#south mane beauty

[h-didanart]

@atherflame-theconcubus

It's said to resemble a fox and a wolf, but in fact the maned wolf is the only species in the genus chrysocyon (meaning golden dog). It lives in grasslands and bushy areas of South America where it plays an important ecological role in the dispersal of fruit seeds. Animal Fact Files

[fate-magical-girls]

The Varieties of Chinese Mermaids

In the modern day, most people will think of the pearl-crying Jiaoren. However JIAOREN IS NOT THE PERFECT EQUIVALENT OF THE MERMAID in pre-modern folklore.

Chinese mermaids come in multiple types. Most of them can be found in the Chronicle of the Mountains and the Seas (Shan Hai Jing/山海經). Others can be found in the In Search of the Supernatural (Sou Shen Ji/搜神記) or Extensive Records of the Taiping Era (Taiping Guangji/太平廣記).

YUFU/MER-WIFE (魚婦): Zhuanxu was a god-emperor in legendary times, whose accomplishments included sending two of his sons to complete the separation of Heaven and Earth. When he died, fish ate his corpse, becoming half fish and half human women. They live in the Great Wilderness toward the west of China. They combine traits of humans, fish, and snakes. The Classic of Mountains and the Seas states: "There is a fish half-withered, it is Zhuanxu that died and then revived; when the winds blow northward, the sky whips up great geysers, snakes transform into fish, and those are mer-wives."

LINGYU/HILL FISH (陵魚，鯪魚): The Lingyu lived in the northern regions of China, either in the sea or mountain streams. They have human faces and limbs, but fish bodies. They are identified with Chinese giant salamanders or mud carp in the modern day. The Classic of Mountains and Seas states: "The nation of Guye is in the sea, among the Guye mountain range, surrounded by peaks to the southwest. There are great crabs are in the sea. There are Lingyu, which have human heads, feet, and hands, in the sea."

CHIRU/RED RU FISH (赤鱬): The Chiru lived in mountain in the south of China. It was red all over, had a human face, and its call sounded like that of a shelduck or mandarin duck. Eating its flesh protected people from contracting scabies. They are identified with sockeye salmon in the modern day. The Classic of Mountains and Seas states: "Three hundred miles more to the east, there is the mountain called Blue Hill...The Ying Waters emerge from here. Within are many Chiru; their forms are like fish, yet they have human faces, and their cries are like that of a shelduck. Those that eat its flesh will never have scabies."

DIREN/DI PEOPLE (氐人): The nation of the Di People was in the South of China. They were human from the waist up and fish from the waist down. They might have been a mythologization of the real Di People, who lived in western China, spread out from Shaanxi to Gansu. They joined the confederation of nomadic peoples who conquered Northern China during the Sixteen Kingdoms period. The Baima people of Gansu believe themselves to be descended from the ancient Di. The Classic of the Mountains and Seas states: "The nation of the Di People is west of the Jianmu Tree. Its inhabitants have human faces but fish bodies, with no feet."

HAI RENYU/SEA MERMAID (海人魚): The Sea Mermaid lives in the East China Sea. They tend to be around five to six shaku tall. (4'7"-5'6" or 1.4-1.68 meters.) Their upper bodies were that of humans, and they were all very beautiful. Their skins were white as jade, and their tails had no scales, but were covered in fine rainbow-colored hairs. Their hair grew long and wild like horse manes. Their private organs were much like that of humans, and they often sought humans or were sought by humans as mates in coastal communities, where they would live in a pool on their spouse's property. Sometimes they had red feelers or fins on their elbows and backs. Their bodies could not be penetrated by blades, but their fats could be harvested after death to form ever-burning candles. Han Dynasty texts state: "Merfolk have a human-like form longer than one shaku. They are not fit for consumption. Their skins are rougher than those of sharks, and cannot be penetrated by saws. They have little holes on their neck that they breathe through...Their fat is used to light lamps in royal tombs because the fire will never extinguish." Extensive Records of the Taiping Era states: "Sea Mermaids are found in the Eastern Sea. The largest ones are five or six shaku long. They are shaped like humans, with the brows and eyes, mouths and noses, hands and fingers, and heads of beautiful women, lacking in no feature. Their flesh is white as jade, and they have no scales, but thin, soft, and sleek hairs of five colors about one or two inches in length. Their private organs were no different from those of ordinary men and women. Widows and widowers from coastal communities often acquire them and raise them in pools. They mate the same way humans do, and never harm humans."

LOTING YUREN/LOTING FISH-MEN (盧亭魚人): Loting Fish-Men were found in the south of China, mostly around the Guangdong, Macau, and Hong Kong regions. They had humanoid limbs and humanoid faces with yellow hair and yellow eyes, but scaly bodies with fish tails. They lived mostly in the water, feeding on fish, but also built houses from mussel shells, and their favorite snack was chicken blood. They were a mythologization of the Tanka People, a southern Chinese pariah class who were once forced to live on their boats, as well as the Semang People. Ming Dynasty texts state: "The Jin Dynasty rebel Lu Ting was defeated and fled into the Guangdong region, where he lived a fugitive life on the water. After some generations, his descendants were unable to procure food or clothes, so they went about bare bodied and were called Loting. They would often sail out on the sea fishing for food, and they could all lie underwater for three or four days without dying, for they had already become fish." Qing Dynasty texts state: "Among the merfolk are the Loting Fish-Men, who are very numerous on Dayushan Island and the Wanshan Islands. Their adults are like humans, with male and female. Their hairs are dusky yellow and short and their eyes are also yellow, while their faces are black. Their tails are around an inch long. When they encounter humans they dive fearfully into the water. Often they would float along the waves, which would amaze people, who would they chase them. When a man who acquired one their females did the dirty with her, the fish-woman could not speak, only giggle. After a long while, she learned to wear clothes and eat grains. She was brought to Dayushan, where she went back to the water. These are the merfolk who do not harm men."

JIAOREN/SAMEBITO/SHARK-MEN (鮫人): Jiaoren are found in the South Seas. THEY ARE MER-SHARKS. THEY HAVE INKY BLACK BODIES, WILD HAIR, GLOWING GREEN EYES, AND SHARP TEETH. They are usually employed by dragon gods as weavers, capable of working tirelessly and spinning special waterproof silks. Their tears became pearls. They were first equated to Western mermaids by modern fantasy writers romanticizing the fact that they cried pearls.

WA WA YU/KIDDO FISH (娃娃魚): The Chinese Giant Salamander was often called a "mer-person" in the Ming and Qing dynasties, and described having a cry that resembled a baby's wail. To this day the colloquial name is still "Kiddo Fish".

[serpentface]

Palo and Tigran standing casually in place to provide an outfit reference.

They are wearing the most typical day to day clothing for Galenii monks. This consists of three main parts:

-A simple, ankle-length sleeveless robe (white in initiate monks and black in the fully initiated). -A dark woolen cloak, which doubles as a blanket. This cloak is the foundational item of clothing throughout much of Imperial Wardin as a whole, and worn by all social classes. They tend to be cut shorter and highly decorative in the upper classes, serving only the practical purpose of shielding the arms from the sun. Poor laborers may wear only the cloak and a loincloth and nothing else. In the case of Galenii monks, it is standardized, simple, and dark blue-gray. -The sash. This is a very long scarf that is the primary visual signifier of a Galenii monk. Its open ends drape down the front side of the body and are tied at the chest. It is slung over the shoulders and hangs in a loop around the back. These sashes are dyed an expensive royal blue, indicating the significance and relative esteemed status of this religious order.

Additional elements:

-The sign of the horns: a small iron pin used to fasten the cloak. This is the symbol of the Lunar Face Of God (the specific aspect to which the Galenii are devoted, which is primarily associated with fertility and the cycles of sacrifice and rebirth). This is very common among monks but not standardized wear. Galenii priests wear the sign of the triple horns (though more commonly as an amulet).

-Ear piercings: Galenii monks and priests wear thick earrings of dark meteoric iron and stretch their earlobes. One is added to each ear for each year of the initiatory process. Palo is a year in, and Tigran is fully initiated and has five bands per ear. Body modification is exceptionally rare in Imperial Wardi culture, largely in relation to taboos surrounding body integrity. The exception here is done with great significance and care- these earrings can be made only with true meteoric iron, considered to be the blood of God Itself. Permanently marking their bodies with this metal signifies this priesthood's integral connection to maintaining the continual cycle of sacrifice/rebirth that is believed to keep God's domain stable, and binds them to this role.

-Sandals: usually very simple in construction. Monks are often expected to go barefoot, but the cities are quite dirty so most prefer to avoid this if possible.

-Ceremonial dagger: a sign of a fully initiated monk. It is curved and its sheath is decorated with a tuft of lion's mane (a signal of the Galenii order's close connection to the Odonii order). Most of its uses are ceremonial, but it will be periodically used to perform animal sacrifices. A smaller razor blade is kept in the home for personal bloodletting.

-Hair: Fully initiated monks shave their heads, while those in the process of initiation have relative freedom with hair dressing. Palo is wearing his hair in a single braid tucked around the front. Broadly speaking, braiding the hair is associated with female beauty standards throughout much of Imperial Wardin (though generally in two braids). There is no cultural convention Against men doing so, but it is regarded as mildly effeminate (particularly in the south and southeast).

-Lore Friendly Sunglasses: Palo has photosensitive epilepsy. No effective treatments for epilepsy exist in the setting (most 'treatments' in Imperial Wardin are alchemical in nature, ie: ambiguously helpful at best or literal poison at worst), but understanding of the Nature of epilepsy as a neurological disorder is relatively accurate, and the concept of photosensitivity is loosely understood (though not with great accuracy, it's assumed to be caused by light in General). Palo had this pair of (VERY expensive) sunglasses commissioned as a youth, which Do slightly reduce the frequency of his seizures. Devastatingly stylish as they may be, his glasses do not offer much visual clarity so he only wears them in bright conditions.

[celeluwhenfics]

pHORSEuasion - Chapter 1. Into the Very Fire

Éomer. Éomer.

Rowena’s heart rang with the name at every step of her weary mare. The crunch of chips of ice underfoot mingled with the tinkling of cattle bells and the clinking of chain mail. Muddy water spurted over the wilted grass around hooves and boots, pooling in the footprints behind. Sulking merchants and shepherds trudged silently in the cold sludge. Only the guards escorting the caravan, in turns riding ahead to look over ridges or knolls, exchanged a few words signaling that the way seemed safe.

Rowena sat half dreaming, looking down along Mjuka’s shoulder, past the puffs of mist rolling from her nostrils. For long hours since the morning, she had watched her hoof break ice, crush grass and splash mud.

Éomer.

Two days before, when they had started upon the grassy path that stretches south out of Glamsbjerg and joins in Grimslade the great road east along the lower slopes of the White Mountains, the travelers had exchanged songs to lift hearts and stories to stir laughter. But on this third day on the road, after uneasy nights in the damp and freezing camps, songs and laughter had turned scarce.

Rowena ached from the long, slow journey in the saddle, for she had not often left Glamsbjerg in the two years since her family had withdrawn there. Rare had been the occasions for a leisurely ride; she had shared old Mjuka with her mother and sister after misfortune had forced them to part with their best horses.

Folcred’s passing the month before had deepened their sorrow beyond measure, but the modest purse they had gotten from selling his war horse and his armour had granted them the means to pay their most pressing debts. They still had enough left to purchase warm clothes for all three, wood to keep their hearth burning for the rest of the winter, and they had bought another small, hardy mare. Her mother had then managed to part with the trusted Mjuka for her journey to Edoras, however long her stay there might be. But the beautiful, spirited mare she had reared, trained and ridden as a young girl was lost forever.

She steered her mind away from bitter recollections of the happy, careless days of her youth, from before she had known loss, disgrace, and privation. She curled her numb fingers in the scruffy short mane, saying a prayer in gratitude for her humble companion.

Éomer. Éomer. Éomer.

Read more on AO3

Taglist (I've included people who have shown interest on previous posts, let me know if you want to be added, removed, multiplicated, divided, notified only when the fic is done, etc) @emmanuellececchi @errruvande @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @erathene @mithrandirl @dreambigdreamz

[wylldebee]

Ye Olde Magick AU

All of you should thank @books-n-guns for this. What once was a silly little AU about the Starks and their fangs and making everyone around them develop a biting kink has now turned into a full-fledged AU with lore and magic and other houses getting characteristics. Basic lore: — Magic exists within the bloodlines of all noble houses, though from different sources. It's strengthened by two things: the existence of a group's homeland and the religion the magic is tied to/originates from. — The First Men got their magic from their adoption of the Old Gods and their Pact with the Children during the Age of Heroes. Since the decline of the Old God religion in the south the northern nobles house don't have as many characteristics as they used to. — The Andels came with their own magic along with The Seven. Since their religion is more widespread the Andel houses have a lot more characteristics than any other house. I'll probably do two more posts: one about the lore, and the others about the gods who are real and are trying to be more active in Westeros because world ending reasons. Because there is now plot, however it may change. Also I might do the other houses. Might. Ideas are welcome.

Without further ado, here are some of houses and their characteristics.

The Starks (now): Sharp fangs (X). Resistant to the cold. In the past the Stark were so cool looking. Bigger and sharper fangs—proper wolf fangs I'm telling you—and pointed ears with ear tufts. Slitted eyes that could see in the dark. Sharp claws and thicker body hair (both men and women), and enhanced senses. Because of Catelyn's river nymph traits, the Stark-Tully kiddos can breathe underwater and talk with the fishes. Might also have a bit of enhanced strength. Resistant to cold. Jonny boy, however, doesn't get anything from his Targaryen bloodline until Dany brings back the dragons. Resistant to cold (Stark blood) and heat (Targaryen blood), and breaths fire (Targaryen blood). The Tullys: River nymph traits. Gils and enhanced strength. Haven't changed much though it has been noted they aren't as nymph-like as they were in the past. Don't fuck with their rivers you will be drowned. Can breathe under water and communicate with the fish, hence the trout. Needs to bathe in a river or any body of fresh water once a month or they'll start looking sickly; any longer and they'll die. The Martells: Snake fangs mostly, though there have been some with forked tongues or snake eyes. Rarely all three. Can make their own saliva poisonous at will. Has been known to coat their weapons in their own poison. Resistant to heat though not flame proof. The Baratheons: Horns/antlers. Basic? Yes—but the Baratheons have long since mastered the art of making their horns look both mighty, dangerous, and handsome. Many an enemy has been impaled upon or had their heads ripped off by the house of Storms End. Some say that the ancestors of the Baratheons used to be able to bring storms and fierce winds thanks to the blood of Elenei Durrandon in their veins. The Lannisters: pays their debts shits gold Lion fangs and sometimes manes. Can actually roar. In the past they were as fierce looking as the Starks; humans with lots of lion characteristics such as sharp claws, toe beans, slitted eyes and even whiskers. Some Lannister women were born with lion manes, and there are one or two theories that Lann the Clever was in fact a woman with a mane. The Tyrells: Dryads-Anthousai mixture. Yes, even the males. It's an AU and ASOIAF, and mom says I can. They have flowers in their hair—roses. mostly, though Olenna has a beautiful and deadly flower and thorned circlet—and can shift their skin to be any type of bark of any type of tree so long as they form a connection to it. Looks healthier in the spring/summer; dead looking in winter (no seriously they look fucking dead, and more than once people thought Olenna had finally kicked the bucket. Boy did Tywin have a nasty surprise). Not at all flame proof. The Targaryns:

At first they were the most Basic And Boring of all noble houses. The only thing cool about them was their dragons, and those died out. With Valyria destroyed in the Doom, the Fourteen Flames no longer being followed and the dragons gone, the Valyrian magic within their veins either died out or went dormant. Now they're just heat resistant and beautiful looking. It was only when they started marrying into other bloodlines/houses did they start getting characteristics—or rather, the characteristics of other houses such as Rhaenys Targaryn/Velaryon having antlers and the Baratheon square jaw can someone please start drawing her with it and Baelor Breakspear having the Martell snake traits. That is, until, Daenerys 'Stormborn' Targaryn brings back the dragons. The Dany that stands admist the ashes of her beloved husband is not the same who walked into the flames. The return of dragons has re-awoken the valyrian magic in her blood and it mixes with the westeros magic. She stands tall and unburnt with her dragons in her arms, patches of shimmering silver-gold scales on her thighs, arms, shoulders, breasts, neck, and they follow the curves of her cheekbones. Violet eyes with slitted pupils blink slowly. And protruding from her head are the beginnings of white horns. Soon they will start to grow. They will be elegant and beautiful, up and out, almost like an ivory crown. The Dragon Queen has been born.

[vampirepirates]

THE LONG WINTER — SANDOR CLEGANE.

Masterlist:

author's note + cast list

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

CHAPTER SEVEN – LORD SNOW.

when i was a girl, i fell into your arms. we

fell on hard times — and lost our bright colors.

you went to the dogs, and i lived by my charms.

The south is no place for a wolf, Lyarra had come to realize. The moment that she had been advised to remove her furs, she began to take note of her own regret. Without them, she felt bare — open for all to see. She replaced them with clothing more suitable for the weather, but in doing so she had to remove her leather trousers as well. Thus, she'd had no choice but to remain on the carriage for the remainder of the journey — as riding her horse with a dress would have been all but impossible.

In all, the move was not the worst thing. She placed herself between her nieces, who still did all they could to avoid even looking at the other. Septa Mordane looked over her pleadingly, but Lyarra could not do much more than shrug. She had never met a pair more stubborn than the girls beside her. It almost reminded her of her own sister. She and Lyanna hardly fought, but when they did they would not speak to one another for days. Lyarra reached out to rub Arya's shoulder, who had only tensed at the touch. 

Their arrival at King's Landing had become apparent by the foul scent that rushed through their noses. Winterfell did not often smell pleasant, as Lyarra was sure most cities did not, but it failed to rival to this. She contained her disgust with a grimace, leaning back only to cover her nose with her sleeve, as imperceptibly as she could. Arya, however, made no such move to contain it. She gagged loudly, to Septa Mordane's dismay. As the carriage came to a stop, Lyarra watched as her brother dismounted his horse. Jory followed suit, holding the reins of both his own horse, and Lyarra's. Frost bristled at his touch, but seemed to calm as he ran his gloved hand through the horse's mane. 

"Welcome, Lord Stark." A voice declared, as a man approached Ned. As her brother took charge, Lyarra allowed herself to glance over the scenery. This was the furthest South she'd ever been. With each growing moment, she could only think of Brandon. How far had he and her father made it? The gory details had never been shared with her. Had he stood where she was now?

"Get the girls settled, I'll be back in time for supper." Eddard called out then, interrupting Lyarra's thoughts. In an instant, she was standing on her own two feet — brushing her dress down with haste. Ned met her gaze, nodding with resoluteness — a fact that comforted her only slightly. Jory guided the girls to their rooms, and only paused once Arya and Sansa had filed in. Septa Mordane followed quickly after the two, though she only lingered in Sansa's company. 

"My lady?" Jory questioned, tilting his head to point in another direction. Lyarra nodded herself, and within a moment followed a step after him. Jory had been beside her family for years now, longer than she could properly recall. The two had only spoke to one another a handful of times, but she cherished the man for how he took care of the girls. They were silent as they came upon a wooden door — further from her niece's rooms than she would have liked. In an instant, Jory was gone — turning on his heel to head back towards the Stark Girls. As Lyarra entered the room, taking in the decor — she found herself once again longing to return home. 

The quilt was thinner than she was used to, though she could not deny its comfort. In the corner stood a large stone window, with flowers littering the sides. It was a beautiful room, all things considered, and yet she felt more discomfort than she had in years. Before she could do much else, she was interrupted by a harsh rap at the door. Instantly, she relaxed. Eddard's presence would make the move easier. Only, as Lyarra swung open the door — she wasn't met with the solemn expression of her brother. Instead, a woman with dark hair and warm, tan skin — stood there, hands clasped with a timid smile. She couldn't help but furrow her brow at the sight. 

"Forgive me, my Lady. I did not mean to disturb you. I am to be your new handmaid. I thought it best to assist you in unpacking your belongings now, seeing as you just arrived." All the while, the girl did not raise her head — nor meet her eyes properly. The handmaidens in Winterfell were often shy, so it was not an entirely surprising sight — and yet she could not help her own frown. Lyarra ushered the girl in, clasping onto her arm comfortingly. She did her best to ignore how the girl had startled, and only moved to shut the door. 

"What is your name, my dear?" Lyarra questioned, moving back to stand in front of the girl. Again, she startled — though, she met her gaze at once. She seemed confused, as if no one had ever addressed her properly, or had spoken to her for this long. 

"Aianna, my Lady." The girl, Aianna, amended. Though she still appeared bewildered, she had seemed to relax in the slightest — her shoulders dropping almost unnoticeably. Lyarra nodded then, taking in the information. 

"Please, call me Lyarra. I'd much rather us be friends." Lyarra claimed, grasping onto Aianna's hands delicately. The girl tensed, but nodded all the same — a shy smile creeping onto her features. 

She'd spent the remaining hours of daylight alongside Aianna, as she begrudgingly allowed the girl to unpack her belongings. Lyarra was more than capable of the task herself, but she would not take no for an answer. In their time together, she'd learned only a handful of things about Aianna. She had only just turned Twenty the fortnight prior, though she seemingly did not remember much of her life before the Keep. She'd poured the girl a glass of wine instantly, though she'd been unsurprisingly turned down. Aianna did not seem to enjoy speaking about herself, but that did nothing to dissuade Lyarra. Once the sun began to sink below the peaks of the city, she'd requested that Aianna escort her to her nieces. The inquiry had given the girl pause, as if she'd never been asked such a thing before, but she complied all the same. As Aianna bid her farewell, Lyarra entered the room. 

Unsurprisingly, the girls were arguing — while Septa Mordane did her best to interrupt the two, though they paid her no mind. Arya was stabbing the table with her knife, as Sansa complained. 

"He's a liar and a coward, and he killed my friend!" Arya exclaimed, all the while poking at the wooden table with her knife. Once her presence had been noted by the Septa, the woman once again gazed at her pleadingly. Lyarra took a breath, meaning to step in — before she'd been interrupted by Sansa herself. 

"The Hound killed your friend," Sansa argued, narrowing her eyes at Arya's outburst. Lyarra couldn't help by sympathize with both of the girls. Sansa was only doing what she thought best. She couldn't argue with the Prince, even to defend her sister. While Arya was mourning the loss of her friend, and wasn't wrong in doing so. 

"The hound does whatever the Prince tells him to," Arya continued, her voice rising in aggravation. She couldn't help but agree with her niece, at that. Sandor was responsible for killing Mycah, but it was not an action of his own volition. She winced at the name they'd bestowed upon him more than once, but did nothing to argue against it. 

"You're an idiot," Sansa stated, finality ringing in her voice. Lyarra stepped forwards as Arya continued to argue, and the two startled at her appearance. Within a moment, the two were pleading with her to 'shut the other one up', which only caused her to pinch the bridge of her nose. As the two girls continued, another voice rang out. 

"What's happening here?" Eddard questioned as he stepped into the room. Lyarra continued her movement until she was sitting at Sansa's side, clasping onto her arm comfortingly. Sansa glanced over at her, her lip slightly quivering. Arya had made her way across the room, intending on fleeing before she noticed her father. Septa Mordane had gone to chime in then, before Lyarra beat her to it. She was in no mood to hear any of the woman's complaints. 

"What do you think, Ned? The girls are upset." She grumbled, doing her best to keep any venom out of her words. She was there to care for her nieces, not start fights with her brother. Eddard furrowed his brow, stepping forward to address his youngest daughter.

"Go to your room, we'll speak later." With that, Arya nodded and exited the room promptly. Sansa seemed to deflate with her absence, a silent sigh of relief leaving her in a wave. Though Lyarra could not fault her for her feelings, her heart dropped at the sight. She took her own seat, then, observing as Ned placed a gift in front of Sansa. 

Inside the wrappings laid a doll, with strings of red hair. The sight almost brought a laugh to her lips, before she contained it with a swig of wine. Ned knew nothing of how to raise daughters, but he was trying all the same. Though she found the gift itself humorous, something that was only strengthened by Sansa's disgusted reaction — the act itself filled Lyarra with warmth. Their father, Lord Rickard Stark, had never given her a gift of any kind. He was not a cruel father, but he was not often present. After the death of their mother, she rarely saw him — beyond important occasions. She found herself reaching out to grab the doll, passing it between her hands. As Sansa stood to leave, Septa Mordane was quick to follow. 

"War is easier than daughters." Ned claimed, rubbing his temple as he spoke. Lyarra couldn't help but nod, still holding the doll in her palm — as she thought of her own daughter. As a child, Reyne had been particularly difficult to wrangle. She had Tormund's energy, though she'd never met the boy. Her ferociousness was a mirror image of his. That on its own was trouble enough. Lyarra placed the doll back on the table, handing it off to Ned once more. As she stood, meaning to follow after Arya, he raised his hand — bidding her to take her seat. 

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd enjoy supping with family." He requested, his voice only wavering at the end — giving way to his desperation. Lyarra had been so caught up in her own discomfort, that she hadn't paused to think of her brother. He was just as out of place as she was. Lyarra nodded in an instant, taking her own plate of food as she sat to listen to Ned's description of his first small council meeting. The King intended for another Tourney, one that they didn't have the coin to pay for. The thought gave Lyarra pause. She'd only been to one tourney in her life, and while the event itself had been almost enjoyable — what came after was not. She couldn't help but think of Sandor, then. Would he be participating in the tourney, now that he was in a higher position? He was no Knight, but he was the Prince's bodyguard. She mulled the thought over in her mind, before she was met with the expectant glance of her brother. 

"I'm sorry, Ned. What did you say?" She questioned, mentally kicking herself for being so distracted. Eddard only huffed out a laugh as he repeated himself. He'd been naming those present at the small council. Renly Baratheon, brother of the King — Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Varys — whom Ned had described as 'The Spider', and just as he'd gone to continue, he paused. One look at the man gave way for the hesitation underneath. Ned did not want to name whomever the last member was. After a moment, he took a breath, wringing his hands with a cloth. 

"And Lord Petyr Baelish," He continued, eyeing Lyarra warily. In an instant, her gut plummeted. Petyr was here, in King's Landing. Ned had seen him, spoken with him. She had half the mind to consider her brother's hesitation, before she was on her feet. Eddard met her instantly, raising his arm to halt her motions. 

"Lyarra, it's the middle of the night. Please, just rest. I'll take you to him in the morning." He pleaded, and Lyarra saw then what he had been doing his best to hide. He was afraid. For some reason, Ned did not trust Petyr. He didn't want her near him. Lyarra took a breath before she nodded, agreeing to wait — against her better judgment. Eddard relaxed, at that. The walk to her quarters felt longer now that she had such a weight on her shoulders. Just before she'd reached the door, she noticed the figure ahead of her. Sandor was just passing out of view, before she called out for him, calling him directly by his name. He'd only paused at first, turning after what felt like hours. 

Just as he had gone to speak, another voice rang out — the familiar bitter tone of the prince. Sandor only glanced over her once more, the calm of his expression replaced by an aggravated scowl, before he followed after the voice. Lyarra took no longer than another moment before she entered her own quarters, harshly throwing herself on top of her quilts. The Prince and his party had traveled ahead, after what had happened at the Inn. Thus, she hadn't spoken to Sandor in weeks. She could just vaguely remember his words from the night before his departure. 'I'll keep you safe, Little Wolf', he'd promised. How was he meant to protect her when the two could not even be near one another?

 

The following morning, Aianna had been the one to wake her. She'd dressed her in traditional Southern clothing, braided her hair in a style reminiscent of the ladies of the court. Aianna had ensured that she looked 'beautiful', but when Eddard met her at the door — and nearly stumbled backwards out of shock, any shred of confidence fled from her. She felt as if she were donning another woman's skin. 

True to his word, Ned appeared just as he said he would — with the intention of bringing her to Petyr. Leaving the Red Keep was more uncomfortable than Lyarra would have expected. The moment they were on the streets of the city, tension rose within her. Eddard guided her up a series of steps, with Jory quick on their heel. They only stopped once they reached a small room, a comfortable one at that — with sofas and chairs littered about. Red curtains were strewn across the windows, giving way for a warm feeling within the room. Lyarra realized then where they were. She'd never been to a Brothel herself, but she'd heard numerous descriptions of the buildings from both Theon and Tyrion. As she turned to question her brother, she was met with an almost unfamiliar face. The man before her was sharp, tall and thin — with long features. Lyarra paused, taking him in. It was undeniable who the man before her was, and yet he seemed so different from the boy she'd known all too well. 

Lyarra did not give herself the opportunity to speak, and instead launched herself into the arms of Petyr Baelish. The first thing she'd noticed is his hesitation. It took him a beat before he wrapped his own arms around her, and even then it seemed an unusual motion for him. Dread built within her, as she forced herself to hug him tighter. She'd remembered then, all of what had happened. The boy had never answered her letters — had never even attempted to send his own, to her knowledge. As important as he was to her, she realized then how insignificant she might have been in his life. They'd only known one another as children, and even then it had been for weeks alone. As she reluctantly pulled back to face him, she was met with only an intense stare. Lyarra searched within his familiar eyes for some sort of sign of how he was feeling. It was then, that she realized her brother had slunk from the room — leaving the two alone. Petyr, as if sensing her thoughts as he had before, clutched her hand — bringing it to his heart. 

"My dear, Lyarra Stark. I thought I'd never see your face again." He rasped, age evident within his voice. She'd almost let out a sigh of relief at hearing his familiar tone, before she collected herself. 

"I could say the same for you, Lord Baelish." Lyarra parried, a mixture of mockery and admiration coating her words. However, unlike he had in the past, Petyr stood taller at her words — chin raising in his own mix of pride. Not that she could blame him. He had done exactly as he'd set out to do, he'd risen in the ranks until he worked directly under the King. She couldn't hold back the pride that blossomed within her, at the thought. 

"Please, call me Petyr. I dread the sound of such formalities, especially from the lips of a friend." Though he carried a level of confidence with him, the last few words were painted as more of a question than anything — as if he was ensure of his place in her heart. Lyarra only flipped her hand, squeezing his with fervor. The man before her was a mystery, that much was clear. He was not the boy that she'd cherished as a child, and yet she couldn't help the way her heart longed for him. 

"Now, Petyr, you must tell me of how a boy from the Fingers became the Master of Coin to King Robert Baratheon," She requested, taking a seat then — all the while pulling the man to sit beside her. His movements were delicate, wary in an unfamiliar way. Lyarra did her best to ignore it, as he began to spin his tale. She was unaware of how much time passed, reminiscent of their nights in Riverrun. The two sat side by side, telling one another of their lives up until that moment. Petyr was not just the Master of Coin, but also the head of the most successful brothel in the city. The younger version of himself would struggle to recognize him now, she couldn't help but think. Throughout their talks, Lyarra was quick to avoid the topic of her own letters. She didn't want to broach a sore topic, or worse — discover that he had been ignoring her ravens as it was. 

She was reluctant to say goodbye, as if she were afraid of losing the man all over again. And yet she did so all the same, kissing his cheek as she went. He quickly requested for her to return again, once she had the chance. After that, she took to visiting every few days — when she was sure he wouldn't be busy, with the Small Council or any other task. More than once, she'd met Lord Varys on his way out. The man's features were unique — with a bald head, and long robes. Each time, he would shoot her a wary, though not unkind, grin, before making his way back to the Red Keep, no doubt. Lyarra couldn't help but wonder what the two discussed, though she never outwardly questioned him. 

However, Lyarra couldn't help but question Petyr on the other happenings of the city. As children, the two would share everything with one another. Lyarra knew of every minor event that took place within Riverrun, solely because of how well Petyr was able to gather information. Only, he seemed reluctant to share his findings with her in King's Landing. Outwardly, this fact was not clear. Petyr Baelish's secrecy was impressive, and the blind eye would not notice the way he bit his tongue. Lyarra held no blind eye, however, and she knew the man well enough to tell he was not being forthright with what he knew. She did not allow that to give her pause, and instead she did her best to ignore it. It would do her no good, questioning him, after she spent years longing to return to his side. 

When she wasn't with Petyr, Lyarra was observing Arya's training. Unbeknownst to her, Jon had a blade made for Arya before they'd left Winterfell. A thin blade, with a thick handle — one that she had named 'Needle.' Through their previous training, Arya had never been permitted to learn with a steel blade. It was only when she began her 'Dancing' lessons, that she was allowed to use her new sword, something that almost had Lyarra's chest blossoming with pride. More than once, Lyarra had been asked to assist with her teachings. She was not accustomed to the style itself, but she knew how to hold a blade. Sansa, however, was more often than not searching after the royal family. She stayed at Septa Mordane's side, often sewing — or tending to something more ladylike than Lyarra had come to know.

Lyarra spent her nights in her brother's study, as the two poured over the work he'd been tending to. In truth, she'd rather have been anywhere else — but being by Eddard's side brought her more comfort than anything. More than once, she'd caught Sandor making his way through the halls as she'd left. Each time, the two would only share a few words, before he was forced to go chasing after the Prince. One night, in particular, he'd been posted at the end of a long hallway — noticeable only due to the torch hanging by his side, lighting up the unburnt side of his face. 

"Stalking the halls are you, Little Wolf?" He'd called after her, a light smirk only noticeable by the slight curve of his cheek. Lyarra couldn't help her own snort in return, as she made her way to him. 

"Aren't you meant to be tending after the Prince?" She'd questioned in response, raising a brow as the man seemed to tense. He only shook his head, glancing over towards a set of stairs. More than once, she'd seen him retreat up them — which allowed only one explanation, they lead to the Prince's quarters. 

"The King relieved me of my duty for the night. Said he'll be tending to the Prince for now." He grunted, the gruffness of his tone coating any emotion he might have felt. Lyarra only paused for a moment, before she nodded in understanding. Robert, though he'd often sympathized with Ned over his own family, did not have a kind heart. Especially with his Wife and children. Lyarra could only assume that another fight had broken out. As she took in the information, she glanced back towards the direction of her own quarters. 

"Would you care for a drink, then?" Lyarra asked after a moment, fidgeting with her hands as the silence crept on. Sandor seemed to observe her for a minute, before nodding himself. If the two lacked a common ground anywhere else, they found one with drinking. She found the act frighteningly familiar, as his heavy footsteps thudded after her own — the chain of his armor clinking behind her. Sandor stood at the entrance for only a moment, taking in his surroundings — before he all but threw himself down on a wooden chair. 

Once their drinks were poured, Lyarra took a seat across from him. Not unusually, the two were silent for most of the night. Had it been anyone else, she was certain it would be discomforting. However, the silence that transpired between the two had always been a comfortable one. She took the chance, then, to look over him. In the light spewing in from the moon, the right half of Sandor's face was clearer than ever. Though the burn marred a good portion of his features, she couldn't see what was so 'monstrous' about the man. Why so many feared him. Why the women of the Red Keep would whisper behind him, and flee at his gaze. In the light of the moon, Sandor was just a man — with dark eyes, and a perpetual pout. After another moment of looking him over, Lyarra came to a sudden realization that the eyes she'd been staring into, were now staring back at her. His expression was a mix of distrust and confusion, mirroring what it had been the day of the tourney all those years ago.

Lyarra moved then, whether to defend herself or apologize she did not know, but she was cut off by a harsh slam of Sandor's mug — and in a blink, the man was gone. She couldn't do much more than take a breath, in that moment. The two were not friends, by any stretch of the word, but she did value the man's company. He'd become a familiar presence in her life. Lyarra could only hope, then, that she hadn't scared the man off properly. 

The following morning, Lyarra made her journey to the brothel as she normally would have. Jory had long since stopped accompanying her, and rather his presence had been replaced by one of the Lannister guards. It was not safe for her to travel through the streets on her own, they'd claimed. By the time she made it to the brothel, the sun had reached its peak. The first thing she noticed as she entered the building, was shouting — a voice loud enough that she could hear it from the bottom of the approaching steps. 

"You take me for some back-alley Sally you can drag to a..." The voice trailed off as Lyarra threw open the door, stepping into the small room. She came to realize then that the shouting had been coming from her sister-by-law, Catelyn Stark. Her presence gave Lyarra pause, as she considered what it could mean. Robb must be watching over Bran in Winterfell then, she thought, unless he'd made his recovery already. Beside Catelyn, Ser Rodrik bristled at the sight of her — though he said nothing himself.

"Cat," She breathed, rushing to embrace the woman before her. She'd never been so happy to see the red-head in all her life. Catelyn returned the hug after a moment, though she stepped away just as quickly. She was tense, and still glaring holes into Petyr. Lyarra could only turn to the man in confusion, before pausing at his expression. To all eyes other than her own, the man appeared surprised — unexpecting of Lyarra's own arrival. She, however, knew better. Petyr was counting on her appearance, though for what reason she was not certain. 

"I meant no disrespect to you, of all people." Petyr stated, stepping forward while he raised his arms. Catelyn only let out a disbelieving scoff, crossing her arms indignantly. 

"How dare you bring me here! Have you lost your mind?" Catelyn exclaimed, stepping forward herself to argue further. Lyarra willed her mind to collect itself, but she couldn't control the speed it was moving. 

Petyr continued to defend himself, arguing that she'd be safe here — that no one would come looking for her. Lyarra could not do much more than grab Catelyn's arm, rubbing her thumb along the side of it comfortingly. The woman beside her had paused, at that, eyes wide as she took in the knowledge that Lyarra trusted the man before them. Their stare was only broken by the voice of another man ringing out. 

"Lady Stark," The man, Varys, called out as he stepped into the room. He paused then as he looked over Lyarra, though he did not look entirely surprised by her presence either. "Lady Lyarra," He addressed her, nodding in her direction as well. 

"To see you again after so many years is a blessing. Your poor hands," He remarked, reaching for Catelyn's hands — which Lyarra had only then realized were covered in cloth. She shot her sister-by-law a questioning look, but was only met with a sharp shake of Catelyn's head. She'd question it later, then. 

"How did you know she was coming?" Lyarra questioned, disbelief rising in her tone. As she turned back to glance at Petyr, she was met with an almost amused expression — though he swallowed it down just as quickly, giving way to his usual coy grin. 

"Knowledge is my trade, my lady. A fact that I'd assumed you'd know quite well, seeing as you spend your days with Lord Baelish." Varys stated, his blank expression never swiping from his face — despite the bite of his words. Lyarra was only further confused by his argument, but stepped back as the two beside her continued to speak between themselves. 

"Did you bring the dagger with you, by any chance?" As Catelyn glanced at Ser Rodrik questioningly, Lyarra could not do much more than shift the balance of her feet. 

"My little birds are everywhere, even in the North." Varys amended, as silence had stretched throughout the room. Catelyn nodded to Ser Rodrik, permitting him to unsheathe what Lyarra could only assume was the dagger they'd been speaking of before. With another glance to Petyr, who had not moved a muscle, she continued watching the scene unfold. After a beat, the dagger was placed in Varys' hands, who quickly examined in the blade. 

"Valyrian steel," He remarked, seemingly marveling over the sight. 

"Do you know whose dagger this is?" Catelyn continued, exhaustion clear within her tone. She was here for one reason alone, and would not allow the conversation to carry on unnecessarily. Varys hummed, pressing the dagger to the tip of his finger. 

"I must admit I do not," Varys announced, though he glanced over Catelyn's shoulder to meet Peter's gaze. He appeared solemn, resigned as he considered his own words. Petyr, however, seemed almost giddy. 

"Well, well, this is an historic day. Something you don't know, that I do." Lyarra whipped around, looking over Petyr in confusion. He met her gaze for only a moment, his smile falling in just the slightest — before he carried on, taking the dagger into his own hands. 

"There's only one dagger like this in all of the Seven Kingdoms. It's mine," He declared, his grin only widening at Catelyn's confusion. "At least it was, until the tournament on Prince Joffrey's last nameday." 

"I bet on Ser Jaime in the jousting, as any sane man would," He continued, all the while avoiding Lyarra's questioning gaze, "When the Knight of the Flowers unseated him, I lost this dagger." 

"To whom?" 

"Tyrion Lannister. The Imp." Petyr stated with finality. The words seemed to shoot horror through the woman beside her. At that, a dam broke within Lyarra. She'd had enough of dancing around her own confusion. She said as much, only pausing when Catelyn's own devastated expression became too pronounced.

"Only a few nights after you left, Winterfell was attacked," Catelyn explained, her words sending a spike of terror into her heart. "An assassin came in the night, with this dagger — to make quick work of my boy. To kill Bran." 

She broke free from her terror to glance at Petyr, whose grin had not dropped. His expression only faltered when he met Lyarra's gaze, but he seemed to correct himself just as quickly. 

"I am sorry for what you have been through, Catelyn, I am. But I know Lord Tyrion. He would never cause Bran harm, let alone make an attempt on his life." Lyarra claimed, grasping onto her hands with determination. Catelyn's mind had been made, however, and she did not meet her eyes. 

"How well can you know a Lannister, truly?" Petyr chimed in, his eyes boring into Lyarra's almost pleadingly. He wanted her to agree with him, to back up his story — take his side against Tyrion. The thought had her stomach churning. She wanted more than anything to blindly take Petyr's side, as she would have years ago. And yet in that moment she couldn't bring herself to do much more than gape at the man. 

Varys left only a moment after, taking one more glance over at the dagger — before meeting Lyarra with an uneasy look. Petyr followed suit, stating that Catelyn should stay as long as she saw fit. Lyarra sat by her for the rest of the morning, mostly in silence — though she'd asked after her daughters more than once. In return, Lyarra had asked about Reyne. The girl had still not left Bran's side, she'd learned, even standing in front of a blade to defend him. The thought had her melting with pride and fear in equal measure. 

Not long after, Eddard's voice rang through the building. Catelyn followed the sound quickly, peaking her head over the balcony to call after him. Lyarra followed suit, observing as he crowded Petyr against the wall — clasping a hand around his throat. The sight had Lyarra reeling, but he removed the pressure before she could say anything. Before Ned had made it up the stairs, she'd already stepped into another room — intent on giving the couple their privacy. Eddard, in his years since Brandon's death, did not shy away from his love for his wife. The two had more adoration for one another than Lyarra would have expected, and the sight of their love was enough to have her heart swelling. 

After another moment, Petyr stepped into the — -- almost silently placing himself at her side. She only looked over in his direction, before allowing her head to drop to his side — resting herself on his shoulder. Years prior the action would have seemed humorous, as he stood just below her in height — but now, he only slightly stood over her. After what had occurred earlier, Lyarra knew better than ever that she had no reason to trust the man at her side. That he'd changed into something she could hardly recognize. And yet, she couldn't help but think back to the pleading look in his eyes. He wanted her to trust him, to stay by his side. Against her better judgement, Lyarra continued to settle into his side — leaning further into him, as he hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. 

Despite how much the man had changed, she knew one thing to be true. In Petyr's heart, love for Catelyn still lingered. That much had remained clear, as he'd ensured her safety within the Capital. Much to Eddard's chagrin, she imagined, his love for her had not faltered. Lyarra couldn't help the bitter feeling that swept through her, though she did her best to swallow it down. 

Catelyn bid her farewell not long after, with Ned following in her wake. She'd pulled her aside, into another one of the brothel's many rooms — whispering under her breath. 

"Listen to me, Lyarra. Petyr is not to be trusted. He is no longer the boy that you or I knew as children." She claimed, only grabbing onto Lyarra's hands with more passion as she'd attempted to pull away. 

"He would never hurt me, Cat. I understand he may have changed, but that much is true as ever," Lyarra argued, bending her knees to look into Catelyn's eyes properly. The woman before her stood taller, shaking her head at Lyarra's words. 

"He may not directly cause you harm, but is it any better if he seeks to hurt those around you?" She continued, imploring Lyarra with her gaze. Her words gave her pause, as she took them in properly. 

"And yet you trust him well enough to take his word against Lord Tyrion?" Lyarra questioned, willfully ignoring the guilt churning within her. 

"I trust his word over the Lannisters, that is all." With that, Catelyn was gone. Lyarra stood there for only a moment longer, before creeping back to the main room. Petyr met her solemn expression questioningly, but she only waved him off. The path back to the keep was dark by the time she'd left, and she almost kicked herself for not waiting for Eddard. As she approached her door, she was met with a familiar face. There, standing a few feet from her door — was Sandor, a bottle of wine in hand. His brow furrowed at her expression, as Petyr's had, but she waved him off similarly — opening the door in one quick motion. He filed in after her, pouring her a drink alongside his own. Just as before, he did not speak more than once throughout the night. Lyarra, however, did not allow that to dissuade her — and rambled through the hours to come.

As Eddard passed by her quarters to bid her a good night, he paused at the sound of raucous laughter from within. For half a moment he'd waved it off, expecting it to be Petyr Baelish. However, the gruff chuckle he'd heard had not been anything close to a noise that Littlefinger could have made. This noise was deeper, more genuine. Just as quickly as he'd heard it, the sound ceased entirely. Eddard pinched the bridge of his nose as his mind wandered, questioning what his sister could have involved herself in now. 

 

Well. There's that. We introduced another character, and got a reunion! How great is that. Woo. So, a few thoughts. One, I love Aianna. I have decided to cast her with Angel Coulby (who plays Gwen in Merlin. So. Yes. Morgwen content) She's just a girl. Two, Catelyn's relationship may seem a bit different from her dynamic with Petyr in the show but that is very much intentional. In my writing, Catelyn does not have the same trust for him that she did in the show. Instead, Lyarra takes up that position. (Though she is obv very conflicted) Three, Sandor's characterization may seem a bit different from how he is typically portrayed, but that is also intentional? For one, the two knew one another as kids (sort of) and even then Lyarra never shied away from him. And also, Sandor is not the grump that a lot of people portray him as?? Within the first two episodes he literally laughs with Tyrion and tries to talk to Sansa. I feel like he becomes a lot more standoffish after everything that happens with Ned later on in the season, which isn't something that I see a lot of people taking note of. 

I think those are my main points for now.. Just know that I have a lot planned. As always, feel free to leave any comment below

Thank you,

Zevran.

[handsomethrowrug]

Headcanon: So what exactly are the "Outsider" Lions?

Short answer: They are lions with mixed heritage of Pride Land and Kavu lions.

What is a 'Kavu' lion?

These are lions that live in the area we know as the K.alahari Desert. 'Kavu' is the S.wahili word for 'dry', and hail from a desert area known as the Dry Lands. This would be an area further to the south than the desert that appeared in the original movie.

The difference in appearance is stark compared to a Pride Lander lion. Kavu lions are slightly smaller than their bulkier cousins, but their lean build and longer limbs make them look almost malnourished in comparison.

Read-more because this is getting super long!

In terms of physical characteristics, their fur is thicker and longer, often giving them a 'scruffy' appearance to help them regulate the extreme temperature changes of the day and night. There have been cases of manes or tail tufts being curly/wavy. Some Kavu lions develop spots or 'freckles' as they mature, different from the spots lion cubs have, though it's unclear whether it's a long-forgotten aesthetic reason (akin to 'beauty marks'), or another way to protect them from the sun. Their noses are angular and slender to lessen the risk of sand irritating the nasal chambers. They can be black or pink.

Their pelts are normally darker and muted in colour as another sun-protecting adaptation (though they look 'washed out' compared to Pride Landers). Normally, they would be in tones along the lines of sand-brown, warm greys, or russet. There have been cases of darker tones appearing that are nearer to a dark brown or black. Tail tufts for lionesses are usually dark brown. For male lions, they are black, and they grow a black mane to further protect them from the blistering sun. The eye rims are normally darker on the upper half, and usually darker on the lower half, though this is not always the case. Finally, their eyes are normally somewhere on the blue-green range. When having cubs with Pride Landers, the eye colour is usually a recessive gene, meaning that most cubs would have red eyes. However, there can be some rare mutations, such as Vitani's purple eyes.

So how do the genetics work? Aside from the eye colour, as previously mentioned, nothing is recessive. However, the Pride Lander genes are naturally stronger, and they are better suited for the environment (the bulkier build for larger prey, pelts to better camouflage in the tall dry grass/bolder colours to look more intimidating, etc). However, another interesting mutation is the pelt colour being a mix of Kavu and Pride Lander. S.car himself is actually a really good example of this.

(I tried to quickly find screenshots in a similar lighting. I know they aren't perfect xD)

Compared to K.ovu and N.uka, he's actually more saturated, almost terracotta in tone. The other two are defintely more muted, or 'earthen' in comparison. In other words, he inherited the brown from the Kavu side, but it's a bolder, more orange tone because of the Pride Lander side. (Of the above three, I would argue that N.uka is actually the closest to the best example of a Kavu lion, aside from the weak mane from his poor upbringing and his red eyes.)

I was going to try and explain how many there were, but truthfully we all know that's a case of not knowing the sequel was going to exist in the first place. I would imagine it was a case of there being a few, but having mostly Pride Lander genes (with S.car presumably being the most obvious outlier), but then those that were born once S.car took over and the drought began took on the Kavu genes to have a better chance of surviving the harsh weather?

EDIT:

I forgot my main sources for information, whoops.

( ^ for that one, it's point 11)

[lavalais76]

Sansa’s Hair/Jon Snow

r/asoiaf 2yr agoRyanBarnes13

The Real Honey Colored Hair(Spoilers Extended) 

EXTENDED

Every reader knows the great song, The Bear and The Maiden Fair, and everyone knows all the theories about Dany/Jorah, Jaime/Brienne. But every single theory misses the most important point. What exactly is honey colored hair? Most everyone assumes honey-blond.... it’s easy to remember, it fits the theories easy, and in martins story it is indeed a type, but not the one your supposed to find.

Dany, Jaime are red herrings. The entire song itself is the story of TWOW. The tourney in the Vale, most lords not selling food, the NW and wildlings and Northerners needing to buy food now that Jon has a loan... and yes Jon is the dancing bear. How? He is a figuratively adopted son of Jeor Mormont. He is given the family sword, trained as Mormonts replacement, is chosen LC after Mormonts bird chooses him.... Jon is a bearded bear. All black (NW black), and dark brown, hair and beard....

Who is his three companions? Pyp, Grenn, and Edison Tollet, who has family in the vale. More than likely. So connections, and there is one more, the goat.

Now this one is tinfoil so far, but he is the hooded man in winterfell. The Blackfish. Who disappeared from the story, and has not gone to any loyal holdfasts, cannot go to the Vale.... But has been described as a goat.

Her uncle listened silently, heavy brows shadowing his eyes as his frown grew deeper. Brynden Tully had always known how to listen … to anyone but her father. He was Lord Hoster's brother, younger by five years, but the two of them had been at war as far back as Catelyn could remember. During one of their louder quarrels, when Catelyn was eight, Lord Hoster had called Brynden "the black goat of the Tully flock." Laughing, Brynden had pointed out that the sigil of their house was a leaping trout, so he ought to be a black fish rather than a black goat, and from that day forward he had taken it as his personal emblem. AGOT Catelyn 6

In AFFC Brienne 5, the high road to the Vale is closed by now. Leaving one loyal area, the Neck. Where the last nobles who went south were headed to find Reed, and deliver the verbal orders. Basically he is the reason the Frey’s disappear. His job in Robb’s army was the outriders.

But back to the point, honey isn’t just honey-blond. It’s actually the color least associated with honey colored hair. The darker the honey, the stronger the taste.... and it is shown throughout almost all the books. Darker honey is brown and looks red in the light.

The first time honeyed hair appears, it is a redhead. Yes a redhead. And tyrion knows women and women’s assets, so we should listen.....

Two other girls sat playing at tiles before a leaded glass window. The freckled one wore a chain of blue flowers in her honeyed hair. The other had skin as smooth and black as polished jet, wide dark eyes, small pointed breasts.” ACOK Tyrion 3

Freckles are a common occurrence with redheads... But by the time we get to Tyrion 7 we have read to much and forgot when we get the actual hair color.

Is milord feeling unloved?” Dancy slid into his lap and nibbled at his ear. “I have a cure for that.” Smiling, Tyrion shook his head. “You are too beautiful for words, sweetling, but I’ve grown fond of Alayaya’s remedy.” “You’ve never tried mine. Milord never chooses anyone but ’Yaya. She’s good but I’m better, don’t you want to see?” “Next time, perhaps.” Tyrion had no doubt that Dancy would be a lively handful. She was pug-nosed and bouncy, with freckles and a mane of thick red hair that tumbled down past her waist. But he had Shae waiting for him at the manse.” ACOK Tyrion 7

Funnily enough, she is a combination of Sansa, and Ygritte. Long haired like Sansa, pug nose and bouncy breasts like Ygritte. Ygritte is ACOK Jon 6 for her pug nose, shaggy mop of red hair that is messy, and ASOS Jon 3 for her breasts...

So red heads are honey colored. And associated with blue flowers in their hair, so let’s see some other examples....

A dark young man and a pretty blonde woman were sharing a horn of mead. A pregnant woman stood over a brazier cooking a brace of hens, while a grey-haired man in a tattered cloak of black and red sat crosslegged on a pillow, playing a lute and singing:” ASOS Jon 1.

Val is blonde.

Val looked at him with pale grey eyes. “He always climbed too fast.” She was as fair as he’d remembered, slender, full-breasted, graceful even at rest, with high sharp cheekbones and a thick braid of honey-colored hair that fell to her waist.” ASOS Jon 10

Pale grey eyed, honey-colored hair.....

Val stood beside him, tall and fair. They had crowned her with a simple circlet of dark bronze, yet she looked more regal in bronze than Stannis did in gold. Her eyes were grey and fearless, unflinching. Beneath an ermine cloak, she wore white and gold. Her honey-blond hair had been done up in a thick braid that hung over her right shoulder to her waist. The chill in the air had put color in her cheeks.” ADWD Jon 3 Grey eyed once again. Honey-blond hair.

The light of the half-moon turned Val’s honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. “The air tastes sweet.”” ADWD Jon 8 And in the moonlight honey-blond hair is a pale silver.

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.”

“They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her EYES WERE BLUE, her LONG BRAID THE COLOR OF DARK HONEY, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.” ADWD Jon 11

And here we go, eyes are BLUE, her long braid the color of DARK HONEY..... Jon is not seeing Val... it’s the same thing that happens when he sees Melisandre..... he sees who he lies to himself is Ygritte..... but when does Ygritte have LONG reddish brown hair? Jon knows one female with LONG REDDISH HAIR. Who currently has CHESTNUT HAIR. SANSA.... Martin makes a great distinction between honey in the hair, reddish, dark honey, brown and honey-blond. You are supposed to get sucked into honey-blond and miss the true honey.

But the answer lies with Jon 6, and Ghost himself brushing against Jon, Jon is receiving visions, or glimpses of the future while still conscious. Basically he has become one with ghost already. It first truly started when Jon takes the new recruits to the hearttree to swear their vows. He smells better, sees better....

In the shadow of the Wall, the direwolf brushed up against his fingers. For half a heartbeat the night came alive with a thousand smells, and Jon Snow heard the crackle of the crust breaking on a patch of old snow. Someone was behind him, he realized suddenly. Someone who smelled warm as a summer day. When he turned he saw Ygritte. She stood beneath the scorched stones of the Lord Commander’s Tower, cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon’s heart leapt into his mouth. “Ygritte,” he said. “Lord Snow.” The voice was Melisandre’s. Surprise made him recoil from her. “Lady Melisandre.” He took a step backwards. “I mistook you for someone else.” At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red. He did not understand how he could have taken her for Ygritte. She was taller, thinner, older, though the moonlight washed years from her face. Mist rose from her nostrils, and from pale hands naked to the night. “You will freeze your fingers off,” Jon warned.” ADWD JON 6

Once again the night came alive, Jon’s senses are massively increased. He thinks Ygritte because men see what they expect to see. Same with Sansa and her unkiss, her dream thing of Payne coming up the tower stairs. Lady is dead yes, but notice how Martin describes her, Lady’s Shade. A proper noun. Not a common shade.

And as a bonus, in the TWOW Alayne 1 chapter, Harry described his new baby momma like this:

Saffron is very beautiful, tall and slim with big brown eyes and HAIR LIKE HONEY. Alayne raised her head,” more beautiful than me?”

Google Saffron.... it’s a red spice... RED. The most costly spice by weight in the world....

Now here’s Sansa described as her Alayne persona....

And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne.”” AFFC Alayne 1 It’s almost the exact same description. Auburn Sansa is the true honey haired wench. Who loves to dance.

And as we have been shown throughout every book, men do see what they expect to see... especially when one is glamoured..... And to show that really pale blond hair is not true honey,

He doesn’t like Ned. The squire seemed nice enough to Arya; maybe a little shy, but good-natured. She had always heard that Dornishmen were small and swarthy, with black hair and small black eyes, but Ned had big blue eyes, so dark that they looked almost purple. And his hair was a pale blond, more ash than honey.” ASOS Arya 8

[mlleclaudine]

Self-Taught Artist Captures Every Tiny Hair and Feather in Hyperrealistic Animal Paintings

by Emma Taggart - My Modern Met, August 21, 2024

Artist Carla Grace Ollwitz crafts stunning paintings that showcase the beauty of animals in breathtaking detail. Born in South Africa and having lived on multiple continents during her childhood, her experiences resulted in a deep love for nature that shines through in her work.

“I spent many years in different parts of Africa as a child and youth,” Ollwitz tells My Modern Met. “Being so exposed to wildlife had a huge impact on my decision to focus on wildlife as my core brand.”

From vibrant tropical birds to majestic mammals like lions and bears, each fascinating animal is captured with impressive detail. Bird portraits feature textured plumage brought to life through thousands of meticulously applied brushstrokes, while the furry manes of lions are rendered in rich layers of oil or acrylic.

Impressively, Ollwitz is entirely self-taught. After dropping out of university, she set up her own business and began teaching herself how to paint. Her daily commitment to refining her craft is evident in her work, and she even generously shares painting tips with her followers on social media.

Ollwitz aims to inspire her viewers to connect with nature through her art. “I believe that the majority of humans are drawn to wildlife. An individual's affinity to help creatures that cannot help themselves tends to reveal the truth about a human's character,” she says. “My work has become focused on creating an experience between the viewer and the subject that feels tangible.”

Check out some of the anrtist’s incredible wildlife paintings below, and be sure to follow Ollwitz on Instagram for more artwork and painting tips.

Carla Grace Ollwitz: Website | Facebook | Instagram | YouTube

[grimmwolf]

Hello again- 😳

So, here we go…

🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️

The reason why I am considering being Mother Nature / Mother Earth / Gaia etc. kin, is because I feel myself in everything. I feel myself in the people around me, the animals I hear and see, the trees growing just outside my house, as well as the flora and fauna all around the world.

I feel everything. I feel when pollen is spread, I feel when seeds are planted, I feel when animals are brought into this world, and when they pass. I feel the grass and how it sways, i feel the dirt and how it provides growth to all flowers and plants and shelter for worms and insects. I feel when the clouds form, it is soft, yet stern. I feel when the storms conjure and the drops it lets free to fall against my skin, and when the lightning strikes it just as fondly. I feel the dust and sand in the East, and how it moves and whips up. The jungles in the south, how humid they are, and how full of life they can be.

I feel the people’s feet tip tapping over every surface. I feel the deer when they walk on my meadows. The wolves when they howl. The marine life when they swim. The birds when they fly. The farm animals when they graze and work on the fields. The climbers on my trees. The diggers when they burrow and find peace and shelter in my dirt and mounds. The snow when the sky freezes. The thunder when it growls. I feel the wool of my sheep, and the mane of my lion. The peace, and the chaos.

I can’t not feel everything. I am physically, emotionally, mentally etc. unable to not see and hear and feel all goings on, on my earthly body. I am present all throughout the world, I am everywhere at all times. In the wood in furniture, that is my bark. The bricks in the pavement, that is my clay. The concrete that you walk on, that is my stone. All things made, were made from me, because of me. Because I provide, and I grow, and I nurture, and I protect, and I love. That is my purpose, my passion.

I am subconsciously within everything and everyone, and I see and feel all life, and even the presence of the once living. I am on this Planet Earth, yet it is my heart and soul and mind and body. I feel the pain, as well. Of fires. Of deforestation. Of poaching. Of pollution. All chaos. I feel it all, and it burns me so. It hurts like no one can believe. I thrive on peace and growth, how am I still alive, when bad things keep happening on my beautiful, burning body and self?

I hear my trees and grass and land. The trees, they are not happy. The grass, they do not rejoice. The land, it quakes, and it rots, and it burns. My seas witness this harsh world, they do not dance as they have before. They echo and tremble, they feel the pain, too. My animals hold the least, yet the most, of understanding in how the world is to this day. They see it, live it, perceive it, even when they cannot see it, or even see.

I want to love and protect all of my life, let it thrive and know peace. But I cannot, in this foul, useless vessel… All life feels pain. I wish to reshape this world out of this mess, and give it its strength and glory back. Oh, why does the world hate itself so much? Why does it hate me so?

Agh, anyway. This was supposed to be a quick little thing, like on my Instagram, but then I kept feeling, and I couldn’t stop. But now I must, I am tired. I’ll see you all in another 3 or so ish months :]

🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️🌎🌬️

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Twenty.

Good morning, my beautiful audience! A fresh chapter has landed, and I’m looking forward to your thoughts, as ever! You’re all always so kind in your replies, it thrills me to see you enjoying reading this as much as I did writing it, even if this pair are being so annoyingly frustrating right now!

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,256 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed softly at the view upon the horizon, Manny smiling at her reaction.

“Beautiful, ain’t it?” It certainly was, the vast, unspoiled, arid landscape that was La Paz County, Arizona. “I sometimes think I was insane to trade it all for a girl, and then eventually the outlaw life. Then I remember the 4am starts, sometimes earlier. It’s a hard life, being a rancher.”

Hannah often wondered if he missed it, living and working in such a peaceful and serene environment. What she’d been told by him about his former vocation, though, well, the life of a rancher wasn’t quite as idyllic as the surroundings they executed such back breaking work within. The vast nothingness they drove through proved to be the perfect soother to her problem, even though all six feet of him was sitting right next to her, the talk she knew she needed to have with him still not materialising.  

She tried not to feel bad about that, reasoning with herself that he hadn’t been forthcoming either, which in all frankness likely meant from his perspective, it was what it was, clandestine sex, with nothing further behind it. If it had been more, surely, he would have said something by that point?

‘It’s more for you, and you haven’t said anything!’ she fumed internally, chewing the inside of her cheek. She felt herself pulled into wondering over the inner workings of his mind, crossing and uncrossing her legs, her eyes screwing shut tightly. ‘Oh, just enjoy the scenery, Hannah!’ Having those words with herself pushed it back down again, Manny indicating left, turning onto a road with a large property right at the end coming into view. Blackstone Ranch, she guessed, as it was the only place for miles around, Manny once revealing that the closest neighbours were two miles south of that location.

She could just about make out the vast herd of cattle upon the horizon, black dots littering the orange of the Arizonan landscape, sturdily built fences coming into view, horses grazing contently on piles of doled out hay as they swung into the long driveway, Manny suddenly breaking out into a happy smile, swinging the SUV over to park up.  

“Hold on, I spy my girl.” Jumping out, he vaulted the paddock fence, putting his fingers to his lips and letting out a loud whistle. In the distance, a head shot up, a piercing neigh sounding the air before the horse began to charge, Manny continuing walking as the steed galloped for him, stopping just in time to have his arms flung around her neck. “How you been, beauty? How’s my girl, huh?” he spoke softly, stroking the beautiful, dark bay mare’s face, turning back to Hannah.

“I take it that’s Midnight?”  

He nodded, the mare sniffing his head. “Yep, ain’t she gorgeous?” She truly was, almost black in colour, her mane streaked with lighter, copper-coloured strands, not a speck of white on her, hence why he’d named her Midnight. Grabbing a handful of her mane, he vaulted up onto her back cleanly, turning back to Hannah. “Drive the rest of the way up and I’ll meet you there.”

“Manny, she doesn’t even have a bridle on!” she cried, watching him grab two handfuls of her mane.

“You underestimate my skills if you think I need that. C’mon girl.” He dug his heels into her sides, Midnight surging forward, Hannah shaking her head as she watched them gallop off, sliding into the driver’s seat.  

“Your daddy? He’s crazy,” she spoke, turning to Lola, who grinned widely at her. “Lovely, but definitely crazy.” Shifting the car into drive, she continued up to the open gates, parking up next to a large, red pickup, a man with black hair that touched his waist approaching.  

“Well, you’re very pretty, and have a baby in the back of the car, so I take it you’re Hannah, and not the girl from the feed company?” Ed spoke on approach, offering his hand forth. Hannah shook it, receiving a kiss on the cheek too.  

“I am, yes. And you must be Ed. It’s so nice to meet you.” He nodded, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. Hannah saw it clearly then, where her daughter had gotten her grey eyes from. Right from her grandfather.

“I take it my hairbrained grandson got up here on four legs?”  

“Yeah,” she chuckled, looking over at the paddock rail and pointing, Manny and Midnight coming to a stop. “He’s such a show off.”

“Hmph!” Ed wheezed. “How well you know him.” He then looked to where Manny was climbing the fence, shaking his head. “Boy, you always have to make an entrance, don’t you?”  

“Maybe.” Ed laughed, opening his arms and hugging his grandson warmly, giving him a few hard slaps on the back.  

“It’s good to see you, now get that damned car open so I can meet my great grandbaby!” His request was obliged, Manny lifting Lola from her seat and passing her to her great grandpa. His face softened, holding her close to his chest, beaming. “Oh, I know I’ve said it before, but hell, she looks just like your mama did when she was her age, probably just as loud as my little Valeria was, too. She got any teeth coming in yet?”

“Yes, so apologies if she keeps you and your wife awake,” Hannah explained, Ed waving his hand dismissively.

“Ain’t no bother to me. Besides, I put you and Manny in the furthest bedrooms from ours, just in case. Now, shall we go meet great-grammy? Shall we? Let’s go, small person.” It warmed her heart, just how much of a natural Ed was with her, Lola fascinated with the turquoise beads around his neck, grasping and pulling them to her mouth to chew. The face she pulled had her parents in absolute hysterics.

“Cool Water don’t taste too good, does it?” Ed laughed, Lola’s face crumpling before she went back for another mouthful of the cologne-flavoured beads. “No, no, no more now.” Another pained face sent Hannah and Manny over the edge.  

“She stole a piece of lemon from Hannah’s drink a few days ago and shoved it in her mouth, and that’s the exact face she did. I couldn’t breathe!” Manny revealed, laughing hard, Lola beginning to giggle as she pointed at him. Whenever her parents laughed, the baby instantly joined in.  

“Like you when I gave you a piece of lime when you were about eight months old. Hated it, but damn, you wouldn’t let it go again, kept on munchin’, trying to beat it,” Ed remembered, laughing at the memory of a very small Manny insisting upon eating the sour fruit regardless. “And then there was the time you got into my cold coffee and hated it so much, you squealed for ten minutes straight.”

As Hannah entered the homestead, she just knew she’d likely be regaled with stories of Manny as a child, and after meeting Rosita and seeing the heart-warming sight of her bonding her great-granddaughter, she and Ed didn’t disappoint.  

“You gotta watch ‘em when they get to about two, that’s when they get their baby turbo and are suddenly capable of running at about thirty miles an hour. This one right here used to streak across the stable block and go throw himself straight into the water trough. We got pictures of it somewhere,” Ed revealed, Manny pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head.

“No, grandma, don’t start with the baby pictures.” Rosita was already on her feet and moving to the bookshelf before he’d even finished his sentence.  

“Look at this!” she cried, placing the album on Hannah’s lap and opening it up, revealing a picture of a giggling baby Manny, his mouth covered in banana puree. “Apart from Lola, obviously, did you ever see a baby so beautiful?”

“Awwww, look at you!” Hannah gushed, turning to Manny, who had shrunk way down in the armchair, hiding his face behind Lola. “You were so tiny and cute!”

“Yeah, what the hell happened?” Ed chuckled, Manny poking his head out to frown. After all mortifying picture viewing was done, Hannah fed Lola her bottle and put her down to sleep, Rosita telling her she’d keep an eye on her while she was taken for a tour of the ranch. The property was massive, Ed explaining that it had been ramshackle and in a state of disrepair for many years, the house not always as beautiful as it was, nor the outbuildings quite so pristine.  

She learned it had taken him decades to make a decent earning, through the disasters that had been illness wiping the herd out, mortgages up to his eyeballs, bank debt and credit card debt just to be able to feed the animals, while he and Rosie had lived meagrely on rice and beans, and plenty of pasta just to keep themselves fed inexpensively, the animals always put first.  

“Since I started the horse breeding too, it’s brought a damned good injection of cash, and meant that I’ve produced some real beauties,” he explained as they walked towards the long, indoor stable block. “Like this guy here that Ned’s leading out. This is Ace, I had to keep him, he was too beautiful to sell, so he’s one of my best breeding stallions. Absolute joy to ride, too, so well-mannered.”

“He’s lame,” Manny observed as Ned neared them with the beautiful palomino horse. “See? He’s sloping on his offside hind.”

“Turn him back, Ned. Let me see him walk away again,” Ed instructed, making a circling motion with his finger, the tall, greying man walking Ace in a circle before leading him away. “Well, whaddya know? Your eye is as sharp as ever. Ned, hitch him up outside his stall, I’ll deal with it.”  

“Ed? Woman from the feed company is here to see you,” a young guy called from the top of the block, poking his head around the sliding doors.  

“I’ll do it, you go,” Manny offered. Ed thanked him and walked away, Manny having a brief chat with Ned before checking Ace’s legs. “Oh, you got some nastiness in your hoof, boy?” he then spoke, holding his hand to the horse’s foot, comparing with the other.

“How do you know that?” Hannah asked, moving to stroke Ace’s soft muzzle.  

“His hoof is hot, that’s how you tell where the infection is.” He then checked his legs again. “Don’t feel like it’s spread. Hold on there a sec, I need some stuff.” He headed off, leaving Hannah to stand and pet the beautiful horse, tickling under his eyes, Ace beginning to lean into her. She’d almost forgotten, how lovely horses were.  

“So, what’s all that you have there?” she asked when Manny returned, taking the items he had wedged under his arm as he set a large bowl of water down.  

“Warm salt water to clean his hoof, kaolin to make a poultice and draw all the nasty shit out, a pad to absorb said nasty shit, bandage to keep it in place, and a boot to keep it all on so he doesn’t kick it off.” She found it all fascinating, watching how swiftly Manny had reverted back to his former self, undertaking the care he’d never forgotten a horse needed when sick.  

Picking his hoof out, he brushed it clean, moving the bowl of water and placing his hoof in it, swiftly moving to his front legs and lifting one up. “So he can’t move his foot out of the water. Can’t dance around when you’re only on three legs.” He explained to her, patting Ace’s shoulder, telling him he was a good boy. He let it soak for a few minutes before moving back, removing it and wrapping his hoof in a large towel, drying it off before applying a thick smear of the kaolin clay, Hannah assisting by holding the tub and then passing him the pad and bandage.

She marvelled at how efficient and gentle he was with the horse, talking to him softly when he tried to pull his hoof away, his manner effortless. It just showed how much of a nurturing person he was, yet another thing that drew her to him, his kindness. He was tough, he was hard, but there was a gentleness on the inside of Manuel Santiago that never failed to touch her heart.  

“There, all done. That’s gonna stink like death in the morning when it’s drawn it all out. It’s vile, smells even worse than when Lola does a massive shit,” he spoke, leading Ace back into his stall, stroking his neck as Hannah watched the horse give him a friendly shove, Manny coming back out again. “Come on, let’s take you round to see the babies.”

It was like seeing him illuminated, watching him there in the place he’d once called home, so comfortable in the surroundings, taking her hand and leading her back to the paddocks, mares and foals all ambling around contentedly. While they stood and watched, he let go, wrapping his arm around her shoulders casually instead, Hannah leaning against him on impulse as he pointed out who was who, his fingers trailing a circle at the top of her arm.  

She probably should have been taking in what he was telling her, but as they stood there under the bright Arizonan sun, she could only think four words, over and over. ‘God, I love him.’

[knightinink]

Can you do headcanons for high school Dip?? Maybe I'm just not looking hard enough but I hardly ever see high school Pip or Damien and I think they both deserve that 😊😊

Why yes, I can certainly try!

-Okay so very recently (yesterday) I was listening to teenage dirtbag & got hit with the idea of a "teenage dirtbag Pip" like as an au or something, & it wouldn't leave my head (art for that soon!) But what's funny about it is that Pip isn't really a dirtbag, he's just trying out a new fad/trend that's come about at South Park High, & he surprisingly has a field day with it. Damien has two reactions to it: 1 being he joins him & 2 "It's who I am, Damien!" "It's not who you were yesterday (& are those my wristbands??)"

-If there's a dodgeball team, Pip's joining it. Everyone just lets him, knowing how good he was at it when they were all little (& I like to think Pip stayed on a few teams during his school years).

-Damien's covered in tattoos. Full arm sleeves, some neck tats, & some along his back. It's not all messy or demonic though; they're all beautiful pieces, some with meaning, some just because he thinks they look cool. Some with color, some in black & white. Pip loves to color in the black & white ones with watercolor when Damien lets him.

-Y'know that one creek comic? The one where Craig takes Tweek out to the woods to have a nice evening with just the two of them instead of going to prom? Well I like to think Damien would do something like that too, not wanting to risk something happening to Pip during the crowning of prom king/queen, knowing that he'll win & it'll be sabotaged in one way or another. So Damien would just set up a little moonlight picnic a bit further back in the woods, maybe on a scenic cliff of a mountainside.

-At the same time of going to school, Damien's still ruling over Hell, & with how hectic school can be I think he'd become quite stressed out for those four years. He'd get into the habit of overworking himself, & saying he can't afford to rest because x, y, & z needs to get done tonight, Pip! The Brit would support him & try to help wherever he could, & that sometimes means coaxing Damien away from his work for just a moment (to have dinner Pip made or something), & eventually the demon would relent, letting Pip drag him away from his work. One thing quickly leads to another, & Damien is passed out on the couch, head laying in Pip's lap as he gently threads his fingers through a mane of black hair.

-Pip: "self care"

Damien: "self care? I've never even met her!"

Pip, concerned: "Damien please come lay down-"

-I like to think Damien's horns have also grown in quite nicely by this point. They both have facial hair, but Damien can pull off the rugged, unkempt look while Pip shaves daily. Pip also grows his hair out.

-Damien is the better driver, though he has his bouts of road rage. Pip is so dense when it comes to driving it hurts.

-They both graduate just fine, & while they weren't at the top of their class/didn't receive many award sashes & the like, they're just happy they got through it. Pip's grateful for the education, Damien's just happy to finally be fucking done.

Hope these were okay, I've never given much though to a highschool dip setting, but this was interesting to do! Thank you for the ask!

(& if you'd like to request any hc's, my askbox is open!)

[ms-m-astrologer]

Transiting Venus enters Leo (pre-retrograde zone)

Monday, June 5 - Monday, June 19, 2023

Spoiler alert: this isn’t going to be off to a great start. Venus makes a bunch of very difficult aspects, as she begins her lengthy sojourn in Leo. So this is more a post of caveats, about all of Venus’ areas. All that glisters is not gold:

Art - we tend to go for flashy, performative pieces. Subtleties are lost on us. We get lazy about technique and may have to bluff our way through the piece.

Beauty - at times we witness the inappropriate cleavage or chest hair displays, and way too much makeup and hair product. Especially hair product - Leos and their manes, you know. We try to get attention through our looks, and if it doesn’t work we try harder, inevitably with ridiculous results.

Love - really ardent and passionate, but not necessarily taking “no” for an answer, being very demonstrative in public but perhaps not in private - it can get performative here, too.

Money - if there is a common denominator to all the above, it’s the belief that ostentatiously spending a lot of money proves that you are better than others. Hmph.

Something I haven’t done enough is to keep track of what aspects a transiting planet will make, to the other transiting planets. It gives us a good idea of the plot:

Monday, June 5 - Venus/Leo opposite Pluto Rx/Aquarius

Wednesday, June 7 - Venus/Leo square North Node/Taurus and South Node/Scorpio

Sunday, June 11 - Venus/Leo square Jupiter/Taurus

Tuesday, June 13 - Venus/Leo inconjunct Saturn/Pisces

Saturday, June 17 - Venus/Leo sextile Mercury/Gemini

A lot of drama, and an inability to cope with it or to be gracious about it in any way. We may not want to have to cope.

But if we can get over our own vanity, we can figure out what we need to work on during Venus’ upcoming Retrograde Zone. In The Book of Fire, Steven Forrest wrote that a positive use of Venus moving through Leo involves, “Revealing and underscoring the parts of your personality that are attractive in non-physical ways.” My hunch is that these first two weeks of Venus/Leo will show us the immediacy and urgency of that challenge.

[rabbitcruiser]

World Lion Day

World  Lion Day on August 10 aims to raise awareness about the plight faced by  lions. Scientifically known as ‘Panthero Leo,’ lions are one of the  most well-known and popular animal species out there. They are called  the ‘Kings of the Jungle’ due to their arresting and fearsome  personalities created by their great bodies and heavy, shiny manes. A  lion’s powerful roar is second to none, and it can be heard even five  miles away. Owing to the pop culture icons like Simba from “The Lion  King”, lions are also loved by children. However, while lions existed in  large populations 100 years ago, today, their numbers are just below  50,000 worldwide as a result of poaching and hunting. World Lion Day,  therefore, brings attention to this endangered species by raising funds  and amping up protective measures.

History of World Lion Day

The  first World Lion Day came into being in 2013. It was headed by Dereck  and Beverly Joubert, a couple who are passionate about preservation and  wild cats. After realizing that lion populations have drastically  decreased worldwide, the Jouberts approached “National Geographic” for  the brand’s help. Forming a partnership with them, the couple came up  with the Big Cat Initiative (B.C.I.) in 2009. The B.C.I.’s main goal  would be to protect and preserve the remaining lion species in the  world. While aspects like deforestation, climate change, and human  intervention may have impacted lion populations, studies have shown that  their extremely low numbers may also have to do with ice ages and  natural environmental disasters that have led them to becoming secluded  in only a few countries of the world, namely India and South Africa. To  date, the B.C.I. has made substantial leaps, from getting 150+ grant  awards to reducing almost 3,000 threats to 3,000 wild cats to removing  13,000 life-threatening snares.

The lion comes from the ‘Felidae’  family of cats, and it is considered to be an apex predator. It is the  second-largest cat weighing around 300 to 600 pounds, with the first  being its cousin, the tiger. An average lion’s body is muscular with a  short round head and ears, and a tufty tail. Its sex can be identified  through its heavy and luscious mane, which are absent on lionesses.  Lions also happen to be the only cats who roam around in large groups  known as prides. Scientists believe that lions do so because it is  easier to catch prey in the wild. Their natural habitats are savannas  and grasslands. You will most likely find a pride of lions near water  bodies as they strategically wait for prey to come there for a drink and  then pounce on them.

World Lion Day timeline

1758 ‘Felis Leo’ is Coined

Carl Linnaeus, a Swedish zoologist and botanist, invents ‘Felis Leo’ as the scientific name of lions.

1996 Vulnerable Species

The  lion is placed on the Red List of the International Union for  Conservation of Nature due to its African population decreasing by 45%  since 1990.

2009 Big Cat Initiative is Formed

Dereck and Beverly Joubert, in partnership with “National Geographic”, start the Big Cat Initiative to save lions.

2013 The First World Lion Day

The B.C.I. announces the first World Lion Day in order to include the world in lion preservation efforts.

How to Observe World Lion Day

Vow to protect lions

Refuse to buy lion products

Donate your assets

No  matter how you choose to spend the day, make sure it is worthwhile by  vowing to protect lions. Lions are natural predators that are necessary  to keep prey populations in check. Apart from such environmental  benefits, lions are extremely beautiful and majestic animals that have  ruled the pop culture scene for a long time. So, let’s take a vow to be  there for them.

Whether  you are looking to buy a new bag or coat, or any other similar  paraphernalia, make sure you know where it is coming from. Refuse to buy  lion products (or other animal skin products) to reduce sales and  market value.

Time  and money are the most valuable assets you can give in today’s world.  Look out for national and international organizations that protect wild  cats, and invest in them by donating your money to the cause. If you  cannot donate, you can volunteer your time by either helping the  organizations with volunteer work or by promoting the organizations in  your circles.

5 Facts About Lions That Will Blow Your Mind

Younglings have spots on their skin

Manes change over time

Cubs are raised together

Females are mightier hunters

Heavy and long sleepers

Young lion cubs are born with spots on their coats, but these tend to fade away as they grow older.

A lion’s mane will change color, going from light to dark, as it grows older.

Lion cubs are generally brought up together by all the females in a pride.

Lionesses are better hunters than their male counterparts, and it is for this reason that they hunt 80% to 90% of the time.

Lions will sleep for at least 20 hours a day.

Why World Lion Day is Important

It’s a celebration of lions

It’s a reminder about the importance of preservation

It’s a celebration of the natural environment

For  most of us, “The Lion King” was a huge part of our childhood. We  rejoiced at the birth of Simba but also grieved with him over his  father’s death. Holding such sweet memories and images, we cannot let  the beloved animal go extinct. Let’s come together on August 10 to  protect lions from all dangers.

Preservation  has become a necessity, more now than ever. We cannot hope to live on a  peaceful and resourceful Earth if we keep depleting it of its natural  resources, be it water, fuel, or animals. We must preserve and protect  the Earth for ourselves as well as future generations.

The  natural environment has given us countless gifts. From food for taste  and survival to medicinal properties to inspiration for technological  inventions, nature has continued to reward us since time immemorial. We  must therefore honor, respect, and celebrate it.

Source

[destinylightsup-2006]

My Naughty List for Christmas (2023)

Here are the characters I think they're naughty. (As some of them are, and bullies too)

Mr. Krabs (SpongeBob SquarePants)

Plankton (SpongeBob SquarePants)

Bubble Bass (SpongeBob SquarePants)

Hades, Pain and Panic (Hercules)

King K. Rool (Donkey Kong)

Eric Cartman (South Park)

Peter Griffin (Family Guy)

Carter Pewterschmidt (Family Guy)

Bertram (Family Guy)

Penelope (Family Guy)

Jeffery Fecalman (Family Guy)

Chili Pepper Cookie (Cookie Run)

Devil Cookie (Cookie Run)

Licorice Cookie (Cookie Run)

Twizzly Gummy Cookie (Cookie Run)

Custard Cookie (Cookie Run)

Dr. Evilglaze (Cookie Run)

Shacka Rocka (Cookie Run)

Abalone Cookie (Cookie Run)

Princess Morbucks (Powerpuff Girls)

Nui Harime (Kill la Kill)

Evelyn Claythorne (Meta Runner)

Roman Torchwick (RWBY)

Tyrian Callows (RWBY)

Cardin Winchester (RWBY)

Red Prince (RWBY)

Jacques Schnee (RWBY)

Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel)

Blitzo (Helluva Boss)

Verosika Mayday (Helluva Boss)

Vector Perkins (Despicable Me)

Balthazar Bratt (Despicable Me)

Scarlet Overkill (Despicable Me)

.GIFfany (Gravity Falls)

Scanty and Kneesocks (Panty & Stocking)

Flim and Flam (My Little Pony)

Cozy Glow (My Little Pony)

Storm King (My Little Pony)

Prince Blueblood (My Little Pony)

Lighting Dust (My Little Pony)

Mane-Iac (My Little Pony)

Suri Polomare (My Little Pony)

Gladmane (My Little Pony)

Sludge (My Little Pony)

Sideshow Bob (The Simpsons)

Snake Jailbird (The Simpsons)

Fat Tony (The Simpsons)

Lyle Lanley (The Simpsons)

Chick Hicks (Cars)

Gaston LeGume (Beauty and the Beast)

Lord Farquaad (Shrek)

Rumpelstiltskin (Shrek)

Big Jack Horner (Puss in Boots)

Lifty and Shifty (Happy Tree Friends)

Aku (Samurai Jack)

Bender Rodriguez (Futurama)

Gruntilda (Banjo Kazooie)

Professor Poopypants (Captain Underpants)

Nabbit (Super Mario)

Phantom of the Bwahpera (Super Mario)

Mayor Shelbourne (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs)

Eustace Bagge (Courage the Cowardly Dog)

Bendy (Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends)

Kaos (Skylanders)

Gallaxhar (Monsters vs. Aliens)

Chris McLean (Total Drama)

Flintheart Glomgold (The DuckTales)

Bradford Buzzard (The DuckTales)

Dr. Facilier (The Princess and the Frog)

Percival C. McLeach (The Rescuers)

Lord Hater and Commander Peepers (Wander Over Yonder)

Aloysius O'Hare (The Lorax)

Harry and Marv (Home Alone)

Slappy the Dummy (Goosebumps)

Marx (Kirby)

Mr. Swackhammer (Looney Tunes)

Al-G Rhythm (Looney Tunes)

Junko Enoshima (Danganronpa)

Swagmaster6969696969 (SMG4)

Francis (SMG4)

Sir Benedict Cumbersnatch (Sunset Paradise)

Scar (The Lion King)

Starscream (Transformers)

Airachnid (Transformers)

Roger Smith (American Dad!)

Zim (Invader Zim)

M3gan

Trevor Philips (Grand Theft Auto)

Diesel 10 (Thomas & Friends)

Splatter and Dodge (Thomas & Friends)

Arry and Bert (Thomas & Friends)

Turbo (Wreck-it Ralph)

Syndrome (The Incredibles)

The Underminer (The Incredibles)

Bon Voyage (The Incredibles)

Kahmunrah (Night at the Museum)

Tighten (Megamind)

Bob Velseb (Spooky Month)

Oogie Boogie (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

NOTE: I do not own everything

[genesisreach]

My personal ranking of homes in Skyrim:

Lakeview Manor: Easily #1. Fairly secluded with a wonderful view of Lake Ilinalta. In the woods, so you can go hunting right out your front door. However, troubles include a neighboring conjurer (possible necromancer?), occasional bandits, and occasional giant.

Breezehome: #2. Would place at #1 if not for LM's seclusion. The OG starter home. Whiterun as a whole is beautiful. Farms and wild game all around so you don't have to worry too much about food. Very competent and wise government with Balgruuf as Jarl. Just don't get involved in the Grey-Mane/Battle-Born dispute. Trust me. Also, house is made of wood and in a dry environment. Be wary of stray flames.

Heljarchen Hall: #3. Basically on Whiterun/Pale border. Again, be wary of flames. Wide, open land so you can hunt fairly well. Or start a farm (Heljarchen Farm mod is right beside Heljarchen Hall).

Proudspire Manor: #4. Beautiful architecture. In Solitude, so you are arguably in the safest city. Real-estate price is egregiously high, though. Politics are fairly mild aside from the war, and Falk is a pretty competent steward. Just avoid Erikur at all costs. 100% recommend attending the Burning of King Olaf festival.

Windstad Manor: #5. Hjaalmarch is mostly swamp to the North and snowy mountains to the South. Windstad Manor is on the Northern end of the swamps on the coast, so be ready for exceptionally cold winters. Beautiful view of Solitude and the Sea of Ghosts, though. (Additionally, neighboring the Windstad Mine mod area.) Be wary because it has the High Gate Ruins on one side and Ustengrav on the other. The swamp is also filled with frostbite spiders and the occasional chaurus.

Severin Manor: #6. Large, spacious interior with wonderful Dunmer architecture. All utilities you could need. House Redoran is a fairly competent local government. However, almost no work since the mine closed. Ash is everywhere from Red Mountain, so be sure to have something to cover your mouth and nose. Also, try not to wake up working on some strange shrines against your will.

Hjerim: #7. Beautiful architecture. Windhelm as a whole has wonderful architecture and rich history. However, it is very cold and the other residents are very unpleasant. If you're looking for an empathetic population, do not come to Windhelm. Additionally, beware of a killer on the loose.

Honeyside: #8. Only below Hjerim due to the presence of the Thieves Guild and the Black-Briars in Riften. Otherwise, very nice home. Back door leads right out the the shore of Lake Honrich, so prime fishing spot. Most likely humid with occasional rotting wood, though.

Vlindrel Hall: #9. Dwemer architecture is fascinating. However, doesn't really have anything else going for it. Forsworn are all throughout the Reach, including inside Markarth (don't let the guards lie to you). The Silver-Bloods are arguably worse than the Black-Briars. More likely to get killed than in Windhelm, and more likely to end up in prison than Riften. Plus, Thalmor actively reside in Understone Keep. Avoid Markarth unless absolutely necessary.

Winterhold: No home in Winterhold. Residence at the College doesn't count. 0/10.