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jadedbutler · 1 year ago

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back when i'd first read dark rise, i'd written this little moody rescue au oneshot for Will & James (KempClair? What're we calling them lol),

I'd started drafting a James POV + continuation of it, which was left marinating in my gdocs until i read dark heir last weekend and had my brain chemicals once again reactivated.

below is a sample of that WIP which i am feeding you directly from my stupid little hands ;;

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

All draped in black and gold, crystal and white, wearing lavish masks over their eyes, unable to obscure their covetous little stares. Appraising James like he’s one of the cracked marble busts or stolen baroque oil paintings laid out on the lobby floor to be admired, but all too rich for their blood.

Another era, another gilded cage.

James St. Clair, on display again, an objet of virtu presented by yet another man drunk off conditional loyalty and borrowed prestige. Surrounded by vermin that think themselves his followers.

Well. Not untrue.

James tips his crystal drinking glass to his lips, itching to stain the crimson carpeted floors of the Hotel with a much darker red. It would be sooo easy; with a twitch of his fingers, he could turn this stupid masquerade into a massacre. But what he lacks in temperance and humility, he makes up for with patience. So he lets the wine soothe his nerves and sharpen his tongue instead. Biding his time.

Waiting. Always waiting.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my jewel?" James' current "patron" whispers, close enough to disturb the pendant dangling from his earlobe. A diamond-encrusted silver cross, clamped painfully onto James' ear, since his invulnerability makes piercings impossible to hold. It's not a relic, but like most jewelry designed in his honour, the earring is... troublesome.

"Oh, positively euphoric," James drawls in reply, inspecting the cuticles of his free hand to showcase exactly how much fun he's not having. But his sarcasm is lost on his patron, the dleusional swine, who returns a satisfied hum as he swirls his own champagne glass thoughtfully.

"As you should be. After all, tonight will be the marking of a new era - a new king. And what is a king without his crown jewel?"

Hah. Derision peals out of James' throat before he can swallow it back. How violently laughable. It's like this every fucking time.

But his laughter falters a moment later, as a subtle murmur ripples through the throng of cultists surrounding him. No, not a murmur, no one has stopped talking, not for a second.

Not a flicker, either, the chandelier lights overhead glittering bright, winking starlight into his eyes.

A shiver, then. A sudden drop in temperature that only he seems to feel. And it was so sickeningly hot just a moment ago.

And then --

Found you.

Robbed of his breath and his heartbeat and every thought he's ever had, James lifts his eyes and finds himself pinned, under that dark endless gaze he's felt a thousand times in his dreams.

There, in the crowd, separated by a dozen or so false followers, a pale face looks regards him, shrouded in black lace.

James' lips part by a fraction of a centimeter, and he feels himself about to say. You found me.

The spell remains unbroken, even as James' patron pulls an arm around his waist, announcing his latest conquest to the thrall before him. "A toast--" he says, or maybe he doesn't. James isn't listening. He can't hear a thing.

He swallows back the rest of his wine, untangles himself from the unwanted grip.

"Where do you --"

"Breath of fresh air," he mutters, tearing himself away.

Away, away and up the empire steps to the mezzanine, up the next few floors of the Hotel until he reaches an empty hall, void of false followers and prying eyes. He's vaguely aware that he's shivering hard. Not because his thin white shirt leaves his back exposed. Not because of the wine in his blood.

Absently, he grabs a forgotten coat draped over the bannister, and pulls his arms through. But the shaking does not stop.

In the Hotel, his steps are muted against the carpeted floors. But as pushes through the glass doors leading to the balcony. the ground beneath his boot heels is more solid. Still, he feels as though if he takes another step, he'll fall right through.

Will is waiting for him by the marble-wrought railing, still and beautiful as a sculptor's depiction of Lucifer. God's beloved, fallen.

"You came for me," he breathes, bathed once more in Will's beckoning gaze. With impossible yearning, James reaches out, not with his hands but with his magic, to assure himself this isn't a spectre, a cruel trick, the kind that fate has played on him over and over and over -

"You can come closer,"

A gloved hand reaches toward him. Not begging to touch. Not commanding.

It's too much. James had spent this entire lifetime cultivating a wall of ice and iron around himself, only for it to melt from a single gesture from Will. He practically pours himself into Will's arms, pressing his cheek against his hand.

"I wasn't sure," he sighs, dragging his fingers, his real ones, along Will's armdf;lskdf;lka;lkfsdlkjdf idk to be conitniutend ?????? bY e

#dark rise #dark heir #james st. clair #i had this thought that to escape Will shoots James right through the shoulder knowing he'll heal so that he can get the guy behind them #and then violet rolls up in the getaway car like “fancy a ride 🤨???”#and James is like where's my darling brother? not part of your motley crew this time ???#and violet hits him with the “forgive me if i didn't want you two to cannibalize each other in the getaway car”#she says weaving through traffic several kilometers more per hour than recommended by experts #“right. that's your prerogative”#and violet doesn't even say anything she just gives will a look in the rearview mirror like 😐#anyways #i'd like to finish this as possible but i have a thousand thoughts running through my head at any given time so we'll see #gjs;lejrfrgslk;jtwrklfjgrsj;lkjelkrjlksjdf;l<kjs; if you will #if you WILL

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ghostcaterwaul-doesnt-write · 1 year ago

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OC Intro: Alice Hansen

CW: Mentions of abusive relationships, sexual assault, attempted suicide, emotionally neglectful/abusive parenting, and self-destructive behavior such as self-harm, drug and alcohol use, and self-inflicted food and sleep deprivation. All of this is described in mild to moderate detail in this post, so there's nothing super explicit here. That being said, stay safe and proceed with caution.

-17 years old

-Stands 5’1” with a delicate and very thin (almost sickly) body type, long white hair and porcelain skin graced with freckles. She has blue-grey eyes that show a profound sadness. Scars on arms, legs, and stomach from self-harm. Her clothing aesthetic is a mix of fairy grunge, whimsigothic, and strega fashion. Often wears silver, fantasy themed jewelry with crystals and charms, nature themed jewelry such a terrarium pendants and charms or floral jewelry, and jewelry made from leather. Wears armwarmers, legwarmers, fingerless gloves, scarves, hip, waist, and hair chains, patterned mesh or fishnet tights. and patterned socks. Sometimes styles her hair in fantasy-inspired braids. Wears lots of hair jewelry/accessories. Literally jingles with every movement because of all her jewelry. Always wears at least 3 layers of clothing due to the fact she's always cold, no matter the weather. Also likes a lot of glow-in-the-dark, UV-reactive, and thermal-reactive accessories.

-Quiet and soft-spoken. She puts on a happy face, but in reality, she’s sad and angry, mostly because she sees so many terrible and unjust things happening in the world. She also struggles with her self-esteem and self-worth. Her sadness definitely shows in her eyes, but either no one’s noticed, no one cares, or no one really knows what to say or do about it. She often takes her anger out on herself through various methods of self-harm and other self-destructive behavior, such as substance abuse (mainly pills and alcohol), sleep and food deprivation, smoking cigarettes, and putting herself in dangerous situations. She hides these behaviors almost too well. She’s an overall nice person, maybe too nice at times. She self-isolates a lot, keeping an emotional distance from people. She spends her time reading, playing guitar, tambourine, violin, and piano/keyboard, singing, various forms of art, and writing her own songs as well as writing fiction. She also enjoys experimenting with vocal percussion and using household objects as instruments in her music (glass bottles and jars are one of her favorites to experiment with). Sometimes when she gets overwhelmed, her brain really goes haywire. She’ll have trouble remembering certain words as well as processing speech and text. She also will forget what she’s doing in the middle of a task, or if she dares to try and drive in this mental state, she may forget where she’s going. It really frustrates her, and she often starts hitting herself in the head or pulling at her hair.

-Grew up upper-middle class with a single mother who is barely ever home and hardly acknowledges her existence. Her mother treats her like an inconvenience and will basically bribe her to leave her alone. This is how she’s obtained books, art supplies, and her guitar, violin, tambourine, piano lessons, as well as many other things. It’s obvious her mother doesn’t want to be a mother. Alice has been told that her father left before she was born, but the truth is her mother is the one who left and her father has no clue she exists. Alice has attempted suicide by overdose in the past, but she survived despite never being taken to a hospital. She’s never told anyone about her suicide attempt. She has had one boyfriend who sexually assaulted her on multiple occasions and the only reason she’s no longer with him is because she and her mom moved to a different town after inheriting her grandmother’s house, and she used this as an excuse to break up with him.

-She’s pretty experimental when it comes to her creative endeavors. She doesn’t really know what to call her style of music, but she sings grotesque and poetic lyrics containing themes of isolation, depression, sexual assault, and self-harm, as well as taking some inspiration from horror movies, gothic literature, Arthurian legend, and the occult sung with a light, breathy voice with occasional slight vibrato and high pitched, raspy screams, shrieks, and wails, making her sound like a tormented banshee. This is accompanied by dark, doomy, ambient, haunting instrumentals on her guitar, violin, or keyboard, vocal percussion, and, as mentioned before, non-instruments used as instruments. She often adds reverb and delay effects to her music. Her screams over the softer music often create a very chilling effect. She records her music with the limited resources she has access to, such as her laptop and earphones with a built-in microphone. Her musical influences consist of KatieJane Garside, Nicole Dollanganger, Tori Amos, Dani Filth, Kathrine “Sylvaine” Shepard, Stéphane “Niege" Paut, Enya, Emilie Autumn, Nicole Ansperger, Pete Johansen, Anthony Gonzalez, Rachel “Banshee” Knight, Billy Corgan, and Anna-Varney Cantodea. Her visual art is often gory and disturbing, or at least tackles disturbing themes, yet her style is very ethereal. She paints and draws and also makes sculptures out of objects she finds while out and about, such as animal remains (which she manages to keep preserved in a portable freezer she obtained off of Craigslist for free), sticks, rocks, or just cool stuff she finds either out in nature or even just on the side of the road. She doesn’t like to share her music, art, or writing with anyone because she feels that these are some of the few things she has to herself that are completely hers and hers alone, and she wants to keep it that way for the time being. Thank goodness for her walk-in closet and the space underneath her bed. She mostly reads gothic literature, fantasy, and books that are considered “weird” by her peers due to questionable or dark subject matter. She has 2 pet rats, a white one named Guinevere and a blue one named Ophelia. She also has an Antilles pinktoe tarantula named Vivica. She’s always ice-cold to the touch, no matter what the temperature is outside or what she’s wearing. Drives a white 1995 Chevy Lumina with a burgundy interior. Her lips are often chapped, and she picks at the dead skin until she bleeds.

#writeblr #writeblr community #oc intro #my ocs #oc: alice hansen #oc aesthetic #oc lore #this is so much longer than I intended it to be 😖

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auragray-cyborg-kinblog · 1 year ago

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I just bought these two gadgets.

Blue rectangle isolinear in the pendant.

Cyberpunk style in the glasses.

#cyberpunk #cyberpunk aesthetic #cyborgkin #cyborgkinic #female cyborg #cyborg #otherkin #alterhuman #cyberpunk gadgets

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artstrosity · 2 years ago

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https://artstrosity.com/collections/earrings Tasha's Caustic Brew, a set of D8 Earrings framed with lava stone and glass beads, that come to a point with crow feet pendants. The D8s are also UV reactive. Available now!

#dice #hand made dice #dnd dice #dnd community #dnd fashion #dnd jewelry #dnd #dice jewelry #dice earrings #gothic jewelry #goth accessories #goth asthetic #witch asthetic #crow feet #dice maker

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iriemadeart · 2 years ago

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Bring a touch of magic to your jewelry collection with our UV reactive glass mushroom pendants by Irie Made Art 🍄 Each piece is handmade with love and is guaranteed to add a pop of color to your daily look! Whether you're going for a boho chic or edgy style, our pendants have got you covered. #UVReactiveGlass #MushroomPendants #IrieMadeArt #HandmadeJewelry #BohoChic #NatureInspired #GlassJewelry #ColorPop #MushroomObsessed #FestivalFashion #ArtJewelry #BoroGlass #HandmadeWithLove #NatureLovers #AccessoriesAddict #StatementJewelry #Fashionista #EcoFriendly #TrendyJewelry #WearableArt #GlassBlowing #HandmadeGifts #Craftsmanship #StylishAccessories #NatureInspo #GlassArt #HandmadeFinds #FashionJewelry #EtsyFinds #JewelryLovers (at Oregon, USA) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoGBIUZS7qp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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trendilyyours · 2 years ago

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: RUBY RD Two-Tone Chain Reactive Pendant Necklace.

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blckfyres · 2 years ago

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Hi hi! Okay so those song prompts are magnificent. How about ‘17. And at once I knew, I was not magnificent - Holocene, Bon Iver’

It would be good to have something where Aemond l sees the reader for the first time at a ball or something and his own little view that he is superior to others comes crashing down because he is in absolute awe of her? Feel free to alter/tweak/change whatever!

thank you so much @littlemisscaptainfandom ! i ran wild with this one. feral. i love the idea of aemond being outplayed because of his smugness, and the ball idea - enjoy!

request a song prompt!

Magnificent

Warnings: Aemond being in deep denial lmao WC: 3333 (nice)

Prompt 17: "And at once I knew, I was not magnificent" - Holocene, Bon Iver

He heard you long before he saw you – the uneven heel clacking of a noble’s daughter who had shirked one too many dance lessons.

“No,” he heard a lilting voice laugh, impatiently. “Like this - right foot second, you dolt.”

Dolt indeed – the instruction was lost on the girl, whoever in the Seven she was. Yet another sacrificial lamb to lure the unwed dragon into marriage, no doubt. Even with one eye and a turned back, Aemond could practically smell her family’s pathetic attempt at temptation – a corset two sizes too small and a family ambition two leagues too large.

The prince didn’t deign to watch the scene. He preferred the game of gleaning, observation – seeing without seeing. Creating the tapestry in his mind and tracing the threads to know which to pull to watch it all unravel. It had long been said by the Maesters that when one loses a sense, the others bolster themselves, and indeed, all he had to do was listen.

Aemond heard the Dolt relinquish a dramatic sigh. “It seems that I simply must retire to the fray then Elyana, lest I bring shame upon our most noble house.”

The younger – Elyana – huffed.

“It would be wise. How father expects to make you a dragon bride, I will never know. You cannot dance, or sing, or embroider –”

“Yes, and lest we forget my stunning lack of maternal instinct,” you lamented. “Remember when Darya’s little one bit me?”

Aemond smiled – smug, slight, vulpine. He was right, of course, as he always was.

The sudden sound of shattered glass upon flagstones jerked Aemond out of his wager. He acted on instinct, as he always did, head whipping towards the drunken laughter and breaking his reverie. Behind him indeed stood two girls, as different as the sun and moon. The younger, dressed in fine lilac gossamer and silver, swiftly began to chase the bard and beg for another song.

And then there was you. Aemond’s eye roamed your figure, appraising the rich, dark olive of your gown and its deep, square neckline – Braavosi velvet, he’d wager, a show of wealth to have such long sleeves of the stuff. A little demure for an attempted seduction, he mused. Perhaps her family thought to appeal to mother’s piousness.

The prince would never admit that this was the longest he had stared at a woman. He simply wanted to improve his skill of gleaning, listening, to compare the observations he made with the reality before him. It was imperative to absorb every detail; the way that your gold pendant heaved with your shallow, shocked breathing, and the sliver of hair resting on your cheek. There was a power in your tensed shoulders - coiled, reactive, ready for the threat of weight. Aemond felt his fingers twitch against his will, a yearning to carry it for you.

He snapped himself back to reality with an internal grimace - the dragon cannot lie with the lamb. The music had begun again, and you finally turned towards him, face blanching at his discovered proximity.

“Prince Aemond,” you started, eyes wide, muscles coiled – caught in the courtly snare.

The lamb is too stunned to curtsey, he mused, watching your quick fingers wringing the golden band on your thumb. You certainly were the most radiant of the sacrifices offered to him so far. Though, he parried, there would be little use in marrying a fool.

Aemond hummed, relishing in your panic for a few seconds longer than any decent gentleman would.

“I’m half-blind, not half-deaf,” he said lowly, taking a step closer. “One would do well to be wary of the court, my lady. You never know who might be listening.”

Your eyes narrowed imperceptibly – a flash of something Aemond didn’t quite recognise, gone as quickly as it appeared. Idiots have trouble accepting their transgressions, he supposed, but her polite smile had something hidden behind it, like the dark side of the moon. Deep within the tides of the fray, Alicent observed the scene with a ghost of a smile. She watched the girl hide fire and intelligence in her muscles like a coiled serpent, and bitterly wished that she had the same instinct as a girl. Perhaps then she could have avoided her fate of staring at ceilings and dancing with dragons.

Her prayer was silent as she observed you, implored with eyes instead of the tongue: Keep buying your time, sweet girl. Her second son was much too perceptive not to see through your mummer’s moronity eventually – she could already see Aemond’s eye probing your mask.

“Aemond,” the Queen beckoned with a regal nod of her head.

Time. She thought, noting the way your minds danced around each other, palpable. Love matches were rare, mind matches even more so – but she could see the way you looked at one another. Time and choice. She would gift you the mercy the gods denied her.

The prince pried his eye away from you with great effort, waiting for you to answer him. You remained silent, gaze unwavering.

Interesting. He conceded as he walked towards his mother. For a dolt.

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Your eyes narrowed through the dim candlelight. The crowd ebbed and heaved like fresh seafoam, and you searched for your sister, your anchor in the waves, like the Oldtown lightower would a lost ship. In truth, you felt uneasy without Ely, your sworn shield against courtly attentions. It had been like this ever since you were children – a symbiotic relationship, the tide to your moon. She would sing and whirl through your father’s halls, a gossamer dervish, drawing the attention to herself and leaving you free to pursue your histories and hidden halls, and hone your sharp tongue.

You finally spotted the girl by a large table of ale, humouring a dark haired young lord who had not yet grown into his long limbs. You weaved your way through the crowd to reach her, forming a courtly, waxen smile to begin your manoeuvre.

“Sister!” You gasped, watching Elyana’s dark eyes twinkle as she recognised your ruse. “Mother requires you at once–” You cocked your head, silently wondering how every little lord fell for it. “Something about Ser Randyll?”

The little lord – Arryn, you’d wager by his gleaming brooch – blanched at the sight of your mother in deep conversation with Lord Reyne and his son. You stifled a laugh watching his chest puff up slightly at the challenge – your work was done. You pried your sister away from the little falcon’s talons, barely managing to stifle your laughing fit until he was out of earshot.

“Seven hells, Y/N, it took you long enough!” she huffed, preening over your shoulder to make sure that the young Lord Lannister hadn’t seen the exchange and think her spoken for. She had always been a romantic, excessively so, even for her six and ten years.

You pinched her dimpled cheek with a grin. “That’s for having far too much mirth in calling me a dolt earlier.”

Elyana rolled her eyes, batting your hand away. “It was your grand strategy, if I recall.”

“Yes, and I accounted for the pinch.” You said wickedly, before surveying the hall.

“A job well done I’d say, The Prince heard our performance. I even refused to curtsey. He’ll no doubt relay my idiocy to the Queen, and we’ll be home in no time at all.”

Elyana regarded you pensively, gently taking hold of your hand. Her gentleness felt like a cage to you, sometimes – perceptive, inescapable. “You know you will have to marry one day.”

Your sister watched your eyes flutter, soaking in your surroundings like a sponge. Your reply was barely audible over the internal hum of your own thoughts. “Not like this.”

You had decided that long ago. You knew you couldn’t escape a married fate – all women were cursed with the knowledge of how their lives would go from the moment they stepped into their first etiquette lesson with the septa. But, if you were to be married, it would be on your terms.

Impossible, father often branded you, but always with a fond smile. If you could not escape your fate, you would fiercely guard the little time you had with your freedom as the kingsguard would protect the king.

Though sometimes, when alone in the vespertine hush of your chambers, you could admit the presence of a longing in yourself, a desire to be seen for who you were by whoever you might be sold off to. Such longing is dangerous, you told yourself. Expect the swing of the sword, never mercy. Especially if you found yourself drawn to the wielder like a moth to flame – you were lucky to have honed your courtly mask so well upon seeing his handsome face. Though you had heard takes of the “one-eyed brute”, there was little account of the beautiful shadow his cheekbones cast, and his knowing, surveying gaze.

Your sister pulled you out of your thoughts, head nodding to a balcony alcove. She knew the price you paid for duty as the eldest. “Go. Take your refuge. I’ll be with mother.”

You offered her a tired, grateful smile before wading through the crowd towards your sanctuary, too close to paradise to be aware of the shark circling.

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It wasn’t as though Aemond had been watching you. Mother had always taught him to be an attentive host - he was merely cultivating good will, bolstering support for the war to come. He watched you grab your third - no, fourth - glass of wine, an irritated huff escaping his nose. He supposed there was little use in lying to himself any longer - he felt pulled to you the same way he felt called to the skies. Perhaps this was the lust that seemed to drive Aegon to the depths of Fleabottom every night - maddening.

The more he watched you, the more his one good eye narrowed in bewilderment. Supposedly too dim to follow a septa’s simple instruction and notice the ears of court, yet cunning enough to weave your way through this nest of dancing vipers and their hungry sons. You could redirect the attention of a young lord with a single word, and charm your father with the raise of an eyebrow. You moulded the scenes that unfolded around you, parrying dance requests with a skill he’d only seen with Ser Cole and his morningstar.

So why the overt blundering before him? He leaned against the pillar, pensive. The only rational explanation he could fathom was that you had heard stories of him and thought to demean yourself as a marriage prospect. The prince scowled. Of course. What woman such as her would want a one-eyed beast as a husband? Aemond felt his insides twist and his fingers twitch, barely containing the ire towards himself.

Despite your repulsion of him, Aemond felt his curiosity turning ravenous in his stomach as he watched you approach your sister. He could not help but want to map you as The Conqueror once did his lands – even if you did not want him, he could watch your mind work from afar. So watch he did, as your sister held your hand in hers like water. He mapped it all to memory – your hushed words, the steely set of your eyes and jaw, your deceptive smile; a sliver of his favourite crescent moon.

The hour was late and the candles burnt low. Nobody would begrudge any of the young ladies for retiring for the night – the young Tyrell girl had already sunk so far into her cups that she had to be carried to her chambers like an overwatered rose. Yet there you slithered to the alcove, alone, alert with empty company and a full cup.

Aemond had begun to follow you long before his mind registered the movement of his legs. He followed your trail through the flurry of bright skirts, drunk on the hunt. His long legs strode with a purpose that was lost to his conscious mind, stopping when he reached the boundary of the lush, red drapery. Aemond stood outside of your sanctuary for a long while before breaching it, in an act that almost reminded him of protection. From what, he did not know. A mangled dragon guarding its hoard, he thought wryly, before stepping onto the balcony with the silence of a predator.

The prince wasn’t sure what he expected. A maiden in tears after being shunned at court, perhaps – he wasn’t sure how far you’d go to keep up the show. But there you were, in the furthest corner of the alcove, with your elbows on the dark stone and your eyes to the stars. He glanced at your now-empty cup before clearing his throat.

You sighed imperceptibly before turning to face him. So you knew I was here, then. The thought made him hide a smile - the idea of you sensing his presence and ignoring him anyway, even if you tried to hide that fact. Insolent. He thought. Magnificent.

You bowed this time, with a tired, chagrin smile - an apology for earlier. “Forgive me, my Prince. It has been a while since my sister and I have been in the capital. The intricacies of court politics appear to be lost on me.”

Aemond hummed, ignoring the way his innards clenched - my prince. He rather liked the sound of that. “Yet not so unhoned that you managed to avoid that Lannister whelp,” he paused, brow raised. It made him feel less shame to know he was not the only one you rebuked. “Not to mention that little Manderly lordling.”

The Prince enjoyed watching you war with yourself - needing to keep your shield up, yet too tired and full of ire to keep up the ruse for much longer.

“Evading them hardly requires a honed mind, my Prince.” You snorted. A clever answer. He thought. Too clever.

“Aemond.” He corrected. You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious. “If I am to play along with your farce, let the rest of it be real.” He amended, making his way next to you but never prying his eye away.

You breathed a laugh, toying with your rings again. “You see more with one eye than most do with two, Aemond.”

The prince hummed. “It is of little consequence. They still brand me “one-eye” after all.”

“Little,” you snorted again, a glorious sound. Real, he thought, the soft skin of your hand calling him as your voice did. Real enough to touch. “Perhaps everything seems little to the rider of the largest dragon alive.”

The mention of Vhagar earnt you a small smile - a true one that you couldn’t quite look away from. Somehow you knew that it was Aemond’s version of a face-splitting grin.

You basked in comfortable silence for a while, noting how he had placed you on his right side – away from his eyepatch. The revelation made you frown, but left your vision unobstructed. It gave you a better look at the way his hair fell, an estuary of molten silver. You committed his profile to memory - the sharp edges that were strong, true, until he suddenly met your eyes. For once, you were speechless - the lush darkness of the night and the sweet smell of gardenias were suddenly oppressive.

“I really can’t dance, you know.” You blurted.

Aemond artfully raised an eyebrow in question.

“Earlier,” you clarified. “what you heard.” You tucked your hair behind your ear with what you hoped was a self-effacing smile. “I really am a terrible dancer, it was no lie.”

Aemond nodded grimly in understanding. “There is no need, my Lady, I understand your distaste for the match.” He stood taller, and tapped his eyepatch lightly.

Aemond watched ten emotions cross your face at once, until you settled on the one that most puzzled him; anger. Your eyebrows furrowed deliciously, something he noticed you did before you wielded your barbed tongue, and your lips parted. He did not see how your heart caught in your throat, nor the way your hands almost sprung to hold his shoulders. You slapped your palms onto the cold stone instead.

“Gods no. No, that is,” you breathed, warring with yourself before finally conceding. “It is not you, Aemond. Nor the sapphire eye that likely costs more than my entire dowry,” you jested half-heartedly.

You steeled yourself for honesty, looking into the sky once again and sneering in defiance at the gods who watched. “If I am to be sold off, I at least want to choose my buyer.”

Aemond’s gaze never left you, probing your truth as if he were caught in its net. He finally understood, and you knew he did. There was little that could be said, he thought.

Your eyes were almost crazed with a repressed frustration that was finally breaching the walls of your dutiful facade. A longing to be understood that matched his own. He saw fire – not that of ‘fire and blood’, but the fire of lightning. Beautiful, terrible, calculated in its strikes. Magnificent.

You trembled as if to cull the rage from erupting out of you. Years of playing placater, unable to unleash the true potential of your mind and spirit. Aemond’s eye flitted down to the stone, observing the shaking of your hands.

He did the only thing he knew how to and rested his hand gently over yours, the same way he would calm Vhagar. Real, he thought. Warm. Much too warm. You calmed under his touch. He understood, you know he did – years at court culling your own ambition at the expense of duty. Aemond created the “one-eyed brute”, just as you created the “little dolt of a lamb”.

You placed your hand over his. Horribly improper – it made you smile under the valleys of his scars and callouses. You wondered if you could map them in your mind as the maesters mapped the stars – a sky that was your own. Aemond felt your pulse thrum under his fingers and let it reverberate – his hands, his ears, his heart, his bones, it was all you. He knew you would have to leave soon enough, but for now, he would bask in you, knowing you’ve scorched him for life.

“Aemond,” You said, hushed. “How far can a dragon fly?” You looked up to meet his faraway gaze, relishing in catching him off guard. His lips were slightly parted as he stared at your own. It took every ounce of his steel restraint not to pull you to him and show you the meaning of fire and blood.

Instead, he hummed. “Vhagar has been known to make the trip from here to Dorne in a day, give or take - ”

He stilled at the interrupting shake of your head. If you had met his eyes, you would have noticed the questioning squint of his eye. Instead, your eyes were now trained above him, not wavering from the star-spittled sky.

“No,” you began, the gold of your necklace jingling as you craned your neck - as if the stars would be able to hear you better that way. “How high? Your maesters would not tell me.”

Aemond stared at you for a moment, finally following your gaze upwards with a slight smile. You asked the maesters. Of course you did. The thought of you badgering them in the palace library filled him with a disturbing level of fondness.

“Perhaps we could find out.”

Your head whipped towards him, eyes sparkling in the dark. “We?”

Aemond hummed again, this time in affirmation as he took your hand in silent question. “If I’m steering Vhagar, who will take note of the scientific observations? Maybe you are a dolt after all, my lady.” You squeezed his hand in your own, and your answering grin was like the sun. Magnificent.

#song prompts #my writing #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond fics #hotd #hotd fics #unbowed unbeta'd unbroken #mine #magnificent

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doobiedrewbie · 7 years ago

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All UV reactive double implosion pendant made by Chadwicksglass. 💎

#newer glass #pendant #drews collection #uv reactive #big bang #chadwicksglass

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livicraft · 10 months ago

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This has been created by using a beautiful bright red glass along with a clear reactive glass and silver foil, when fused in the kiln a chemical reaction occurs and creates a beautiful design.

#livicraft #livicraft glass art #jewellery #glass pendants #pendant #unique #autumn #red #reactive glass Pendant

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highwhatever · 3 years ago

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UV reactive ghost pendant #4 👻 thanks for looking! Check out the others on my feed if you haven’t already 👀 #ghosthunting #ghostsighting #uvglass #glass #pendantsofig #glassofig #canadianglass #spooky #glassart https://www.instagram.com/p/CVjDEzuhxIJ/?utm_medium=tumblr

#4 #ghosthunting #ghostsighting #uvglass #glass #pendantsofig #glassofig #canadianglass #spooky #glassart

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dragonfireglass · 4 years ago

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Our newest addition, UV reactive beautiful and one-of-a-kind glass pendant ❤ . . . . #DragonFireGlass #pendant #glass4sale #glassart #etsy #bestofglass #uvglass #ophrahsbookclub #buyboro #headyglass #borolove #glassoffig #glassgallery #boro #headypendant #boroglass #boroforsale #headyglassforsale #heady_pendants #headyart #headyartglass #headyglassart #headyglassofig #420 #uv #highendglass #glassjewelry #glassofigforsale #glassblowing #glasspendants https://www.instagram.com/p/CLXYWT9BlYU/?igshid=q0xl649qgh33

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bardicknowledgeblogger · 6 years ago

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Inspiration: Metals

A collection of unique and beautiful metals (alloys and minerals) to inspire your item design, unique encounters, and more.

I’ve done a few of these so far, and you can check them out here: Gemstones, Plantlife, Fungi, Bugs

As usual - feel free to add any additions of your own, and definitely share anything you make based around this stuff!

Rhodium

A silvery white metal that is part of the platinum group, Rhodium is one of the rarest naturally occurring metals on earth. It is bright and flashy, but also stands up to wear and tear incredibly well, so is often used to coat more delicate materials to prevent them from being tarnished or damaged.

Rhodium plated Sterling Silver Cz stacker Ring on Etsy

Radiant Serum: A thin, silvery liquid that seems to shimmer as the light hits it. Can be applied to any metal and will coat it, giving the item a smooth silver finish that cleanly reflects the light. Items treated with this serum do not require any maintenance for the next couple of weeks (weapons do not need to be cleaned or sharpened to maintain their edge, jewelry will not tarnish or fade on the road, etc...)

Decoy Charm: A bright charm of brilliantly polished metal that hangs from your coin purse. It’s alluring appearance (but relative worthlessness) serves as a nice decoy for pickpockets. If you would be pickpocketed, there is a chance the thief takes the charm instead of your coin purse.

Rhoweave Robes: Soft and silvery flowing robes that are as light and breathable as traditional robes, but have the armor qualities of lighter metal armor sets by weaving thin strands of metal densely into the fibers of the cloth.

Gallium

Gallium is a very soft metal with a fairly low melting point that can be reached just by holding it in your hand, while it’s frozen state can be easily shattered like glass. When in contact with certain metals, it can begin to soften and degrade them with ease.

Corroding Ooze: An ooze that, while docile, appears as a solid item - sometimes as a crystal, sometimes as a statute. However, when it goes on the prowl, it becomes a quivering puddle that spreads and undulates along the floor. It’s method of attack is to quickly coat the body of its prey, slowly corroding and breaking down any and all metal until it can begin to digest them with ease.

Shard Bomb: A small orb that feels very brittle to the touch, filled with a highly reactive chemical compound. When thrown against a surface, it shatters like grass, sending shards and sliver of metal flying in a radius around it, shredding everything in its path.

Ruthenium

A rare metal used in a wide array of things, such as oil refinement and solar panels, as it is incredibly conductive and resilient. However it also allows flames to reach incredibly high temperatures and burn for indefinite amounts of time.

Ruthenium plated lotus necklace on etsy

Everburn Blade: A dark, glistening sword whose blade is always engulfed in flame, no longer how long it has been burning or surrounding environment - it’ll even continue to burn underwater. Its flames are quelled while sheathed, but roar back to life as soon as it is drawn.

Charge Pendant: A dark metal pendant that absorbs and stores energy while exposed to sunlight. This store of energy can be magically transferred to any items requiring a magic charge.

Lightning Construct: A metal construct of indeterminate design that seems to shamble to life within lightning storms, drawing the lightning to them and creating a shocking aura around them that is difficult to breach.

Bismuth

This striking metal naturally forms this geometric crystalline structure without outside influence. It is the heaviest non-radiocative metal and is used in an array of things such as makeup.It’s also one of the most naturally diamagnetic elements, and unlike most metals is not a very good conductor of heat.

Bismuth Knife by Kiwami Japan on youtube

Prismatic Makeup: A charming pallet of makeup of metallic iridescent tones can be applied for a significant bonus to your charm and seduction.

Repelling Knife: This strangely geometric knife buzzes with energy as you hold it. Whenever you strike an opponent wearing who wears metal, they are knocked back a significant distance as they are replled from the knife itself.

Insulating Armor: This flashy armor is favored by adventurer’s in colder climates, as it is has an incredibly ability to keep heat trapped against the body and does not transfer any of the cold to them. This allows them to still wear stronger, metal armor without freezing up in their travels, giving them an incredible edge.

Mercury

A well known material that is liquid not only at room temperature, but at most temperatures (both hot and cold) that we experience on a regular basis - it must reach -38 degrees F or lower to remain solid. This makes it difficult to use in most ways, but not impossible.

Mercury Blade: An impossibly shining sword only wielded by fiends in the most polar regions of the world, Mercury Blades are incredibly deadly. The soft metal blades degrade with each strike on their foe, leaving behind deposits of toxic material that quickly enter the bloodstream and steadily kill them.

Draught of Quicksilver: Originally created by a renowned alchemist, this draught was designed to give the consumer inhuman reflexes and heightened speed. While it does this, it also takes a hefty toll on their health, and overuse can lead to addiction and death.

Weather Charm: A small glass vial with a bead of this silver liquid in it can alert you to the weather conditions of the next day. A small blessing can be asked of the gods, using the charm as a channel, and has a chance to shift the next day’s weather to be more favorable.

That’s all for this round. I had a harder time finding many metals that looked unique and had interesting properties to work from, but hopefully this worked as an interesting jumping off point! Let me know if you create anything cool and interesting, or if you have your own unique metals to add to the list.

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