#low energy recipies

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #16

April 26-May 3 2024

President Biden announced $3 billion to help replace lead pipes in the drinking water system. Millions of Americans get their drinking water through lead pipes, which are toxic, no level of lead exposure is safe. This problem disproportionately affects people of color and low income communities. This first investment of a planned $15 billion will replace 1.7 million lead pipe lines. The Biden Administration plans to replace all lead pipes in the country by the end of the decade.

President Biden canceled the student debt of 317,000 former students of a fraudulent for-profit college system. The Art Institutes was a for-profit system of dozens of schools offering degrees in video-game design and other arts. After years of legal troubles around misleading students and falsifying data the last AI schools closed abruptly without warning in September last year. This adds to the $29 billion in debt for 1.7 borrowers who wee mislead and defrauded by their schools which the Biden Administration has done, and a total debt relief for 4.6 million borrowers so far under Biden.

President Biden expanded two California national monuments protecting thousands of acres of land. The two national monuments are the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument and the Berryessa Snow Mountain National Monument, which are being expanded by 120,000 acres. The new protections cover lands of cultural and religious importance to a number of California based native communities. This expansion was first proposed by then Senator Kamala Harris in 2018 as part of a wide ranging plan to expand and protect public land in California. This expansion is part of the Administration's goals to protect, conserve, and restore at least 30 percent of U.S. lands and waters by 2030.

The Department of Transportation announced new rules that will require car manufacturers to install automatic braking systems in new cars. Starting in 2029 all new cars will be required to have systems to detect pedestrians and automatically apply the breaks in an emergency. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration projects this new rule will save 360 lives every year and prevent at least 24,000 injuries annually.

The IRS announced plans to ramp up audits on the wealthiest Americans. The IRS plans on increasing its audit rate on taxpayers who make over $10 million a year. After decades of Republicans in Congress cutting IRS funding to protect wealthy tax cheats the Biden Administration passed $80 billion for tougher enforcement on the wealthy. The IRS has been able to collect just in one year $500 Million in undisputed but unpaid back taxes from wealthy households, and shows a rise of $31 billion from audits in the 2023 tax year. The IRS also announced its free direct file pilot program was a smashing success. The program allowed tax payers across 12 states to file directly for free with the IRS over the internet. The IRS announced that 140,000 tax payers were able to use it over their target of 100,000, they estimated it saved $5.6 million in tax prep fees, over 90% of users were happy with the webpage and reported it quicker and easier than companies like H&R Block. the IRS plans to bring direct file nationwide next year.

The Department of Interior announced plans for new off shore wind power. The two new sites, off the coast of Oregon and in the Gulf of Maine, would together generate 18 gigawatts of totally clean energy, enough to power 6 million homes.

The Biden Administration announced new rules to finally allow DACA recipients to be covered by Obamacare. Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) is an Obama era policy that allows people brought to the United States as children without legal status to remain and to legally work. However for years DACA recipients have not been able to get health coverage through the Obamacare Health Care Marketplace. This rule change will bring health coverage to at least 100,000 uninsured people.

The Department of Health and Human Services finalized rules that require LGBTQ+ and Intersex minors in the foster care system be placed in supportive and affirming homes.

The Senate confirmed Georgia Alexakis to a life time federal judgeship in Illinois. This brings the total number of federal judges appointed by President Biden to 194. For the first time in history the majority of a President's nominees to the federal bench have not been white men.

[not-your-lifeline]

just got my savings from the bank.

It's been hard to manage monthly expenses and bills because of my sister eating three times more than me despite her having lower weight and not doing any excercises or even go outside at all. (also she used up her public transportation money to buy snacks....I'm telling her psychatrist)

at least things will be better for a while from today and she will move out of my house this year.

I just need to endure this for few more months to finally live in peace and quiet....

[novlr]

I have a bad habit of never finishing writing I start - I work hard on a story, make it to 3/4 of the way through, then lose passion for it and start something else. I know the key to overcoming this is discipline, and I’m trying very hard to make myself keep going with my current story that I like very much and spent so much time researching and outlining, but it’s a struggle every day to make my writing goal. Any advice for how to re-ignite writing spark or how to push through to the end?

We can lose our drive to write for a lot of reasons. It often indicates a growing maturity as an artist — you understand the craft better and your own (current) limitations better, and so you begin to feel overwhelmed in a way you didn’t before. It can also be that external anxieties are getting in the way or simply that you’ve lost interest in your current project. 

Hope is not lost. Read on for some tips on reclaiming your writing spark. 

Shift gears

Sometimes, all you need to reignite your writing spark is to engage your brain in a different way. If you’re struggling with your novel, take a break and try writing a poem or a piece of flash fiction. Or, you could try drawing sketches of your characters, a map of your story’s world, or some possible outfits for your climactic battle scene (it doesn’t have to be good. No one’s going to see it). 

The trick is to stay creative but to approach your work from a different angle. 

Change location

If you’ve been trying and failing to write at your desk, surrounded by crumpled up dreams drafts and last week’s candy wrappers, you may be suffering from an environment with stagnant energy. Try taking yourself on a writer’s date: go to a location that fits the tone of the project you’re working on (lux hotel lobby, seedy theatre bar, the wilds of a nearby park), and see if that gets your creative wheels turning. 

Dress [in]appropriately 

In Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg has a chapter called “Blue Lipstick and a Cigarette Hanging Out Your Mouth”. By this she meant, “Use outfits and props to step outside yourself and get a new perspective”. You might find it helpful to have a special “writer’s sweater” that you only wear when you’re writing or to dress like someone confident and cool enough to smash writer’s block in the face. 

Do some soul-searching

What’s really going on here? If the above tricks aren’t doing it for you, there may be some bigger issues at play that are inhibiting you from connecting to your writing spark. 

Write letters

I’ve written about the restorative powers of letter writing before, and I’ll mention it again: handwritten letters are a great way to get the words flowing. You don’t actually have to send them when you’re done (although you can if you want to); the recipient doesn’t even need to exist. Simply by putting your thoughts down in a low-risk way, you’re unclogging your creative pipes. 

Join a writing group

There’s power and accountability in numbers. You can find writing groups online, through community centres and writers centres, or by sticking a flyer up in a bookshop and starting your own. There’s even a Novlr writing community on Discord where we share tips, struggles, and just generally talk craft! By inviting other people into your writing practice, you’ll have some support and encouragement to keep you going. 

Find your writing spark with writing prompts

The internet is awash with writing prompts. These can be a helpful way to get something down on paper and stretch out your writing muscles. Whether it’s a premise, an opening line, or a character study, writing prompts can give you a gentle, creative push and even inspire new work.

Experiment with found structure

If writing a traditional story feels like pulling out your own teeth, try a found structure story. This means using fictional “found material” like shopping lists, calendars, to-do lists, ticket stubs, banking records, and so forth to create a narrative. 

Here’s an example: Imagine a week in which a bride-to-be prepares for her glorious wedding, is left at the altar, rages in misery, and ultimately emerges healthier and stronger. Now, write her shopping list for each day of that week. How does it change from beginning to end? How much emotional detail can you communicate to the reader through the items that appear on these lists? This can be a fun way to create a story without the anxiety of writing it.

Set a petty life goal

I am a proud champion of the value of pettiness as a motivator. There are plenty of noble reasons to write: to share powerful stories, to help readers in need of healing, to inspire others to write stories themselves, and to draw attention to important social issues or minority identities. 

There are also some really inane and selfish reasons to write: to become more famous than your ex, to appear on TV and make your ex regret everything they’ve ever done to you, to have your book made into a movie and receive casting consultation rights and pitch your favourite actor in the lead role and allow them to take you for coffee as a thank you. But the thing is… these are the motivations that are really going to pull you out of the dirt when you need it most. Find the silly driving goal that really gets under your skin and hold onto it for dear life. 

Forgive yourself

Many writers experience a lot of shame when they aren’t writing as much as they feel they should. Needless to say, this shame only makes the writing harder. Allow yourself the space to take some time when you need it, process your struggles, and return when you’re ready. The page will be waiting when you get back. 

[foreficfandom]

POV: You Are Actually MUCH More Powerful Than Alastor (1/2)

(Alastor x Reader, g/n, queerplatonic/sex and romance favorable, fan theories, God!Reader)

Overlords are common sinners that boast many indentured servants to their name. Some also focus on physical territory. Some, like Alastor, don't bother. After all, radio knows little physical limitations.

Every Overlord had their own method of gaining prowess. Know one knows how Alastor became so dangerous. The strongest of the lords. Possibly stronger than some goetia royalty.

You weren't sure, either, but you had an inkling.

Because unbeknownst to anyone, you weren't some common sinner soul.

You were unique. A being originating far from this Christian realm of Heaven and Hell. You were undying, or a reincarnation, or a demigod. But you kept on the down low, 'cause attention would have meant trouble.

You could feel that Alastor's magic was a dark, bloody thing, nestled deep in his chest and hooked tightly like barbed wire. It tasted like sacrifices. It smelled like ultraviolet. And you knew it was borrowed, almost seeing the leash around his neck out of the corner of your eye.

Through a shared interest in the Hazbin Hotel, you and Alastor became acquaintances. Months later, you were proper friends. You could tell that Alastor valued the kind and pure of heart, even if he also believed them pitiful. Because they reminded him of a pleasant, happier life. A hidden part of him wanted to believe in their hope and love.

He thought you were just another sinner soul, and you didn't give him a reason to know any better. You had a job as part of the hotel staff. Their accountant, or security, or maintenance. Or their head concierge, guest service agent, auditor, what have you. Something vital to the business, but nothing glamorous. Labor has always been your most successful mask.

He was growing to love again. His mortal self might have been more recipient of affections and bonds, but decades living in hell has twisted him, and you could see him despair over the lump in his throat. His defeat at the hands of Adam proved his limits. You felt him writhe for weeks afterwards, and you let him reap what he sowed.

Curious, you sneaked away one evening and drew from your well of power to step through the fabric of time, finding yourself on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain to watch a young Alastor drink the blood from a bloody corpse, and spitting it over his shoulder. Some loa watched this bastardized libation from across the crossroads, but what answered was far more malevolent.

Alastor agreed to a very dangerous exchange. He now had hold over magic impressive enough for a mortal, but you knew it to be a relatively bum deal compared to true power. He would hunger constantly for flesh just to feed its energy, which was a cleverly hidden clause to curse him further through devilish consumption. His shadow sprouted antlers and a maw of sharp teeth.

For two decades, Alastor hunted and ate. Always male victims, usually white men, individuals some might damn as monsters themselves - the abusers, the genociders, the murderously entitled. What was once a scared young man grew hollow and fat on the power.

You've seen enough. Stepping through once more, you joined Alastor in cooking an orzo for shrove Tuesday. Sharpening your gaze, you watched his reflection on the shiny metal surface of a pot, and saw the stitches embedded in his face, pulling tight and vicious.

You nonchalantly asked, "How did you become so proficient at the kitchen knife?"

"Well, I was taught that one could eat, or they could eat well," he replied in a sing-song voice. "And practice makes perfect! Hunger is truly the best teacher."

The meat he was pairing was pork, but you knew he's served human flesh for dinner at least once before. You didn't say anything, because they'd grow suspicious at how you could possibly know from just the smell.

Alastor allowed only you to join him in cooking, partly because he favored you so much more, also because you were a right hand at making a meal. You didn't mention that millennia of existence made one a right hand at any skill.

And tonight, he would begin to see it.

Leaving the broth to simmer, you grabbed a small pairing knife and one of the tomatoes. Instead of simply coring and slicing, you inserted 0.013'' of carbon, chromium, and manganese right between where the molecular cells of epidermis ended at the pericarp. In a single momentum of both your knife and the tomato, the skin was perfectly peeled within two rotations.

Alastor wasn't even looking at you. But he froze over the cutting board, rictus smile sharp.

You haven't even used magic yet.

Both the tomato epidermis and its flayed flesh were completely free of any trace of the other, so in one hand, you ignited the skin to transmogrify into a tiny figurine made out of its glycerin wax. In the other, the tomato was sacrificed in a hole of light-bending void for its animal equivalent - the tiny heart of some small animal, possibly a bird or an amphibian, beating calmly as if alive.

Alastor slowly turned his head to watch as a miniature wax replica of himself held the heart in both shaking hands, before doubling over to devour it whole, its relative size and gore very reminiscent of a large, juicy tomato.

A picture perfect snapshot of his fifth or sixth murder while alive. Some world war veteran that still longed for the battlefield and had exercised his frustration upon his mother and younger siblings. The man might have been rotten, but his warrior's blood had burned hot and nourished Alastor's gaping void particularly well.

(NEXT)

[shesthespinstersimmer]

Commencement / Copperdale (3)

Flawless finish, per usual. Maia finished at the top of her class; as a result, becoming the first recipient of the Levesque Medical Trust, a grant that pays for top medical students to pursue their specialty - as well as offer opportunities to shadow professionals already in the field.

Her mother, Jai is over the moon, but not surprised; Maia has stayed focused and has done everything she’s asked of her. The big question now is: should she tell her mother the whole truth about her and Elsa, or just let it float until after she gets her degree?

As for Elsa, she’s already told her family about Maia and they can’t wait to meet her in person. Her father Bjorn and her mother Clara have always taken a rather casual approach to parenting; they feel that children need space to discover themselves. As for their relationships? They trust them to make the decisions that bring them joy.

When it comes to her education, Elsa has decided to study Eco Science to make the world a cleaner, safer place. She hopes to partner with her father, eventually to help him reduce the carbon footprint of his builds, innovating things like water and energy conservation.

Devi is very excited to be in the principal company at BLab this year; it will be a challenge to do that and keep up with her studies, but she feels she’s up to the task. The good news is, her work with the company will provide credits to her degree as well.

Her Daadee Geeta and her Mama Alcina are pretending to be OK, but their acting skills are terrible. Devi gets it - it’s to be expected when the baby goes off to Uni. Luckily, they have the grandbabies to keep them distracted. Her Paapa Raj just keeps cooking; he’s been prepping food for her to take to the dorms - his special way of showing love.

As for dating? She agrees with sister Saanvi - the right opportunity will present itself in just the right time.

Aquib initially moved in with his brother Mehdi for his education, but low-key to get away from their strict parents a bit. While Mehdi allowed him to be a little freer, he did stress the importance of a good foundation. Together they came up with a compromise – Aquib will be studying medicine, while minoring in holistic medicine - that gives him a chance to pursue his interest in nontraditional forms of healing. That should also appease his parents who can then brag that their son has a degree in medicine. 

As for Devi, he believes he’s making progress; after all, she’s agreed to be his date to his brother’s wedding 🥰

Previous / Next / Beginning

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

The Energy Department said on Thursday that it planned to offer $22.9 billion in loan guarantees to help eight electric utilities around the country modernize their power grids, add large amounts of renewable energy — and pass along any resulting savings to customers.

The deals amount to one of the biggest commitments ever made by the department’s Loan Programs Office, which under President Biden has already doled out tens of billions of dollars for battery factories and other low-carbon energy projects.

As part of the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act, Democrats in Congress handed the office $250 billion in loan authority to repurpose or replace existing energy infrastructure in order to lower air pollution and reduce planet-warming emissions. So far, the office has used that authority to back efforts to restart a shuttered nuclear reactor in Michigan and to help California’s largest utility upgrade its electric grid.

The new loan guarantees, which still have to be finalized, are even more far-reaching. They are meant to help utilities that serve more than 14.7 million people across 12 states upgrade aging transmission lines or build new ones. Doing so, the office said, would help power companies tap into more wind, solar and hydroelectric power while improving grid reliability.

In Michigan, DTE Electric and DTE Gas would receive loan guarantees totaling nearly $9 billion to install thousands of megawatts of solar, wind and batteries and to replace existing gas pipelines in order to reduce leaks of methane, a potent greenhouse gas.

In the Pacific Northwest, PacifiCorp would receive a $3.52 billion loan guarantee to help build 700 miles of new transmission lines in Idaho, Oregon and Utah, with the aim of using more renewable energy and cutting emissions.

In Iowa and Wisconsin, Alliant Energy and its subsidiaries would receive a $3 billion loan guarantee to add more than 2,000 megawatts of wind power and batteries to the grid. The utility is planning to close a large coal-fired power plant by 2030.

Other recipients include Consumers Energy in Michigan; Jersey Central Power & Light in New Jersey; and AEP, which serves Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, Oklahoma and West Virginia.

[mblue-art]

Y-yeah I meant headcannons 😔

oke anon :]

.

Strawberry!Nightmare HCs below:

— Please don't try to literally eat this man??? (Maybe some playful nibbling is allowed. He'll humor you and be your temporary chew toy until he decides it's enough.)

— Yes he can and will be all cute and adorable whenever he wants. Will uwu-speak if it means the recipient will suffer/cringe from it. (If you enjoy it, then... well. That's alright, but he still needs negative energy to feed from...)

— He has to be charming. He has to be good at talking. Has to sweep someone off their feet, by words or tentacles. Know how to push the right buttons.

— Feels nice when he's being genuinely nice to you, huh?

— A liiittle unhinged. 'Two shots of vodka' (/ref) kinda crazy. We like our outcode skeletons a bit cray<3

— Like OG Nightmare, he also likes to read. He hums and makes small reaction noises during a reading session.

haha what if he has a deep/low voice like how others hc nm having it too—

— '👉👈 would he read a book out loud to me' ...yes, perhaps...... but give him a good reason why he should do that, dear.

— He's a NM variant; surely he has to own a couple of suits, yes? A fancy n formal side in his wardrobe, something a lil creative and related to his strawberry theme,,

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood - 67

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….

Chapter 67: The Daughter of Insolence

AO3 - Masterlist

Gently closing the door behind her, Alicent turned to see Aemond seated by the hearth, his face cast in a warm, orange flow that softened the sharp lines of his face. His fingers twitched restlessly, betraying an underlying sense of unease. 

Crossing the room, Alicent chose the chair adjacent to her son and sank into it, letting out a weary sigh. Her gaze drifted to the dance of the flames, while a nagging headache began to stake its claim, her thoughts swirling in a  tumultuous mix of duties and plans yet to be executed. With so much looming come morning, the current moment of silence offered a brief respite, a chance to ponder the dawn’s impending challenges. 

The quiet between them lingered before being gently fractured by Aemond’s soft-spoken words, his voice so low it nearly melded with the hiss and pop of the fire. “I went to Viserys. I saw him the night of…”

Alicent turned towards her son, a heaviness descending upon her heart as she digested his admission. A surge of apprehension gripped her, a fear of the unknown conversation they might have had, fear of the declarations Viserys might have made. “Why?”

Aemond appeared to shift uneasily at the question, his hands moving with nervous energy. “It’s irrelevant now.”

A furrow of concern formed on Alicent’s brow as she observed him intently, the firelight casting his face in a glow that softened his edges yet seemed to shroud his inner thoughts in shadows. His unusual decision to seek out his father, especially on the very eve of his death, puzzled her. It wasn’t like Aemond. Its importance was undeniable, instilling a sense of foreboding in her as she speculated it involved Daenera. 

Alicent absentmindedly traced a nail along the skin of her thumb, the repetitive action providing a strange sort of solace. It appeared her son’s restlessness had crept under her skin as well. “Did he say anything?”

“He called me a plague sent to destroy him,” Aemond answered, his tone devoid of amusement, laden with the fresh hurt those words inflicted. 

A sharp pang of empathy pierced Alicent’s heart, the harshness of such a declaration embedding itself within her as though a blade had been thrust into her back. The agony stemmed not solely from the cruelty of the remark but from the knowledge that Aemond had been its recipient. A wave of sorrow for her son washed over her, creating a fissure in her understanding of Viserys. The disparity between the man she knew and the one who would utter such words to their child left her grappling with disbelief and heartache–and yet, it was not the first time he had levied cruel words at their children. 

Despite her turmoil, Alicent instinctively sought to rationalize her husband’s behavior, adhering to the role of a supportive wife. 

“That’s,” she began, struggling the comprehend the reason behind Viserys’s harsh words to their son, “You must remember, Viserys was under the effects of the milk-of-the-poppy. It’s  not like him to–”

“You needn’t defend him any longer,” Aemond cut her off decisively, to which Alicent let out a weary sigh, her fingers momentarily pressing against the bridge of her nose in a gesture of fatigue and resignation. 

“I’m relieved that he’s gone,” Aemond declared, his words sharp with the bitterness of a son wounded by his father’s actions. And how could he not be bitter? But still, he shouldn’t say such a thing. 

“Don’t utter such words,” Alicent chided, her voice tinted with worry. She couldn’t bear to hear Aemond express such sentiments; it wasn’t proper. “He is still your father, despite everything. 

“I refuse to grieve for him,” Aemond stated, turning to lock eyes with her, the firelight casting his face in a dramatic interplay of light and shadow. The contrast accentuated the harsh lines of his face, with one side obscured by the eyepatch, the vivid scar etched into his skin glowing as if aflame. “I feel no sorrow. Why should I? In his eyes, I was a monster–a plague sent to destroy him. He couldn’t even stand to look at me.”

Alicent’s heart shattered anew for her son. Beneath his stoic exterior, the depths of his pain resonated through his words, mirrored in the contours of his face. She felt a tightness in her throat as she fought back tears, the weight of sorrow pressing down on her. 

Memories flooded back–of gripping his hand tightly while the Maester painstakingly removed the damaged eye, of being by his side as the wound was stitched together, enduring the agony of having the wound reopened for thorough cleansing to prevent any infection that might corrupt his blood. She was there, holding his hand as the Maester excised a portion of his eyelid and meticulously cleared the socket of burgeoning scar tissue to insert the sapphire, all while Aemond’s body writhed in feverish torment, his skin burning, sweat matting his hair to his fever-flushed face. And through it all, she vividly recalled the absence of Viserys. 

Alicent had resented him for his absence, for what he had allowed their son to go through. Viserys had withheld the justice his son was rightfully due and chose to ignore the anguish he had permitted Aemond, his son, to endure, acting as though the harrowing experience had never taken place. 

Yet again, she frequently found herself trying to excuse his failings. It was Viserys, after all, who had given Aemond the eyepatch and had instructed the Maesters to spare no effort in ensuring his survival through the fever. He bought him a new sword and sent for books to arrive from the Citadel. He had tried, even as he couldn’t look at him.

“Your father was a weak king,” Alicent acknowledged, pausing to close her eyes briefly, a gesture of contemplation and resignation. When she looked again, her focus was drawn to the fire. “He wasn’t one to face his shortcomings. But he was a… decent husband and father…”

“He failed us,” Aemond declared, his voice laden with resentment, each word an indictment of his father. “He failed you as a husband. He favored Rhaenyra over us–were blind to the nature of her bastards. He was weak and he never cared for us. You were more of a servant to him than a wife. You needn’t excuse or defend him any longer, Mother.”

“Aemond,” Alicent responded, her sigh carrying the weight of exhaustion.

“He always hated us, his own children,” Aemond persisted, his words dripping with resentment and bitterness. “He could barely acknowledge our existence.”

It hadn’t always been like that, Alicent thought. Or, perhaps, it had been and she had just failed to see it. There had been a time, she knew, where there had been glimpses of happiness–of love.

Viserys had been a decent father, though not an exemplary one. The joy and pride he had displayed upon the birth of Aegon were vivid in her mind–his elation at having the long-desired son were moments she cherished. She had done her duty, born him a son, an heir–only for the succession to never change. Helaena’s arrival had brought happiness too, though she had been a fussy child. Yet, by the time Aemond was born, Rhaenyra gave birth to her own son, Jacaerys, not long after. Viserys had never been prouder or happier than at the birth of his first grandson. Even as, with each birth, it became clearer and clearer that they were not her husband’s but instead the illegitimate children of House Strong.

Viserys had been blind with a love he had never afforded anyone else. 

She had devoted herself to be his wife; her youth, her innocence, birthing the son he had ardently wished for, and given him more still. And yet, her contributions seemed to always pale in comparison to Rhaenyra. 

Aegon was the son Viserys had wanted, he was the boy her father had demanded of her. He was supposed to be for the crown. And Helaena was made to be the future Queen. Aemond was the spare. And Daeron, her youngest, he had been her solace until Otto made the decision to send him away to be nurtured in Oldtown. 

“He never hated you,” Alicent responded, her voice imbued with a gentle, contemplative quality. Extending her hand towards Aemond, she laid it tenderly on his arm, offering a reassuring squeeze. “Your father loved you and I will not have you deny him this. He loved you.”

“But we were never them,” Aemond mused softly. 

“No,” Alicent conceded with a note of solemn agreement. “We were never them.”

Despite everything, there was undeniably love for their children. He did hold affection for them, somewhere, yet Alicent could never measure up to Aemma’s memory, haunted by her ghost for years. And Aegon could never replace the son he lost. His love for them was shadowed by the ghosts of those he had lost, and the sweetness of recollection–for no one could ever measure up to the memory.

The affection he held for them could never compare to the love he had for Rhaenyra and her children. 

Alicent had poured her essence into embodying the ideal wife for Viserys, the perfect daughter for her father, and the loving mother her children deserved. Yet, it was never enough. 

All these things she had toiled with, seemed to come so easily to Rhaenyra. 

Alicent stared at the flames. “The hour grows late; you should try and find some rest before morning.”

Inhaling deeply, Alicent rose to her feet, a profound fatigue embedding itself into her very bones, her muscles protesting with stiffness and soreness after the day’s exertions. Her footsteps echoed a soft click against the floor as she approached Aemond, pausing before him. Bending forward, she murmured, “I’ll go see to Aegon, and make sure he has not met with any further mishap.”

Gently, she kissed the crown of his head, then retreated a step. Together, they navigated the quiet of the room, stepping into the corridor where shadows seemed to dance in the dim light. 

With a comforting squeeze to his arm, she advised, “Do not go roaming the halls. Get some rest, it will be a long day on the morrow.”

Leaving Aemond at the entrance to her chambers, Alicent continued down the corridor, her path veering towards Aegon’s chamber, the weight of the coming day already pressing on her shoulders. 

Gently pushing open the doors to her son’s room, Alicent stepped inside, immediately greeted by the sound of tranquil breathing indicative of deep slumber. Aegon was exactly where she had left him, sprawled on his stomach with half of his face buried in the pillow, an arm dangling over the edge of the bed as his lips were slightly open, inhaling and exhaling rhythmically. Ser Arryk Cargyll maintained the quiet watch near the doorway, his presence a silent guard for the prince’s restful state, while Lady Mertha busied herself with arranging his attire for the morning, each piece placed meticulously on a nearby table. 

Alicent ventured closer to Aegon, observing him with a mix of tenderness and contemplation. In these moments of repose, he appeared almost a child, his youthful innocence unshielded. The usual harsh lines of discontent that seemed to etch his features were absent. 

Back when he was an infant, Alicent often found herself watching him sleep, finding a peaceful solace in his quietude that starkly contrasted with the turmoil of his waking cries. 

She tenderly swept his hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering on his skin with a gentle touch. In the hush of his slumber, Alicent found him more endearing, easier to love. In these tranquil moments, his presence did not test the bounds of her affection. 

Though his arrival into this world has been quick and marked by an ease that belied the challenges to come, loving him had not been as straightforward. In his infancy, despite his frequent cries that seemed to echo her inner disquiet, he was more manageable. Alicent had endeavored to imbue him with a sense of duty from a young age hoping to enlighten him about his crucial role and the immense potential that lay within him–on his shoulders rested their family’s future and fortunes. However, as he matured, he grew defiant and stubborn, mirroring the less admirable traits of his father without exhibiting redeeming qualities to counterbalance them. Yet, deep down, Alicent held a conviction about the greatness he was capable of achieving. He could rise to be a great king;  she believed this was their divine purpose, the reason the gods had granted her a son. 

Aegon shifted in his sleep, drawing a deep breath before rolling away, his face turning from Alicent’s gaze. 

Silently retreating, Alicent caught Lady Mertha’s attention with a glance, subtly nodding towards the doorway as a signal to depart. The lady’s maid heeded the unspoken command, accompanying Alicent out into the corridor. The door clicked shut behind them, casting shadows that swallowed them in near-total darkness. Side by side, they navigated the silent, expansive corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast. 

“Have the preparations for the Princess’s chambers been completed?” Alicent inquired, clasping her hands together in a composed gesture. 

“All has been removed, Your Grace,” Lady Mertha confirmed. “However, I would suggest it prudent to delay her relocation until she proves worthy of such privileges.”

“We shall have her moved back to her chambers regardless, to avoid any impression of punishing her,” Alicent decided, her voice carrying a tone of finality. Their footsteps resounded against the stone floor, their presence briefly filling the grandeur of the great staircase, sounds bouncing off the high ceilings and stone walls as they descended. 

“Over the many years of your service, you have been loyal to me,” Alicent began, her voice imbued with gratitude. “Your devotion and integrity are qualities I deeply value, especially now, as we face a challenging task. The princess is headstrong and defiant, much like her mother, and she requires someone with a guiding yet steadfast hand to lead her on the right path. I entrust her to your supervision, to ensure she does not become a thorn in our side. It is imperative she is never left unattended; her propensity to evade supervision has already caused us enough concern. We cannot risk her escape or any… rebellious actions.”

“I cannot oversee her at all times on my own,” Mertha pointed out. 

“Guards will be posted at her door constantly and will accompany her wherever she goes,” Alicent assured. “Additionally, you can enlist one of the newer maids for assistance–one that understands to keep her out of trouble.”

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Mertha accepted the charge, giving a short nod. 

“I intend to have a word with her first, after which you may escort her to her chambers for the night. You’re dismissed to make the necessary arrangements,” Alicent directed. 

With a respectful nod, “Your Grace,” Mertha bowed slightly before departing, her steps echoing as she retreated through the stony silence of Maegor’s Holdfast. 

Alicent then continued her own path through the courtyards and into the Keep. 

Winding through the halls within the Keep, Alicent ascended the serpentine staircase leading to the west wing, only to discover it was not as abandoned as she had hoped. The sight of her son, poised outside Daenera’s chamber, caused her heart to constrict.

The guard stationed by the door seamlessly merged into the darkness as he neared her, his steps echoing. Their gazes intersected for a fleeting moment, and with a subtle shake of her head, Alicent signaled her wish to remain unseen. Complying, the guard repositioned himself against the wall, still close enough to the princesses' confinement to keep watch, his gaze fixed forward, effectively rendering her invisible. 

Alicent’s eyes lingered on Aemond, who stood transfixed by the door, his only movement the restless twitch of his fingers. 

As he inched closer to the entrance, a wave of dread washed over her, the prospect of him defying her wishes once more–for Daenera’s sake–weighing heavily on her. The possibility of him crossing that threshold yet again stirred a deep unease within her. 

A sense of foreboding enveloped Alicent, a chilling fear that Aemond was drifting beyond her grasp. Dread wrapped its cold hand around her heart, clutching it tightly. The notion of losing him, especially to Daenera, was unbearable. Aemond had always been the one she could lean on, the steadfast son whose loyalty to his family and duty overshadowed any personal desires. Yet, now, his resolve seemed to falter–all because of her. 

Months had passed since Alicent discovered the affair, and an equal amount of time since she had told him to end it. Yet, as the moon had turned, it became apparent that her son’s defiance remained constant. She knew him to be willful, bold even, but she never thought he would be this spiteful. Despite her clear instructions and explicit command to end the fling and commit himself to a more suitable union, he persisted in his disobedience. She had extended him the courtesy of choosing his own wife, a rare privilege. Nonetheless, against all counsel and her express wishes, he continued to choose Daenera. 

She observed him with both concern and disbelief as he leaned closer to the door, his face momentarily swallowed by the shadow it cast. Alicent felt a knot tighten in her throat at the sight. The influence the princess had exerted over her son perplexed her; it was as if Daenera had bewitched him, woven a spell around him to lure him from all that was right, to steal him away from his family and duty. 

Alicent harbored no illusions about Daenera’s intentions. She was convinced that the princess would exploit Aemond’s affections, attempting to sway his loyalties away from his family. And should those efforts prove fruitless, as Alicent knew they would be, Alicent, too, recognized the vindictiveness in Daenera’s nature. In her heart, Alicent feared Daenera’s influence would lead her son down a path of misery and regret. 

Alicent’s deepest wish for her children as for them to claim what was rightfully theirs, to lead lives filled with prosperity and seize the moments of happiness whenever possible. She had hoped that Aemond would secure a future that was not only joyous but also stable, perhaps with a Baratheon girl as his wife–someone who recognized her role. It could even have been a Lannister if he so wished, or a Tyrell. Anyone but Daenera. 

For a fleeting moment, Alicent speculated if the gods had sent Daenera to test them, to test their strength and perseverance–or if it was some sort of punishment. 

Aemond pulled away from the door after a long, lingering moment, his posture straightening as if resolving himself. He stared at the door for a moment longer before he exhaled and then turned to retreat down the hall.

Alicent watched him as he slipped into the darkness, watched as the light failed to penetrate the encroaching shadows that eventually enveloped him, his presence reduced to the fading sound of his footsteps until he vanished entirely. After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped forward from her concealment, her heart thrumming with apprehension. The guard followed her and proceeded to unlock and open the door for her, then stepped aside to grant her entry. 

Poised on the threshold, Alicent felt a brief sense of relief at her son's withdrawal. Perhaps she shouldn’t be too concerned with him. 

The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the hearth, casting an interplay of warmth and chill in the air–a testament to the fire’s inability to fully dispel the cold entirely. The air felt old and stale, carrying a dampness that lingered unpleasantly in the throat. 

Alicent stopped forward into the chamber, her gaze immediately drawn to the figure slumped in a chair, enshrouded in a black cloak that was all too familiar. The girls attention seemed fixated on the fire, unfazed by the sound of the door opening, and it gave Alicent the opportunity to study her. Her hair hung in unruly curls and strands, a smear of red on her cheek and on the fingers that continuously fidgeted with something in her hand. 

For an instant, Alicent didn’t see the defiant girl she had braced herself to confront. Instead, she glimpsed a figure that might invoke pity. However, as the girl shifted, locking eyes with her, Alicent was met with that unmistakable contempt, a flame as fervent as the one crackling in the hearth–an insolent daughter of an insolent mother. What struck Alicent even more deeply was the girl’s dismissive return to watching the flames and her biting remark, “Please excuse the absence of courtesies, Your Grace. It appears that unjust confinement has a way of eroding such formalities rather swiftly.”

In the dimly lit chamber, Daenera sat alone, the passage of time marked only by the sporadic delivery of meals. The routine of food arriving – once at what she assumed to be mid morning, then again at noon, and then with the in the evening – was her only indicator of the day slipping by in her confinement. The hours stretched endlessly, each moment an eternity. 

Daenera idly turned over the golden coin in her hand, its edges catching the dim light as she sat curled in the chair watching the dying hearth. She kept the coin in perpetual motion, a solitary distraction from the oppressive silence that enveloped her. It was a silence so profound that it seemed to amplify the whir of thoughts racing through her mind. 

Daenera’s relentless search for an escape had left no corner of her chamber unexplored. She had searched every inch of the walls, delved under the bed, rummaged through the contents of the closets and cupboards, only to be met with stark disappointment. The room, in its desolate state, offered no hint of salvation. Lacking weapons or tools, she found herself devoid of means to force the door open or defend herself. The realization of her utter confinement then sank in.

Exhausted and defeated, she had finally settled back down in front of the hearth. The cloak wrapped around her offering only a little comfort against the chill. The cold had seeped through the floor, numbing her feet and creeping into her body, and she had drawn them up on the seat in an attempt to regain some warmth in them. 

Memories, unbidden and sharp as blades, sliced through her thoughts. Her mind replayed the horrific scene of Ser Criston Cole’s sword impaling Joyce, the vibrant red blood that had marred the blade, and the dark pool that had spread like a macabre shadow on the floor. The visceral memory of the warm, sticky blood on her fingers haunted her, and her hands still bore the grime of it, the blood brown and crackling. 

Her thoughts raced chaotically. Fenrick, her men, Jelissa, and Patrick – their fates hung in the unknown. Were Meraxes sailing towards Dragonstone or had they been apprehended before even leaving the docks? She wondered if anyone had dared to defy the Hightowers, if anyone had found the courage to inform her mother of the dire circumstances.

Her mind moved towards her grandsire and wondered with a mixture of dread and sorrow about his final moments. Was his passing a cruel act of murder, or had the relentless embrace of death finally claimed him in its natural course? Was his death as brutal as Joyce’s or was it kinder in its swiftness?

Her mind was haunted by the images of what might have become of his body. Were they bestowing him the funeral of a Targaryen king, or had they consigned him to a more humble interment, following the traditions of the Faith?

Daenera felt a sharp pang of sorrow clenching her heart, resonating deeply within her chest, and she pulled the fabric of the cloak more snugly around her, seeking a semblance of comfort in its folds.  Where was Aemond in all of this? Did he know of her confinement in this desolate chamber? Would he even care?

As she continued her musing she idly toyed with the coin, turning it between her fingers. Her thumb, in a repetitive motion, traced the coin’s thin edge, feeling each notch and curve as if seeking solace in its familiar metallic coolness.

Tears, not unfamiliar to her eyes in recent days, threatened to spill again. She despised this feeling of helplessness, the gnawing isolation that enveloped her. She loathed the way she clung to the cloak as if it were the only thing keeping her sane, its scent a bitter reminder of a freedom now lost. The dirt and grime on her skin, and the memory of Lary’s leering gaze and the humiliation he inflicted upon her – lingered like a foul taste in her mouth. 

Daenera detested this feeling of being a bird trapped within a cage, her wings clipped, her sky reduced to the expanse of a ceiling. Most of all, she hated the way her mind incessantly circled these thoughts, trapping her in a relentless cycle of despair and anger. 

The room’s oppressive silence was suddenly broken by a soft click, followed by the gentle creak of the door as it swung open. A narrow beam of light sliced through the dimness, accompanied by a fresh gust of air that briefly challenged the room’s stale atmosphere. Daenera’s gaze immediately darted towards the entrance, focusing on the woman who had come to retrieve the untouched tray of food. It was the same woman who had brought it earlier, her movements efficient.

The older woman methodically tended to the hearth, stirring the dying embers into life and adding more firewood, coaxing the flames to grow. After ensuring the fire’s vitality, she turned her attention to the chamber pot, lifting it with practiced ease and disappearing momentarily to dispose of its contents outside. 

Daenera had attempted to engage with the woman in conversation during her earlier visit, seeking even the slightest of human connection in isolation – to pry information out of her, anything about what was happening outside. 

But her efforts were met with silence; the woman remained resolutely mute, responding to none of her inquiries or pleas. Eventually, Daenera had ceased trying, resigning herself to silence and so, she remained silent this time as well.

She stayed close to the hearth, watching as the flames consumed the new firewood. The heat it offered was hardly enough, but it provided a small respite from the bone-deep chill that had taken residence within her. 

At times, her desperation had led her to consider more drastic measures – the thought of setting the room’s sparse furniture ablaze had flickered through her mind. But the practicalities of such an act quickly quashed the idea. 

The resultant smoke would likely choke her before the guards would manage to intervene. Weighing the risks, Daenera had reluctantly decided against it, leaving the furniture untouched, her gaze drifting to the flames that danced mockingly before her. 

Time drifted languidly, its passage barely noticed by Daenera as she was lost in contemplation. The creak of the door opening once more only faintly registered in her consciousness, her focus deeply entrenched in the embers of the hearth.

Dismissing the sound as merely the return of the maid, she paid it little heed. In her hand, the coin she idly toyed with briefly captured a stray gleam from the fire, its eye momentarily sparkling in the dim light before she flipped it over to the spiraled side. 

And then, the palpable change in the room’s atmosphere soon pierced her haze. The air seemed to thicken with a presence more significant than that of a silent maid. Daenera’s gaze slowly lifted from the flames, and she found herself unexpectedly locking eyes with the Queen. There she stood, a figure of composed authority, her hands neatly clasped in front of her. Her lips were set in a tight line, and her eyes held a discerning, calculating sharpness that seemed to penetrate the very core of Daenera’s being. 

“Please excuse the absence of courtesies, Your Grace,” Daenera’s voice was low, tinged with a bitter edge as she spoke without lifting her gaze from the flames. “It appears that unjust confinement has a way of eroding such formalities rather swiftly.”

Her thumb traced the curve of the coin, pressing it into the soft flesh of the pad of her finger. “Have you come to deliver news of my execution? Will I meet my end as the alleged bastard you claim me to be, perhaps dangling at the end of a rope? Or does my Targaryen blood warrant a more dignified demise at the hands of the king’s executioner?”

Despite the veneer of defiant nonchalance in her tone, an underlying current of fear wrapped around her heart. She wanted to live – by the Gods she wanted to live. 

Swallowing thickly, she continued. “Or have you concluded a more quiet end would be preferable, so as not to disturb the smallfolk?”

Alicent finally broke her silence, her voice carrying a cold, matter-of-fact quality. “My father did indeed call for your quiet execution. The same fate he sought for your mother.”

Daenera’s jaw tightened, her teeth clenched as she struggled to maintain her composure. Her gaze was steadfastly locked onto the fire, where the flames danced in an array of yellow, orange, and red, their tongues flickering and snapping as if in cruel jest, echoing the taunt that haunted her mind: You should have been wiser. Now, see where your choices have led you.

Alicent inhaled deeply, seemingly gathering her thoughts and steeling herself for what she was about to say. “I must admit, I hold no affection for you, but I do not wish to shed blood unnecessarily.”

Daenera turned to face the Queen directly, her eyes meeting Alicent’s with an unyielding hardness as Alicent continued. “We will present our conditions to your mother. Should she recognize Aegon as the legitimate heir to the throne and bend the knee, further conflict can be avoided.”

A scoff left her mouth as she shook her head in disbelief.

Daenera scoffed, shaking her head in indignation. 

“She will then be permitted to live out her remaining days in peace on Dragonstone along with your brothers,” Alicent finished, her tone unmoving. 

Daenera fixed her eyes on Alicent, her expression falling somewhere between skepticism and sheer disbelief. It was unmistakably clear that Alicent held onto the notion of resolving this peacefully, without the necessity of violence. Daenera found herself wondering whether this belief stemmed from a place of naivety or genuine hope for peace. 

Otto Hightower would never tolerate rivals to the throne. He may temporarily stay his hand, but Daenera was certain that he would order their execution, regardless of any submission or bending of the knee. 

“How gracious of you, to grant us our days on Dragonstone,” Daenera responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she shook her head in disbelief at the proposition. 

Alicent, maintaining her composure, asserted, “The terms are equitable.”

Daenera’s response was immediate and scathing. “‘Equitable’?! My mother is the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne. Viserys named her as his successor; it is her rightful inheritance.”

“If your mother truly values the lives of her children, she will capitulate,” Alicent declared, her tone imbued with an undercurrent of condescension. “It is what the King wished.”

Slowly rising from her position on the chair, her movements somewhat unsteady as she acclimatized to the sudden surge of blood through her legs. Clenching the coin in her palm, she gripped it so tightly that it dug into her skin. “What the King wanted was to see his daughter ascend the throne.”

Alicent’s lips tightened, pursing further before she spoke in a tone of solemnity. “Years ago, on Aegon’s second name day, my husband confided in me. He spoke of a dream, a vision he believed prophetic, foretelling that a male child of his line wearing the Conqueror’s crown. By then, he had not had a male heir, and thus, named your mother as his heir, as a means to settle the succession and ensure that his brother never wore the crown.”

Her words were tinged with an unmistakable bitterness as she unfolded and then refolded her hands in a precise motion, her posture regal and unyielding, embodying her status as the Queen. “He appointed your mother out of necessity. Over the years, this decision was marred with regret and doubt. There’s no questioning his love for his daughter, your mother, but he always believed it was not the rightful path. In his mind, his son was destined heir. Thus, in his final moments, he amended the succession, proclaiming Aegon as his true successor.”

A sharp pang of anguish jabbed at Daenera’s heart, her expression darkening into a deeper scowl. Her heart throbbed erratically, a mix of fear and disbelief churning in her stomach. “I don’t believe you. Viserys would never alter the succession so drastically – so suddenly. He would never disinherit his daughter.”

Alicent, undeterred, maintained her stance. “It was his final wish to rectify his mistake. He chose Aegon as his heir.”

“Is this his decree, or merely your own desires masquerading as his final wish?” Daenera challenged, her gaze intensely focused on the Queen. 

Alicent’s response was a slightly uptick of her chin, her eyes hardening into a frosty stare. 

“It seems implausible that he would so drastically reverse his stance,” Daenera pressed on. “After all, he publicly supported his own trueborn grandson as heir of Driftmark, and thereby, reinforcing my mother’s claim to the throne. Why endure the ordeal of court appearances, of taking his place on the Iron Throne, if not to ensure his will was done?”

“I cannot pretend to know his innermost thoughts, I can only relay the words he shared with me in private,” Alicent replied, her tone edged with a firm conviction. “He explicitly expressed his wish for Aegon to ascend the throne.”

“What proof do you have to substantiate this claim?” 

Alicent’s lips tightened, her gaze sharpening. “He entrusted his final wish to me–”

Daenera interjected, “So, there are no witnesses to corroborate your statement? No official record or scribe to document this decree? We only have your word to rely on?”

“My word should suffice; I would not lie about such matters,” Alicent stated, her tone resolute – righteous even. However, the absence of tangible evidence cast an unmistakable shadow of doubt over her claim. 

Daenera responded with a mix of disbelief and scorn, “Naturally, you would resort to deceit. You’re poised to gain everything from this – or conversely, stand to lose it all if the truth were otherwise.”

The notion that Viserys had a sudden change of heart seemed to her nothing more than a convenient fabrication by the Hightowers to seize power. With no witnesses to corroborate such a claim, its validity was dubious – and yet, it appeared to hold sway with the council. 

Daenera surmised that this very issue must have been the cause of Lord Beesbury’s demise. 

Lord Lyman Beesbury, having held the position of Master of Coin since the onset of Viserys’s reign, had a long-standing friendship with the King. He had known him far longer than anyone on the Council. His intimate knowledge of Viserys’s character and intentions made him unlikely to be swayed by mere assertion from the Queen. He would have asked for definitive proof – and for this loyalty, he was killed. 

Daenera held a firm belief that Alicent would twist the truth to fit her own narrative. It was a tactic she had used before, yielded against her mother so much that it drove her to flee to Dragonstone. “You say that Viserys named Aegon as his successor–”

“It is the truth,” Alicent replied, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice. 

“Have you ever considered the possibility that he might have been referring to my brother, Aegon?” Daenera questioned, feeling the coin dig painfully into the palm of her hand as she stood her ground. 

Alicent’s demeanor remained stoic, her gaze fixed on Daenera with a cool detachment. “And why would he choose a child he met only once?” 

“Why would he choose a drunk who is unsuitable to wear the crown?”

Alicent’s eyes drifted upwards, as if seeking divine patience, her jaw shifting to the side in a clear display of irritation. She ran her tongue along her bottom teeth, visibly exasperated. “I did not come here to debate the legitimacy of the succession, or to seek your opinion. The decision has been made, and the Council supports Aegon ascending the throne – as was the king's wish.”

“Of course the Council will support Aegon’s claim, when those who dare question the legitimacy of your claim have been silenced,” Daenera observed. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction as she saw the impact her words had on Alicent, who notably paled in response. “It seems their unwavering loyalty to the King is repaid not with honor, but with permanent removal.”

“That was an unfortunate accident,” Alicent bit out through clenched teeth. 

“And here I thought you wished to refrain from any unnecessary bloodshed.”

The Queen’s face grew stern, her grip on her own hands tightening as she gazed down at Daenera with a cold, almost patronizing air. “Aegon will be crowned King at dawn.”

Daenera let out a derisive scoff, her gaze shifting briefly to the dancing flames, reflecting her frustration. She then fixed a contemptuous look back at the Queen. “And why, pray tell, are you informing me of this?”

“You are expected to be at Aegon’s coronation, exhibiting your support for him as your King,” Alicent answered.

The mere thought of being present at the coronation ceremony, where she would be strategically positioned like a pawn in a grander game of deceit, filled Daenera with dread. The idea of having to feign support, to unwittingly endorse Aegon’s claim to the throne – a claim that starkly undermined her mother’s rightful ascendancy – sent a wave of despair through her. This illusion was an act of betrayal, a way to undermine her own family. Her heart sank at the notion. 

“I refuse to participate in this charade.”

“You will,” Alicent insisted, stepping closer, diminishing the space between them, her presence imposing. “Your presence will solidify his claim.”

Alicent reached out, intrusively tucking a stray lock of Daenera’s hair behind her ear. The gesture was both invasive and belittling. Alicent’s dark eyes gleamed with a familiar certainty, that look of self-righteous conviction she so often assumed. 

“I will not be a pawn in your schemes against my mother,” Daenera retorted, her voice laced with scorn. Her hold tightened around the coin, pressing the edge into her palm with such force that it was painful, and yet she could not stop.

Alicent exhaled a tired, frustrated sigh. “You will attend, not just to show your support for Aegon but also to announce your betrothal to Aemond.”

The words hung heavily in the air.

The sensation of the earth shifting under Daenera’s feet was overwhelming, as if the very ground was conspiring to swallow her into a chasm of shock and disbelief. The staggering revelation, one she hadn’t even considered, prevented her from succumbing to the urge to collapse. Her heart contorted in anguish, wrung dry of hope, before sinking into the abyss of her stomach. And a pallor washed over her as the blood seemed to drain from her face.

Throughout her captivity, her mind had been consumed by thoughts of escape, the safety of her men, and whether word had reached her mother. Her thoughts were a blazing inferno of concern and strategy, yet, astonishingly, they had never illuminated the possibility of a forced marriage to Aemond. 

“The people are not so easily deceived,” Daenera managed to utter, her voice quivering with emotion. Her body trembled anew, and her head moved in a slow, disbelieving shake. “They will see the truth. They will know that I am but a political pawn, without a say in my fate.”

“Your mother once suggested a union between Jace and Helaena, and you and Aegon,” Alicent responded, her voice cold and measured. “She framed it as a means to reconcile our families, yet I saw it for what it truly was; a gesture born out of desperation.”

“And this proposed betrothal, if not an act of desperation, then what?” Daenera retorted sharply, her eyes gleaming with the threat of tears. 

“It is meant as an offering of peace.”

“‘An offering of peace?’” Daenera’s voice was laced with bitter disbelief, almost a scoff. “It’s nothing but an affront – a scheme to shackle me to your son, to your cause.”

Alicent’s gaze sharpened, her eyes narrowing. “In truth, it is he who will be shackled to you.This was never my desire for my son. I pleaded with him to marry a Baratheon girl, but he wouldn’t hear it. For some…” Her gaze drifted upwards, as if seeking answers from the heavens, “unfathomable reason, he wants you.”

Daenera clenched her jaw, feeling the sting of betrayal slip between her ribs like a blade, piercing her heart. She swallowed hard, the acrid taste of treachery burning down her throat, igniting turmoil within her stomach. 

Alicent’s gaze returned to Daenera, her dark eyes intense. “We hope this union will convince your mother to accept our terms of surrender.”

Daenera quickly withdrew her hand, recoiling from Alicent’s touch, which felt both soft and oppressively judgmental. She was acutely aware of her predicament – isolated, surrounded by enemies, a mere tool in their ambitious games. They would exploit her as a vulnerability of her mother, and they would do it well. 

“My mother will never renounce her claim. She is the rightful heir to the throne.” Daenera asserted, her voice wavering, weak yet resolute. 

“If she cares for the safety of her children, she will.”

Daenera fixed Alicent with a piercing glare, her voice sharpening with accusation. “And what of your own children? Do you truly care for them?”

Alicent’s response was tinged with frustration, her eyes burning as she glared back at Daenera, the corners of her lips turning downward. “Of course, I do–”

“This usurpation, it is a double edged sword,” Daenera interjected, her chest burning with frustration and indignation. “This will lead to war and to what end?”

“It is his rightful inheritance,” Alicent reiterated, though a flicker of unease crossed her face, betraying her otherwise controlled demeanor. There was something in her eyes that Daenera couldn’t decipher, not did she have the time to, as Alicent continued with a sneer. “All of this… it is for their futures. The efforts and sacrifices I’ve made will not be for nothing. Aegon is Viserys legitimate heir. The Iron Throne is his by birthright, and I will not let your mother take it from him.”

“Does he even want it?” Daenera challenged, her tone scornful, her teeth bared. “Or is it perhaps you who wishes to maintain a grip on power, Your Grace?”

“Aegon is the rightful heir to the throne,” Alicent’s voice rose in conviction. “As the firstborn son of Viserys Targaryen, and as his fathers chosen heir. Do you honestly believe the lords of the realm will rally behind your mother, a woman? See reason, Daenera. A ruler cannot have their authority questioned, and she would undoubtedly be questioned. You cannot expect the lords to bend their knees to a woman who has done nothing but show how ill suited she is as ruler by having bastards and shirking duty.”

“And do you truly believe they will support Aegon?” Daenera’s voice resonated with a chilling firmness. “Can the lords rally behind a man so blatantly unfit to rule? Your son is a drunk, who spends his nights wetting his cock in the lows of Flea Bottom, and spends his days tormenting serving girls! He’s preying on them. Innocent young girls, Alicent, younger than you were at your wedding. It is you, who should see reason!”

Alicent’s expression faltered at this harrowing truth, and for a fleeting instant, Daenera sensed a flicker of fear and regret go through the Queen. Her complexion turned ashen, her eyes widening in shock, her lips slightly parting with a mix of disbelief and realization. In that moment, Daenera clung to a flicker of hope, silently praying that her words had made a significant impact. After all, Alicent herself was once a young girl, now a woman and a mother. Could she not sympathize with the plight of those girls? Was she blind to the reality of her son – the very boy she was crowning? 

“Your resentment has poisoned him – has poisoned both of your sons,” Daenera pressed on, attempting to elicit some semblance of responsibility. “You fear what will become of your children should my mother take the throne, but  you should fear what will become of them should he be granted the power of a king. Who will protect the serving girls from his touch? Your son is a rapist–”

The blow was swift and unexpected, and Daenera stumbled back. She braced herself against the wall, her hand instinctively rising to cradle the tender, burning skin of her cheek. Taken aback, Daenera’s gaze snapped back to Alicent, her eyes wide with astonishment. Alicent’s initial surprise at her own actions quickly gave way to a newfound resolve. She stood there, an embodiment of conflicting emotions, yet she managed to project an air of unwavering confidence, her posture upright and unyielding. 

A fiery determination burned in the Queen’s brown eyes, stirring in Daenera the memories of the fateful night when Aemond had lost his eye. She remembered how Alicent, with a dagger gripped in her hand, had confronted Rhaenyra, driven by a visceral need for retribution – an eye for an eye, blood for blood. Those eyes, filled with a profound belief in their own righteousness and justice, revealed a troubling truth. It seemed that for Alicent, the deplorable behavior of her son and his actions towards the serving girls were, regrettably, viewed as mere facets of the burdens women were expected to bear in this world. It was an unfortunate but unalterable aspect of their existence. 

Daenera slowly removed her hand from the wall, straightening to her full height. “You know that what I say is true.”

Alicent responded with a calm, yet firm tone. “My son has his flaws, Princess. Yes, he indulges in wine and frequents the brothels of Flea Bottom, as many young princes have. But he is not the monster you make him out to be.”

Her hands clasped together in front of her once again, her expression hardening into a facade as unyielding as stone veiled in porcelain. “He will mature, and he will become the great king he was destined to be. I will make certain of that.”

Daenera’s voice was a soft murmur, her eyes capturing the flickering light of the hearth’s flames, reflecting a deeper, more ominous intensity. “Do you never tire, Alicent? Serving every man in your life? Being the ever-dutiful daughter, the amiable wife, and now the unwaveringly devoted mother – does it not wear you down? It must be utterly exhausting, always bending to their will, always serving them.”

“And what about yourself?” Alicent replied, her voice steady and composed. “We are not so dissimilar, you and I.”

Alicent moved closer to Daenera, her head tilting subtly as she observed her with a careful expression. Her eyebrows drew together, her eyes alight with an emotion that Daenera couldn’t quite identify, yet it caused her heart to beat more forcefully. She remained where she was, refusing to yield or cower.

“We each have a part to play in this world. As a woman, your duty is clear. As a dutiful daughter,” Alicent began, lightly touching Daenera’s cheek where the skin still burned from the earlier slap. The touch was soft, almost gentle, a strange sort of comfort. “As a loyal wife… As a Queen… And as a mother. I know my role, and I have faith that it is as the gods will it.”

Daenera’s brow inched downward. “And you believe it is divine will that Aegon ascends the throne?”

A tightness formed at the corners of Alicent’s lips. “Why else would they bless Viserys with the son he yearned for? It is the natural order of things. In time, you will come to see the wisdom in accepting the role the gods have set out for you.”

“To serve others,” Daenera observed with a soft hum. “And yet, you can’t acknowledge this is about maintaining your own hold on power – however tenuous it might be, after all, you’ll only be the mother of the King.”

“I am acting in the best interest of my sons, my children. Everything I have ever done has been for their future, for the preservation of what is rightfully theirs,” Alicent retorted, her lips tightening further as she pulled her hand back. “As their mother, it is my duty.”

“It must be exhausting, to cloak yourself in self-righteousness to mask your own ambition. At least your father is transparent about his desires. You, on the other hand, veil yours in the guise of duty and divine decree,” Daenera remarked, sensing a heavy burden descending upon her shoulders. 

Alicent gazed back, her lips slightly pursed, the corners downturned in a subtle expression of discontent or perhaps disdain. Her eyes were measured, searching Daenera’s face as if looking for something, or maybe seeing in her a reflection that rendered her weary. 

“Have you ever asked yourself what you want?” Daenera asked. “Not what others have impressed upon you to want.”

Alicent’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Have you?” 

Now, the question lingered heavily within Daenera. Her frown grew more pronounced as she locked eyes with Alicent, a woman whose features bore a resemblance to her own, enough that she could have been her mother. Subconsciously, Daenera’s hand came together, her finger tracing the faint, curved indentation left by the coin – and the pale scar etched into her skin by a dragonglass arrowhead. 

Taking a deep breath, Alicent regained her poise, seamlessly transitioning back into the role of the Queen. Her gaze, as condescending as ever, swept over Daenera. “The servants will take you back to your chambers and see to it that you are appropriately attired for the coronation in the morning.”

“And if I refuse?”

“We have a handful of your men in the dungeons,” Alicent answered, the threat clear. With a swift turn, Alicent exited the room, leaving the door slightly open behind her. Two servants promptly entered, one of whom Daenera recognized as the same woman who had seen to her meals.

Daenera was led back to her chambers, accompanied by two servants and a pair of guards – likely to ensure she didn’t attempt another escape. The late hour’s presence was marked by a persistent chill permeating the air as they navigated the corridors of the Keep. Stepping out into the courtyard, Daenera instinctively lifted her gaze to the heavens. The sky was painted in deepening shades of blue as night fully embraced the realm. It was a cloudless expanse above, where stars sparkled and flickered like distant beacons. 

Drawing in a deep breath, she momentarily closed her eyes, cherishing the crispness of the fresh air and using the moment to calm her racing heart. Her hands tightened around the cloak draped over her form, the fabric serving as her sole shield against both the chill and the prying eyes that might wander. Beneath the thin material of her underdress, her skin erupted in a rash of goosebumps, reacting to the night’s cool touch. 

Guided through the imposing doors of Maegor’s Holdfast, Daenera was led across the inner courtyard and towards the grand staircase. 

As they walked, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was deliberate or mere coincidence that their path took them past the very spot where Joyce had been killed. The floor there had been scrubbed clean, yet the stone still bore a darker hue, a silent testament to the violence that had occurred. Her gaze lingered on the spot, a sharp pang of sorrow clenching her heart. Swallowing hard against the grief that threatened to overwhelm her, she was soon nudged ontward by persistent hands.

As Daenera stepped into her chamber, a heavy sense of loss struck her. She noticed the stark emptiness where her cherished potions and essence bottles once stood. The cabinet, previously filled with her carefully curated collection of dried herbs, had been completely removed. The room felt barren and ransacked, stripped of her personal effects. 

But it wasn’t just her alchemy tools that had vanished; her hair oils, fragrances, and cosmetics were also missing. The space that had once been her sanctuary now felt invaded and foreign, almost as though it had ceased to be a part of her world. It was a harsh reminder that this room, and her life within it, were no longer truly her own. 

A wave of bitterness rose in Daenera, but she forcefully suppressed it. She set the coin down on a table, deliberately placing it spiral-side up – there was no need for more eyes to watch her humiliation. 

The older servant gestured her forward, wasting no time in removing her cloak and placing it over the back of a chair as she barked at the younger maid servant, “Fetch the water. As hot as it can get.”

The younger servant hurried out to comply with the order, undoubtedly darting through halls and down to the kitchens. 

Daenera, attempting to sound casual even as her throat remained tight, inquired, “My maid – what has become of her body?”

The older servant responded only with a harsh glare, as she swept Daenera’s thousled hair away from her shoulders to undo the knots that held her underdress together. Her movements were harsh and forceful, making Daenera think she would be more at home in a butcher’s shop than attending to a lady. The servant’s face was etched with a permanent scowl, deeping the lines of age and giving her a certain hardened, unyielding appearance. 

“What of my sworn shield?” Daenera asked, persistent in seeking answers as the door swung open and a group of girls entered, each carrying buckets of steaming water. They effectively poured the contents into the bath and quickly exited, all deliberately avoiding eye contact, as the older servant scowled at them, barking orders. 

The older servant, with an abrupt and rough motion, stripped Daenera of her final layer, removing her underdress to leave her completely bare. Instinctively, Daenera’s arms wrapped around herself, her skin prickling with goosebumps that felt like countless tiny needles piercing her flesh.

“Out, all of you, quickly!” The older servant commanded sharply to the group of serving girls carrying the buckets of water, as though they weren’t already hurrying. They scurried towards the door in a rushed procession, letting it close with a soft click behind them. Even with fewer eyes in the room, Daenera couldn’t shake off the profound sense of vulnerability that came with her exposed state. Nonetheless, she steeled herself, firmly gripping the servant’s wrist to draw her full attention. 

“What has become of my sworn shield?” She asked, her voice steady despite the chill. The last she saw of Fenrick he was unconscious and bleeding.

The hag wrenched her wrist free from Daenera’s grasp with a disdainful sneer. “I suppose he is locked up in the dungeons with the rest of them.”

Suppressing her own urge to sneer in response, Daenera swallowed the bitter feeling, finding a small solace in the knowledge that he seemed to still be alive. 

Rather than succumbing to her frustration with a sharp retort, Daenera chose to adopt a more composed and dignified approach. She recognized the potential benefit of gaining the older woman’s favor, aiming to foster a semblance of dialogue that might yield useful information. 

Her response was calculated, delivered with a blend of diplomacy and sweetness, “What is your name?”

“Metha Ashford,” the servant replied curtly. “I serve as the Queen’s lady-in-waiting, and from now on, I will be attending to you. Kneel by the bath.”

“And my name is Edelin–” the younger servant added softly, her voice quickly hushed by a stern glare from Mertha. Edelin, frowning, gathered the bloodstained and dirtied undergown, an item that seemed more suited for burning than washing. 

Daenera’s gaze fixed on the steaming bath. With a semblance of dignity, she requested, “I would like some soaps and oils for my bath.”

Edelin hesitated, glancing towards Mertha, whose eyes radiated cold indifference. Mertha’s boney fingers then dug sharply into Daenera’s shoulders, pushing her towards the bath. “You will have no such choice of luxury. We will use the soap I’ve brought and nothing more.”

Asserting her status, Daenera stated, “I am a princess,” even as she was forcefully pushed down to her knees beside the path. The impact further aggravated her already bruised skin, her knees throbbing painfully as her hands came to brace herself on the edge of the tub.

“You are nothing but a hostage,” Mertha retorted harshly, her hand clamping down on the pack of Daenera’s neck, nails digging into her skin, as she roughly pushed her head dangerously close to the water. Daenera’s nose almost touched the surface of the water, and as she let out a shocked breath, the water ripped. 

Something dipped into the water, as Mertha continued, “The Queen’s command are clear – we are to take care of you.”

Scalding hot water cascaded over Daenera’s head, causing her to gasp and sputter as it burned her scalp and streamed down her face. She attempted to ward off the water and struggled futilely against Mertha’s unyielding hold. Another cup of water was poured onto her head. 

“We’ve been instructed to stay by your side,” Mertha stated coldly, pouring the third cup of water over Daenera’s head, “to ensure you don’t engage in any treacherous acts.”

Daenera’s fingers dug into the edge of the bath, her neck straining against Mertha’s grip, the muscles in her neck aching with the effort. “Y–you’re hurting me!”

Mertha responded with a reproachful chide and a dismissive scoff. “Cease your struggling, and I won’t need to handle you so forcefully.”

In a reflexive act of defiance, Daenera’s arms swiped at Mertha, sending the cup of water tumbling from her grasp. She glared up at the older woman, her hair clinging to her skin, dripping down her neck in a trail that went all the way down her back. “I am a princess and you will treat me with the respect that is deserving of my station!”

“You are nothing but a bastard, as far as the gods are concerned,” Mertha retorted, her voice tinged with contempt. “The late king, may the gods rest his soul, was too blind to see the truth, but the Queen sees it clearly – and she will not allow the realm to be ruled by the Whore of Dragonstone and her brood of bastards. She is doing the gods’ will and putting things right, and you should consider yourself fortunate for the leniency she is extending you, princess.”

Mertha firmly repositioned Daenera’s head and resumed pouring water over her, roughly lathing a common bar of soap before harshly scrubbing Daenera’s scalp. Her fingers moved with a roughness reminiscent of someone washing a wild animal, showing little regard for Daenera’s discomfort. The soap stung her eyes, and she struggled to suppress her sniffles, water dripping from her face and threatening to enter ner nostrils. She remembered how Joyce used to perform this task with such tenderness and care. 

After what seemed like an eternity of scrubbing, when Mertha finally rinsed the soap from Daenera’s hair, she proceeded to push her into the bath to wash her body with an abrasive tool that felt akin to a scrubbing brush used on the floor, leaving her skin raw and inflamed. The near-scalding water only intensified the sensation, making Daenera feel as if she were being boiled alive. 

And by the time the water no longer held its boiling effect on her body, Daenera had contemplated at the very least ten different ways of killing the old hag – mostly imagining her pushing her head into the water and keeping it there until she no longer flailed around. 

It was the younger servant, Edelin, that wrapped cloth around Daenera’s body. Her touch was far more delicate as she helped Daenera dry off and gently braid her hair to prevent it from frizzing during the night, weaving pieces of silk in between the strands. Her blue eyes conveyed a silent apology for the ordeal as Mertha went about ordering the bath drained. 

Daenera decided then that if she were to cultivate an ally among her prison guards, it would be the girl.

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4: New Game Patch (August 8th, 2024)

After a few minor patches, EA has just released a new game update for The Sims 4 which corrects several bugs found in the game ever since the previous patch and the release of the Lovestruck Expansion Pack.

If you have auto updates enabled in Origin’s “Application Settings”, the game will auto-update once you open Origin. If you have auto-updates disabled, you will need to manually update by clicking the game in your library.Advertisement

To ensure your game is up to date, check the game version found in Documents > EA > The Sims 4 > GameVersion.txt. Your game should now read: PC: 1.108.349.1020 / Mac: 1.108.349.1220

Sul Sul, Simmers!

This update includes a range of improvements, such as expanding the options to romance Ghosts and Vampires in Lovestruck and adding the ability to preview songs when “Safe for Streaming” is toggled.

As part of our continued commitment to tackling technical issues, please follow @TheSimsDirect for the most up-to-date information on the deployment of these fixes. As always, if you have any issues, please share with us on AnswersHQ.

Base Game / Multipack

[AHQ] Error Code 121 no longer occurs when moving in a household for the “Finding Love After a Breakup” Scenario.

[AHQ] Error Code 123 no longer occurs in certain circumstances when traveling to another location.

[AHQ] Cost of living just went back up: Sims once again can pay bills when they are due.

[AHQ] Previously distorted glasses are back in shape.

Improved interface for the Safe for Streaming Music options. Songs that aren’t safe to stream should be grayed out, while available songs can now be previewed.

Sims rejected from being asked on a date through the Relationship Panel now are firmly rejected with a Notification. Just to make it official.

“Start a New Relationship“ is no longer a Want for Sims with the Noncommittal Trait.

You might have seen the option to “Lecture About Responsibilities“ twice in the interaction menu when a parent is talking to their teen Sim. It should now just appear once, so enough with the nagging.

Seasons

With��Lovestruck…

The Dr. June’s Weather Control Device no longer offers snow in Ciudad Enamorada. Winters are warm here!

High School Years

Married Sims no longer propose to other Sims.

Growing Together

With Lovestruck…

Sims asked on a date from Cupid’s Corner only have three Traits now, leaving room for new Traits through Self Discovery.  Sims found previously through Cupid’s Corner still will have more Traits than average – overachievers.

The text for the Self Discovery moment of swapping the Unflirty or Romantically Reserved Traits to Lovebug now accurately reflects the traits being swapped.

Lovestruck

Live Mode

[AHQ] Gallery Sims are available again in Cupid’s Corner and the game no longer sometimes infinitely loads when traveling after adding one to your Sim’s contacts.

[AHQ] Sims from Cupid’s Corner whose location was listed as “Not Shared” now can be socialized with on a Lovestruck Date or Hangout.

Ghost partners can go to Cupid’s Counseling. Their partners could see through their excuses and are ready to remedy their relationship!

Ghosts are available for Seductive Dances and “Watch Stars/Sky with…”.

Sims no longer stargaze indoors at Rattlesnake Juice Bar in Oasis Springs.

These interactions have more versions of Simlish for variety: “Play Woo-Who!? With…” on Who’s Up Party Games, “Steal from Fountain” on the Fountain of Dreams, and “Rub Ring”. Look for Sammy The Ring Bear around that fountain for more information.

[AHQ] A Sim who was met on a Blind Date and then canceled on (rude!) now can be asked to Create a Date. Previously, the interface was blank.

Sims no longer read “Seduction by the Sea” indefinitely. Must be a real page-turner!

Sims now autonomously seek sleep when they are low on energy.

Flowers given to a Sim now show up in the recipient’s inventory.

When selecting a single flower for “Give Flowers…”, the Sim now bestows a single flower instead of a whole bouquet. Sometimes a single bloom says more than an entire bouquet!

When selecting “Cuddle in Bed” multiple times in a row on a bed, Sims no longer lock up with their arm outstretched.

When selecting “Cuddle in Bed” multiple times in a row on different beds, the Sim now successfully reaches the first bed.

“Ask to Create a Date…“ with a new Sim from the Gallery now results in that Sim showing up properly at the edge of the Date or Hangout location.

The Unflirty Trait icon looks clearer.

Create a Sim

Lovebug and Romantically Reserved Traits are available as Likes and Dislikes plus Turn-Ons and Turn-Offs in Create a Sim.

[AHQ] The short, curly beard (ymFacialHair_EP16BeardCurly) no longer changes the shape of the Sim’s jaw.

Build Mode

Spot-tangle Light (lightWall_EP16SULTuplight) no longer steals the spotlight by turning off all other lights within a room when placed.

Couples Crest Bench (sitLoveseat2x1_EP16GENartistic) now has collision and cannot be placed where there is no space.

Ciudad Enamorada

The camera moves more freely now around Calle del Ensueño in Plaza Mariposa.

[AHQ] The door of the Nadir household’s penthouse office has returned, so poor Aziz can get back to his writing.

Casita del Amor’s Lot now shows the correct view when saving to the Gallery.

A missing curtain in Mirador del Amor has been re-added to the venue.

The rooftop of the López household now has all of its walls painted.

Dine Out

Waiters bring out food and clean tables more reliably without resetting.

Vampires

[AHQ] Teen Vampires now can complete a regular Date. They deserve a chance to find love, too!

With Lovestruck…

Vampires without Sun Resistance now can go to Cupid’s Counseling regardless of the time of day. No more using the sun as an excuse to get out of the hard work of a relationship.

All Vampires are available for Seductive Dances, not just Vampires with Sun Resistance. Non-sun-resistant Sims deserve Seductive Dances, too!

Realm of Magic

[AHQ] Sims are once again able to read Magic Tomes. Time to get back to the spellbooks!

My Wedding Stories

[AHQ] Just a Spot of Tea now stays put instead of disappearing when returning to a rental lot from a wedding venue.

[life-of-kalos]

First - Previous - Next

Fauns mind was made up, she would free this being from its stone prison. It was her absence that brought this fate upon countless individuals, now she had to do whatever she could to mend the outcome of her negligence.

Both hands now caressed the beings head, the feeling of cold stone on her finger tips gave her chills. This body felt so lifeless and empty, if it weren't for that small flame laying deep in it's soul, she'd think he were nothing more than a decoration.

If faun were to be honest with herself, she had heavy doubt that she could even bring this victim back. Her powers have always been short of plentiful and she had recently expelled way too much in her rage. She knew she'd have to pour most if not all that was left into this individual. Hopefully it was worth it..

But this was no time to dwell on the if she could, she had to try. Focus and concentration was key in transferring energy. Shaking off her doubts, Faun took a deep breath and set her mind solely on giving life to the recipient.

A warm tingling sensation flooded through her veins. Like a stream that exited her palms. Pouring her life energy into a nearly empty cup, she pushed to expell it from her body. It was working. She felt the life flame in the stone's body grow to a small blaze. Excitement flooded through Faun. S-she was doing it!

Eyes clenched shut, she leaned her whole body into the process. She was running on low but couldn't afford to let up. If she didn't completely remove the curse, all this would be for naught. Her breath now ragged, body now falling to the ground, she pushed the remaining energy as far as she could.

It's not enough. Fear set in, what should she do? She hadn't succeeded and now was almost completely out of her own life energy. This'll take her years to replenish and she couldn't even help one victim! Her fear turned to rage and bubbled more and more of the remanence out of her body. This was equivalent to wringing out a rag.

"COME.... ON...." Head dizzy, body numb, and yet she pushed.

Jingling from the chain made her snap back to her senses. Faun swung her head to the figure in front of her, deep purple-red eyes stare back.

She did it

[country-corner]

Highlights of a Conversation from Earlier Today

Elderly couple got a $30 CoL increase to their Social Security to just under $1,300 a month. State reduces their food stamps by $75 because of the increase.

Have a major cold snap, power company does an ad campaign of a new program to reduce cost for low income. Same couple contacts power company and get told they don't qualify because they receive Social Security, they have to go through the State to get reduced power bill, gives them a phone number. Calls State number they was given and the person on other end tells them there is no program for energy assistance for people on Social Security. only welfare recipients.

State sends mailing with an offer for a program to do vehicle repairs for people with disabilities of on low/fixed income. Calls the toll free number and told they don't qualify because they only receive food stamps and not signed up for welfare payments or housing assistance (reduced rent).

Now they've been informed by their insurance company that they will have to get new doctors or new insurance. Because, after 30+ years, the insurance company had decided to no longer work with the clinic because it is associated with a "Religious" health group. Almost every clinic and hospital in area is connected one way or another with either a Catholic or Protestant health group.

And all this within the last month.

[yetisidelblog]

Congressional Republicans are readying a plan to slash vital programs, like Medicaid, food assistance, and clean energy incentives, to pay for an extension of Trump-era tax cuts that will cost trillions. These cuts are not about “government efficiency”; they’re about taking from hardworking families to give even more to billionaires.

Programs on the chopping block include:

Medicaid: Providing healthcare to 70 million Americans, including children, seniors, and people with disabilities, Medicaid could see devastating application requirements and spending caps that would strip millions of people of their coverage.

SNAP (Food Stamps): A critical lifeline for low-income families, food assistance programs face deep cuts that will leave countless Americans struggling to feed their families. Republicans are even proposing limits on what SNAP recipients can purchase.

Clean Energy Initiatives: Incentives that fight climate change and create jobs are at risk, threatening progress made under the 2022 tax-and-climate law.

Veterans’ Healthcare: Programs serving 9 million veterans could lose funding, cutting access to vital medical care for those who have served our country.

Education and Workforce Training: Federal grants supporting public schools and job training programs could be eliminated, undermining opportunities for students and workers.

Housing Assistance: Critical resources to help families avoid homelessness could be slashed, increasing housing insecurity across the nation.

These programs are essential for millions, yet Republicans want to sacrifice them to fund a $4.6 trillion tax scam that overwhelmingly benefits the wealthiest Americans. Nearly 40% of the tax cuts will go to the richest 5%, while middle- and lower-income families are left behind.

The numbers are staggering: extending the Trump tax scam will cost $4.6 trillion over the next decade, blowing a hole in the federal debt and worsening income and wealth inequality. Millionaires, billionaires, and corporations will see massive benefits, while programs that protect working people and America’s most vulnerable will be gutted.

This is about priorities. Instead of cutting Medicaid, food assistance, housing, and clean energy to pay for tax giveaways, Congress must focus on a fair tax system that invests in working families, not billionaires.

Tell Congress: Stop this attack on critical programs. Demand they reject cuts to critical services to pay for more tax handouts to the rich and corporations.

@upontheshelfreviews

@greenwingspino

@one-time-i-dreamt

@tenaflyviper

@akron-squirrel

@ifihadaworldofmyown

@justice-for-jacob-marley

@voicetalentbrendan

@thebigdeepcheatsy

@what-is-my-aesthetic

@ravenlynclemens

@writerofweird

@bogleech

[yuseirra]

o/ hiya! Just sending a message to let you know I really appreciate seeing your Oshi no Ko analysis on my dash.

It's easy to tell how passionate you are about exploring the relationships in the series! And the idea of Mephisto and Fatal is from Kamiki's perspective is really interesting. There's something about the idea that seems... Kinda romantic, for lack of a better term?

Especially with season one. It's like Ruby and Aqua are being protected/cared for by both of their parents, looking at it from that view /^^

Hi anon~~/// hehe

I'm REALLY GLAD!! It's relieving to hear someone likes it, and I've been lucky enough to have a lot of you reach out to me about it the past few days. I'm glad I kept writing and put those out there.

Getting these asks made me realize I really like these. Sorry for taking a while to answer, I have very low energy level these days and I spent the entire day taking naps... I want to focus properly when I answer people. Especially for the really kind asks(and I've been getting many... there are some I left unattended as well. I am sorry...It takes time for me to think up a good reply sometimes.)

I think "romantic" would be the best word though!! I really like folklores and fairy tales and doesn't that song have something similar to it..? It's a bit dark, but it's essentially a story about someone who reaches for a "star" they long for and love dearly? They're very devoted to their said lover/the recipient of their love as well. It's a love story. As well as fatal. Though that one can get even more intense, it's very interesting and intriguing to explore. I've been listening to both songs a lot~

Mm! MM! Yes, same!! I feel Ai and Kamiki would have both been watching over their children...

You know, I went back and read CH 152 to use as reference for my most recent piece(the one that I just published before answering your ask right here,) and the stuff Aqua's dad says to him:

"You care about others. They also care about you(...) It's because they're important that you keep their distance from them. Why would you go that far to bottle yourself up?"<THIS!!;; I feel like that's what Kamiki's been doing himself?? It's like he knows what Aqua's like because that's exactly what he's been going through for his children.

He sees through his son really well... even more than that, I think he understands him because he's in the same place he's been. In that case, he's kept his distance from his kids but he has still watched over them (and there's no reason he wouldn't have. I say this a lot in my analyses, he loves his children he had with Ai.)

Thanks for appreciating my stuff and for telling me about it! ;v; I'm always very touched to hear that..I've been having a lot of fun thinking about it, and it's much more exciting to hear others are enjoying what I can offer with me! I hope we continue to have together!!

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 23

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, Selmy&Tyrion POV

Words: 2959

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Her nimble fingers were gentle as Ashara weaved them through Tyrion’s tangled hair. “Your hair grows longer. Would you like me to give it a trim dear Vaiko?”

Dishwater blonde hair hangs over his mismatched eyes, Tyrion moves his hand to swipe them away. The boy didn’t even remember when the last time he got his hair trimmed. Those days in Casterly Rock seemed so far behind him. He hadn’t thought once of what should have been considered his home. If he had more happier memories, Tyrion might have been able to shed a tear.

“No.” Tyrion twists a stray curl between his fingers. “I think I like it long.”

Ashara bobs her head in agreement. “Yes it does suit you.”

The salt air did wonders for Tyrion. Nothing pleased him more than to just lean his head back on a warm day and listen to the screeching of the sea birds above. Clashing of waves was better than any kind of bard that had visited the Rock. Only the open sea around him. Training even became easier too. While he wasn’t fast, Tyrion was low to the ground and could adapt to dodge and roll in order to get away from a counter-attack. Selmy realized that instead of seeing Tyrion’s body as a disadvantage, think of them as advantages instead. Both were learning from the other and despite certain shipmates poking fun at a dwarf trying to learn how to sword fight, Tyrion didn’t care. The blisters and calluses on his hands were proof that he was getting stronger. All this training wasn’t for nothing. He may never be as good as Jaime or even Barristan, but at least he’d be able to defend himself if the need called for it. Thinking about his father’s condescending sneer gave Tyrion extra energy to continue on with his training.

Ahead in the distance was a giant blur that was slowly getting closer. Tyrion had to squint his eyes to see what it was.

“Ah, we are arriving to Lys.” Ashara muses. The beautiful Dornish woman smiles on, her journey with them was almost ending. He liked her, she had a dry sense of humor much like himself and her eyes were the most vivacious shade of violet; much like those of a Targaryen. But Tyrion had noticed that he didn’t like Ashara as much as Ser Barristan did. Young in age, Tyrion knew when adults liked each other. Barristan was a man in love every time he laid eyes on Ashara. Sad blue eyes came to life once Ashara would chirp in on a discussion.

“Too bad we’re not porting in Braavos. A book I read said the Titan lets out a loud roar whenever a ship approaches its entrance, to warn the Arsenal of Braavos. That’s so cool!”

Chuckling, she leans over the side and gazes at the young boy. “I’m going to miss you, Young Vaiko.” There was a lingering undertone of melancholy when she said so.

A bitter knot chokes him when he regards Ashara Dayne. “Will you not come with us for the rest of the journey? I hear from Lys it’s not that far from Volantis. That way Barristan and I won’t have to look for another ship to sail on. We could just stay on this one. Just the three of us.”

“I am expected back home. Now that I know Ser Barristan isn’t up to something that would put my brother and Rhaegar at risk, I will be going back to Starfall after we get more supplies for the journey back.”

Pursing his lips, Tyrion looks back out to the water. “Did he tell you who the recipient is? He hasn’t told me anything.”

“I’m afraid not. The recipient is as mysterious as that box that he doesn’t let out of his sight.” In a lower voice she admits “I tried to open it, but the darn thing doesn’t even have a lock!”

Yes, it was an infuriating question on how the chest opened. One Tyrion mulled over every so often when he was bored. Many times when Selmy was asleep, Tyrion would grab the box and spend hours tinkering with it. Every night proved useless and Tyrion ended up going to bed utterly frustrated and cursing that damn box.

“It must be of utmost importance if he hasn’t told either of us.” Tyrion assumes and catches sight of said knight coming up on deck, box securely underneath his arm.

Pretending that they hadn’t just been talking about him, Ashara flashes him a stunning smile that made her dimples more pronounced. “Do you see, Ser? Lys is up ahead. We should be there within the hour.”

Barristan Selmy seemed all too aware that his time with Ashara was dwindling as well.

Ashara removes herself from Tyrion who returns his attention back to the upcoming land. As she walks the length of the deck to Selmy, he couldn’t help but notice the obvious sway of her full hips, the clicking of her heeled boots approaching him. Although Selmy did quite like seeing Ashara in her beautiful dresses, her attire suited her body’s wonderful curves.

Her smile is almost teasing, sidling up to the older knight. In a secretive manner, she presses herself closely to him. “Will you finally tell me who it is you’re delivering-” she taps at the chest that he was carrying “-this to? They must be important if a knight of the Kingguard leaves his charge.” Ashara whispers, intent lilac eyes staring him down. Her full lashes cast a shadow over an otherwise vibrant hue.

This was a delicate matter. Varys made that certain. The truth of (y/n) Lannister was not to be revealed unless it ruin whatever the Spider had planned. Being dishonest was not a trait that Selmy had, but in order to fulfill this odd request, he had to.

The fear that was in Varys’ voice made Selmy realize just how important this mission was. Varys was a confident man of much power in Westeros; there wasn’t much for him to naturally fear.

Plus, it would be unwise to give away information to someone who was technically his enemy. The House of Dayne sided with Rhaegar in this war. If possible she would do anything to protect her brother Arthur and help with the success of Rhaegar’s campaign. “I’m sorry, my lady. I made a vow that I wouldn’t tell a soul. The recipient must remain a secret.”

Even from Tyrion who had no idea that his sister was actually alive and well in Volantis.

A slither in her voice put fear into his chest. “Is it the same vow you gave to Aerys when you promised to protect him and never leave his side?”

Barristan didn’t want his last interaction with Ashara to be about the Mad King. That heavy accusation in her eyes and the disapproval that made her lips curl downward. He didn’t want to be her enemy. Damn his vow. Damn the king.

“It must be more important than protecting the king.” She continues ruthlessly. Satisfied enough that she was able to make Barristan flinch, Ashara backs off. “Do not make me regret helping you. You’re a good man, Ser Barristan. But that goodness will not save you if you are in fact trying to sabotage my brother and Rhaegar.”

He manages a smile. “I understand. You are a force to be reckoned with, my lady.”

Her smile returns as she bumps against him playfully. “And don’t you forget it.”

While the tension between them lifted, Tyrion had been listening intently. Many at Casterly Rock always underestimated Tyrion. They didn’t realize how good of a listener he was. He knew secrets he shouldn’t. Knew strategies that would crush any army.

Nerves ate away at Tyrion when he heard Ashara bring up Aerys. Tyrion could never forget that Ser Barristan was alleged to Aerys. He had grown close to Barristan during their travels. Barristan provided Tyrion a proper father figure which the young boy had been craving for. A patient teacher who was willing to work around Tyrion’s disadvantages, Tyrion wanted to trust him. So desperately Tyrion wanted Barristan to truly be a good guy.

What if Aerys had sent Selmy to hire the Golden Company to aid their armies? The chest could contain gold in order to buy their swords. If Aerys was desperate enough to win, then the Golden Company could easily do just that and destroy Rhaegar. The last thing Tyrion wanted to take part in was helping the Mad King win.

It felt good to stretch on actual land. While Tyrion had grown his sea legs, he much preferred the stable ground. The harbor was busy with stalls of vendors and people minding their own business; going about their everyday lives on their beautiful island. Tyrion had always heard that the people of Lys were one of the most gorgeous people in the entire world. He wondered who could possibly be more good looking than Ashara or Cersei. Well, Tyrion knew it to be the truth now. They had the attractive traits that those of Old Valyria had centuries ago. With their olive skin, it made the pale blonde hair and purple eyes more bright.

Bastardize Valyrian fills the air as bargains are made and vendors shout out the daily catch. All of it was enthralling that it made Tyrion’s neck hurt from swiveling his head in every direction. There was so much to see, but unfortunately they would only be staying in Lys for a short amount of time. Lady Ashara had to get back to Starfall, so Tyrion and Barristan would have to find another vessel to take them the rest of the way to Volantis.

Ashara exchanged a few short words with the captain before joining the two on the cobbled streets. “My captain will find you another ship. In the meantime, how about a drink? There are many quality taverns around the harbor. And you can taste the delicious cuisine of Lys.” She smiled at Tyrion and twirls one of his dirty curls in her fingers. He liked the affections she had given him. And she didn’t seem bothered by his deformity. Tyrion would miss her.

“If you insist.” Barristan chuckled which made Ashara twirl in front of them and lead the way.

“Yes I do! I want just a little bit longer with the both of you.” She admits. Quite easily, Ashara is weaving her way through the crowds making Selmy and Tyrion struggle to keep up with her, especially Tyrion who only stood at three feet. Barristan kept his hand clasped around Tyrion’s to make sure the young boy didn’t get lost. It was an odd feeling for Tyrion, the only people who had ever held his hand in a protective way was his sister.

For it being midday, the tavern that Ashara led them to was fairly packed with many different kinds of faces. Gruff faces, pleasant faces, sunburnt and pretty all alike. At the sight of some pleasure slaves that were skulking about, Barristan made sure to cover Tyrion’s eyes. They showed a little too much skin for a young boy to be around.

They took a table in a lone corner, letting Ashara order the drinks before sitting down. “What do you think Vaiko?”

“I haven’t seen much of Lys, but the bits that I’ve seen are amazing!” He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. How could he though? Whenever Tywin allowed Tyrion to accompany him on his travels, he often kept Tyrion hidden and forbid him from going out. This was different. This was freedom. Freedom and acceptance.

Barristan grinned to himself as Tyrion and Ashara conversed with one another. The boy was beaming and chatting away happily.

From his periphery, he met the gaze of a young boy. A scrawny boy with sullen eyes and hair that stuck out in various directions. He didn’t look out of place, but it was clear from the amount of eye contact that he was there for him. Perhaps one of Varys’ little birds.

Excusing himself, he wonders over to the boy near the door. Immediately he hands Selmy a slip of paper. “Lord Varys instructs that you hand this note to any high priest or guard you may encounter when entering the Red Temple. This is your key inside.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs and puts the paper away safely. In a blink of an eye, the boy had fled. As if never there.

When he returned to the table, food and drinks were already there as Ashara spoke of her skepticism of their destination. “Just be wary of the Red Temple. All there is there are religious fanatics who worship fire.”

“Not necessarily.” Tyrion interjects in a smart manner that makes Ashara raise her eyebrow quizzically. “They revere fire as holy. They worship the Lord of Light.”

Placing her chin on her palm, Ashara says “You know quite a bit. Are you a secret scholar?”

Blushing, Tyrion picks up his fork. “I just like to read.”

“Even more curious. Only little lords know how to read.”

A moment of silence before Tyrion replies “That’s because I’m the bastard son of one.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t.” he takes a bite and immediately forgets what they had been talking about. “This is the most delicious thing I had ever tasted!!”

Thankfully Ashara just chuckles and drops the subject, much to Barristan’s relief. Even though Ashara was no friend to Lord Tywin, it wouldn’t be good if anyone were to find out that Vaiko was in fact Tyrion Lannister of the rich Casterly Rock. Anyone else of a lower pedigree might contemplate kidnapping the young boy for ransom. Not that Tywin would pay it. Ser Barristan didn’t want to risk it either way.

The parting from Ashara Dayne was difficult for the both of them. Tyrion tried his best not to look back at the tavern where Ashara still enjoyed drinks with her other shipmates who had arrived to join her. They returned to the dock where the captain eagerly let them know that there was a spice ship that would be willing to allow them on board. Everything was moving quickly that Tyrion didn’t have much of an opportunity to miss Ashara. Ser Barristan hustled him on the spice ship as it was due to depart in a few minutes. Back to the sea life for the duo. Tyrion wished he could have explored Lys more, but it wasn’t to be. Perhaps coming back, Barristan would allow a stay.

Eying the knight, Tyrion’s gaze trickles down to the chest that was permanently attached to him. He always seemed to keep one hand on the top, protecting it subconsciously.

“May I ask you a question Ser?”

“You may.”

“We’ve been traveling together for quite a while. I think I deserve to know who we’re delivering that box to. I can’t follow you blindly anymore. If this is all in the name of Aerys, then I might as well have returned to Starfall with Lady Ashara.”

Those watery blue eyes that often looked sad regard Tyrion silently. He waited with baited breath, wondering if the knight would be truthful. “If I tell you, you must not tell a soul.”

That made Tyrion snort. “Who am I going to tell?”

The corner of Selmy’s mouth twitched into a smile. Reluctantly, Barristan drops to one knee in order to whisper the truth into Tyrion’s ear. “The recipient is your sister, (y/n). Tyrion, she lives. She didn’t die in the fire. Somehow she made her way to the Red Temple in Volantis where she is safe.”

Abruptly, Tyrion jumps away from Barristan. Eyes wide in disbelief, for once the well versed boy was at a loss for words. Lips parted many times with questions that were hastily forgotten. Small hands curl into balled up fists. “Truly? (y/n). . . She’s alive?”

He nods in confirmation.

Tyrion sharply looks away, trying to process everything that had been revealed. For a year he had mourned his beloved sister. A sister who loved him when no one else did. Someone who had always been happy to see him when others grimaced at his presence. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“It’s a delicate situation.” Selmy admitted and looked out to the docks of Lys that were growing smaller and smaller. “I don’t know all the details exactly, but this needs to be treated with the utmost care. (y/n) being alive needs to be kept between the two of us.”

There was a sharp pang of fear. “Does Aerys know? Is that why you’re delivering. . . whatever that is to her? Is it meant to kill her??” His questions were growing frantic and Barristan had to calm him.

“Aerys knows nothing of her survival.” Quickly reassuring him, Selmy draws him closer. “He is too focused on the war with Prince Rhaegar. As for the chest. . . I have no idea what it may contain. There is no latch nor lock. Try as I may, I don’t know how to open it. Or if it can even be open.”

“(y/n) is alive.”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to go see her.”

“Yes.”

Barristan Selmy was reminded how young Tyrion was as he started to cry softly. “My sister. . . she’s alive.” **

“My lady! Has Ser Barristan left Lys?”

Goblet in hand, Ashara lowers it partially. “Yes. The captain directed them to someone who can get them the rest of the way. Sit. What’s the matter?”

The young man takes a deep breath. “I’ve heard some urgent news. From Westeros.”

Intrigued, she leans in. “What news?”

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

@domoron

@yentroucnagol

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

[stillnaomi]

A New Year's address from President Xi Jinping

Greetings to everybody! Time flies fast, and the new year will be with us shortly. I extend my best wishes to you all from Beijing.

In 2024, we have together journeyed through the four seasons. Together, we have experienced winds and rains and seen rainbows. Those touching and unforgettable moments have been like still frames showing how extraordinary a year we have had.

We have proactively responded to the impacts of the changing environment at home and abroad. We have adopted a full range of policies to make solid gains in pursuing high-quality development. China's economy has rebounded and is on an upward trajectory, with its GDP for the year expected to pass the 130 trillion yuan mark. Grain output has surpassed 700 million tons, and China's bowls are now filled with more Chinese grain. Coordinated development across regions has gained stronger momentum, and mutually reinforcing advances have been made in both new urbanization and rural revitalization. Green and low-carbon development has been further enhanced. Indeed, a more beautiful China is unfolding before us.

We have fostered new quality productive forces in light of actual conditions. New business sectors, forms and models have kept emerging. For the first time, China has produced more than 10 million new energy vehicles in a year. Breakthroughs have been made in integrated circuit, artificial intelligence, quantum communications and many other fields. Also for the first time, the Chang'e-6 lunar probe collected samples from the far side of the moon. The Mengxiang drilling vessel explored the mystery of the deep ocean. The Shenzhen-Zhongshan Link now connects the two cities across the sea. The Antarctic Qinling Station is now in operation on the frozen continent. All this epitomizes the lofty spirit and dreams of the Chinese people to explore stars and oceans.

This year, I have visited many places across the country and seen how our people enjoy their enriching lives. I saw the big, red Huaniu apples in Tianshui, Gansu and the fishing boats in Aojiao Village, Fujian loaded with their catches. I watched the millenium-old "Eastern Smile" in the Maiji Mountain Grottoes, and I learned more about good-neighborliness passed from generation to generation in Liuchixiang Alley. I enjoyed the hustle and bustle in Tianjin's Ancient Culture Street, and I saw how the people in Yinchuan's mixed-ethnic residential communities live together as one family. The concerns of the people about jobs and incomes, elderly and child care, education and medical services are always on my mind. This year, basic pension has been raised, and mortgage rates have dropped. Cross-province direct settlement of medical bills has been expanded, making it easier for people to seek medical treatment across the country. And consumer goods trade-in programs have improved people's lives... All these are real benefits to our people.

In the Paris Olympics, Chinese athletes raced to the top and achieved their best performance in Olympic Games held overseas, fully demonstrating the vigor and confidence of young Chinese. The PLA Navy and Air Force celebrated their 75th birthdays, and our servicemen and women are full of drive. When floods, typhoons and other natural disasters struck, members of the Communist Party of China and officials stepped forward to lead disaster relief efforts, and our people were of one mind and reached out to each other. People in all fields -- workers, builders and entrepreneurs, among others -- are working hard to fulfill their dreams. I presented awards to recipients of national medals and honorary titles. The honor belongs to them; it also belongs to every hard-working person who has lived up to their responsibilities.

In a world of both transformation and turbulence, China, as a responsible major country, is actively promoting global governance reform and deepening solidarity and cooperation among the Global South. We are making deeper and more substantive advances in high-quality Belt and Road cooperation. The Beijing Summit of the Forum on China-Africa Cooperation was a full success. We put forward China's vision at the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, BRICS, APEC, G20 and other bilateral and multilateral forums. We have contributed greatly to the maintenance of world peace and stability.

We celebrated the 75th anniversary of the founding of New China. With deep affection, we looked back at the sea change that has taken place across China since the birth of the People's Republic. Nurtured by our 5,000-plus years of continuous civilization, our country, China, is engraved not only on the bottom of the ancient bronze ritual wine vessel of He Zun, but also in the heart of every Chinese. At its Third Plenary Session, the 20th Central Committee of the Communist Party of China sounded a clarion call for further deepening all-round reform. We will march forward in great strides to advance reform and opening up as the trend of our times. We will surely embrace even broader prospects in pursuing Chinese modernization in the course of reform and opening up.

In 2025, we will fully complete the 14th Five-Year Plan. We will implement more proactive and effective policies, pursue high-quality development as a top priority, promote greater self-reliance and strength in science and technology, and maintain sound momentum in economic and social development. The Chinese economy now faces some new conditions, including challenges of uncertainties in the external environment and pressure of transformation from old growth drivers into new ones. But we can prevail with our hard work. As always, we grow in the wind and rain, and we get stronger through hard times. We must be confident.

Of all the jobs in front of us, the most important is to ensure a happy life for our people. Every family hopes that their children can have a good education, their seniors can enjoy good elderly services, and their youngsters can have more and better opportunities. These simple wishes are our people's aspirations for a better life. We should work together to steadily improve social undertakings and governance, build a harmonious and inclusive atmosphere, and settle real issues, big or small, for our people. We must bring more smiles to our people and greater warmth to their hearts.

On the eve of the 25th anniversary of Macao's return to the motherland, I visited the city again, and I was gratified to see the new progress and changes there. We will unswervingly implement the policy of One Country, Two Systems to maintain long-term prosperity and stability in Hong Kong and Macao. We Chinese on both sides of the Taiwan Strait belong to one and the same family. No one can ever sever the bond of kinship between us, and no one can ever stop China's reunification, a trend of the times.

As changes unseen in a century accelerate across the world, it is important to rise above estrangement and conflict with a broad vision, and care for the future of humanity with great passion. China will work with all countries to promote friendship and cooperation, enhance mutual learning among different cultures, and build a community with a shared future for mankind. We must jointly create a better future for the world.

Dreams and wishes may be far, but they can be fulfilled with dedicated pursuit. On the new journey of Chinese modernization, everyone is a key actor, every effort counts, and every ray of light shines.

Splendor adorns our motherland, and starlight graces every home. Let us greet the new year with hope. May our great country enjoy harmony and prosperity! May all your dreams come true! May you all have a new year of happiness and peace

source: People's Daily, China via twitter

[pencil-peach]

G Witch Onscreen Text: Episode 2

This is part 3 in an ongoing series where I try and document and discuss all of the text that appears on screens and monitors throughout the show! Just because I can!

<<Click here to go back to Episode 1!

(Once I have a masterpost set up I will link it here!) Let us Begin! Below the Cut!

TEXT: (Lefthand side) Registered Name: AERIAL PMET CODE: 5011-0083 MANUFACTUR(ER): SHIN-SEI DEVELOPMENT CORPORATION STATUS: IN SERVICE REGISTERED PILOT: SULETTA MERCURY

At the beginning of the episode, Rouji has Haro run a program that compares Aerial's permet code and registered statistics against other registered Mobile Suits to try and find a match, and measures the probability of the two being the same type of MS. There is no direct match to any other MS by Permet Code, but the system states there's an 85% probability that it's a match for a Mobile Suit with permet code 0025-0082.

We never see the specific name of this MS, but considering that Shaddiq names "Ochs Earth" as the company that made it and proceeds to call Aerial, "...the Witch's Mobile Suit," I think it's reasonable to assume that 0025-0082 was the Permet Code for Lfrith-03.

TEXT: ALERT ACCESS CONTROL [???] [----OF ENTRY A---]

Unfortunately due to the small text of the Alert message, the fact that it scrolls, and it's brief time onscreen, its hard to make out specifically what it says. My best assumption from what we have is that it's a warning currently barring anyone from entry into the 13th Tactical Testing Sector.

TEXT: (Suletta's Asticassia ID) PILOTING DEPARTMENT ID No: LP-041 SULETTA MERCURY BIRTHPLACE: MERCURY HOUSE: NO DATA PC-CRIMINAL RECORD: NO DATA PC-BIOMETRIC SYSTEM: REGISTERED

(Below) WE ARE RESPONSIBLE UNDER COMPANY REGULATIONS FOR THE PROCESSING OF PERSONAL DATA

UNDER THESE REGULATIONS, WE ARE ALSO RESPONSIBLE FOR DATA HANDLING SUCH AS TRANSMISSION TO RECIPIENTS AND THIRD PARTIES.

PLEASE REFER TO THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS FOR DETAILS.

As Suletta is being questioned, we get a brief glimpse at the investigation report the interrogator was looking at before the screen cuts to black when it hits the table. Nothing super interesting here, but Suletta doesn't have a registered criminal record! Yippeeee!

TEXT: CAM: 05 MONITORING CAMERA FACILITY MANAGEMENT COMPANY

Not much to say here, this camera lets us know where Suletta is currently being held. (The Facility Management Company)

TEXT: (Lefthand Side) AERIAL XVX - 016 SIZE: 18.0m 48.9t

No point discussing the info on the right, we've already seen it, but this gives us a look at Aerial's height and weight.

TEXT: (Top Right) COM DELLING REMBRAN BENERIT GROUP

I only included this to point out that wow the display system devs made some poor choices with the UI here. Dark Blue text on Dark Backgrounds? You'd think the text would automatically lighten but I guess we'll have to wait for Ver 6.0 for that update.

TEXT (Top half) MOBILE CRAFT FUTURE TECHNOLOGY

ADVANCED MOBILE CRAFT TECHNOLOGY WITH PERMET MEASUREMENT EXPERTISE NEW POWER SYSTEM FOR MOBILE CRAFT AND HYBRID CONSTRUCTION MACHINE INSTALLATION HIGH ACCURACY DRIVE SYSTEM AND CONTROL SYSTEM IN MICROGRAVITY LOW ENERGY CONSUMPTION AND EASE OF MAINTENNANCE

No need to discuss the bottom half, its just the height and weight of the MC which we already know. I think it's funny how many classes this school seems to have on the new and improved Mobile Craft from Future Technology. I should probably buy one too. I love you Mobile Craft.

TEXT: (Left Image) The Shin Sei Development Corporation was established in A.S. 89. Our business began with the development of integrated operating systems for mobile suits and medical devices. We have been involved in MS development and have supported welfare engineering throughout our company history.

(Right Image) Ranking: D Sales Ranking (within group companies): 151th (out of) Total 157 companies [Mobile Suit Development] Number of clients: Over 300 companies Yearly patents: Over 200

We get a lot of information about Shin Sei in this scene where Martin looks at the Company History tab on their official website. The most interesting thing being that they were founded in A.S. 89. The Vanadis Incident occured in A.S. 101, and the show proper takes place in A.S. 122, so at some point between 101 and 122, Prospera worked her way up through Shin Sei, eventually becoming its CEO.

Given that Suletta had to have been born around A.S. 105, and that in Cradle Planet, we learn that Prospera had been working within Shin Sei when Suletta was around 6, that places A.S. 111 as the earliest she was involved.

We also learn in Cradle Planet, that when Suletta is around 11, Prospera has recently been promoted within the company, and now has many people working under her. That would be around A.S. 116. When Suletta is 16, that's when Prospera tells her that she's going to school, which would be around A.S. 121, and I think it's safe to assume that she had already become president by then.

SO!! TL;DR!! It's most likely that Prospera became the president of Shin Sei at SOME point between A.S 116 and A.S 121. I'd put it somewhere in the middle, around A.S 119. (Can't wait to find out that they probably just outright state this somewhere and I did all this for nothing....)

ADDENDUM

GOD DAMNIT. I WATCHED ALL OF CRADLE PLANET TO MATH THAT SHIT OUT. WHATEVER. I CAME TO THE SAME CONCLUSION SO I WIN.

The text is too small to make out, but we DO get a small glimpse at the letter Delling sent to Miorine about unenrolling her from the school. It probably just literally says what the body guard reads out.

I think it says something that Delling doesn't even like, text his daughter. He sends an email through the official Benerit Group email account to her bodyguard who reads it for her. What a cowardly man.

TEXT: (Left) FLUSH (Right) EMERGENCY CALL UNLOCK LOCK

YES the toilet text is important to document stop fucking looking at me like that.

TEXT: NEXT STAGE TOUCH SCREEN TO CONTINUE

I'll leave the explanation of the symbolism of this scene as an exercise for the reader. [Sultry Wink]

TEXT (Above) THIS ELECTRONIC SIGNATURE IS PROOF THAT IT WAS SIGNED BY A REPRESENTATIVE OF THE BENERIT GROUP.

No way to tell what Delling is signing here, but we do get a brief look at his handwriting. It turns out his cursive is really bad, actually!

At the Shin Sei inquiry, Shaddiq shares this graph titled "PMET RETENTION THRESHOLD VALUE", stating that during the duel, Aerial's Permet Influx Values exceeded the standards set by Cathedra.

This graph can be tough to parse, so let me explain it as best I can. The blue line represents Aerial's Permet Retention during the duel. The solid dark line represents the permet retention limit imposed by cathedra on mobile suits. (At around 500) As we can see, while Aerial began the duel underneath that limit, it exceeded it for a moment (presumably when Suletta took over for Miorine and the GUND bits were activated.)

The red line above that is labelled DATA STORM INCIDENT, which is representative of the minimum Permet Retention a Gundam expresses when it is interfacing with a Data Storm. The text on the bottom reads, THIS DATA IS VERY SIMILAR TO GUND FORMAT INCIDENT DATA.

But the key thing to take note of here is that Aerial's chart just BARELY doesn't exceed the DATA STORM INCIDENT graph, meaning that, despite it exceeding Cathedra's standards, it CANNOT be directly proven that Aerial was interfacing with a Data Storm. This is actually what Prospera brings up as her main counterpoint to the accusation.

So the graph is entirely consistent with Prospera's main argument. While she can't prove that Aerial isn't a gundam, nobody else can prove that it is.

Huaaaahh!! Alright!! This one was very DENSE. If you made it all the way through, thank you very much!! As a reward, have some little gay people

[I sprinkle these stills on the ground like bird seed.]

There was definitely a lot of really interesting info in this episode, and while not a lot of it was particularly new, I think it's really a testament to the dedication of keeping things wholly consistent in this world, even for the smallest of things that no normal person watching would even bother noticing.

Also, on the Shin Sei Website, did you notice that they accidentally put 151th instead of 151st?

You can't win em all!

Click here to go to Episode 3! >>

Click here to go to the Masterpost!