keep reloading his SAVE file again and again, but eventually, even though he wanted and tried to keep going, his SAVE file stopped working due to exhaustion, which lowered his DT

(Ex: when Undyne is killed in neutral route, she deffo *wants* to keep going, but is physically unable to, so sorta like that but with SAVE points)

Other:

- had a single mom, who was a bit sickly

- they enjoyed embroidering together

- the abs on his bandana were embroidered himself, and his mom made the gloves for him

- favorite colors were dusty pink and gold

- refuses to swear

- generally a really supportive person

Yellow/Justice

Name: Clover (not to be confused with Undertale Yellow's Clover lol) (Pending name change to Trefoil? Or Coltsfoot? Clove?)

Pronouns: She/her

Age of fall/death: 12/12

Reason for fall: was camping with her family. She was curious about the missing kid case that happened in the area about a decade ago, as well as the legends saying that there were monsters under the mountain. Her brother was teaching her to aim and stuff. I haven’t figured out why and how she climbed at fell exactly, tho

Time underground:

- Figured out her SAVE abilities pretty quickly, killed some Guards that attacked her as well as some other monsters that confronted her

- After figuring out Asgore’s decree, wanted to go straight to the source of the injustice by confronting him, so mostly tried to sneak to the Castle and deal with him before she was too harsh on other monsters

-Often fought monsters until they were spareable, or ran once they were worn out. Tried to keep killing to a minimum, but held back less and less as she got closer to the Castle

- During the Asgore fight, was determined to bring justice to Asgore for killing and passing a decree that allows killing of innocent people

- Reloaded her SAVE file often, and told Asgore whenever she came back. This was when Asgore learned about the SAVE power, and made his observations of the previous human make some more sense

- Dying over and over again was tiring, and the guilt from killing and planning on killing was catching up. Wanted so badly to go back home to her family, but she mentally apologized to them before she gave up reloading

Other:

- Her older brother taught her to use a gun, scarf and hat were a gift from him. The gun was his, she was borrowing it before she fell

- had a dog German Shepard named Sheriff and a Golden Retriever named Coltsfoot

- While she wanted to be a sheriff or some other job directly protecting people, she also wanted to be a dog trainer (wether for acting in movies, for casual owners, or to provide services like protection or disability aid)

Green/Kindness

Name: Kody

Pronouns: He/him

Age of fall/death: 13/14

Reason for fall: Was going to visit his mother in jail soon, so wanted to make her favorite omelet recipe that they had whenever going camping. The specific herb was particularly hard to find, but was more common in mountain areas. Fell when attempting to reach for one that was growing on the wall of that cavern thingy

Time Underground:

-Became close to Toriel, staying with her for many months

-Bittersweet birthday celebration, since the day he was gonna visit his mom was the same day as his birthday

-I’m not rlly sure of too many details yet. Tried to convince Asgore to reverse his ‘all humans must die’ decree, but didn’t work

Other:

-Worked at his family’s restaurant

-Liked helping out in after school programs

-Liked playing online video games in his free time. He gets a bit competitive during these, but it’s all in good fun and he keeps up good sportsmanship

-Favorite food was sunny-side up eggs

- Liked making pancake art

- Gets a bit nervous talking to people, feels awkward. Still likes interacting, but worries he might say or do something wrong. Nervous extrovert

- His family often fostered kids before his mom went to jail, and he was a great older foster bro. He loved teaching them to cook, and was pretty good at tutoring whenever they were having school trouble

- Preferred cooking to baking, since there’s more room to experiment and customize. He does like baking as a bonding activity, though

Cyan/Patience

Name: Poppy

Pronouns: She/her

Age of fall/death: 4/6

Reason for fall: Abandoned, tried to wait but after a while worried their parents got lost so she climbed higher to get a better view. It started to rain, so she went into the cave for shelter, but it was too dark to see the hole and she fell

Time spent Underground:

- Stayed with Toriel for a good while

- Didn’t necessarily view Toriel as her mom, but still family if that makes sense? Like, she’s used to having multiple different people take care of her while her bio mom worked, so maybe Auntie Toriel would be how she thought of her? Or a nanny/teacher/babysitter she was close to?

- Unfortunately, one of the other monsters in the Ruins, after gaining her trust, kidnapped her and escaped into Snowdin with her once they found out she was human (basically convinced her to sneak out of the Ruins with them before revealing their connections to the Royal Guard.). Lost her Toy Knife during this

- After this, Toriel destroyed other exits out of the Ruins that weren’t the one in her house, and fell further into isolation+more fear among the Ruins monsters of her

- Escaped and stayed with a monster family in Snowdin for a bit

-Their house was this one cave in Snowdin that had Waterfall ground, it’s where Glyde can be encountered and is near Gyftrot’s encounter area

- a Whimsun she befriended in the Ruins followed the two when they left the Ruins, and she gave them her bow. As the monster that took her from the ruins grew suspicious, the Whimsun worried about getting too attached to Poppy and ran back to the Ruins

- Was caught again when the same person that took her from the ruins saw her and claimed she ran away from home

- In the CORE, that monster was starting to bond with her during the journey to Asgore. This caused more hesitance, which Poppy noticed and tried to be more likable despite her fear to take advantage of that opportunity later + get hurt less.

- Was able to use that monster’s growing doubts about getting her killed and more lax guarding to escape in New Home, but was caught and injured heavily by another Royal Guard. She tried to ‘play dead’, but it kinda backfired, since her soul wasn’t floating the way dead human’s do and the guard was already planning on finishing her off, even if her act did let her take them off guard enough to slash their eye with a stick

-Wasn’t able to fight much against Asgore due to her injuries, and didn’t really get the choice that Frisk did to put off the fight due to not really being able to move around much. Sorta a mercy kill?

Other:

-Chronologically speaking, she's Azul's older stepsis! He was like, a few months old when she fell Underground

-loved playing peekaboo with him, and wanted to be there to protect him as they grew

-eye color during life was hazel

-would always doodle hearts on bandaids

-favorite game was pretending to be a doctor

-favorite animal was a bear

-Occasionally, when having trouble falling asleep, hums a melody to herself that her mother used to sing for her

-Parents changed their minds and went back to look for her, but she was already at Mt. Ebott at that point. Actions have consequences, people

-She never knew that they came back for her, but she still regretted not waiting longer. She also still thought they just got lost, and that it was her fault since she was always told to wait where she was if they got separated

-After her death, Toriel went out of the Ruins for a bit to look for her, but found her bloodied shoes washed up near Snowdin’s river, so quickly went back to isolation

Blue/Integrity

Name: Azul

Pronouns: He/him

Age of fall/death: 14/14

Reason for fall: His dad, as usual, was making a huge fuss about him dressing a certain way and doing ballet since he was a boy. A pretty big fight happened, and as punishment he was supposed to sleep in the backyard for the night. He ran away to the mountain instead, wanting some time to himself. Feeling upset, he climbed higher than he usually did and found the cavern the others fell down. A bat flew at him, and when dodging, accidentally overdid it and fell

Time underground:

-Found Poppy’s shoes (recognized from some family photos) in Toriel’s house (dw, she cleaned the blood off of it). Grew suspicious and wanted to know where she was, not accepting when Tori said she was dead. Left the Ruins after that

-Liked the caves in Waterfall, especially the one behind the waterfall where the tutu was found

-Killed some Royal Guards in self defense

-The families of the guards were furious, and gathered a mob. Some of the mob found his cave thing

-Terrified, he tried to outrun them multiple times, but was always found and often injured by said mob due to SAVEing literally a few seconds before he was found

-Was eventually cornered and stoned to death, and at this point, he lost the will to keep going

-Was the only Fallen Child that never met Asgore

Other:

- Often hums a melody to himself when happy, stressed, trying to fall asleep, or just bored. It’s the same melody Poppy hums to herself when trying to sleep. His stepmom is her bio mom

-Bilingual in English and Spanish (Mexican-American)

- Loved arcades

- Loved marine biology

- Favorite animals were starfish, canonball jellyfish, ducks, and geese

- Occasionally did babysitting services, and volunteered at a daycare over the summers, so he’s great with kids

-Always wondered what his life would be like if Poppy was still around

-Before the fall, often visited Mt. Ebott whenever he needed some space. It made him feel a bit more connected with the sister he never got to grow up with, and not many other people go to the mountain due to the legends around it, so he could have some alone time

-Believed that Poppy wandered off and got lost when their parents went camping, since that’s the story they told everyone

-Was in his school’s chorus club

Purple/Perseverance

Name: Peony

Pronouns: She/her

Age of fall/death: 13/13

Reason for fall: Thought it’d be a cool place to explore and chill for a bit, and would be good for story ideas due to the many legends surrounding it. Found a cool rock she thought her cousin would like, and climbed down a bit to reach it, but the stone beneath her gave away and she fell

Time underground:

- Liked Waterfall a lot

- Befriended and stayed with some monsters for a bit

- However, one of them eventually grew tired of waiting. They made her tell the others that she was going to give her soul willingly, under threat of not being given the chance to say goodbye before being forced to the Castle. Plus, being fairly high ranking in the Guard, they bluffed that they could get the other monsters in a lot of trouble if she told anyone she was being forced

- Felt pretty hurt that the other monsters she befriended didn’t do much to stop her from ‘willingly’ sacrificing herself

- When brought to the Castle, the monster that brought her there guarded the entrance, so even with Asgore’s offer of stalling the battle to let her enjoy life a bit more, she was still trapped

- Attempted to talk him down, but didn’t work

Other:

- eye color during life was brown

- loves goth and punk aesthetics, just wasn’t allowed to do much in terms of makeup cus her parents didn’t want her to

- liked jogging around the neighborhood

- Decent grades, her best grades were in English and Science

- handwriting very hard to read due to learning to take notes quickly. At school, it helps her still take decent note while having time to write story bits. Outside of school, helps her take quick notes when something can be used as inspiration to write later. Plus, using up less space means having to buy fewer notebooks

- Posted her stories online, and she and her cousin often beta read and followed each other’s stories

- Not very expressive, but that’s due to having trouble with expressing it rather than not feeling much

- Was a bit alienated at school due to this

- Both her parents worked, so it was somewhat distant, but they did their best to still spend time as a family

- Bi

- Shows affection through giving gifts, wether written stories or small trinkets

----

Other:

I might make a different post about their relationships with each other at some point

Lol I have a some concept stuff for if Azul fell into a Dark World from Deltarune cus why not

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Daenera Velaryon returns to King’s Landing with the intention of bolstering her mother’s position and reminding both the Greens and nobility that Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the throne. She has a specific goal in mind: to be a constant source of annoyance to the Greens and is willing to play the political game without hesitation.

However, what catches her off guard is the way Aemond gazes at her and seems to relish in her suffering. He openly expresses his desire to bring about her downfall, her ruination.

This situation leads to a tense game of cat and mouse, with each move escalating the already high stakes. Will their precarious situation crumble as the dragons soar above, or will fate intervene?

After all, love often demands the sacrifice of duty, just as duty can sometimes lead to the demise of love. Characters: Aemond Targaryen X OC, HOTD characters.

Chapter 12: The Whore that Lies

AO3 - Masterlist

“This is a bad, bad idea,” Jelissa said with a quivering voice filled with anxiety, her hands twisting in distress as she paced back and forth, wearing a visible path into the stone floor. Unlike her companion, Daenera, who appeared calm and composed, Jelissa was a bundle of nerves. 

Meanwhile, Daenera sat upon the settee, attempting to stitch an intricate design of various plants. Her attempts proved futile, as the tansy resembled nothing more than a simple yellow circle, the bird’s-foot trefoil failed to portray its climbing nature and lay lifeless on the canvas, and even the coriander flower, while the most successful of her stitching attempts, left much to be desired. 

Jelissa’s apprehension echoed in her voice as she reiterated her concerns. “This is a very bad idea.”

“Yes, thank you for your assessment. I will take it into consideration,” Daenera replied dismissively, eyes never leaving her embroidery. Jelissa wasn’t the only one who gave voice to her apprehension, Joyce had also expressed her reluctance, but Daenera knew she would ultimately follow through with the plan, as she always did.

Jelissa’s worry persisted. “What if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught, but he will know.”

“And what if it goes wrong?”

“Then we’re sure to be ostracized,” Daenera answered simply. 

Jelissa came with a feeble, mousy sound, beginning to further wear a path in the stone floor. How could Daenera be so nonchalant about it? 

As the doors swung open, the three hooded figures made their entrance. Fenrick hastened to shut the doors behind them, visibly uneasy as he removed his own hood, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He had been adamantly opposed to the plan from the very start. 

Joyce followed suit, removing her hood and the figure beside her did the same. A cascade of dark curls spilled around the woman’s shoulders, thick and lush, slightly shorter and more coiled than Daenera’s own tresses. A faint, uneasy smile played upon the woman’s lips as she stood before Daenera, hands folded in front of her, a display of nervousness that contradicted the flicker of deception in her eyes. 

Rising from the settee, Daenera carefully placed her unfinished embroidery on the table, her gaze fixed upon the woman. Slowly, she circled her, observing the woman’s figure and features with keen eyes, lips pursing in contemplation. 

The room was charged with tension, the air heavy and warm. 

The woman’s complexion was fair and unblemished, her face round and plump with youthful features There was a striking resemblance between the two of them, and in dim light, Daenera believed they could easily be mistaken for one another. However, the woman stood slightly taller and broader than Daenera, and the most distinctive difference lay in their eyes. 

While Daenera possessed cornflower blue eyes, the woman’s eyes were a deep shade of gray. 

Nevertheless, Daenera’s expression conveyed her approval to Joyce, a silent affirmation of her satisfaction with the woman standing before them. 

“What is your name?” Daenera inquired.

“Selma, misstre-my lady,” The young woman answered and made a sweet, albeit, clumsy curtsy. 

“And how old are you?”

“Nine and ten.”

“How long have you been in this profession?” 

Selma released a burst of air that could have turned into laughter, her body assuming the coy posture that mirrored Daenera’s own. Coy, yet sly. The similarity between them was not lost on the princess. 

“So, you’re asking how long I’ve been a whore?” Semla surmised, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. “Since I was two and ten, princess.”

“Would you prefer to be called a whore or a mistress of the night?” Daenera’s question seemed to puzzle Selma, as if she had never been given the voice of how she preferred to be addressed. Her wide gray eyes scanned Daenera, eyes flickering as she tried to decipher the situation. 

Daenera didn’t mind the skepticism, in fact, she expected it. It would be unusual for a woman in Selma’s line of work not to be wary of any given situation, considering the risk involved. 

“You can call me whatever you please, though ‘whore’ is the most common term used for what I am called,” Selma replied, her voice calm and measured. 

She began moving around in the room slowly, her eyes darting over the surroundings, keen to gather as much information as possible about the situation she found herself in. Daenera understood as much. 

Fenrick was less allowing, positioned near the door, and shifting uncomfortably, clearly unsettled by Selma’s ease in making herself at home. His scowl deepened, resembling someone bothered by a pebble in their shoe. 

Joyce was more relaxed in posture, but her eyes never left the girl. And Jelissa was standing in a corner, swaying from one foot to another, wringing her hands in front of her, shoulders up to her ears. 

“It is not often I am invited to The Red Keep,” Selma mused, running a finger over a table as if looking for dust. “Why am I here?”

“I have a task that requires someone of your profession .”

Selma’s clips curled into a playful, if not insolent, smile and plucked one of the berries from the array of fruits, savoring its taste behind her painted lips. Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Obviously. I assume it requires deceit, deception and above all discretion.”

“Indeed, those are the key elements.” Daenera nodded, acknowledging Selma’s astute observation. “And what do you know about Prince Aemond?”

Daenera noticed Selma’s sudden shift in demeanor as her full attention was captured by the mention of Prince Aemond. The young woman’s eyes widened, her eyebrows rising and her lips parting in surprise. It was evident that this went beyond the usual encounters within the walls of the Keep. While whores were often sneaked in for the pleasure of lustful lords seeking refuge from the outside world, involving oneself with a prince was an entirely different matter. The stakes were higher, and the risk greater. 

“He’s the one-eyed prince,” Selma replied, her filled with apprehension. “I’ve heard rumors about him… and how he lost his eye.”

Daenera leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hushed tone. “Tell me, Selma, what else have you heard about the prince?”

“He’s… unlike his brother. That the prince, Aemond, is restrained, a skilled fighter, fearsome and cold. One could almost call him frigid,” Selma revealed, hesitant and cautious. 

Daenera nodded in agreement. “Yes, he possesses all those qualities. But he also possesses a sense of moral superiority and smugness. It infuriates me. Aemond carries himself with an air of righteousness, believing himself above the same vices that inflict his brother. I intend to expose his hypocrisy.”

Understanding dawned on Selma’s face. “You wish to humiliate him.”

Daenera’s eyes gleamed with mischief and she made an upside down smirk. “Exactly. Aegon is known for his indulgences in pleasure, he visits the brothels often and has a reputation of being a pervert. The Queen must be disappointed with her firstborn. I want to show her that her other son is no different.”

Selma’s eyes fixated on the heavy coin purse Joyce pressed into the palm of Daenera, greed flickering in the whores eyes. 

“And what is the task you require of me?”

“I want you to surprise Aemond in his chambers, to be discovered in a compromising situation,” Daenera informed, head tilting to the side as she observed the woman. “I want you to make a scene when he tries to remove you from his chambers.”

“What if he does not try to throw me out? What if he takes my presence as a gift?” Selma posed a valid concern, her eyes glimmering with as much curiosity as the did caution.

Daenera’s mind briefly faltered at the thought. It hadn’t crossed her mind that Aemond might not react as she expected him to do. The notion grated on her. It felt like an itch she could not scratch. Bothersome, uncomfortable and confusing. After all, Aemond was a man, and men were weak to the desires of the flesh.

But Aemond was also a man of steel and ice, a complex puzzle of conflicting traits. Daenera regained her composure and spoke with certainty. “If he chooses to take pleasure in your company, that will be your decision. However, your primary task is for you to cause a scene that will be heard throughout the Red Keep. I want to embarrass and humiliate him.”

Selma’s eyes flickered with caution. “Men can become dangerous when they’re humiliated. They may lash out, leaving marks or worse.”

Daenera met Selma’s gaze and said with assurance. “Aemond may threaten you, he may corner you, but he will not harm you. He considered himself above such acts.”

“Many men do, princess. It doesn’t always stop them.”

The assurance Daenera had given wasn’t entirely false, but it wasn’t entirely true either, and a whore knew that well. Daenera also knew the fierce look that had once glickered in Aemond’s eyes, the moment he had contemplated violence, where he had picked up a rock and prepared to swing it, or more recently, in the sept when he had burned her hand. Instinctively she brushed a thumb over the healed skin. She could never be certain of his limits, nor assured by his restraint. “He may tighten his grip on you, but he would not take your life.”

“And what of the Queen?” Selma continued. 

Daenera’s expression softened slightly as she considered the Queen’s potential reaction. “The Queen will likely want you to leave discreetly. She may even offer compensation to ensure your silence, along with a threat.” Daenera took Selma’s hand and pressed the heavy coin purse into her palm. “And if not, this should be sufficient to secure your discretion.”

A mischievous smile played across Selma’s lips as she closed her fingers around the coins. “Discretion is a whore’s most precious trait.”

With grace and precision, Aemond skilfully evaded Ser Criston Cole’s sword swipe, his silver hair swishing with each nimble movement. He dove and spun, his sword pointing at the Kingsguard as if daring him to strike again. The exhilaration of combat coursed through Aemond’s veins, his muscles primed and tingling with anticipation. Training made him feel alive, much like riding Vhagar, his heart pounding within his chest.

Ser Criston pressed forward, their swords colliding with the intent on winning. Aemond absorbed the impact of each blow, skillfully redirecting the force while yielding ground. The vibrations reverberated through his hands, arms, and shoulders, a familiar ache that no longer caused him to drop his weapon.

“I heard about the incident with the princess,” Ser Criston commented, his dark eyes intently focused on Aemond’s every move. 

Aemond pressed on, annoyance gripping his lungs tightly at the mere mention of Daenera. Ser Criston met each swing of the sword with practiced ease. 

“It was unbecoming of someone of her status to even consider something as… indecent as that. I suppose she takes after her mother in that regard,” Ser Criston sneered. His disdain for Rhaenyra and her children was no secret, even if he attempted to withhold the bitterness from his words. It seemed as though their very existence repulsed him to his core. 

Silent determination etched across Aemond’s features as he deflected Ser Criston’s sword and delivered a powerful kick to the Kingsguard’s chest, causing him to stumble backward. Aemond continued his assault, landing blows upon Ser Criston’s padded form. 

“Good,” Ser Criston complimented as Aemond pressed the tip of his sword against the Kingsguard’s chest, signaling the end of their practice round. 

A smug smile curved Aemond’s lips as Ser Criston clapped him on the shoulder, both of them breathing heavily from their intense training session. They made their way towards the benches, seeking respite from the intense training. 

“The princess has always thought herself better than everyone. It wouldn’t hurt to take her down a notch or two,” Ser Criston continued, grabbing a ladle to fill with water and lifting it to his lips. “ Once, she kicked me in the ribs. She’s always been insolent. Women shouldn’t act in such a manner.”

Irritation stiffened Aemonds movements as he began to undo the leather straps around the grip of his sword so that he could redo it again. “After you were attacked by Ser Harwin Strong.”

“Yes,” Ser Criston replied, his voice dripping with loathing. “That man had no honor. He was a meddlesome cunt.”

The vivid memory of Ser Harwin Strong overpowering Ser Criston, sending him crashing to the ground, flashed in Aemond’s mind. It had been a display of pure brute strength, each strike capable of killing a lesser man. Yet, Ser Criston had endured with a resilience bestowed by the gods, aided by the intervention of four Kingsguard members and his own stubbornness. Ser Harwin had earned his epithet, ‘Breakbones,’ for a good reason. 

And Ser Criston possessed a thick skull.

Aemond also recalled the events that led to the fight. 

“And it would seem his… offspring are much the same,” Ser Criston lowered his voice, recognizing the sensitivity of calling the princess a bastard. 

Aemond felt a twinge of annoyance at the lack of respect the Kingsguard showed Daenera, despite him calling her much worse. She may be a bastard, but she was a royal bastard, and one not to be trifled with so easily.

“She appears to be a whore, much like her mother. It is fortunate that the court is now aware of her nature.”

“Ser Criston,” Aemond interjected, his tone stern. “I understand you hold them in low opinion, but do not forget yourself.” 

“Of course, my apologies, my prince,” Ser Criston conceded, though his emotions often overwhelmed him. “Aegon should be careful, she’s sure to retaliate.”

“I am sure she will,” Aemond agreed, wrapping the leather strap tightly around the hilt of his sword, the leather groaning as it was pulled. 

Underestimating Daenera and her capabilities would be foolish. Aemond made that mistake before and vowed never to repeat it. However, he couldn’t shake the belief that any damage she could inflict would be limited. He did not have a salacious letter and his reputation would not be easily damaged. 

He had burned her hand, and in retaliation, she had poisoned his sword, causing his hands to burn and itch. 

Now, he humiliated her publicly, and he knew she’d attempt to do the same. What he couldn’t figure out was how, or when. 

Daenera had shown herself to be petty and resourceful, something was bound to happen, and while he felt apprehensive there was also a peculiar intrigue growing within him. 

As the sky turned orange and a chill descended upon the air, Aemond and Ser Criston persisted with their practice in the tiltyard. When the session drew to a close, Aemond bid Ser Criston a goodnight and made his way into the Keep. 

He followed the corridor that led to Maegor’s Holdfast, where his apartments awaited, fatigue hummed through his weary muscles. 

Aches lingered in his limbs, while the tips of his fingers had gone numb from the repeated strikes his sword had endured. His hair clung to the nape of his neck and his undershirt seemed to stick to his skin. Crossing the threshold of his chambers, he found solace in the small sitting area positioned before the crackling fire where he took his meals. Adjacent to the hearth were his bedchamber, the canopy bed itself adorned with heavy curtains that was tied to the posts. 

Books lay strewn around the floor beside the hearth, a testament to his voracious appetite for knowledge. 

Kicking off his boots upon entry, Aemond unfastened his sword belt and laid it alongside them. With a satisfying stretch and a roll of his neck, he proceeded to undo his doublet, casually tossing it over the armrest of a nearby chair. 

The hearth cast its warmth and radiance throughout the room. Typically dimly lit by candles, the heavy curtains by the windows limited the ingress of light, creating an atmosphere of seclusion seldom found elsewhere. Here, he could relish in solitude, free from the weight of expectations, surrounded only by his books. 

Lifting the flagon of wine, Aemond poured himself a cup, the bitter liquid meeting his lips as he took a prolonged swig. As he turned his gaze, his eyes were drawn to the entrance of his bedchamber, his bed more specifically. In that moment he froze, brows drawing down in a confused frown. 

There, a woman leisurely sprawled out across his bed. With her back turned to him, her dark, cascading hair adorned her bare shoulders and fell like a river of black silk down her back. The pale, smooth expanse of her skin stretched over plump yet delicate curves, the flames licking across it with wicked intent, an invitation to be touched, to be claimed. 

Perplexity held Aemond captive as he stared, his heart thrumming within his chest as a fervent fire kindled in the deepest pit of his stomach, spreading warmth through his veins. It was as if his senses struggled to reconcile what lay before him with the familiar reality he had always known. 

“Daenera?” He muttered the name, soft, gentle, confused. 

Aemond’s eye darted over the woman’s enticing figure as she sat up, her back still partially turned to him. Her hand traced the contours of her hip, causing his breath to hitch. With deliberate slowness, she rotated her body to face him fully, her voluptuous breasts captivating his attention, her abdomen smooth and alluring, and a hint of curls nestled between her thighs. 

Aemond blinked, his mind struggling to process what was before him and a fist seemed to tighten around his stomach. 

As her face came into view, he scrutinized her features. It was her face that betrayed her, with its rounded shape, the subtle shadows that emphasized her cheekbones. Her lips possessed a sharpness he didn’t anticipate, her nose slightly more prominent. Yet, it was her eyes, deep gray and distinctly different from the ones that haunted him, that confirmed the truth. 

A smile played upon her lips, a mischievous tilt of her head indicating amusement. She remained on her knees on his bed. 

Aemond snapped out of his stupor, his confusion transforming into a surge of indignation that radiated through his body like icy tendrils

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” He sneered at the unfamiliar woman who was distinctly not Daenera. The deception festered in his stomach, a churning of rage and… bitter, awful disappointment . 

“I’m here for you, of course, my prince ,” the woman purred, her voice shrouded in playful sensuality. It was a voice that didn’t belong to Daenera, and it’s very sound grated against Aemond’s core as a dull blade trying to cut wood.

“Get out,” Aemond breathed in anger and disbelief, an underlying reverberation of frustration making its mark on his tone. 

“My prince?” 

“Get out!” Aemond’s shout echoed through the room, his cup of wine abandoned on a shelf as he stormed towards the woman on the bed. It felt like a violation, and intrusion of his space. With rough force, he grabbed her arm, causing her to cry out in shock and pain. His voice trembled as he spoke, “Who put you up to this?! Aegon?”

“Please, you’re hurting me,” the woman yelped, attempting to pry his hand from her arm. Fear and confusion contorted her face, her gray eyes, so unlike the ones he desired, only added to the dissonance of the moment. 

“Who sent you?!” Aemond yelled, shaking her vigorously, his grip tightening.

“Aegon! Aegon sent me,” she yelled back, her flustered cheek and downturned lips betraying her distress. “Aegon sent me. He thought you would enjoy my company, my prince.”

“You’re one of his whores,” Aemond concluded, seething with contempt. It was utterly characteristic of his brother to do something like this. It was never enough to ruin his own reputation, he also wished to ruin Aemonds. And Aemond had been foolish to believe Aegon would have ceased to bring whores into the Keep after the last time Aemond had caught him. It seemed his brother couldn’t help himself, wholly unable to resist his own vices. 

It disgusted him, and now Aegon wanted to ensnare Aemond into his sordid affairs. 

“Please,” the whore pleaded, attempting to quell the tension by placing her hand on his chest, the thin fabric barely separating her touch from his skin. Her distressed expression shifted into a mask of seduction, with a false innocence. “Let me please you.”

She pressed herself against his body and murmured, “I can be whatever you want. Whomever you want.”

Aemond’s lip curled in disgust as a wave of revulsion washed over him at her touch, her hand sliding up his chest and grazing the tips of his hair. The audacity of her presumption made his blood boil. He recoiled, his body instinctively rejecting the woman’s advances. 

Her eyes, once filled with fiery desire, now flickered with a dull gray, lacking the unique depth of the eyes that haunted his dreams. Aemond knew all too well the truth behind those whores eyes, they were nothing more than a facade, lacking the spark of intellect and captivating mystery that had drawn him to Daenera in the first place. 

He hated the whores eyes for not being Daenera, and he hated Daenera’s eyes for being the way they were. 

“I can be Daenera if it pleases you,” she whispered sweetly.

Aemond steadied himself and met her gaze with unwavering coldness. The corners of his mouth curled into a disdainful sneer, his voice dripping with contempt. “ I will not be deceived by some cheap imitation. Aegon may find amusement in pretense, but I will not be so easily corrupted. You disgust me.”

Something snapped within Aemond, shattering the barriers that had held him back. In an instant, his demeanor had transformed from a controlled facade to a maelstrom of repulsion and fury. His eye blazed with an intensity that seemed to consume the very air around him. How dare she presume to know his desires, to imitate Daenera, the very thought twisted his features into a snarl of disgust. 

Without hesitation, Aemond seized her, his grip firm and unyielding, and forcefully pulled her off the bed. In one swift motion, he propelled her towards the arch that marked the barrier between his bedchamber and sitting room. The woman collided with the stone column, her body staggering, her hands scrambling for purchase on the cold stone. She glanced back at him with fear and confusion etched upon her face. 

Aemond was upon her in an instant, closing the distance between them. His hand found its place around her throat, pressing her back against the unforgiving stone, denying her a chance of escape. The woman’s eyes widened in shock, the same color of dirty water, so far from the elusive, unfathomable blue that haunted him. 

A grim satisfaction filled Aemond as he gazed into those gray eyes, words spoken with disdain. “You are nothing more than a repugnant creature.” 

The tension seemed palpable as Aemond held her captive, the air between them filled with fear and raw loathing. She had clearly been sent to his chambers due to her resemblance to the princess solely for the purpose of taunting him. She had wished to deceive him, to lure him into bed with the batting of her eyes, to taint and shame him. 

His grip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh, as he leaned in closer, his voice laced with venom. “You mistake me for my brother if you think I would lower myself by fucking a whore.”

“Aemond-,” she choked out.

“Do not call me that,” Aemond seethed, his face twisted with anger. “I am Prince Aemond Targaryen, and you will address me as such.”

“Please, my prince,” she stammered, her breaths coming out in panicked gasps. 

Aemond gritted his teeth and forcibly disengaged himself from her, prying his hand from her neck to snatch up her scattered garments and thrusting them into her arms. The woman stumbled as he dragged her towards the door, unable to match his long strides while clutching her clothes and trying to cover herself, teetering on the verge of dropping them all together. 

He swung the doors to his chambers open and flung her out into the hallway, with little thought on anything else that removing her from his apartments. The girl stumped and a sock fell from the bundle of clothes that she used to cover her exposed body. 

It was only then he had realized his mistake as loud gasps echoed in the hall, and he froze. 

Queen Alicent’s eyes were wide, darting between the naked girl, her face flushed and tear-streaked, and Aemond’s furious expression, his ears visibly crimson. The silence grew uncomfortable, punctuated only by the sniffs of the disheveled girl desperately attempting to shield her nudity. Her legs, shoulders, and entire backside were exposed, while her dark, tangled curls resembled more a bird's nest than what he had previously noticed. She looked like she had just rolled out of bed. 

In the light of the hallway, the semblance between the whore and Daenera dissipated like the morning mist, and the differences became evident. The whore stood taller, broader, with faint lines etching across her face as a testimony to the years she had spent in her profession. 

“Mother…” Aemond’s voice faltered as Queen Alicent raised a commanding hand, silencing him with a single gesture. 

Standing behind the Queen was lady Talya, her lips pressed into a thin line, fully aware that this was not the opportune moment to interject. To Alicent’s left stood lady Merryweather, lady Caswell, and, to Aemond’s detriment, Princess Daenera herself, her eyes widened with shock and something else. The remaining ladies either wore expressions of surprise or maintained tight-lipped composure, but Daenera’s lips held an unmistakable quirk, as if she found the situation somewhat amusing. 

Alicent directed her eyes towards the disheveled girl, naked and still recovering from her undignified expulsion from Aemond’s chambers. The Queen’s demeanor remained poised and composed, seemingly unfazed by the scandalous scene before her, though her clasped hands betrayed the tension simmering beneath the surface. 

With regal grace she addressed the girl. “What is your name?”

“S-selma, Your Grace,” the girl answered, voice quivering as much as her body was. Selma attempted a curtsy, but dropped more of her clothes. 

“Selma,” Alicent spoke with an air of authority, her tone belying the underlying anger she undoubtedly felt. “May I inquire as to what is transpiring here?”

“I… I was keeping the prince company, Your Grace,” Selma replied, her brows lifting in an attempt at honesty. She dared not meet Aemond’s incensed eye, the glare sharpening as she spoke. 

“We… We were…” Selma hesitated, leaving the unspoken words to hang in the air, allowing the audience to fill in the blanks. 

Aemond’s eyes snapped back to her, ablaze with accusation and bitter at the insinuation that something had transpired between them when it was wholly false. He clenched his jaw, hands curling into fists.

“We were in bed together, and I must have… I must have said something that offended the good prince… for he… he…” She trailed off, her hands tracing the cold skin of her arm, precisely where he had forcefully grabbed her. A bruise had formed, a visible mark of aggression. Then, her trembling hand moved to push a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the redness and bruising around her throat and eye, a testament to an act of violence. The bruises were a deep purple, and stark against the pale of her skin. 

The accusation of violence lingered heavily in the air. Aemond knew that his grip had not been strong enough to cause such bruising, and he had certainly not hit her. The accusation was a blatant lie, but why would she?

“I beg your forgiveness, my prince, if I said something-,” the whore whimpered, tentatively approaching him.

Aemond loomed over her, his face a mask of icy indifference, unyielding and unrepentant. She reached out for him, but the clenching of his jaw seemed to deter her. 

Lady Merryweather gasped, her face flushing bright red as her eyes averted to the ceiling after having caught a glimpse of the whore’s buttock marked with red and purple handprints. 

Aemond glared coldly at each and every one of them, daring them to say anything. His eye flickered to Daenera and grazed over the sly quirk of her lips, almost forming a smirk. At that moment, he understood. 

That wretched fucking bastard. 

“Please, my prince. Please forgive me!” Selma the whore pleaded, playing her role with skilled ease, understanding just how to make the performance believable. She knew precisely when to turn, when to raise her voice, when to appear pitiful and sympathetic. “I have done nothing wrong, you must believe me.”

“Hush now,” the Queen cooed, attempting to calm the sobbing whore. She shot her son a piercing glare, conveying her disappointment and disapproval. “Talya, would you kindly see to it that this girl is dressed and quietly escorted out of the Keep?”

The request was short but firm, and lady Talya nodded, gracefully moving towards Selma. She picked up the garments the whore had dropped and gestured for her to follow. Lady Talya knew exactly how to handle such delicate matters with discretion, armed with a pouch of coins and an unspoken threat. It was after all not the first time she had to deal with something like this. He supposed she never expected he would be involved. 

The Queen then turned her attention to the other ladies, offering them a tight, apologetic smile. “Please forgive me, it appears there are matters I must attend to. I kindly request your discretion. It would not serve anyone well if it were to become a point of discussion.”

The ladies all bowed to the Queen, assuming the facade of innocent, virtuous girls who would never dream of spreading such scandalous gossip. Yet, they all knew that the whole castle would know by supper. 

Aemond’s eye narrowed, the intensity of his glare cutting through the air like a dagger. Daenera’s mask of false innocence only fueled his anger and contempt. She was a wretched, spiteful cunt, who had caused all of this. And he had played right into her hands. The realization burned bitter at the back of his throat. 

“I never thought Prince Aemond would…” Lady Merryweather whispered as she turned the corner with the other ladies, leaving Aemond behind with his mother. The whisper only confirmed that the incident was beginning to circulate. It wouldn’t be long before it had spread to every corner and crevice of the Red Keep. 

Aemond and the Queen retreated into his chambers, the heavy door clicking shut behind them. As his mother faced him, her expression contorted with disapproval and concern, and Aemond knew he was about to face the consequences of what had transpired. 

“Aemond,” his mother said, her tone stern. Her green skirts swirled around her as she moved, her hair pinned up in a net of gold string and pearls. “Explain.”

Aemond swallowed the acrid taste in his mouth, this tongue gliding over the back of his teeth. His voice was strained as he spoke. “It’s not as it seems.”

“So you did not create a spectacle by exposing a naked and distressed whore in the halls?” Alicent interjected furiously. “And you did not lay with her or put your hands on her?”

Aemond clenched his jaw, his body coiled like a tightly wound spring. “I was framed.”

“Framed,” Alicent repeated, tasting the word. She shook her head in confusion. “Why and by who?”

“Daenera,” Aemond answered, unable to hide the resentment and disdain in his voice. “It is retaliation for humiliating her.” 

“The letter,” Alicent assumed. “I thought it was Aegon who humiliated her.”

“He did but I was the one who gave him the letter,” Aemond admitted. Of course, his mother had heard about the incident, he assumed it was the Lord Confessor who had brought her the news. 

Alicent stepped back, her astonishment bleeding into disappointment. She had warned him about Daenera’s scheming nature, but he had failed to heed her advice. “And now she humiliates you.” 

The muscles in his jaw flexed. “It appears so.”

“I warned you to exercise caution around her,” Alicent retorted sharply, pacing back and forth on his rug, unable to keep still. “I specifically requested that you keep an eye on her to prevent her from causing any trouble, and yet you choose to provoke trouble instead.”

“I thought hurting her reputation would send her fleeing back to Dragonstone,” Aemond said, his contempt seeping through his words. The idea of humiliation had worked in the past, so why shouldn’t it now? Rhaenyra had fled to Dragonstone when the rumors of her indiscretion nibbed at her heels. Why shouldn’t Daenera’s indiscretion cause the same reaction?

Alicent’s brown eyes softened, and she reached out to brush a strand of silver hair away from her son's face. Her eyes lingered on his eyepatch, and guilt and shame bloomed on her face as it always did when she looked at it. “You mustn't be so careless with your own honor by risking it to humiliate Daenera. It is clear that she is more poisonous than her mother, like Daemon. We cannot afford to act recklessly. We do not possess the same security that they do. We must be better than them, and I believe that justice will be served in the end.” 

He understood her implication, acknowledging her belief that justice would eventually prevail for what he had endured. However, Aemond harbored doubt, for he had never witnessed justice being served for the loss of his eye. If justice were to be achieved, he knew he would have to take matters into his own hands. 

He hated being reminded of it. 

And he hated Daenera for humiliating him. He felt it burn within him, gnawing at his senses, eating away at him and festering in him. 

“We must endure her presence and minimize the damage she may cause,” Alicent continued, regaining her regal composure. “Do not let her get under your skin.”

How could he not let her get under his skin? She was everything that infuriated him, everything that he resented, everything he was haunted by. Her mere presence was a nuisance. 

The desire to ruin her coursed through his veins like poison.

[gringolet]

This is kind of a weird question but you appeared to be tumblr’s Agravaine expert.

Anyway, is there a knight that wouldn’t want to be with Gawain but is down to fuck Agravaine?

i'm so honoured to be considered an agravaine expert. i have thoughts on this questions but no answers that i can super solidly back up with actual texts.

in terms of the knights i see most shipped w agravaine (lionel, lamorak, lancelot) i think lionel and lancelot obvs would be down to sleep w gawain but i do not think lamorak would. would he be down to fuck agravaine? i cant give you any evidence for this other than divine visions shown to me and several mutuals over the past four years. i do have one somewhat wild out of left field suggestion which is dinadan: serious beef w gawain and the orkneys but pre lamorak-murder dinadan is wierdly chill w agravaine, mordred also; at one point in the morte he plays a prank on k mark with them and he also rescues them, so are they like, friends? he deffo doesnt hang out w gawain i will say that. there are also the twelve knights at the end who agravaine gets to help him detain lancelot, thereby siding w him over gawain. however, most of them are his relatives so . hold on let me see if they r listed in the morte.

okay yes heres the passage: "Sir Colgrevance, Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Gingaline, Sir Meliot de Logris, Sir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir Galleron of Galway, Sir Melion of the Mountain, Sir Astamore, Sir Gromore Somir Joure, Sir Curselaine, Sir Florence, Sir Lovel. So these twelve knights were with Sir Mordred and Sir Agravaine, and all they were of Scotland, outher of Sir Gawaine’s kin, either well-willers to his brethren."

okay so colgrevance, gingaline, florence, lovel, and i think curselaine are all relatives of agravaine. mador de la porte is a fairly accomplished knight, whose only claim to fame is fighting lancelot, who is defending guinevere, after she is framed for the assassination of madors brother. so, serious beef w lancelot and they could bond over that, plus they both have brothers named gaheris? so thats wierd. meliot de logris is the guy who had a magic eternally bleeding wound until lancelot healed him (one of his first acts after coming to court) which actually happens to agravaine too in the vulgate, when he has a magic wound that can only be cured by lancelots blood. sir petipace fought tor in the white hart quest and idk anything else about him.

galleron is interesting; hes from the middle english verse poem :The Awntyrs of Arthur"; in it, his lands are conquered by arthur and given to gawain, who he challenges for the right to reclaim his kingdom. also not relevent but the outfit gawain wears for this conversation is adorned with rich purple cloth, burnished in gold, and decorated with designs of birds. typical gawain slay. anyway they fight (gawain is wearing green with gold griffons engraved on his armour, which is adorned with designs of trefoils and love-knots. btw) and gawain gets him to surrender, but agrees to give him some of his land back if he becomes knight of the round table, and he does. so its interesting that he later sides with agravaine (and arthur?) over gawain and lancelot. i'd say hes a fairly interesting candidate then for your question. uhh whose left

melion is an analog for bisclavret, and is acting presumably more out of loyalty to arthur than to agravaine or mordred. i have no idea who astamore is and found nothing about him from a cursory google. sir gromore is ragnelles brother who tries to kill arthur but then joins him after he guesses the riddle and ragnelle marries gawain, so hes a relative of agravaine n mordred by marriage and possibly still mad at gawain for getting his riddle and preventing him from killing arthur n gaining power.

anyway sorry that got so long but those r my thoughts, i welcome further suggestions on men agravaine could smash

[benjaminhugo]

The Rise of Retro: Why the Vintage Clothing Sale Trend is Here to Stay

In an age where fast fashion dominates the mainstream, there’s an undeniable shift happening—a return to timeless style, authenticity, and sustainable choices. At the heart of this movement is the resurgence of the Vintage Clothing Sale. From Gen Z to Millennials and even Gen X, fashion lovers are flocking to these curated experiences that offer far more than a shopping spree—they offer a glimpse into fashion history.

 

Whether you're a collector, a conscious shopper, or someone simply seeking standout pieces, the allure of the Vintage Sale is undeniable. Here's why this trend is more than just a passing phase, and how experiences like the Vintage Pop Up events and brands like Vintage Adidas are redefining what it means to dress with character.

 

 

Why Vintage Fashion Matters More Than Ever

One of the key drivers behind the popularity of the Vintage Clothing Sale is a growing awareness of sustainability. The fashion industry is one of the largest contributors to global pollution, with textile waste increasing at alarming rates. By shopping at a Vintage Sale, consumers actively contribute to reducing landfill waste and carbon emissions.

 

But sustainability is just one piece of the puzzle. There’s also a strong desire to own something unique. In a world where mass-produced clothing dominates, wearing a piece from a Vintage Pop Up gives buyers a sense of individuality and history. It's about finding that one item no one else has—whether it's a 1980s windbreaker or a pair of limited-edition Vintage Adidas sneakers.

 

The Pop-Up Revolution

What makes a Vintage Pop Up so special? Unlike traditional brick-and-mortar stores, pop-up events bring together a curated collection of rare and high-quality vintage items for a limited time. These are often community-driven gatherings where fashion enthusiasts, collectors, and style influencers converge.

 

Pop-ups create an experience. From the moment you step in, you’re transported to a different era. The racks are filled with stories—each garment representing a different moment in time. The thrill of discovering a hidden gem at a Vintage Clothing Sale is unmatched. It’s like a treasure hunt for fashion lovers.

 

Headlock, known for hosting exclusive vintage experiences, has become a go-to name in the scene. Their pop-ups feature not only clothing but also music, art, and nostalgic décor, enhancing the sensory experience and making every Vintage Sale more than just a shopping trip.

 

The Enduring Appeal of Vintage Adidas

Few brands have withstood the test of time like Vintage Adidas. Known for its classic trefoil logo and iconic three-stripe design, Vintage Adidas apparel and footwear are a staple at any serious Vintage Clothing Sale. From old-school tracksuits to retro sneakers, these items blend sports heritage with street style in a way that feels both timeless and current.

 

What makes Vintage Adidas even more appealing is its versatility. It transcends fashion subcultures—from hip-hop to skateboarding to indie chic. Finding a pair of original Stan Smiths or a 90s-era windbreaker at a Vintage Sale can be the highlight of a collector’s year.

 

The Business of Vintage

The vintage market has grown significantly in recent years, becoming a multi-billion dollar industry. Consumers are now willing to pay premium prices for well-preserved and rare items. This shift has given rise to businesses like Headlock, which carefully curate collections for their customers through events and online platforms.

 

By investing in high-quality pieces from a Vintage Pop Up, consumers aren't just buying clothing—they’re buying value. These garments often feature superior craftsmanship, unique textiles, and enduring style that new clothing simply can’t replicate. It's no surprise that vintage is now viewed as both a fashionable and a financially savvy choice.

 

Tips for Shopping at a Vintage Clothing Sale

If you’re new to the vintage scene, here are some tips to get the most out of your Vintage Sale experience:

Do Your Research: Know what eras or styles you're drawn to. Are you looking for 90s streetwear or 70s boho chic?

Arrive Early: The best pieces go fast. Get there early for first dibs.

Check Condition: While minor wear adds character, inspect for major damage or stains.

Try Things On: Vintage sizing can differ from modern sizes. Fit is key.

Talk to Sellers: Vendors often have incredible knowledge and can share the history behind each piece.

Final Thoughts

As fashion becomes more fast-paced and disposable, the return to vintage represents a desire for meaning, sustainability, and style that stands the test of time. Whether you're shopping for a statement piece or building a wardrobe that tells a story, the Vintage Clothing Sale is the perfect place to start.

 

Events like the Vintage Pop Up not only provide access to exclusive items but also foster a sense of community. Add in iconic brands like Vintage Adidas, and it’s clear why the vintage market continues to thrive.

So, next time you're looking to refresh your wardrobe, skip the mall. Instead, dive into the world of vintage—where every item has a past, and you get to write its future.

[fmp2oalexanderholloway]

Viking Jewellery

Brooch

They like brooches. fun. Starting with the top, these are both the same box brooch. Starting with the pattern on top running the circumference, it appears to resemble a type of fabric, like a rope, as a very simple embellishment to the whole piece. along the sides, this is much more complex as with several overlapping lines, though with only around one curve for each lines sections and always at a perpendicular angle, though they are still quite tight together.

the middle left is a oval brooch that has a diamond marked out which has been sectioned out into triangles from the middle, including the centre of the liens. Within each triangle there are some decorations that are more complex than those seen on other jewellery pieces, though there is only a maximum of two distinct corners in each half of the brooch. The sections dont go too over the top with the number of lines.

the middle right is another box brooch but is much simpler in its design. this has some simple decoration in the form of some raised channels that loop around itself twice before ending in a berry shape. these channels have been sectioned off into small squares along the width, creating a very simple pattern, one which is reflected in each corner

the bottom left has a trefoil brooch. I really like it whilst having an argument with it. I think there are three people depicted on the brooch, one in each segment with their head closest to the centre, but it is really hard to tell. this is in a time when humanity had not quite gotten the hang of two dimensional depictions of humans so there is some reason for it. the helmets I cannot tell if it is the whole head or if its just a conical helmet, though I doubt it, the shoulder area appears to blend into the main body and legs in a fashion that resembles an upside down atari logo and then there are arms coming from the sides which appear to be spiting fire, or tentacles. it is interesting, especially since all three have sustained different damage and likely have imperfections in the making process. but I quite like them.

I also discovered from a website that makes their own viking jewellery that these come from when he vikings were fighting the franks who had these on their sword belts. the vikings liked them and then took them home to give to their wives. They then started making their own with their own styling

in the bottom right we have a segment of a brooch that was discovered in pieces. the reason why I have taken note of this particular pieces is because it shows how they were using simple geometric shapes in order to decorate their jewellery. this pieces has taken some damage in the bottom right, though I quite like it.

Pendant

the viking pendants seem to be quite varied in style. on the left we have an obelisk shaped pendant that is angular at the top with patterns carved into the surface, the right being nothing but a smooth and shaped rock with a hole added to the top, and the middle being cast silver. With the far right, there is very little that can be discussed, but it does allow for the use of using simple stones for decoration.

for the left, there is more intricate details though it does appear to have Christian influences, going off of the cross in the middle. the patterns on the sides appear to have mostly large curves, but rarely more than one curve with a single section and in this case, does not overlap much. I did do some digging on the name that it has been given by the british museum: the mitre pendant. I have discovered that this is a type of wood working joint where two pieces of material are cut at the same angle to be combined seamlessly. I think the reason for this naming is because of the cut out at the top of the pendant.

Then we move on to the more elaborate brooch in the middle. this was cast out of silver, according to the museum, and consists of a creature gripping parts of the brooch, which is then further decorated by other animals of a smaller scale gripping the exterior. The main features I am taking note of are the details in the beams and the sections connecting the creatures to the ring. I have noticed in quite a few areas that they very rarely have a single bar with nothing inside it. Here it displays simple circles within them, though they occasionally appear to be squares. Within the areas beneath the creatures they have simple dots in the surface of the metal.

Rings

there are quite a few rings that can be found on the british museum archives but quite a few of them have the same pattern of having a twisted metal appearance, like the metal has been braided. The other common trend is for the rings to be penannular, with the ends of the material being flared in some way, either with a type of cube or with more exotic decoration. There are also images of rings with lines used as decoration, of which I have two shown here. the silver ring has much rougher lines used in comparison to the bronze one and has the centre point decorated with six lines coming to a point in the centre. while it could be argued that this is only three lines, the bottom left and middle lines do not match so this is six lines. The bronze ring has clean lines packed quite tightly together in comparison, and instead has four lines in the centre, split off into pairs, and intersecting each other to form a diamond shape. quite simple, definitely going to try to integrate this.

[a-modernmajorgeneral]

A fine, rare and well proportioned North European two handed  sword (hand and a half sword).  The hilt, which retains much of its original blackening to the iron parts, is an impressively chiselled example of the early 16th century armourer’s craft. The flat, downwardly curved quillons,  widening towards square-ended terminals, with central rope-twist decoration in raised relief on both sides, plus the deeply grooved pommel with fluted ridges, mark this sword out as a member of a distinct and unique group of North European two-handed swords. So far as we know, only six of this type are presently identified.

The broad blade is single edged with a thick spine beneath which two fullers each side extend from the hilt for 40% of its length, after which the blade is double edged and of lenticular section. Three crescent-shaped notches are applied at the end of the spine. An armourers mark of facing crescents terminating in ovals, with a further oval imbetween,  flanked by trefoils of diamond shaped dots is present on one side a short distance from the hilt. The marks are most likely of a Passau smith.

The hub of the cross is formed as a thick bar of rectangular section. The distinctive quillons are rounded nearest the block and expand in vertically flattened form towards their terminals and are decorated with raised diagonally grooved rope-like lines along the middles which are flanked by further incised lines. Two horizontal ring guard bars of thick round section are applied to the sides, each formed with two raised knops with similar “roped” finish. Beneath the cross, a downward facing round section bar of open crescent shape is applied. Two further crescents, also decorated with knops, are forged onto the terminals of this bar and rise at 45 degrees to attach to, and strengthen, the side rings.

The pommel is of upturned pear shape and formed with eight equally spaced deep grooves which radiate from the pommel top to its base. The surfaces of the ridges imbetween are cut with narrow lines alternating in vertical, and diagonally vertical form, similar in depth and spacing as the lines which form the rope designs on the guard. The guard and the pommel retain much of the original  blackened finish. The waisted stepped grip is of wood covered with leather over a cord wrap. The blade length is 41.5 inches (105.5 cm) and overall is 52 inches (132 cm) long.

These large swords were not just for two-handed use. They were designed to be used equally well with one hand by a trained user. In the 16th century such  swords were quite common on European battlefields, carried by  armies fighting wars almost permanently during a time of shifting religious  and political change. As fashions moved towards the beginning of the 17th century they went out of use and today are rare compared to the survival rates of two-handed swords of the “bearing sword” variety – large, well made, imposing and decorous, but designed mainly to be carried point up in civic procession rather than for use in combat.

One fine example, almost identical to ours, is illustrated in “Records of the Medieval Sword”, Ewart Oakeshott, St Edmundsbury Press, 1991, page 241, which sold through Peter Dale Ltd of London before 1982. The same example is illustrated in “The Price Guide to Antique Edged Weapons”, Leslie Southwick, Antique Collectors Club, 1982, page 29, fig 49).

Oakeshott comments that another sword in the Victoria & Albert Museum in London (Inventory Number M.602-1927) and illustrated in “European Swords”, Anthony North, page 6 fig 3, has an identical hilt apart from the guard having one branch.

A third example is illustrated in “Edged Weapons in Sweden”, Staffan Kinman, Stockholm, 2014, page 29, fig 26b, and is similar to the British Museum example. Oakeshott comments on another in Zurich (Schweizerisches Landesmuseum Inventory Number LM 16933). A fifth sword with similar characteristics is also illustrated in Southwick (as above) fig 48, its location unknown.

Two handed sword, Northern Europe, circa 1520

from Alban Arms and Armor

[kicksaddictny]

Adidas Revives the Trefoil for Third Jerseys of Europe's Top 5 Clubs

Today, adidas proudly reintroduces the iconic trefoil to the football pitch with the unveiling of the third jerseys for its five major European clubs.

For decades, the adidas trefoil has been synonymous with contemporary street style. Since 2000, it has been reserved exclusively for adidas Originals collections and limited-edition jerseys designed for off-pitch wear. As adidas approaches its 75th anniversary in 2025, the brand is bringing the trefoil back to the pitch, honoring its rich history in sport while embracing the growing influence of fashion in today’s game.

These third jerseys are not just about style—they are crafted for peak performance, designed to give world-class players the confidence to excel under pressure. Developed in close collaboration with each club, these lightweight jerseys feature adidas’ latest technology.

Each jersey is distinctively styled with a casual straight hem, setting them apart from the sportier home and away kits. The look is elevated with a woven-base trefoil authentic label, along with flat-knit collars and cuffs. For Bayern Munich, Manchester United, and Juventus, the traditional club crests have been replaced with unique designs that reflect each club’s heritage.

Here’s a closer look at each jersey:

Arsenal Third Jersey

The Arsenal 24/25 Third kit is a bold, fashionable statement for Gunners worldwide. With a smart crew neck collar and matching sleeve details, the jersey features the trefoil alongside the cannon crest, blending nostalgia with contemporary flair. This vibrant design brings a sense of pride and belonging to fans from North London and beyond.

FC Bayern Third Jersey

The FC Bayern 24/25 Third jersey is crafted for both style and performance. It combines the club’s iconic red and white color palette with adidas heritage, featuring a subtle all-over diamond graphic and a classic 1970s club badge. The flat-knit polo collar and FCB sign-off on the back neck complete a look that resonates on and off the pitch.

Juventus Third Jersey

Inspired by the moon’s reflection in the night sky, the Juventus 24/25 Third jersey embodies sophistication with a starry night color palette in navy blue and refined gold details. This elegant jersey features a tonal graphic, a gold ‘Juventus’ sign-off, and a gold silhouette of the iconic Juventus zebra, replacing the traditional club crest.

Manchester United Third Jersey

The Manchester United 24/25 Third kit captures the spirit of the club’s global fanbase. The red, white, and black tricolor flag, which unites fans worldwide, is boldly emblazoned across the chest. A crew neck collar and the iconic club devil crest offer a stylish simplicity, allowing fans to proudly represent the Red Devils.

Real Madrid Third Jersey

The Real Madrid 24/25 Third jersey blends timeless style with modern elegance. Featuring a dark grey color palette, the jersey showcases an engineered all-over "RMCF" monogram pattern. The flat-knit polo collar, paired with the iconic trefoil, creates a harmonious balance between tradition and contemporary design.

Sam Handy, SVP of Product and Design at adidas Football, reflects on this fusion of football and fashion: “Football and fashion have never been closer. Our adidas trefoil logo represents sporting elegance and authentic style, evoking memories for many football fans. As we celebrate our 75th anniversary, it’s the perfect time to bring the trefoil back onto the pitch, blending these two worlds seamlessly.”

Handy emphasizes the importance of extending the legacy of the trefoil through the creation of new fashion icons. Third jerseys offer a unique opportunity for collaboration with clubs, diving deep into their history and culture for inspiration. These jerseys are not just for the pitch—they are designed to be worn as fashion statements off the field as well. The mantra guiding their creation: “beautiful kits for the beautiful game.”

Crafted with performance in mind, these jerseys provide world-class players with the confidence to excel under pressure. The on-field version features HEAT.RDY technology, maximizing airflow to keep players cool. The fan version includes AEROREADY technology, using sweat-wicking materials to keep fans comfortable and dry.

With the trefoil’s return, adidas not only honors its rich heritage but also embraces the future of football, where sport and style are more intertwined than ever before.

[fabiankiss]

As part of my Red vs. Blue project, I conceptualised a gothic church, delving into the intricacies of Gothic architecture. This endeavor provided a valuable opportunity to explore diverse shapes and deepen my understanding of architectural style.

During my critical analysis, I immersed myself in Erwin Panofsky's book on Gothic architecture, further enriching my knowledge and influencing my creative direction.

Inspired by this exploration, I decided to continue the gothic theme but approached it from a distinct design and conceptual perspective. My goal was to infuse elements of technology while retaining the essence of traditional architecture, resulting in a creation that seamlessly blends both worlds.

The concept of ‘visual logic’ in gothic design resonates with my understanding of architecture as a form of non-verbal communication, where buildings convey messages through their design. This perspective has profoundly influenced my view of architectural elements as symbols that transcend their practical function as highlighted by Panofksy.

“the shape of canopies, decoration of scoles and archevaults, and, above all, the form of piers and capitals tended to be suppressed in favour of standard types admitting only of such variations as would occur in nature among individuals of one species.”

700-08145902 (no date). https://www.masterfile.com/image/en/700-08145902/interior-with-vaulted-ceiling-ely-cathedral.

Brooks, M. (2023) 'IBM wants to build a 100,000-qubit quantum computer,' MIT Technology Review, 25 May. https://www.technologyreview.com/2023/05/25/1073606/ibm-wants-to-build-a-100000-qubit-quantum-computer/.

Contributeurs aux projets Wikimedia (2014a) Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XIe au XVIe siècle/Construction -- Voûtes. https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Dictionnaire_raisonn%C3%A9_de_l%E2%80%99architecture_fran%C3%A7aise_du_XIe_au_XVIe_si%C3%A8cle/Construction_--_Vo%C3%BBtes.

Contributeurs aux projets Wikimedia (2014b) Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XIe au XVIe siècle/Construction -- Voûtes. https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Dictionnaire_raisonn%C3%A9_de_l%E2%80%99architecture_fran%C3%A7aise_du_XIe_au_XVIe_si%C3%A8cle/Construction_--_Vo%C3%BBtes.

Gothic cathedral main tower in black and white by Visual Motiv (no date). https://pixels.com/featured/gothic-cathedral-main-tower-in-black-and-white-visual-motiv.html.

Katwala, A. (2021) 'Quantum computers are already detangling nature’s mysteries,' WIRED UK, 17 June. https://www.wired.co.uk/article/quantum-computing.

Limited, A. (no date a) An introduction to the study of Gothic architecture, Alamy Images. https://www.alamy.com/an-introduction-to-the-study-of-gothic-architecture-l-winchester-ad-12221235-the-window-has-plate-tracery-consisting-of-a-quatrefoil-in-the-head-and-thetwo-lights-have-trefoil-heads-and-transoms-four-lancet-lights-with-dripstone-mouldings-connectingthem-into-one-window-of-two-divisions-each-of-twolights-with-an-open-quatrefoil-in-the-head-and-a-largerfoliated-opening-in-the-general-head-above-it-is-onlynecessary-to-reduce-the-quantity-of-solid-masonry-tomake-this-a-good-geometrical-window-windows-oftwo-lights-with-a-pierced-quatrefoil-in-the-head-are-progress-of-tracery-i-image340032161.html.

Limited, A. (no date b) vaulted centre painted ceiling roof Ely Cathedral Church Holy  Undivided Trinity principal Diocese County Cambridgeshire Country, Alamy Images. https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo-vaulted-centre-painted-ceiling-roof-ely-cathedral-church-holy-undivided-32096321.html.

[tiaramania]

Jewelry of the Princess of Wales

There are quite a few pieces of jewelry associated with the Princess of Wales that belong to the British Royal Family.  They all feature either the Prince of Wales’ Feathers or the leek.  The Prince of Wales’ Feathers are three ostrich feathers with a coronet and the Prince of Wales’ motto, Ich Dien/I Serve.  A leek is a plant in allium family (onions, garlic, etc.) that has been the symbol of Wales since the 7th century when Welsh soldiers wore them on their helmets when fighting against the Saxons.  The BRF will sometimes wear actual leeks not bejeweled ones on engagements in Wales or with the Welsh Guards.

In 1863, when Princess Alexandra of Denmark married the then Prince of Wales, later King Edward VII, the women of Wales collected money to gift their new princess jewelry. There hadn’t been a Princess of Wales is over 40 years and I guess they were a little excited because the gifts were plentiful.  They are split into those from North Wales and South Wales and they are all made from emeralds and diamonds which are the colors of the Welsh flag.  The set from the ladies of North Wales includes two brooches and a pair of earrings all made by Garrard.  It was a little hard to get a picture of the earrings but there is a diamond stud at the top that you can’t see here.

The first brooch is a Prince of Wales’ Feathers surrounded by diamonds with a cabochon emerald drop.  The ribbon at the bottom of the feathers says ‘Ich Dein/I Serve.’  The Queen Mother gave this brooch to Princess Diana when she got engaged to Prince Charles in 1981 and it was the only piece of Wales gifted jewelry that she passed along.  Diana wore it primarily as a pendant on the diamond line necklace from the Saudi Arabian sapphire set both with and without the emerald drop.  In the picture of the Duchess of Cornwall wearing the brooch below she is also wearing the earrings from the North Wales gift.

The second brooch features an emerald leek surround by a diamond border saying ‘I’n Tywysoges Ni/To Our Princess’ and also has a cabochon emerald drop.  It’s the only one of the gifts that we have a photograph of Queen Alexandra wearing and the Queen Mother famously wore it for her grandson’s investiture as the Prince of Wales in 1969.  All Queen Alexandra’s North Wales jewelry is currently worn by the Duchess of Cornwall who is the Princess of Wales even though she doesn’t use the title.

Not to be outdone the women of South Wales also presented jewelry but theirs were made by Hunt & Roskell.  The bracelet is made of emeralds, pearls, and diamonds set in gold.  There’s a big emerald in the center with a ribbon saying ‘Duw Cadwo Ein Tywysoges Ni/God Keep Our Princess’ intertwined with leeks on either side.  Then there is what I can only assume is a massive brooch made from enamel, emeralds, pearls, and diamonds.  It features a leek in the center topped with a floral design of trefoil, oak, wheat, and mistletoe to symbolize the four seasons and an enamel ribbon with ‘O Ddeheudir Cymru Iddeu Tywysoges/From South Wales To Our Princess’ in diamonds.  On the bottom are three pendants.  The left is a red Welsh dragon, the center is St. David, and the right is the arms of Wales.

I can’t find any pictures of the brooch being worn but the Queen Mother used to wear the bracelet.

Prince George, Duke of Cambridge, also gave Prince of Wales’ Feathers jewelry to the new bride.  The gold, blue enamel, and diamond bracelet was made by Garrard with the buckle section dating from around 1830 and then later mounted on a bracelet before being given to Alexandra.

In 1903, the then Prince of Wales, later King George V, gave his wife, Mary, a gold and diamond Prince of Wales’ Feathers brooch and then a year later he added a gold bracelet with the Prince of Wales’ Feathers intertwined with the letter ‘G’ and set with unidentified pink gemstones.  

In 1981, the Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths gave Princess Diana, the first Princess of Wales in 70 years, a necklace and earrings that feature the Prince of Wales’ Feathers.  They were made by Lexi Dick using cabochon sapphires set in white and yellow gold.  The set has never been worn publicly.  In 2007, it was loaned to the Kazanjian Foundation's Jewels for Charity tour and the press release said that it had been sold by Diana prior to her death but there are no other sources for that so take it with a grain of salt.  The only reason it makes sense to me for Diana to have sold any of her jewelry would be if it was to raise money for charity but there’s no evidence of that happening.

In the late 90s, Prince Charles gave the Duchess of Cornwall a Prince of Wales’ Feathers brooch with a gray pearl.  The most important outing of this brooch was on their wedding day in 2005.

And finally these diamond leek brooches from the Welsh Guards that were given to the Queen, Princess Diana, and the Duchess of Cornwall.  According to From Her Majesty’s Jewel Vault, there are three separate brooches and I am going to take her word for it.  There have to be at least two because the Queen and the Duchess of Cornwall have worn theirs to the same event.

There are some older pieces associated with the Prince of Wales but this is what I would consider the wearable jewelry, although knowing the BRF there’s probably a few more pieces in a vault somewhere that have never been seen publicly.  Right now the jewelry is kind of here, there, and everywhere and I would love to see it all brought together as a collection that is passed from Princess of Wales to Princess of Wales.  I wouldn’t expect the Duchess of Cornwall to pass on her brooch when she becomes queen since it was a personal gift from before she was a royal but it would be nice if she left it to future Princesses of Wales and whoever is the Queen would be able to keep one of the Welsh Guard brooches since there are three.  Queen Elizabeth II also has a daffodil brooch that could potentially be added to this group but the Queen would still need some Wales associated jewelry.  The Welsh government website calls the daffodil an “interloper” from the 19th century which makes me smile but you sometimes see the BRF wear it instead of the leek.  In the future I wouldn’t mind seeing some daffodil or maybe even red dragon jewelry added to the collection for the Princess of Wales but I’m probably dreaming on the latter. 

[solidandsound]

After I finished Etrian Odyssey 2 Untold, I was craving more of that Etrian Odyssey goodness so much that I went ahead and jumped into Etrian Odyssey IV, even though I'd told myself I'd hold off on starting anything new for a while. One aspect I wasn't sure I'd get much out of, though, was creating my own party rather than experiencing a set story mode. That was, of course, foolish; I am having a blast. I put a lot of thought into the backstory and dynamics of my crew and have come to love them deeply. So, indulge me for a while, as I introduce... Guild Trefoil!

Guild Trefoil, from the Latin ‘trifolium’, meaning three-leaved plant. This is another name for the clover plant, and also refers to various clover-inspired designs, such as those on heraldic crests. At the core of the guild are the three childhood friends Clover, Calyx, and Patrick.

Ship: Oxalis, another clover-like plant, colloquially known as a false shamrock. In EOIV, all airships are imitations of an original that fell to the ground long ago.

Clover, Sniper: Trefoil’s leader from the back. A fairly serious person. Orphaned at a young age when her parents set out to be Yggdrasil explorers in Armoroad and never returned. She was raised in a small village, at an orphanage for children left behind by explorer parents. She does not blame her parents; as world economies centre more and more around these mysterious labyrinths, other opportunities dry up. Her parents were doing all they could. However, she does hold a certain distaste for those who treat Yggdrasil exploration like a fun past-time, and for those who seek to profit from it at a higher level. She now sets out for Yggdrasil herself in the hopes of sending funds back to the orphanage. As someone with a high level of attention for detail, she is also in charge of the map.

Like the plant, Clover is small but resilient. (Portrait: female, pink.)

Calyx, Fortress: Clover’s carefree best friend. She, too, grew up in the orphanage for children whose parents died as explorers. Growing up surrounded by other children with competing needs led her to become patient and reluctant to complain. However, she is also slow to advocate for herself, something which Clover is quick to remedy. Calyx feels deeply indebted to Clover for all of her support throughout their lives.

Calyx is the collective term for sepals, a part of a plant that functions to protect the flower in bloom. (Portrait: female, redhead.)

Patrick, Dancer: childhood friend to both Clover and Calyx, also an orphan. Gay, maybe a little slutty. Definitely likes to have fun. Developed in a different way from Calyx in response to their environment; because he lacked discipline growing up, he isn’t too responsible and doesn’t tend to take things seriously. To everyone’s surprise, it was his idea to head for Tharsis and seek Yggdrasil. Although he pitched it to Clover as a way to help the increasingly poverty-stricken orphanage where they grew up, his real reason is tied to the boy he likes, Leif.

Patrick is named for Saint Patrick, who is strongly associated with the shamrock, a type of clover. The shamrock may have also been associated with the regenerative powers of nature; as a Dancer, Patrick is the party’s only healer. (Portrait: male, purple hair.)

Leif, Nightseeker: with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, Leif is Trefoil’s deadliest member. He seems to have had some training in combat before the beginning of the journey. However, his background is shrouded in mystery. He came to Clover’s village badly injured, barely kept alive by his sister, Kura. As he was tended to by Clover, Calyx, and Patrick, he became especially close with Patrick, and disclosed that he and his sister were on their way to Tharsis to seek out Yggdrasil. However, he would not explain why. He shared that he intended to head out again once he was healthy; Patrick did not see this ending well and offered to accompany him, soon roping his friends into it as well. Leif is a stoic figure, but occasionally lets his guard down and shows his true tenderness and sensitivity. He grows closer with Patrick by the day, but is nonetheless still guarded with him.

The name Leif is most closely associated with Leif Erikson, a Norse explorer who sought new lands. It also recalls a leaf, in keeping with our plant theme. (Portrait: male, red coat.)

Kura, Runemaster: Leif’s sister, who is even more taciturn than he is. Her greatest show of emotion seen by the party thus far was in the moments they first met, when she begged them to save Leif’s life. Since then, she has shown nary a smile. That said, she is very perceptive. This aids her in combat, as she is talented in reading the enemy, but she can also glean a lot about a person’s nature just by watching them. Like Leif, she comes to the group with prior training, showing great prowess with elemental magic. Also like Leif, she refuses to share anything deeper about herself. She shares her brother’s goals, but will not reveal them.

Named for the kura clover, or Trifolium ambiguum, a type of clover that is mostly white with red underneath, a similar colour scheme to her portrait art. (Portrait: female, short blue hair.)

(EOIV portraits can be viewed here, for reference.)

[krtart]

Tellurian Tails | 6-24-22

[Image description: Concept art exploring the function of the tail in a jerboa-like alien design. The tail is used for both balance and grasping objects. Its prehensile tip has a spade-shaped muscular hydrostat. Detailed transcript below cut. End ID.]

.

A closer look at tellurian tails! I’ve taken inspiration from the way jerboas use their tails, spider monkeys, and stable chicken heads. 

(These illustrations are all mine, but I commissioned some sketches from @bethdehart to help me sort out some design details before I got to this point! They had the very fun idea of splitting the tail tip so that it would have multiple graspers; I adapted their idea from a symmetrical radial design to something more thumb-like, because I was still attached to my original leaf-shaped concept. xD)

.

Transcription:

Stabilization reflex: Tail tip instinctively stays very steady during movement. A cup of water can be carried while jumping without spilling.

Tail will often press against the ground for balance.

Detailed image description:

The tellurian is a bipedal mouse-like creature with very long ears, a very long tail, and digitigrade kangaroo-like legs. It has glowing whiskers and a stiff glowing structure at the tips of its ears.

The tail is furred everywhere except the ‘palm’ of its grasping tip. Its grasping tip has one main central lobe, plus two smaller lobes on either side. In a relaxed position they are held together into the general shape of a lobeless elliptical leaf with a pointed tip. They spread apart into a trefoil shape, and can curl closed or touch tips to tips. 

The palm of the tail faces down towards the ground in its neutral position, but the tail can be twisted so that the palm faces upwards as well. 

[illyaana]

Tags: Angst (like a lot), Fluff (like a lot), Kaminari Denki x Reader (shoulder-length hair pls, tq), Binaural

Synopsis: You and Denki are childhood friends. When you were young, you two found this little meadow filled with wildflowers. Who'd thought your safe haven would bring back such painful feelings?

Word Count: 2812

Dont forget to check out the main masterlist of the event hosted by @kuroos-babygirl over here!

⋯⋯ ⫍ Masterlist ◍ Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

The meadow you both crouched on glowed a gold hue as your fingers grazed the soft petals of the tall wildflowers, its stems rubbing against your sides. You eyed how the soft colour dusted itself on the peach skin of the boy before you, his entranced gaze stuck on the yellow and black-coloured butterfly fluttering its wings on the white-coloured flower. You enjoyed the bright smile adorned on the innocent male as he saw the now flying butterfly dance in the pale blue sky.

When’s the last time you both did this? - just walking around this little haven you both found together a year back?

Your six-year-old self reflected on all the memories they made with the seven-year-old in front of them.

It all began here - this little prairie.

Your first friend, your first wound, your first fight, your first day-out; it all took place in this land of vast greenery dusted yellow by blackeyed susans, corn marigold and bird's-foot trefoil.

It is all thanks to the adventurous, little blonde boy in front of you.

“Why are you staring, Y/N?” Denki said, nudging you.

“Just looking at the flowers, that’s all.”

A good lie, Y/N - a skilful lie.

He looked at your finger, eyeing it. Soon your hands were in his, the soft pad of his fingers trailing on the small lines of your hands. Each crevice was examined by that soft gaze of his, playing with your soft skin. His finger stopped at the scar painted on the fleshy part of your palm, a sulk forming on his lips.

“Was this from that time I dared you to jump from that tree?” He asked, guilt laced in his whispers.

It was, but you didn’t want him to know.

“Don’t worry, Denks - it wasn’t from that dare,” you say as you take your hands away from his grip, “I picked up a rock and there was a sharp end and it cut through my skin.”

He pulled your hand back into his, stretching the skin around the scar. He tried looking for clues to make sure you weren’t lying, a stressed look evident on his face.

You chuckled, gripping the side of his cheek and pinching it.

He looked at your radiant smile and all his worries washed away.

He let go of your hand and gripped your cheek in his left hand. His thumb began to rub small circles on your cheek, admiring how you leaned into his touch.

He loved how you were so at peace and calm when you were with him. You had no qualms in wasting hours listening to his dreams and aspirations, intervening once in a while to expand on his little ideas.

But you - right now, like this - is his favourite of it all.

You looked like an angel, the light from the Sun lighting your soft skin. The flowers and the very ends of your hair softly swished against the wind, forming such beautiful scenery as he took in the view unravelling in front of him.

He wondered how those flowers would look against your fingers, your hair, your ears…

He wondered how you’d look dripping in flowers.

“Sit down.”

Denki eyed the ground beneath him, looking for flowers that reminded him of you. The softness you brought, the light mood you formed whenever you were around him, the warmth you radiated whenever you were with him - he kept it all in his head as he saw the flowerbeds filled with flowers of different species.

His eyes stopped at the Black-eyed Susans that swished with the wind.

He instantly grabbed handfuls of the dainty-looking flower, hoping he had enough for the idea he had in his head.

Using his long nails, he cut the stem of the flower right down in the middle. He split one of the sections again, making three strips out of a stem. He then slowly began to braid the stems together, weaving them into a long strip.

“Stick your ring finger out, Y/N.”

You let him wrap that small strap around your finger, a determined gaze focused on the base of it.

He then inserted the end of the weaved strip into a section of the strip, securing its shape.

He took the rest of the flowers he collected and put them in his pocket as he walked behind you.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Let me do this! I have an idea,” he said, happiness lacing his words.

In a huff of annoyance, you agreed.

He began to braid the two front pieces of your hair, slowly adding the flowers he collected. He made sure that the stems were hidden behind your luscious hair. Once he finished braiding them both, he brought them to the back of your head, tying them together with the hair tie on your wrist.

“Are you finally done?” You ask, turning to face him.

You stared at his eyes focused on you, a small blush dusting his cheeks.

Angel.

“Yeah. Thanks for letting me do this, Y/N,” he replied, covering his cheeks with his arm.

You looked like an angel to him. The way your eyes twinkled, your soft lips, your cute nose, your soft skin, your gaze - it was all so perfect to him.

“Y/N,” he started, “Promise me when we get older, we’ll marry each other?”

Your eyes widen as you quickly stand up in shock.

“The hell, Denki?!” You felt blood rushing to your cheeks, “You just can’t say that!”

“I think you’re the only one that can handle me - after all, you’re still here,” he says as he rubs his chin.

“Denki, life doesn’t work like that.”

“And you know how my life is going to work? Knowing me, I’d be single until I’m 23-years old if we don’t make this promise. I’d most probably have a sugar baby-”

“Stop,” you say, holding back your laughter, “Is that your plan if you don’t get into a relationship by 23?”

“...maybe.”

You began laughing, clutching onto your stomach as you stared at him.

“Stop laughing, okay!” he says, annoyed.

“Well, at least you have goals-”

“Y/N!” He says, hitting your back.

You take a deep breath as you recollect your thoughts.

Maybe a life with him won’t be so bad.

“If I can prevent you from thinking of being a sugar daddy that early in life, then sure; we can get married.”

He smiled, grabbing your hands.

“Thank you, Y/N!”

You both hold hands as you walk out of the meadow.

“I’m picturing you with a college girl at 65-year-”

“Stop.”

.

.

.

“You’re finally back!” said Denki as he jumped into your arms.

“Yeah, I am.”

You looked at the now pro-hero in your hands. You chuckled when you felt his small grip on the back of your loosely fit university hoodie. He pressed his head against your chest, nuzzling into the soft cotton. A small hum left his lips as you ruffled his blonde hair - signalling how comfortable he felt in your hands.

God, you missed him - it felt so wrong to leave him right after graduating from UA.

However, you have become a skilled inventor - no one could doubt that. Thanks to the guidance of David Shield, you’ve made your name in the inventing world. You came back to Mustafu to build your brand - hopefully alongside your childhood friend.

“So, Chargebolt,” you teased, “Congrats on getting into the top 10 of the Hero chart! I was shocked when I found out that you - of all people - got in.”

“Hey,” He hit the back of your head, “I’m a good hero, okay?”

“I sense favouritism but okay,” you teased again.

“Not very good of you as an up and coming inventor to tease a pro-hero.”

“So the friend label is gone? Understood, sir. Have a great day,” you say as you push him off of you.

“Fine, fine, fine. Come in.”

You walk into Denki’s new apartment and a flush of memories come.

You eyed the small pictures he hung on the wall, the little trinkets he kept on his coffee table and the way he arranged his kitchen. It all reminded you of his former home - the home near that little meadow.

You miss it - you both did.

You took out the little flower ring he made all those years ago and placed it in his hands.

“Remember this?” You ask.

“You kept it?” He said, smiling, “I can’t believe you did!”

“Yeah. I book-pressed it the minute I went back,” you say, chuckling, “Y’know, I still think about that little promise we made in that meadow from now and then.”

“What promise?”

You eyed the metal band around his ring finger.

He remembers - he definitely remembers. After all, he was the one who made you agree to it.

“You didn’t tell me we were having guests, Denki.”

Your eyes fell to Jirou walking out of a room and wrapping her arms around his waist from the back. She pressed her head against his neck, her hair brushing against it. He smiled, leaning into the newfound warmth she gave.

You saw the same metal ring around her left ring finger. The same gem, the same design, the same shape - everything.

“I forgot to tell you, didn’t I? I’m engaged to Jirou! - We’re getting married later this year.”

Of course, he forgot. It was just a simple promise you both made when you were kids. It meant nothing - nothing at all.

“I’m happy for you, Denki - I really am.”

You really were.

You are happy that he finally met someone who loved him despite seeing all his flaws.

You are happy Jirou managed to see what you saw in Denki - a loveable, amazing soul with a heart of gold.

You just wished you didn’t hold onto that promise.

You wish you threw away that rotting ring when you had the chance.

You wish you never went to that meadow.

You wish you never met Denki - not like that.

You wish you never fell in love with him.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Denki said as he hugged you again.

You don’t want him to hug you.

You wanted distance - you wanted to go back to I-Island.

You don’t want to be here.

You tried to pry Denki off of you, but you couldn’t - his grip on you was too strong.

“Denki, you’re choking me,” you say whilst fake-laughing.

You looked at Jirou who smiled at his display of affection towards you.

She trusts you - she knows how much you mean to him.

You don’t deserve it - her trust is wasted on you.

You are in love with her future husband - the very person who is hugging you as tight as they can.

“Denki, they look so uncomfortable - get off,” she said, patting her shoulder.

You want to get out of here.

You need to.

“I think I’ll head to my hotel room, Denks,” you say as you grab your bags.

“But-”

“Denki,” you say as you push him off of you angrily, “I need to go, ok?”

You look at his torn expression and guilt hits you.

But it was his fault - all of this was.

He isn’t meant to cry - you are.

And here he is, tearing just at the sight of your angry expression.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Did something happen? You seemed okay when you came earlier…”

Stop crying, Denki.

“There’s nothing wrong, Kaminari. I just need to check into my hotel room, that’s all.”

Kaminari.

“Do you want me to drive you there? I-”

“It’s okay, Kaminari. I’ll get a cab.”

Kaminari.

“Y/N, we’re good, right?”

“Why would you think we aren’t, Kaminari?”

Kaminari.

You walked out of their apartment, tears trailing down your eyes.

.

.

.

You stood in the meadow you met Kaminari, eyes closed. You took in the fresh air brushing against your skin as the smell of fresh flowers invades your nose. Your now long hair felt weightless as the wind lifted it, giving you wings.

“How do I look, Y/N?”

You stared at Denki in his black tux and smiled.

He looked amazing, as usual.

His skin looked amazing against the obsidian-coloured suit. The sunlight hit his skin so well it looked like it was glowing. His hair was tousled, giving you a full view of his undercut. You chuckled when you saw the black streak of his hair hidden under his natural yellow hair - it looked as if he was trying to hide his foolish mistakes when he was a kid. You looked at his small piercing now adorned with a purple gem, reminding you of his fiance.

He’s finally getting married.

He’s getting married in the meadow where you both spent your younger years.

He’s getting married to someone else in the meadow where you both spent your younger years.

“You look good, Kaminari.”

“Why are you calling me Kaminari? Call me Denki.”

“I can’t, Kaminari.”

It would bring back too many memories.

Painful memories.

“I don’t know why you can’t, though?”

“It doesn’t feel right…”

“You’ve been calling me Denki or Denks ever since we were kids, Y/N! Hearing you call me Kaminari sounds wrong…”

“Leave it, Kaminari,” you say, hiding your feelings behind a laugh.

“No, I won’t. Call me Denks, Y/N.”

Stop.

“Later, Kaminari.”

“Not Kaminari - Denki.”

Stop.

“I promise I’ll call you that later, now go get ready.”

“I am not leaving until you call me Denki.”

Stop.

“Kaminari, just go.”

“I don’t know why you stopped calling me Denki ever since you saw Jirou that day - it doesn’t make sense. You were my first friend that called me Denks, you made that nickname - Why are you calling me by the nickname you made?”

Stop talking about it, please.

“Please, Kaminari - let it go.”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him.

“I won’t until you tell me why. Did I do something wrong? Just tell me, Y/N. You know I won’t hate you no matter what happens.”

“Just drop it, ok?” You say, anger lacing your words.

“Oh my god, Y/N! Just tell me-”

“Fine.”

You forced your wrist out of his grip, making him fall on the couch.

“You wanna know why? It’s because I thought you remembered the promise we made as kids. I hoped you felt the way I did about it; I hoped you knew why I never got into a relationship.”

You gripped your phone tightly, not wanting to lash out at him anymore.

Why did you do that? Why today?

He’s supposed to be happy today.

“What promise, Y/N?”

A dark smile graced your lips.

What were you thinking? Shouting at him won’t make him remember.

Tears began to fall from your eyes as you lifted your face to see his worried face.

“It’s okay, Kaminari - don’t worry about it.”

“How can I not? You’re crying in front of me,” he said, tears forming in his eyes, “You weren’t meant to cry today.”

You weren’t either, Denki.

He got off the couch and began to hug you tightly. He pressed your head against his shoulder as he rubbed your back.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N.”

You gently push Denki and cup his face in your hands. You rub the tears from his eyes as he pressed his cheek onto your left hand.

“You okay, Denks?”

Just for today, you’ll give what he wants.

Just today.

“There it is!” He said, jumping on you, “Don’t you dare call me anything but Denks again.”

“Mhmm.”

You hugged him one last time before heading to your seat, waiting for the ceremony to commence.

.

.

.

You saw how happy he stood at the altar with Kirishima by his side. You chuckled as you looked at the small banter happening between the two of them, pissing off the priest slightly. Bakugo snapped at the two of them very often, telling them to keep quiet.

Still the mother of the group.

Soon after, Jirou walked in.

She wore a white dress that tugged on her amazing figure, surrounded by lace. Dandelions surrounded her, flying in the air, encasing her in pure beauty. They danced around her as her orchestra of young kids sang and played instruments for her.

You saw how tears formed in both of their eyes as they stared at each other.

Tears of joy encapsulating how much they’ve dreamed of this moment.

While yours that showed joy hid everlasting longing.

You feel cheated - not by Denki, but the black-eyed Susans that tickled your feet.

You feel cheated by the black-eyed Susans that cleared a path for Jirou to meet her beloved.

You feel cheated by the black-eyed Susans Denki used when he was young to make you that damn ring.

Your tears watered the devilish flowers painted yellow and black that stood beneath you, taking in your pain as a drug.

[silk-myth-mc]

ok so, these are the options i already kinda have + some i already decided for the flowers. These are from tomorrow so none of the last anon said, but I’ll look at them better when i have more brain later

Ren: yellow iris, gladiolus, yellow rose

Lizzie: poppy, iris

Martyn: gladiolus too

BigB: buttercup, poppy, red rose, nightshade

Cleo: petunia, bird’s-foot-trefoil, tansy, nettles

Etho: carnation, marigold

Mumbo: yellow daisy, pink hibiscus

Jimmy: blue iris

Bdubs: azalea

Joel: black rose

Grian: chrysanthemum

Scar: forget-me-not

Tango: black/red dahlia. both mean betrayal apparently

the ones I’ve settled into are bdubs, joel, grian, scar and tango, but for the fairy fort ones i am kinda leaning towards the original flowers i picked for them for my designs but i also do like the suggestions i got