#yellow-embroidered-fabric

[degournay]

Are you looking for the best gold chinoiserie wallpaper in the UK? We offer the best hand-painted wallpaper at an affordable price range.

[schadenfreudich]

Okay, surprisingly the mockup fits quite nicely. I just have to put the waistline higher, which is to be expected, I am significantly shorter than most men.

I was expecting there to be more problems than shortening it by 7cm. I haven't done the sleeves yet, but that's probably quite similar.

Incredible. I somehow didn't realize the skirt part of this coat was almost an entire circle skirt until Wolfgang pointed it out because I complained about the amount of fabric. One huge part of the skirt pattern was literally laying on my bed for most of the time.

[jeraliey]

I found a pair of pants at a thrift store which really caught my eye, but had a giant hole in them...which turned out to be value-added, of course. So I filled it in with a big yellow scotch-darning patch:

And I was going to leave it with the big yellow blotch because I didn't really have the right colors in my thread box to match the fabric palette for embroidering......but then I was up way too late last night and decided that it would be fine if I just approximated them by using threads of two different colors.....

And I think it turned out pretty well!

Distance shot:

Yay for freehand embroidery practice! The more I do of these, the braver I'm getting!

[shortnotsweet]

This technically applies to my Stepmother AU in which Alicent is around six years older than Rhaenyra, and occupies a wicked stepmother role as opposed to ex ‘friends-to-first loves-to-enemies’. Despite lacking the foundation of shared girlhood, both find simultaneous comfort and rivalry in one another, and undergo a gravitational pull. A young Rhaenyra’s eagerness to participate in swordplay and political affairs at a young is accommodated for, and she grows up with a sword in one hand and the weight of experience in another, which further helps pave her way to the throne.

Alicent’s Costuming

Alicent’s clothing is almost entirely bottle, emerald, or forest green. While there is layering present in her skirts and jackets, the accent should always be a darker green than the base color. The fabric is deep, rich, and retains an undeniably high-quality luster. Look to velvets and silks. Gold embroidery lingers around her sleeves, neck, and hemline to elevate the coloring.

Metallic embellishments should be almost military-like, and appear heavy. Contribute to the imagery of chains or shackles in addition to her status

Draws inspiration from historically accurate stiffness and Victorian shapes, with a tapered waist, imposing, puffy sleeves, and a high neckline. Despite inaccuracies, this shape is evocative of someone elegantly and conservatively feminine, repressed, and capable of exerting power over others. Reference a classic, trussed hourglass shape. Skirts should be notably heavy and full; may make noise in movement

The coloring and shapes remain relatively consistent but lack variation; this is to demonstrate a lack of freedom and exploration, as well as an adherence to conventional feminine roles

Despite these limitations, her costuming should always be put-together, coordinated, and unquestionably fashionable. Tight sleeve cuffs may be accompanied by a more traditionally medieval fan sleeve

Shoes should stick mostly to slippers, or flat designs

In this AU, her hair leans more towards a dark brown instead of auburn, as her show counterpart. This is mostly due to faux-book accuracy and to simplify the sketch process, since keeping her hair darker in comparison to Rhaenyra’s lighter hair translates more easily in uncolored renderings.

Keep her hair either in a tidy bun or pulled back and loose; avoid too many intricate shapes, braids, or styles. Occasionally, the hair will hang loose. Lean into medieval or royal headpieces, clips, coverings, etc.

Rhaenyra’s Costuming

Rhaenyra’s clothes are primarily black and red, occasionally accented or substituted with neutrals such as beige, white, or gray. Exceptions may include blue or yellow, but she generally stays in this color palette.

Strong focus is drawn to her shoulders and neckline, sometimes with embroidered or embellished detailing. She often has strong, angular shoulders in her dresses or jackets, occasionally theatrically pointed. Off-the shoulder necklines emphasize her collarbones and a certain broadness.

There should be decent variety in her clothing; there is a hypothetical outfit for every occasion and more (for battle, for riding, everyday, formal, feasts, everyday, etc.), and most should be composed of multiple pieces and utilize generous layering. This includes under-fabric, belts and corsets, jackets and doublets, draped fabric for aesthetic purpose, and even functional capes.

Most of her clothes should provide visual aid for movement; additional fabric to her skirts, for example. Her clothes should be highly stylized but still easy to move in. In riding and battle gear, it is presumed that she wears pants and boots under her skirts, even if they are not visible.

Shoes lean more into boot cuts, still practical but should have a sleek and uniform quality to them. When she walks, she should make some kind of noise. Shoes should usually be black or potentially red, the latter for decorative purposes.

Overall her style should be more contemporary and lean into the fantasy element. She’s not opposed to oriental details or showing skin, and her costumes should reflect both couture-height drama and period-reliant aspects. Longer lines and diagonal hems mean she is not as devoted to an hourglass shape, and her high collars should always be decorative in some respect.

Keep her hair long and mostly loose, sometimes pulled back. Small braids should be implied as incorporated. Occasional hairstyles feature complicated braids. With the exception of highly decorative braided styles, simple buns should be avoided unless accompanied with very high necklines.

Avoid headpieces that are not either a) her crown or b) ceremonial.

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART THREE-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @greengableslover

|PART ONE| |PART TWO|

The house was in shambles.

Mary had thrown almost every single dress she had bought on her bedroom floor, crying loudly that she ‘simply had nothing to wear’. Though you tried to reassure her that she in fact did, and that she would eventually find something that would make her stand out amongst the other debutants tonight, she didn’t believe you.

“This is all so hopeless!” She shouted sadly, tears streaming down her cheeks as she threw a deep purple dress across the room, the embroidered fabric smacking you in the face in its flight path to her dresser. You grimaced, shaking your head and brushing your hair from your face as you sighed lightly. “It’s not hopeless, I promise…” you tried to soothe as Mary continued to ball her eyes out “what about that light blue one you tried in earlier? That was very beautiful?”

“No! I cannot wear that! I hear Eloise Bridgerton is wearing a similar colour, and I will not be compared to her…” Mary squealed in protest, throwing another expensive dress across the room, a flash of yellow and gold “I am far better, and prettier!”.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat, your patience wearing thin as you picked up the numerous clumps of fabric scattered around the room. There was really nothing you could do except try to comfort her during her meltdown, whilst trying to keep your own head. As you began to lay the dresses out on Mary’s bed once more one by one, there was a faint knock at her bedroom door.

You lifted your head, spying Elizabeth standing in the doorway shyly as she fiddled with her hands in front of her. “If you aren’t too busy, I require some help in choosing a dress as well” She spoke softly, before disappearing back down the hallway just as quickly as she appeared. Pressing your lips together in a thin line, you hummed a short reply, turning your gaze back to Mary who once again descended into hysterics.

“Go! Leave me alone, I shall die of embarrassment now that I have nothing but these rags to choose from!” She exclaimed, dramatically collapsing onto her side and covering herself with her bed covers, beginning to sob loudly as she buried her head into her pillow. You glowered down at her, a small sense of jealousy and envy forming in your chest. Had your situation been different, you would have loved to have such a selection of beautiful clothes. Your father always bought you some of the nicest things on his travels abroad, whether they be small trinkets or delicately made clothes.

A sense of sadness and guilt replaced that feeling of jealousy and envy. You missed your father terribly, but you felt guilty for feeling this way. You weren’t entirely sure why, but as you left Mary’s room and made your way to Elizabeth’s, you decided that you could reminisce about your family later.

Upon entering Elizabeth’s bedroom, you almost gasped audibly in relief. Her room was completely tidy, unlike the previous monstrosity you had just left. There were three dresses splayed out on her bed. The one on the left was a pale light green, adorned completely in a delicate floral lace pattern that descended all the way to the floor with matching white satin gloves. The one in the middle was a deep royal blue satin, completely unadorned except for a white bejewelled belt underneath the bust. And the one on the right was a beautiful light pink, adorned in a delicate white floral lace which fanned out slightly below the end of the dress. Parts of the lace were adorned in small white pearls, which no doubt would have made the dress incredibly valuable…and eye-wateringly expensive.

Elizabeth looked up at you shyly, brushing her auburn hair from her shoulder as she sighed heavily. “I…I need your help deciding what one I should wear…” She spoke softly, her eyes falling back to the bed as she stuttered “I don’t want to look too desperate…but I also want to look pretty enough to attract his attention away from the others…”

You raised an eyebrow questioningly as you closed the door behind you, leaning against the white panel with a confused expression. “Who are you trying to impress?” You asked kindly, tilting your head to the side as you waited for her response. Elizabeth’s gaze met yours, and a bright blush formed on her cheeks as she shifted her position on her bed. “I…it’s Lord Burton. We met late last season, before it’s end actually. He was incredibly sweet, he took interest in my writings, and we have a shared passion for theatre…but his attention was drawn to one of the Lady Featherington’s daughters…”

You could see the sadness forming on her face as she began to idly pick at her bedsheets, sighing nervously as she breathed deeply. “After embarrassing myself before Lord Bridgerton, I realised that I am truly an ignorant person…and I don’t wish to be that anymore. So I ask you, will you help me choose a dress for Lady Danbury’s ball tonight? It would…mean a lot to me if you did.”

Your head straightened and your eyes widened, a strange feeling of acceptance forming in your chest. Neither of your stepsisters had ever acted this kindly towards you before, least of all actually apologised for their behaviour. Yet here Elizabeth was, a guilty look on her face as she waited for your answer.

“If you don’t I completely understand, I haven’t exactly been the most welcoming step-sister to you-“

“The pink one” you blurted out, pushing off the door and making your way over to her side. Your reply surprised you. You should feel annoyed, furious even. After everything she and Mary had done to you, should you really have been so quick to help her? You picked up the dress and held it up before you, examining every intricate detail of the lace and the fabric. Your gaze turned back to Elizabeth, her sadness now replaced with happiness…and gratitude.

“It’s really beautiful. If Lord Burton doesn’t notice you in this…then he is a fool” You spoke kindly, extending the dress towards her as a gesture of forgiveness. Elizabeth’s eyes softened as she gently took the dress from you, smiling kindly as she spoke “I know I haven’t been the best sister, nor really a good person towards you…but thank you. Though I do have to ask, why are you always so kind? Especially to my sister and my mother?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Have courage, and be kind. It was something that my mother taught me before she passed. It means that you must always have courage to do the things you want, and to be kind to everyone you meet, no matter their treatment of you…kindness goes a long way.”

With those parting words, you left Elizabeth’s room and returned to the attic for a moment of peace. You would be back downstairs in an hour or so to Lady Worthington and her daughters get dressed, but you allowed a small smile to cross your face at Elizabeth’s kindness.

“You have been awfully distracted since you returned home, dear brother. Tell me, what is on your mind?” Benedict asked somewhat teasingly, collapsing onto the lounge beside him with a loud huff of effort.

Anthony didn’t reply. He was consumed in thought, his mind mulling over something Eloise had said after the two of them had made their escape from Lady Worthington and her daughters.

“Anthony, you truly are blind. If you look closer at someone, like really look, and see past their dress, then perhaps you will see the truth behind a well-crafted-“

“A ‘well-crafted’ what, Eloise? What are you insinuating about Lady Worthington? Perhaps, she supposedly keeping a huge secret from the ton? One that would cause scandal and outrage should news get out?”

“Well…I didn’t say it…”

She had said those words with such sarcasm and malice, that it had stuck with him for the remainder of the afternoon. Eloise hadn’t looked at him since their return home. It was so unlike her, she wouldn’t speak to anyone except Colin. Surely this entire situation didn’t have anything to do with you…did it?

“Hello? Anthony…are you there?”

“Hm?” The Viscount asked, eyes blown wide as he eventually realised that he was not alone in the parlour room. Benedict laughed, lightly punching his brother’s shoulder as he rolled his eyes.

“What is going on with you? You’ve been very quiet since your return home, and Eloise is in a right mood-“

“If you’re here to bother me, it’s working” Anthony grumbled, shifting his position to rest his chin in the palm of his hand. He heard Benedict chuckle loudly, the sound echoing across the room.

“No, I would never do that!” Benedict mused offendedly, leaning closer to his brother and speaking in a more hushed tone. “Buuut…what happened between the two of you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the two of you this mad at each other-“

“It’s really none of your concern…” Anthony snapped, now turning to face his brother with a stern glare “…I’m not really sure if I know if it’s any of my concern”.

“Right, I won’t ask. But I suggest you make amends, otherwise the ball tonight will go very poorly…” Benedict mused informatively before an amused chuckled escaped him “…well, it will go poorly for you. I myself will enjoy your misfortune-“

“You’re such a child” Anthony scowled, becoming more annoyed by his brother’s presence by the second.

Benedict smiled sarcastically, “I know”.

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[daemonbrain]

Little Viper

Prologue | Chapter 1

(Daemon Targaryen x Dornish!Reader)

Summary: The sun could not reach you here, not in this city of rain and stink. (Un)fortunately, you found yourself at the mercy of a dragon's fire.

You've missed the heat, you supposed.

3k, CW: arranged marriage, canon divergent, canon-typical violence, canon-typical misogyny, reader is homesick, smut, little bit angsty, will update as I post.

a/n: if your new the prologue isn't necessary to read, just some extra insights. tbh i like the writing on this better bc its nice and angsty 🥰 comments are always extra appreciated, happy reading!!

100 A.C.

It was too hot here.

You allowed the maids who had come into your washing chambers to scrub at your skin vigorously. The one to your right rubbing your arm near raw, it did not matter.

It felt healing to sink into the sweltering hot water, the humidity almost unbearable with the lack of circulation. The room was full of maids brought from Dorne tasked with tending to you hand and foot, to have you the very image of a Princess on your special day.

You dared not utter a word; you feared what you did not know. With your volatile state of mind, you did not know what would come out of your mouth. There was no feeling. Just the scrubbing, the heat, the incessant tugging at your hair.

…

The hours of diligent work upon your appearance made the sight you were. Your white gown embroidered with great care to detail, suns speckled about harmoniously with the textures of the fabric. The corset drawn so tight you could feign fainting halfway up the aisle.

As you stood outside of the great wooden doors to the throne room, the cloak of yellow and orange lay heavy on your shoulders. The burden of peace thrust to you and for the love you bore your people you would do your duty.

“Princess,” A voice interrupted. Shaking yourself from your stupor, you turn to heed the man’s words. “Are you ready?”

Nodding, you willed your quaking body to arrest the futile show of fear.

The absence of both your father Prince Mors and brother Prince Qoren left you lacking accompaniment to the altar where your promised would stand.

May the gods grant you many a more moons, father. Reap the harvest of peace sown through your abandonment.

Imprisoned in your brooding, it is unclear to know anything beyond that of your own body. The sound of the heavy doors being pushed, your title being heralded resonating through the room. Your body moving faster than your mind, possessing you to move forward.

May they grant your future reign stillness and calm, beloved brother. May they bless you with the choice of a joyful union when the time comes, built upon this peace.

In spite of the pace your heart raced, the in-style shoes popular among ladies of the capital forced a slow walk. You would not be fearful, not of a Targaryen. A Martell does not stoop their head down to the blood of the dragon. To be as stubborn as a mule was not to let the tears prickle at your eyes, nor allow the fury which claws at your throat like a bound beast rise to the surface.

Step after step, every noise previously present went quiet at the approaching bride.

Raising your head, you are met with a sight which triggers your urges to turn heel and run south until you felt the grainy sand of the Dornish desert beneath your feet again.

He was beautiful.

Your gaze is met with his own violet one. His mouth an unashamed and harsh line, as if there was nothing he loathed more than standing at the end of this oh so blessed procession. Like two furious crashing waves in a storm tossed sea, your own discontentment intensified as you pushed forward.

It felt like your lifetime had passed you by when you took your place in front of the silver-haired Prince. Though his imposing frame carried a noble bearing, his stance was loose, his garb and hair revealing a hurried dressing.

Did he too fight such a deplorable match?

Briefly bowing your head to the septon, he returns the gesture and makes a subtle motion at the yellow and orange cloak which rests on your shoulders. It was meant to be Qoren walking down with you, him to remove the symbolism of your house’s protection and surrendered to Targaryen mercy.

But Qoren was not here. Nor your sickly father

Just a Prince with an expression of fiery wrath, chilling your bones. Refusing to acknowledge the humiliation that came with a lack of kin to give you away, you would help yourself.

So be it you relented. Taking the fabric between your fingers you tug it off in a swift motion and allow it to drop to the floor. Though your dress was befitting of a winter bride, covering every bit of your scented and oiled skin, you had never felt so vulnerable before.

“You may cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Daemon’s anger was temporarily subdued as a hint of unhidden pleasure came over him. He basked in the moment with twisted satisfaction, sensing your delicacy to the act. Taking the cloak of his house- a black and red fabric- and placing it over your shoulders. Keeping his eyes on yours at the tense and silent refusal to look away. Though all he could see was a Princess draped in the colours of his own noble house, surely.

So wicked it felt as though the Stranger itself had cloaked you.

Praise the strength of your near-wobbling legs for not giving out as Daemon stepped back.

“Father,” Your father idles, sick and feeble in Sunspear or mayhaps just too cowardly to see the cost of his peace.

“Mother,” Your mother lay in the ground, gods rest her soul.

“Warrior,” May he grant you courage to face this fate without fear.

“Maiden, Crone, Stranger,”

The room faded as you looked to Daemon who remained unmoving, continuing to leer. The gesture caused you discomfort, your already delicate insides ready to spill themselves. How could one so ethereal debase himself to such lack of grace.

Beauty touched by the gods they say of dragon's blood… It is a shame the statement carries weight.

“Bear witness to their vows.” The septon gestures to Prince Daemon. With an irate expression Daemon casts a glance to his right, tearing his eyes away from you to look to his father, Crown-Prince Baelon. You caught what was unsaid between the two, brief as it was. His stare is one of finality, not dissimilar to your own father’s as he threw you on to the sea bound for King’s Landing.

With a roughness certainly not unnoticed by the crowd, Prince Daemon hastily grabs your hand into his own. Calloused against your softer skin that causes a shiver to creep down your spine. As if sensing… relating with the feeling, his hand gives an involuntary squeeze. The septon ties your joint had together and bids Daemon to repeat after him.

“I am yours,” His teeth practically almost shattered from the way he gritted through his words, his heart having no truth in his words. “And you are mine. Whatever may come.” Daemon glowered as if he wanted to rip you to shreds himself.

His breath stunk of wine.

You had a duty. You had a duty and for all that you held dear you would do it. You had a duty… surely…

Surely the gods would grant mercy unto your soul for such a willing act of forfeit?

“Hurry up.” Daemon pigheadedly interrupted.

Coming back to your current affairs, you see that the septon was in fact waiting for you to repeat the vows back.

Taking a deep breath in, your mouth opened yet no words emerged. The revulsion seated deep within your soul infecting the rest of your body with denial. You withhold the want to pull away, You are sure your betrothed would not stop you if you ran. He held you just as he was expected, the now loosened grip preparing to separate already.

“We all have duties to uphold.” The great Prince Mors -your father’s- voice echoed.

Paying no mind to the judging stares, you force your feelings aside. “I am yours, and you are mine… Whatever may come.” Your eyes round and brimming with the emotion which swirls behind them.

…

The feast was just as miserable of an affair. Daemon had left you almost immediately, seeking refuge in a bottle paired with idle talk with his brother and a Lord whose name you did not know or care for, rather than be by your side. Not that you had any objections. You ripped the cloak of black and red off the moment your vows had been done feeling as suffocated as one could be, and to the surprise of none. Had you been paying closer attention you would have noticed the exasperated expression that dawned on Daemon's face.

A sorry sight you were. The Princess of Dorne atop the royal dais, unshed tears and anger held solely by your pride. As the few of your fathers advisors here on his behalf engaged in small talks with the King’s courtiers, you were left to fend for your own. After all, no one else dares approach the viper on such a high pedestal.

Looking on at the festivities, the music being played grows louder in your ears while courtiers spun about. All dutifully ignoring the ever present tension within the room as their Prince sinks into his cups with a loose tongue dripping of bravado on one side of the room, and the foreigner sulking in the other.

You gripped your cup tighter as you observed your betrotheds- your husband’s hands grab at yet another yet another goblet of wine -one of many he’s had upon arrival- there is a slight sway to his stance. With luck, perhaps he will choke on his own stomach contents in a drunken stupor by the end of the night.

Even so, fortune's favor never does seem to smile upon you. You found no favor when you were subjugated to this.

The familiar figure of Princess Aemma approaches, ending your isolation. Sitting up straight, you nod your head to the Arryn.

“Princess Aemma. I trust you are enjoying your evening.” With a mouth pressed far too tight and eyes widened a bit too wide to hide the weariness which tingled with every blink. “Princess.” She gestures to the chair next to your own.

“You may sit wherever you please. I am hardly in any position to refuse company.” It was the moment you heard the chair shuffle closer that you found the cutlery far more interesting.

“It would be audacious to presume I may sit anywhere… I would not want to make my good-sister uncomfortable.” You gulped at the word “sister”, maintaining a steadfast gaze forward. You were sure she meant it in good spirits. No matter the intention, the stabbing feeling to your aching heart remained.

With a bitter chuckle you return your focus to the woman seated beside you. “You are most gracious Princess.”

Biting your lip you lock on to the sight behind her. Daemon’s eyes unnervingly on yours while his father takes hold of his arm, leaning close to speak discreet words. His brother Viserys to his right, a blissfully ignorant expression listening to the lecture.

Aemma notices the Prince’s withering gaze. Gently smiling she moves her head to the side, blocking your sightline.

“I must say em- I am certain you’ve heard a plethora of congratulations, I wished to give you mine. May the gods bless you with a joyous and fruitful union.”

“Many congratulations, though I am not sure as to why the sentiment for this plain day.” She afforded you kindness, but your mood was too far soured to repay it in full. You’ve no need for a sister, you have a brother already. Perhaps. It is unclear whether his abandonment of you while you waited on the shores of the Blackwater Bay for his arrival was his way of wiping his hands clean of you.

All the same, you were no longer of his house.

The Princess moved to continue, but was quickly interrupted by the heavy footfalls and subsequent hand landing roughly on your shoulder. Your body jolted away from the touch instinctually, only eliciting a loud and mirthless laugh from the figure behind you. Pivoting your body towards the brazen soul, dreading what you surmised. For there is only one in this hall who could presume to lay hold of you in such a way.

Grasping for your wrist, Daemon’s hand clenched around like a wolf’s maw to its prey. “It seems my father grows displeased at your solitude, Princess.” Using his leverage he begins to pull you in his direction. “You can cease your dawdling and spare me your excuses.”

Reeling your shock at his blatant handling, you firmly planted yourself into your chair. Digging your heels in as you look at him incredulously. “I am quite fine as I am Prince Daemon.”

His eyes narrowed with ire, the mark of his vexation stretching his mouth into a frown as he attempted another stronger tug. “I’ve no patience for your refusal, join me-”

Abruptly, Aemma interjects Daemon’s demands, “You need not worry Daemon. She is far from lonely, I am here with her. Viserys busies himself with others so i’ve no intention on leaving for some time.”

Fixing his attention to Aemma, Daemon’s expression is one of apathy as he finally manages to bring you stumbling to your feet. “A shame you are not the one she is meant to cling to then.”

You barely had the time to recompose yourself before you are whisked away. “Easy!” You hissed while dragged by Daemon’s persistent hand, long strides forcing you further and further from the table you resigned yourself to acceptingly moments ago.

With a chuckle, he continues on to the dance floor. “I’m to spend time with you wife. I’m to dance with my bride on such an evening, my father says.” His words drenched with resentment as his fingers dig harder into the fabric of your sleeves. Too far gone from your secluded (and missed) seat, you are helpless but to let Daemon weave you through the crowd. People part way for the Prince as he centers himself.

“You offer such kindness allowing me to ‘cling’ to you!”

Prying free from his clutches, the two of you stopped in the middle of the throng. He prowled about your dress-clad form. The thunder outside clapped as if it tried to help his unwelcomed scare tactics. Tracking the movement with your eyes, you respond.

“But how disappointing, here I thought my dear husband wished to parade me around this grand hall of his own volition.”

He scoffed as the tempo of the music quickened. He grabs onto your hand with an iron-like-hold, forcing you to follow his (sloppy) lead. “Ah, so I married a fool. Many things i‘ve heard of your family, but stupid? Did I get the rotten apple from the poisonous tree?”

Married or made to marry you wanted to quip. Though, it was unwise to speak plainly to a man whose side you would be made to stay by for the foreseeable future.

“I’m glad you have heard so much of my family then, my prince.” You must avoid disgrace when in the company of these unknown people however much it pains you to treat the man who forcefully whirls your body about like a sack of potatoes.

The moment the words left your mouth you regretted it. Daemon’s mouth quirked up into a sneer when he leans in far too close to your indifferent facade. If you turned your face your nose would brush against his, more prone to the dangerous glint which sparked within him.

“I’ve heard a great deal… Dorne seems to be such an interesting place, yes?”

Yank after yank after yank you look less that you are being danced with and more of a likeness to the training dummies you used to watch the house guard jostle in practice.

“Dorne boasts a great many things not found North of its border.” You grit. Your brain clanged around your skull from the movement as you attempted to find your footing. All the while, you spot the blurred faces of the onlookers this “dance” attracts.

Digging your fingers into Daemon’s forearm, he either does not acknowledge or understand the silent request to seize his brusque movements. His purposeful embarrassment garnering murmurs of those who witness it.

Snickering, he attempts -and somewhat fails- to lower his voice. “More free. Is it true? Do I have a wicked woman to tame?” Daemon’s breath hot on your cheek compared to your blood which runs cold at the accusation.

What else would you expect from a vulgar young prince to imagine of your reputation besides rumors meant to make Dornish less “refined” than the other kingdoms. Not pious as a Hightower, nor familial like a Tully. Lustful like a scoundrel.

Your cold countenance formed like steel, a knight's shield around your displeasure. “I assure you I am as unspoilt as any other maiden.” Your voice sounded prickly as you finally managed to rip your hands away from Daemon’s. Rolling his eyes he makes another attempt to grab at you, stating some unpleasantness of the song not being finished. Moving your arm farther out of his reach you send a glare that would ward off your most persistent suitors, “I’ve no wish to dance anymore Prince Daemon.”

Before any other protests could come out, you fled. Slipping through the crowds, your ears caught the murmurs which rippled by. Your cheeks flooded with the heat indignity. Each time you braved a glance upwards you were met with eerily hollow glances.

You believed yourself to be much more skilled at concealing your true feelings of Daemon. After all, you did not begin weeping the moment he opened his depraved mouth like you wished to. In spite of what you thought to be a masterful act, the odd glances cast your way seemed to say otherwise.

Sick you made out.

The cascade of whispers continued as you pushed through, noticing a few of the Dornish courtiers present with the same bereaved visage.

In sleep you managed to catch.

As the seconds passed by, you found yourself more closely surrounded. Bombarded by small frowns and pitying gazes. Turning your head back you see the head of silver-hair bounding closer again.

You did not feel the closeness Daemon imposed when he made his way to the back you. He did not notice the way your face went slack, stripped of the will to move. It was not your union they looked on with pity for.

He took your silence as trepidation. “That was quite rude Princess… you should learn to use a more revering tone with me. It may do you some good, you know.” He took your silence for trepidation as he smirked, looming over you. He was mistaken.

The ground felt as if it crumbled beneath you. Your breath coming in short huffs as the overwhelming grief threatens to crush you under its weight.

Prince Mors dead

Had Daemon not been behind you, your body would have collapsed onto the cold stone of the floor.

[skygoldart]

Cod Grian Cosplay Build!

The fish man himself, season 10 Grian!

Reference Sketch

Some notes:

I always end up changing somethings from the reference when making the actual outfit, although I stayed pretty close it it this time.

I initially drew him with a handlebar mustache and goatee to mimic the whiskers of a fish, however I switched to a fluffier mustache beard to match the guy from Frozen.

I also opted for my turtleneck shirt over the red sweater+collar to go for more of a fisherman vibe

Since Grian is usually drawn with parrot wings, I wanted to call back to that with red yellow and blue feathers on the bobbers.

The tail and fins

I wanted to lean into the “fish”er man design and gave him fish fins and a tail.

It’s design is based on a cod fish with striped fins based on the feathers of an osprey

To make it, I drew the tail pattern on a large piece of paper, cut it out, cut each section out of the respective fabric times two, sewed the two sides together, and lastly filled it with a ton stuffing.

The tail is heavy, but it’s fun to wack people with it.

The fins for the arms and beanie are made in a similar way, each hand sewn onto the beanie/bracers once stuffed.

The Overalls

I had originally planned for him to be wearing waders, but wanted to make the outfit more wearable for everyday wear without overheating. So I opted for some brown corduroy overalls instead.

To add a “wet” look to each pant leg, I briefly dipped each one into some black fabric dye before rinsing and drying.

The green pixels on his skin look like they could be kelp or patches so I decided to go with the latter and dug through my scrap fabric to find these green pieces.

I embroidered the edge of each piece with a unique stitch and placed them randomly on each leg.

The snails!

Of course we can’t forget about the snails

There are three snails for this project with two more eventually on the way (a plush pink snail, and a plush brown snail).

I made the clay blue snail first with polymer and attached tie tacks to the underside so I can use it like a pin and stick it anywhere on my clothes.

Same goes for the pink worm snail which is also made of clay.

The blue plush snail is based on a pattern from Etsy by willowynn with some slight modifications, mainly to the eyes/feelers, and doubling the size.

Facial hair

This was one of the parts I was the most excited about for this cosplay and the only part I didn’t do myself. I commissioned @basic-amoeba to make a custom ventilated beard, styled and everything. This part turned out so good!

Some final notes for this project

This cosplay took from Feb 20 to March 15th to complete since I was so determined to finish it before Grian changed his skin. Haha look at me now. He still hasn’t changed it.

Not pictured (cause why can I only add 10 photos 😭) is the mending book with a fish hook I made using scrap faux leather, cardboard, and some cut printer paper. I painted in galactic the word mending and sprayed the whole thing in my “enchanting” spray paint (a blue to purple iridescent glitter spray paint)

A small fun backstory to the fishing rod:

My grandpa is an experienced fisherman and has dozens of fishing poles. When I talked about this project with him, he brought me out to his workshop and pulled down the dustiest fishing rod there. He told me he had fished this fishing rod from a lake one day with the line and bait still attached. Can’t get anymore accurate to Minecraft fishing than that lol.

Obligatory cosplay photo:

[questionable-sanity]

Sad Mu Qing thoughts:

You know how it's a common headcanon that he not only is good a sewing, but it's something that he genuinely enjoys doing?

What if, not unlike Hua Cheng's Cave of Ten Thousand Statues, Mu Qing has a huge, private wardrobe that no one knows about except for him.

This wardrobe contains thousands of grand, luxurious robes and accessories, all created by his hand. Not one of them is the same as another, and if one were to look closely, one would discover that they were clearly organized into three main sections:

One section contains robes that are not dissimilar to his own's size, but are markedly different in color and style than anything Mu Qing would wear - rich, warm browns and yellows with accents of brick reds or burnt orange. All trimmed with gleaming, brassy gold. The fabrics are fairly heavy and practical, but forgiving. The designs all seem to have careful attention to the flexibility of the shoulders. Many of them display beautiful, finely embroidered designs depicting noble dragons or a more subtle pattern reminiscent of dragon scales.

Another section contains robes that are too small to be worn by Mu Qing, and much too light in color. - rows and rows of flowy, silky fabrics, ranging from snowy white to the palest of blues, many adorned with delicate patterns of flower petals or clouds in golds and silvers. Some are simple and airy, but others are designed with long, flowing sleeves, ornate sashes, and delicate beading with underrobes offering lovely flashes of fortuitous crimson, befitting of royalty.

In perhaps the largest section, there are endless sets of robes clearly intended for a woman. One who would have been much shorter in stature than Mu Qing, but who clearly shares his penchant for dark colors and simple yet tasteful designs. Blacks, greys, and navy blues, all in the softest, most satiny materials that would feel as light as air on the skin. On close inspection, many of these would display graceful, tasteful patterns of cherry blossoms or under-robes with just the barest hint of blush or peach pinks. These robes are clearly lovingly crafted, with their seams, sashes, and accessories of the finest silver.

No one knows the centuries Mu Qing has spent crafting and preserving such lovely robes, none of them having ever been touched or worn after their creation.

And he prefers it that way, to keep this wardrobe a secret, a shrine in reverence to the most precious and grieved relationships of his past.

There, he can pour his feelings and devotion, and not be judged or rejected.

[tj-crochets]

Second Creature eye is sewn on, but alien might be delayed a little bit because I just found out one of my dad's best friends has a new grandkid born like a month ago and he didn't tell me! It's baby quilt time

Thanks everybody for helping me crowdsource executive function (aka voting on my "what to make next" poll) yesterday! Today's crafting goals (based on the votes) are: - finish sewing on the second Creature eye - start working on making an alien pattern to use with the starry eyes - try not to spend all my time working on the puzzle

[odoraful]

𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄

during a gathering for the maisons in the court of fontaine, the newlywedded couple retire early to spend time at home together

⟡ content: neuvilette x fem!reader; introvert x introvert; calling each other husband and wife and other cute nicknames; reader saving neuvilette from social burnout; lots of kissing; very fluffy; possibly ooc neuvilette (still figuring out how to write him!)—he's much more open with his affections around reader; 2.4k words

⟡ a/n: craving some married couple dynamics and i thought neuvi was a perfect candidate for this :') i haven't written in almost a month so pardon my rustiness </3

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“It’s not like you to zone out Monsieur Neuvilette.”

Neuvilette’s gaze snapped back to the person in front of him—bemusement on their face. Whilst many others would have let their sheepishness show at being caught, Neuvilette’s features never faltered, returning a sensible smile.

He was conversing with someone from the Maison Cardinalice named Aimon. In fact, there were people from all four Maisons here at the ball. It was a semi-regular gathering held to promote friendly relations between the factions of the Court. Neuvilette believed he had a good grasp of the intricacies of political small talk among these events. The talks were cordial and productive, and he made his due diligence to circle the foyer of the Opera Epiclese enough times to be introduced, and reintroduced, to interested parties. However, mid-way through these rounds, he found that the ornament woven in his hair felt heavier than usual, and his thick robes seemed to drag his body down with each conversation he entered and left. Despite this, he maintained his composure. He had a role to fulfil after all.

“My apologies, I was simply taken by the view here.”

He glanced out again past the open doors of the Opera Epiclese.

White light of the foyer’s interior flooded into the darkness of the night, causing the streams of water in the Fountain of Lucine to shimmer like crystals. Near the doors, some members of the ball had taken to conversing in the cool night air.

The representative from the Cardinalice shook their head in astonishment.

“Even after all your time here, you still find such novelty in the landmarks of the city,” they sighed.

Turning to follow where Neuvilette had been looking, they tried to discern what beauty he saw in this place that they passed almost every day. Realisation hit them almost immediately at what, or rather who, had distracted the Iudex.

One of the people who had taken respite in the open night air was you.

It was hard for one to take their eyes away at the figure draped in gold fabric, hugging their body just so. The ruffled hem of the dress was long enough to hit the floor, leaving a small train of what appeared to be molten gold in the trick of the light. Carefully embroidered vines and leaves in yellow thread trailed from the bodice to the skirt. Tulle-like material lined the sweetheart neck, showcasing the pearl necklace at your collarbones and extending to drape delicately past the curves of the shoulders.

You were in the company of some of the gestionnaires from the Palais Mermonia, listening attentively. Your covered your mouth with a hand, laughing at something being said. Neuvilette could imagine the lilt of your voice as you spoke with the others around you.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Aimon began, “how fares the move for Fontaine’s newly wed couple?”

Neuvilette hummed, a low timbre brimming with affection.

He was not one to announce personal affairs, but no amount of privacy could prevent the news of the Chief Justice getting married from going public. Of course, the people of Fontaine were captivated by the romantic story of someone finally catching the eye of the “solitary workaholic” (as many of the news articles released described him to be). It sounded exactly like something out of a play. Quietly, he enjoyed when people brought it up in conversation, since it gave him a chance to talk about you, after all. He loved the way the title rolled off his tongue when he called you his wife.

“My wife and I have been settling into our new home well,” he replied, revitalised by the change of topic. “We have finished with all our furnishings-”

“Ah!” the exclamation from Aimon almost made him jump. “Monsieur, I must introduce you to the latest addition to our Maison. I think you would quite like him.”

They flapped their hand at someone from outside, gesturing them to come in.

More introductions. Inwardly, Neuvilette sighed, though there was only politeness shown on his face.

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Unbeknownst to Neuvilette, his weariness had begun to manifest in the sky above. What had been a clear night had now turned overcast. Dense clouds obscured the moon. The people around you looked curiously at the sky.

“How fickle the weather can be,” someone tutted.

You knew that such a sudden change could only mean one thing.

Rather than look to the sky, your eyes instead sought your husband. At the entrance of the Opera, you could see Neuvilette speaking with two others, his silhouette back lit by light. Excusing yourself from the people you were with, you lifted the hem of your skirt and walked briskly over. The voice of Aimon grew louder as you drew nearer. You paid half an ear to their discussion, your attention directed at Neuvilette’s rigid posture and passive expression.

His senses tingled as you approached his side. The delicate sweetness of your perfume comforted him. After admiring you from a distance for much of the ball, his lips now parted seeing you up close. Even with how long you have spent with each other, he became more enamoured by you with every passing day.

“Apologies for my interruption.”

Your words cut through the conversation, immediately quietening Aimon. You lay a hand on Neuvilette, squeezing his shoulder lightly. You felt his body ease under your touch.

“But may I speak to my husband?”

“Mademoiselle.” Aimon tipped his head in greeting. “Why of course. We will take out leave.”

You curtsied in thanks, watching as the two Cardinalice members hurried away further into the foyer.

Neuvilette’s hand hovered over your waist. Momentarily, he thought about pulling you close, until he could trace every thread of the embroidered pattern on your bodice under his fingertips and memorise its shape. It pained him to resist an action like this, but he was a gentleman, and it would be improper to do something like that in a public space. Instead, he subtly gestured towards the edge of the room as a place to talk without, hopefully, being interrupted.

“My dear, is everything alright?”

The concern on his face melted your heart.

“Everything is quite alright with me, but I’m not sure I can say the same for you.”

You covered the side of your mouth that could be viewed by others. “It’s okay if you’re tired of this ball,” you whispered.

His face fell to relief that something bad had not happened to you.

“Thank you for your concern, dear, but as head of the Ordalie, it is my duty to be here and connect with the other Maisons.” The words came out of him almost robotically, betraying the tiredness that weighed his body and pleaded for him to rest.

“It may well be, but I don’t want to see you collapsing the next time someone wants to speak to you,” you insisted.

He rubbed his temple with his finger and thumb. Neuvilette couldn’t argue with that. It was true. How good of a Chief Justice could he be if he was too exhausted to properly fulfil his duties? At the thought of leaving early, his mind wandered to how the two of you would cuddle before bed, tucked beneath the quilts, enveloped by homeliness. Maybe it was best to listen to your advice.

“Are you alright to retire for the night as well, then?” he asked.

“Archons, yes,” you blurted out. “The gestionnaires are lovely company, but if I had the choice between hearing the amount of paperwork required to replace a keycap from them again, or to return to my abode with my husband, I think my answer would hardly surprise you.”

He laughed at your candour. “I will not let you say anything untoward about the Maison Gestion for I admire their tenacity. However, even I must admit that that may not the most riveting conversation to be apart of.”

Neuvilette extended a hand out towards you.

“Shall we depart then?”

You nodded fervently. Moving to his side, you both took a turn around the foyer, saying your necessary goodbyes to the heads of the Maisons. They gave saddened responses to his early departure, but respected the couple’s wishes. Though, you and Neuvilette considered being out at a quarter-past-nine at night to already be quite late.

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The two of you entered you home with a relieved sigh, slipping off your shoes and leaving them on the rack by the door. Though the slight clutter of your living room—pillows askew on the sofa, blankets draped on chairs, handmade ceramic trinkets dotted in spaces around the room—was far from the pristine foyer of the Opera, you much preferred it. Automatically, you and Neuvilette headed upstairs to the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to unwind for the night.

Looking at your reflection, you took your necklace and earrings off, returning them back to their velvet boxes. Behind you in the mirror, your husband’s hair began to get tangled in the clip of his feathered ornament. He let out a frustrated huff. It was certainly cute to see someone as accomplished as the Iudex have such a sulky look on his face. Wordlessly, you walked over to his side and tapped his hands away. At your signal of aid, Neuvilette sat down on the bed, allowing you to reach his head. His eyes were glued to your focused expression, how careful you were trying to be to not hurt him. Your fingers delicately removed the hair piece, and you smoothed his hair to tidy it up.

As he stood up to take off his robes, he felt your hands tug at the sleeves, helping him to undress. Neuvilette opened his mouth to protest, to tell you that you needn’t worry about him, that you should go and wash up first. Knowing your husband for so long, you sensed these words and spoke before him.

”I know being Chief Justice is an intensive role, but please don’t push yourself too hard.”

Such a gentle request from his wife almost made him fall to his knees. It was act of care that seemed magnified now that you were married. Neuvilette managed to, incredibly, maintain his balance as you worked to unbutton his vest.

“You are not an unfeeling Gardemek who can stand for hours without tumbling over,” you pouted, fumbling at his buttons.

The Chief Justice took his position seriously, sparing no feelings in a trial. It was a job needed to be done faithfully to best help the people of Fontaine. That sense of responsibility he had was something you held great pride in, but not when it took a toll on his mind and body. Especially when the emotions he held like a still body of water began to ripple and swirl behind the curtains of the courtroom.

“I will heed your words,” he nodded. “In any case, you seem to be swooping in to my rescue a few times tonight.”

You grinned. “I would gladly rescue you whenever you need, party-related or otherwise.”

Neuvilette stared fondly at his wife, slipping off his vest and folding it neatly. Perhaps it was the after effects of the honeymoon period, but the domesticity of this moment flared something inside him.

Before you could move to the closet on the opposite side of the room, he circled a hand around your waist. His touch stopping you from walking away. You cocked your head to the side, curiously.

“Truly, you have my thanks.”

Swiftly, you were pulled close to him. Neuvilette ran a fingertip along the edges of the leaves stitched onto your bodice, finally feeling each thread. You squirmed slightly—each drag of his finger leaving a tickling sensation at your waist. The composed air he maintained for most hours of the day came undone before you. Left wearing only his loose white shirt and black pants, his tousled hair fell down his back and the glow from the bedroom’s lantern reflected desire in his indigo eyes.

Leaning closer still, his warm breath caressed your face as his lips met your forehead first. The movement excruciatingly slow. Each press of his lips lingered for a second longer that you could even feel the most minute shifts in his face. Continuing, he trailed feather-like kisses down your temples.

“Mm, what’s this for?” you asked, more breathless than you anticipated.

Neuvilette hummed for a moment.

“My intentions are two fold. One-” he accentuated the word with a kiss on your cheek, “-as appreciation for helping me tonight, and two-” he placed another on the opposite side, “-as recompense for not admiring you properly at the ball.”

There was always a flutter in your stomach when he kissed you, but the way your breath caught in your throat felt like this was the very first time. He was completely lost in his affection as he moved down to your jawline and neck—soft lips meeting your quickening pulse. A small gasp escaped you at the contact, and the smile that drew across his lips was unmistakable against your skin. The folded vest slipped from your hand and crumpled on the floor. He would deal with the creases in his uniform in the morning. For now, it would make a satisfactory sacrifice for this chance to cherish you.

Grasping at Neuvilette’s shirt sleeve instead, he switched positions, cornering you on the edge of the bed. He focused his attention on the dip in your collarbone—a sensitive spot that made you shiver at the contact. The sensation was too inviting not resist. Your legs could no longer hold yourself steady, as you tumbled down to sit. Hands opposite sides of your body, your husband had subtly caged you in as he pulled away to look at your face.

“You look divine, my dear.” His voice was low, reverberating in your ears.

“As do you. Though I believe that adjective is a given-” you poked at his cheek with a finger “-for a Sovereign such as yourself.”

Red tinged his ears, an obvious contrast against his pale skin. He breathed a laugh at your comment, always quick to return a compliment to him.

The clouds had long since dissipated, showcasing the moon in its clarity. The attendants at the Opera briefly paused their chatter to once again admire the twinkling sky. A few of them sighed, commenting disappointedly how the Chief Justice and his wife had missed the splendour of the night.

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[polo-drone-055]

The Golden Army meets The Polo Drones: Part 1

Written at the command of and in collaboration with @hypnogold

Sitting in a coffee shop looking stressed is Richard the captain of the Golden Army Football Club.

Richard calls a close confidant. His stress getting the best of him Richard is speaking loudly.

“It was worse than you can imagine.”

“No! The Silver Collective didn’t win the match. We gave it to them on their own silver platter. We weren’t united. We lacked focus. Had no energy. What’s worse is that this was predictable. I should have acted sooner.”

"Yeah, I saw the red flags. The past few weeks I noticed the Bros off the field were eating rich foods at restaurants, smoking, attending all the festivals and going to late night movies."

"They were beginning to sleep in, miss workouts, and spend more time talking about their accomplishments on the pitch than actually focusing on their drills. I used our beach outing to try and bring back discipline, unity, and ambition. Obviously it didn’t work."

"Then there is our new wingback. Christian! #55."

"I have no idea what to do with that situation."

"If most of the team is losing focus he is overly ambitious. You saw how he stayed up too often, despite my instructions, allowed space out wide for Silver to fill letting them score and losing us the match."

"Now the media and fans are out for him. The headlines are nonstop: “Christian is worthless!” “Sack #55!" “This guy is crap!” The fans throw beer, food, drinks and all sorts of stuff at him. When out about the city he is constantly cursed at."

"He feels awful and has apologized repeatedly to the Bros."

"Christian is working extra hard to refine his skills but does not seem to be improving. No matter how much I and the Bros encourage him, work with him, and give him shoulders to lean on things are not changing."

"Bro, thanks for letting me get this off my chest. You’re the best."

"No, I’m not giving up. We will rise and conquer. We are Golden strong! Later Bro!"

As Richard finishes the call a man who had been standing at the counter behind him approaches saying “Excuse me, I could not help but hear your conversation.”

Startled by the interruption Richard looks up and is taken aback by the man wearing a black Fred Perry polo with distinctive yellow details including a laurel wreath embroidered on the chest with the top button fastened. The fabric had a glossy sheen to it, almost rubbery or latex-like.

Dazed, Richard responds “What?”

“I heard your conversation and can feel your frustration. I know you are trying your hardest.”

Staring at the polo and only half listening Richard mumbles “Yeah Bro”

“Your Golden Army Club is top of the league.”

Richard nods.

While speaking the man sits down and touches Richard whose golden spiral appears in his eyes.

“Everything will work out. It will be okay.”

As Richard’s arm and gold jersey brush against the polo a warmth and peace comes over him. His golden spiral which had been dim begins to brighten.

“We can help you be more focused, more intense, more synchronized. Your mates will once again work as a team, a unit. You will not be defeated again. Feel your confidence return.”

The man moves closer so that more of the smooth slick sheen of the polo is rubbing against Richard who can’t resist running his palms over it. The feel is tantalizing.

“Yes, feel it. Feel the intensity come over you. Do you like how it feels?"

"Yeah Bro," Richard says with more focus and intensity.

"I have another one you want it?" The man holds out the polo for Richard to see.

"Feel it. Feel the strength, confidence and conviction exuding from it. Imagine possessing all those traits yourself forever."

Without hesitation Richard viciously grabs the polo and puts it on. The immediate sensation of being tightly wrapped and constricted is immense. The smooth slick surface feels both isolating and sensual.

"Oh Bro!!!!" Richard exclaims running his hands all over his torso experiencing sensations as never before. “We will improve. We will grow” His voice becoming monotone and robotic as he speaks. “We will defeat. We will improve. We will grow. We will defeat.

With every repetition Richard’s strength, confidence and conviction deepens. The gold within accepts that to be on the top, to be the best it must be more focused, more intense, more synchronized. It must unite with polo.

Totally in sync with absolute confidence and conviction of their purpose the two leave the coffee shop heading for Club Pulse where Christian is waiting.

[degournay]

St. Laurent is one of our most visually rich Chinoiserie designs, depicting an oriental garden in full, vibrant bloom. Inspired by antique panels once owned by Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé, de Gournay’s interpretation preserves the original’s dramatic scale and grandeur. The design is distinguished by its intricate depictions of elaborate peacocks and doves among exotic flowers like Peony, Prunus, Camellia, and Chrysanthemum—species that were highly regarded as exotic during the era.

[lichilly]

"Hello there, friend."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀🌞⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I've been playing around with the idea of Jack being the leader of the Cloudy Town cult!

The town is very picturesque and vibrant, with colorful houses, well-kept gardens, and friendly residents. The streets are always clean, and theres a perpetual atmosphere of celebration!

The Sun is revered as a life-giving deity, and to maintain the sun’s favor, periodic sacrifices are made—animals, and in most extreme cases, humans. The symbol of the Sun is a recurring motif in Cloudy Town. found on buildings, clothes, decorations, and just about everything!

Jack is a very well-loved and respected figure in Cloudy Town. He has a special connection to the Sun, often leading prayers, festivals, sacrifices, and much more!

Every morning at sunrise, Jack and the townspeople gather in the central plaza to perform a morning prayer and chant, welcoming the Sun's rise. This helps show their gratitude for the Sun's light and warmth, reinforcing their devotion while also bringing the community together in unity. At sunset, they will gather in the plaza again to pray for the Sun's return, expressing hope and trust in the Sun's cyclical nature, while also strengthening faith.

Once a month, Jack will lead a blessing ceremony, where he anoints participants with a mixture of sunflower oil and herbs under the noon sun. This purifies and bless those in need, ensuring good health and fertility.

Summer Solstice is a beloved celebration for the townsfolk. A special prayer is said at sunrise, kicking off the day with positive energy and high sprits for the special day to come. A grand feast is held at high noon, featuring grilled vegtables, fruits, and meats cooked over open flames to honor the Sun. Dishes are often infused with citrus falvors and herbs lke basil and thyme. Sun-shaped breads and cakes decorated with yellow and orange fruits are served as well, courtesy of Rory's bakery.

The kids of Cloudy Town are welcomed to join in activites like creating sun-inspired crafts and decorations. Sun masks are especially popular, created out of paper plates and decorated with markers and paint to look like the Sun.

As sunset during Summer Solstice, the townsfolk parktake in a fire dance around a large bonfire. Music is played, consiting of joyful singing and instruments. At the end of the fire dance, families will bring offerings such as wreaths, floral arrangments, and sun symbols and throw them in the fire. The smoke that billows from the bonfire will carry the offerings up the sky for the Sun to recieve.

Instead of clown costumes, the people in Cloudy Town wear lightweight, breathable fabrics like dresses, blouses, skirts, and tunics with loose-fitting trousers or shorts, which are more suitable for the sunny weather. The clothes are decorated in sun motifs, often embroidered with yellow stiching that creates beautiful sun rays and abstract swirls across the fabric. Everyone wears a sun pendant around their neck, and are often used during prayers to help feel more connected to the Sun.

In the image above you can see Jack wearing his ritual clothes—a long golden robe with a sun pendant clasping it all together. During rituals, everyone involved wears a sun-themed mask. Special rituals are held at the hidden Sun Temple in the woods by Cloudy Town and are either held at sunrise or sunset. These rituals are usually where human sacrifices are made.

The MC is on a roadtrip with their friends Shaun, Nick, and boyfriend Ian, when their van breaks down a mile or two away from Cloudy Town. With no other option and no cell service, they start to walk in search of a nearby town. After hours of walking, they stumble across Cloudy Town and are quickly welcomed with open arms and warm smiles. The group found the town eerie, far too perfect and welcoming, and is set on leaving as soon as they can. Jack assures the group that he'll get their van fixed promptly and invites them to stay in town for the night. Upon accepting his offer, Jack quickly takes a warm liking to the MC, often making subtle, flatttering remarks about the MC's radiant energy, comparing it to the Sun's radiance.

There still a lot I'm thinking over when it comes to this AU! Some of this info may change with time, but this is the main brain dumb I'm mulling over. I hope you enjoy it!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀🌞⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

BLOOD VER. UNDER CUT

[haerenven]

Mmmm, м𝓐η 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡!

roronoa Zoro x dimitrescu!sister¡reader

Summery. reader being jealous after zoro saving Robin.

tag(s)&warning(s). Smut, insecure reader, jealousy, kinda possessive yandere

As the crew embarked on their quest to find the elusive poneglyph on Skypiea, they came across a menacing celestial dragon named Enel, who stood in their path. Enel, with his lightning powers and authoritative demeanor, posed an ominous presence before the crew.

Enel, using his devil fruit powers, was ready to unleash a devastating lightning strike aimed at both you, Zoro, and Robin. The atmosphere was charged with tension as the attack was imminent.

As Robin was in danger of being struck by Enel's lightning attack, you reacted swiftly and managed to block the attack using your sickle , preventing her from being hit. However, before she could escape, Zoro, displaying quick reflexes, grabbed her by the waist and swiftly pulled her out of harm's way. Enel's attack missed its target, and Robin escaped injury thanks to Zoro's intervention.

As you watched Zoro swiftly save Robin from Enel's attack, a pang of discomfort or jealousy might have crept into your heart. In that moment, you may not have felt entirely happy, perhaps because Zoro's protective gesture toward Robin stirred up some unexpected feelings within you.

y/n dimitrescu The irresistible charm of her divine aura radiated from her perfect feminine form, drawing attention to her alluring assets. Her larger, round breasts and firm, hardened peaks created an irresistible combination of curves and self-confidence. Her curvaceous hips swayed enticingly, and her perfectly toned, small, perfect waist was a sight to behold. There was something irresistible about every inch and detail of her physique, as her sensual allure commanded admiration, making heads turn and hearts race with desire. Her luxurious hair, a mix of honey-tea brown and Carmel-blonde, flowed like fine, downy locks down her neck bone. Her neala yellow deep eyes were alluring and enchanting. Their mesmerising charm drew you into their depths, as if capturing your attention completely. They held a warmth that was both inviting and captivating, promising mystery and allure.

She wore a sinfully tight short black dress, the tight fabric clinging to her hourglass figure. The lacework was intricately embroidered, adding a touch of delicacy to the boldness of the ensemble. The semi-sheer material gave a tantalizing hint of what lay beneath, teasing with its subtle transparency. A matching black bra hugged her full, rounded breasts, emphasizing their fullness and plumpness. Her short black panties, hidden beneath the dress's delicate hemline, barely provided any coverage for her hips.

As she froze, her eyes, darkened by smokey black eye makeup and her lips, which were outlined in black lipliner and covered in ruby red lipstick, curved into a mocking sarcastic way smirk. Her grip on her weapon, a sickle, tightened as she blocked Enel's lightning attack.

As Zoro saw her expression, he noticed her dark, large eyes grow darker, her lips curving into an unhappy smirk. His grip on Robin's waist tightened in a protective manner, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He knew her well enough to recognize her reaction, and it wasn't quite like her usual self. He was momentarily distracted, realizing that there might be something bothering her.

Zoro couldn't ignore the subtle signs of discomfort and irritation in her expression. He knew her well enough to understand that something was not right, and it was evident in the way her expression darkened, her lips curving into a mock unhappy smirk. It was a reaction that he wasn't used to seeing from her, and it gave him a sense that something was amiss. It had to be jealousy, he thinks.

"Thank you, Zoro," Robin expressed her thanks. "Now let's bring Enel down," Robin added with determination in her voice.

Zoro released Robin, his grip loosening but his eyes not leaving her. He noticed her dark, large eyes and her curving lips into a mock unhappy smirk. He had a nagging feeling that she was jealous, but he decided to focus on the task at hand. With a nod, he replied

"Hmm." He shook off the feeling and grabbed his sword, preparing for the battle.

Zoro gripped his sword tightly, a mix of focus and concern weighing on his mind. While his attention was still divided between the approaching battle and the jealousy he believed she was feeling, he tried his best to shake it off and focus on the task at hand. However, the thought of her expression and his actions kept nagging at the back of his mind, making it difficult to completely shake off the uncertainty.

Zoro was glancing at her from the corner of his eye, noticing her unusual demeanor in combat. Her normal calm composure was replaced with anger and her eyes had grown darker, her grip on her weapon tight. She fought with a brutal intensity that Zoro hadn't seen before, and it was clear in her clenched teeth and her furious expression. It was not typical of her usual battle persona, and it only added to his unease, making him more confident that his suspicions about her jealousy were likely correct.

As Zoro continued watching her from the corner of his eye, the intensity of her fighting style struck him. She was unusually aggressive, and her eyes were dark, her clenched teeth showing her anger. It was a far cry from her usual composed demeanor in battle. He couldn't shake off the feeling that her current state was a result of his actions and the jealousy he believed she felt. His suspicion grew stronger, and he was increasingly sure that he had accidentally triggered her jealousy with his protective hold.

After the intense battle, the dust had finally settled. They had emerged victorious against the celestial dragon Enel, and the crew was now gathered together, assessing the situation. Zoro was observant of her expression, noting the way her expression grew darker, and her teeth clenched, while fighting. He couldn't disregard the intense look she had earlier. As the crew dispersed, he moved over to her side. His mind still filled with curiosity, and a tinge of uneasiness about her behavior earlier, he decided to confront her. He stood near her and glanced at her.

Zoro approached her, his eyes glancing at her, noting the aftermath of the intense battle they had just been through. He couldn't help but wonder whether she was still harboring jealousy about him holding Robin earlier. He moved closer to her side, remaining silent for a moment, his mind restless with thoughts about her earlier reaction. It took him a few moments to find the right words to start the conversation. Eventually, he cleared his throat and finally spoke, breaking the silence between them. He glanced over at her, his voice hesitant and tinged with concern., his voice tinged with concern and curiosity.

"Hey, you alright?" As Zoro spoke, his voice was tinged with concern and hints of uncertainty. It was gentle and softer than his usual stoic voice, indicating that he was trying to approach the situation delicately. His words betrayed his worry about her earlier expression and the way she had acted during the fight, which was still at the forefront of his mind.

Her eyes held a dangerous intensity gleam as she replied with a deep, dark feminine voice, "I'm alright!" resonating tone that carried a hint of warning, leaving no room for doubt about her resilience.

Zoro was taken aback by her intense and dark expression, which was filled with a warning tone in her deep, feminine voice. The words she spoke, "I'm alright!" were delivered with a warning tone that made it clear she didn't want to discuss it further. He stood there, his eyes narrowing in uncertainty. He knew she was tough and resilient, but he had a feeling this isn't just a simple issue, but he couldn't get through to her. The warning tone she used made it clear she wasn't in the mood to talk about it.

Zoro clenched his jaw slightly, his eyes narrowing as she responded with a deep and dark feminine voice, delivering her message with an intense warning tone. Her words had shut down any further discussion, leaving him with a mix of concern and frustration. He couldn't shake the sense that something was bothering her and that she didn't want to talk about it, and he wasn't sure how to get past her closed-off demeanor.

Some hours had passed and the crew had dispersed, each doing their own activities. It was late in the night, and Zoro couldn't shake off the earlier events from his mind. He had hoped the passage of time would ease his worries, but instead, it only grew harder and harder for him to ignore. It only made him more conflicted and curious. After some time, Zoro, unable to bear the silence anymore, decided to try and seek her out.

Zoro navigated through the ship, his mind still occupied with thoughts of the earlier events. His footsteps were heavy as he searched for her, his eyes carefully scanning the surroundings. His resolve to confront her growing stronger with every step.

Finally, Zoro stumbled upon her, moving towards the small cabin at the corner of the basement. It was a place where she stored her belongings, a private space she often went to. Zoro's eyes followed her as she walked towards the cabin, and his eyes softened slightly, but his resolve to speak to her remained unwavering.

Zoro stepped into the cabin, his presence instantly filling the small space. He was used to entering her cabin, having been granted access as her boyfriend. His eyes immediately were drawn to her figure, long hooded black dress that hugged her curves, and cling all over her hourglass slim figure, with v collar cut, exposing her large, rounded cleavage and half of her breast sides, and Waist trainer that wrapped tightly around her small perfect waist, and a black cloak behind her back and a flower tattoo on her forehead, and black gothic collar necklace with Ruby on it, and black Smokey eye makeup, and black lipliner and Ruby red lipstick, and blood over her mouth sides and pale white cheeks 

Zoro watched her, his eyes noticing her muttering to herself. Noticing her teeth getting sharper once again, indicating that she had trouble controlling her anger, which was evident from her earlier demeanor during the battle. Zoro sighed silently, the sight of her sharpened teeth adding to his worry and understanding that her emotions were overwhelming her.

As Zoro approached her, his voice was calm and detached, masking the internal conflict he felt. His words were a mix of concern and frustration as he spoke, "I told you to communicate when you're upset…", Her yellow and large eyes, held a flash of emotion as she hissed, "Move away, Zoro!" Her tone was sharp and commanding, leaving no room for debate or negotiation.

Zoro felt a mix of emotions - concern, frustration, and a tinge of hurt. He had hoped to find a moment to discuss her earlier behavior and jealousy, but her hiss and sharp commanding tone made his jaw clench. He continued to stand there, his voice strained as he said "Move away? So we're not going to talk about today, are we?"

She clenched her hand into a tight fist, “I told you to MOVE!!..” she hissed then turned ready to lash out at whomever stood in her way. Before she could even move, Zoro acted quickly, placing his hand in her mouth to stop her from attacking him. Her vicious bite left a mark on his palm, but aside from a slight twitch of his jaw, he didn't flinch, his composure unshaken. Her attempts to attack him went unnoticed, and he responded calmly as if the bite didn't phase him.

Zoro stared at her, his eyes watching her intensely, he spoke, his voice still cold. He wasn't going to let her slip away from this conversation. He said, his tone was a mix of annoyance and curiosity "Aren't you going to talk to your boyfriend about what pissed you off earlier?"

Her frustration grew as she bit him even harder, her tone dripping with anger. But her reaction intensified when she noticed his lack of reaction. “When exactly!?.. when you safe robin instead of me !!! Or when you grip her waist a front of me !!!..” she spoke dangerously in dark feminine voice, Her eyes narrowed as she accused him of saving Robin first and grasping Robin's waist in front of her, a clear source of jealousy and resentment.

Zoro's expression remains composed despite her biting him harder and the sharpness in her tone. He noticed her intense jealousy, her accusation resonating within him. It was clear that his actions had triggered her. He spoke with a mix of defensiveness and irritation in his voice "That's what this is about? Saving Robin and grabbing her waist?", Her voice raised, conveying her frustration and hurt. Her tone was sharp and defensive as she exclaimed, "Don't act like it's nothing! Don't make me feel stupid!!"

Zoro was taken aback by her tone, her hurt and frustration becoming even more evident. Her words, "don't act like it's nothing! don't make me feel stupid!!" cut through. He sighed and tried to explain, his tone still defensive, trying to keep his own growing frustration in check “I was saving her from Enel's attack! And grabbing her waist was simply a natural reaction to prevent her from getting hit.", Her eyes, burning with a dangerous intensity, met his gaze, her mouth stained with blood. Frustration and pain were evident in her expression, her neala yellow eyes glaring at him. "I was the one attacked," she said, her tone fierce, "and yet you still saved Robin first!.."

Zoro's jaw clenched tight, his expression remained stern as he locked eyes with her. Their eyes met, and Zoro could see the intensity in hers, her mouth stained with blood.

He felt a mix of defensiveness and helplessness as his eyes met hers, noticing the pain and betrayal in her expression, He struggled to explain himself.

"Y/n, I know how strong you are you didn’t need me!, you already blocked the attack with one swift, she was about to get hurt, she’s one of our crew.",

She clenched her fists in frustration, her eyes still burning with intensity. Her teeth clenched together and the blood on her mouth contrasted with her pale cheeks, the bitterness in her expression evident.

She shot back, her voice filled with bitterness and pain. "Don't give me that!" She clenched her fists even tighter, the tension in her shoulders increasing. "I blocked the attack!, but you still saved her first!", Her eyes welled up with tears, and blood was all around her mouth. The sadness in her voice was palpable as she choked back a sob. "You in love with me, she's the other woman!" She cried, her voice cracking with hurt and jealousy behind this brittle voice.

Zoro's expression softened slightly, his eyes flickered with a mix of hurt and frustration. He felt a pang of confusion within him, struggling to understand her emotions, As her voice quivered, her jealousy and sadness filled the room, his eyes fixed on hers as she accused him, the mention of Robin being the 'other woman' making him feel a tug in his chest. "Y/N, you know it's not like that"

Her tears continued to stream down her cheeks, the pain and jealousy in her voice evident. Zoro's softened expression caused her to wince slightly, but her jealousy remained strong.

Her voice cracking with emotion, she retorted, "You know what? You can't deny it!", He took a deep breath, his expression shifting to one of frustration. He knew he needed to explain himself, even though he felt defensive and slightly confused by her intense jealousy.

Zoro felt his defense wavering as her emotions poured out, the hurt and jealousy evident in her words. He was hurt himself, his expression a mix of vulnerability and desperation, "you know I love only you"

The intensity of her emotions was palpable, her voice breaking as she continued, her tone filled with heartbreak. She looked at him, her eyes still watery but now filled with anger.

"No!!…. What if you love her?! What if you already do?! Am I just going to be the other woman?! No, I won't become the OTHER WOMAN!!" She continued in anguish, her voice growing louder and more desperate.

His lips pressed against hers, disregarding the blood and lipstick that still clung to her mouth. Their past familiarity led him to know how volatile her emotions could be, and he understood that simply listening wasn't enough for her in this moment, The kiss grew more passionate and intense. Zoro felt her mouth slightly open, his lips firmly against hers. He poured his emotions into it, intending to shut down her jealousy and reassure her, though it still tasted of blood and lipstick.

As she shifted her attention to his neck, her actions grew possessively aggressive. She left hickeys and love marks in different places, creating an intimate map of their passion. However, he tensed as her fangs hovered near a more dangerous spot, waiting for what came next. As she finally sunk her teeth into his skin, her fangs sinking into his skin, Zoro winced slightly.*

“Mmmm, м𝓐η 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡!” she purrs deeply and darkly, and her feminine voice , before she chuckled softly like a psychopath, The deep, dark purr coming from her had effects on his mind and body. Her voice tempted him, feminine, dark and seductive. Zoro felt a mix of vulnerability and arousal by her tone

Zoro pushed you against the wall, and you let out a small yelp in surprise. You can tell he was dirty, sweaty, scraped up… but you didn’t have time to think about that, because he crashed his lips onto yours with a feverish need. You yelped again, and all Zoro did was bite your bottom lip, before he knelt down.

He spat on your cunt, then teasingly rubbed one finger in-between your folds. You moaned and arched your back, finding it hard to handle his slow pace. He didn’t let up, though; he kept rubbing his thumb in lazy circles over your entrance, then moving up to rub lazy circles on your clit, and then back down, As his pace continues, he stand up to look at your needy eyes.

“Yeah? You like that?” He rasps, groping each breasts with a hand. Nodding your head, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and drew him closer to your sweaty, hot body. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” He says, pulling out. Before you can reply, he commands, “hands and knees on the bed. Ass up.” 

You comply, feeling a rush of anticipation and excitement. Your heart pounds in your chest as you position yourself on the bed, hands and knees sinking into the mattress. “Like this?” 

“Exactly like that.” Zoro replies, taking a moment to admire the view: you. His hands trace the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. He sighs as he lovingly traces his name on your back with his fingers, temporarily claiming you belong to him.

He smirked then she didn’t felt of anything except his hand slapping her ass. You squeak as he roughly pulled your hair, making your back arch down so you two locked eyes. “Tonight is all about you, MY ONLY WOMAN.” He let go of your hair and propped you back to your previous stance. “Now, be a good girl for me while I take your ass…”

Zoro was prepared. Taking your sweet pussy wasn’t the only hole he planned to fill. He lubed his fingers and inserted them one by one into your ass, taking note of your reactions and noises to each movement he made. When satisfied, he positions himself behind you, fingers underneath you and teasing your most sensitive spots below your belly button. “You want this as much as I do, don’t you?”

With a powerful thrust, he enters you again, filling you completely. His movements were intense, leaving you breathless; your bodies were in perfect unison as both of you rocked into each other. The noises heard were the slaps of skin on skin as your bodies melted into each other's with each thrust he gave; the quiet moans you desperately try to hide, and Zoro repeatedly hissing your name. His hands continued to grip your hips, pulling you back to meet each thrust with a force that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Open your mouth “ was the only thing you could hear it at the moment, Without thinking, you open your mouth lightly, sucking on his thumb as you close your eyes. Zoro stiffened before lust clouded his vision as he watched your innocent act, excited that you had no idea what had been covering that digit. “Dammit Y/n…” He cursed, feeling himself getting hard again. Seeing that you were asleep again, Zoro sat up slightly as he leaned closer to your ear, a low growl leaving his lips as he whispered his next few words.

who knows, maybe their is something much better then .. м𝓐η 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡!

Note. Sheesh!, first time write a smut, not sure if it was the best, but I think I made first good impression ﹒⌗﹒🕷️﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧

[kogyalies]

GUIDE TO MORI KEI!! 森系

mori kei is one of the many early 2000s subcultures that originated from the harajuku district inspired by living in the woods.

wearers of this type of clothing are usually referred to as mori girl (森ガール) or mori boy (森ボーイ). basically, forest girl/boy.

this subculture is based on nature and gives off a more elven/fae feel, its main color pallet consisting of earth tones, greens, whites, and other soft colors. plaid is a pattern that occasionally appears in mori kei fits, and sometimes baby blues and pinks will appear for a contrast to an outfit.

if you want to look for some clothing that would fit with this aesthetic, look for something loose and natural, and pieces that layer well together. such as a large cardigan/sweater vest that goes well with a frilly dress/skirt and leg warmers and tights. pants may also be used for a more masculine look.

"ゆるふわ" is what the loose layers achieve, hiding the curves of the body and therefore the wearer has a "fluffy" appearance. when layering, make sure to begin with the lightest/thinest layer first, and then move on to heavier materials.

lace, light materials, and embroidered clothes are musts, while accessories such as shawls, tights, and scarfs add to the layered effect.

linen, wool, and cotton are fabrics that are often used. fabrics that drape nicely will be your bff when creating a mori kei outfit.

mori kei is actually quite similar to cottagecore, but while cottagecore is focused on a rural life, mori kei is more based on forests and nature itself.

It also expresses a love of the forest, quiet hobbies, reading, drinking tea, herbalism, and a natural lifestyle.

hair and makeup often match with the almost whimsical and natural look of the outfits. makeup is kept relatively basic, with use of colors such as beige, pinks, and golds. minimalistic igari makeup is a nice example.

DARK MORI KEI/MORI GOTH

a subcategory of mori kei is mori goth, which uses darker, less saturated colors of the usually light color scheme of mori kei. it still follows the same layering scheme and relaxed silhouette, but as of now it has separated into strega, another subculture.

YAMA KEI

a more practical subcategory, usually for fans of the outdoors who love hiking/camping. this includes brighter and more vivid colors while also reverting to more practical clothes.

HAMA KEI

hama kei is a beach-based section, with uses of lighter clothing and less layers, as well as blues and yellows. you'd also see things such as stripes, anchors, and denim to add to the sailor-like outfits

[daemonbrain]

Introduction drabble

(Daemon Targaryen x Dornish!Reader)

Prologue | Chapter 1

Summary: The sun could not reach you here, not in this city of rain and stink. (Un)fortunately, you found yourself at the mercy of a dragon's fire.

You've missed the heat, you supposed.

2.5k, CW: arranged marriage, canon divergent, canon-typical violence, canon-typical misogyny, reader is homesick, will update as I post.

a/n: Soooo this is my first fanfic in a while, apologies for slow start. As this is a prologue Daemon is not actually in this one, just a little background. He will be appearing first chapter so if you're interested, keep a look out! I beg you for any feedback <3

Edit: So I kinda decided I wanted chapter one to be what i'm currently writing so inadvertently changed this to just kinda a drabble instead of prologue. Its because the pacing just feels a bit off. I'll still keep this up for some extra reading material I guess but yeah what was previously labeled chapter 1 is the new prologue... oops. responsible planning on my part.

Gods, he worries himself so.

You startle from your place leaning on the stone wall of the corridor outside of your fathers council room, your attention is quickly brought to your elder brother Qoren, the crown-prince of Dorne slamming the doors in a huff. 

Not a good sign you mused with a snort as you swiftly forced yourself up and over to him. Regal as always, he stood proudly in the colours of your house, hues of yellow and gold wrapping around him elegantly, little suns embroidered into the expensive fabrics of Qoren's everyday garb. 

Chewing nervously on his lip, his expression betrayed his thinly veiled anxieties, whatever previous discussion he had been in on the forefront of his mind.

Sneaking beside him, you suddenly snake and arm around his, a giggle escaping as he jumps, instinctually throwing your arm from his,

“You fucking- gods you scared me!” He exclaimed with a furrowed brow.

“Prince Qoren! Such language cannot be tolerated! How unbecoming of you.” you fired back with feigned indignation. ”What a prick.”

“Apologies Princess. I forgot I was in the presence of someone with such delicate sensibilities.” He earned the groan that broke free from him as your elbow took brief residence at his ribs.

It would only take one misplaced glance for you to take note of Qoren’s distress. Being attached at the hip to someone for over a decade will typically build such a bond, you concluded.

There was no doubt that you were siblings. The same sun-kissed skin from the beating rays of the harsh dornish sun, the same fiery attitude. Your father always made jests of how Qoren must have left parts of his mind for you to collect and study before making your appearance, ready to be his youth companion from first breath. And while the maesters refuted this claim when you questioned it in girlhood, you liked to believe that your innate understanding of your brother lay beyond a shared childhood.

“Brother.” You spoke in a haze of caution, approaching with curiosity. Qoren’s gaze immediately found its way to you, a certain apprehension clearly showcased. An ill-omen surely. 

“Sister.”

Qoren’s tight-lipped smile, and suspicious eyes sounding the alarm bells throughout your mind.

Joining your brother on a stroll as he gestured you forwards, you were quick to explore your curiosities. “Well? Out with it! Let us not play this game of rat and viper where I squeeze your secrets-” Qoren harshly nudges your side, voice booming in mock-offense “must I always be the one compared to the likes of a rat, while you, the truest annoyance there is-” “Qoren!-""Plays as the exalted viper which is suited much more to myself!” 

Scoffing with a quick roll of your eyes, you keep pace with his long strides as he walks to gods know where, distracting himself from whatever weigh heavy on his mind. Waiting for his huff of irritation to subside, you quickly make use of the silence that follows.

“What is it that troubles you, brother?” your pace steady as your arms hang idly by your sides, rustles of wind against your skin and throughout the outdoor corridor.

With a cheeky grin, you re-looped your arms together, silently tugging him towards the gardens. At such an early time in the morning it should be free of anyone milling about. A favorite spot of both you and your brother for various reasons.

 “I fear your mood will quickly sour from its pleasant state if I say.” With a click against his teeth, Qoren casts a glance over at you.

“Well, then it is your duty as my brother to inform me of such things. Whatever it is you were speaking to father about was important.” the sounds of the gardens coming within earshot. With a sigh, you continue “if it concerns me, I have the right to ask.”

“Father doesn’t believe that.” Qoren quickly retorts, brows pinching together.

“Well father is not here you dunderhead. My beloved and truthful brother is. Do not make me ask again.” Grabbing onto Qoren’s arm, you turn him to face you, arresting all movement. Patience was a virtue you did not possess. Nor was it one you wished to master, much to the dismay of your father and his council. Your status waning in court over the years from the sweet daughter of the South to an ongoing political headache. 

As Qoren makes his fruitless attempts at avoidance, you give him a sharp tug, eyes boring into his.

He never learns, does he? His stubborn attempts will never win over. A ridiculous game of tug that could easily be avoided should he confess.

“You are vexing as always.” With a keen expression adorning your face, Qoren’s eyes soften as his mouth parts. At your insistence, he realizes the inevitability of his confession, and with one last grumble of displeasure his words flow like a broken dam.

“Father wants to send you away.” his head jutting towards you “Marry you off.” 

Ah there it is. This is what he’s gone and gotten himself all twisted over. This? An easy fix, you suppose. 

Letting out a breath of relief, you can’t help the small chuckle that escapes. A small smile plays at your lips as your grip on Qoren’s arm loosens, the jingle of your golden bangles shaking with the motion. 

“Oh you sweet idiot” you responded, Qoren’s mouth in a grim line, a disapproving glare at the ease in which you laughed at what concerned him so.

When faced with his little Princess, your father way no match. The great Mors Martell's authority overridden by his youngest child. The usual fuss you kick up enough to force your father to leave any matters concerning your marital status alone for a time. Only to repeat the same dramatics when a new suitor came around to be briskly turned away.

As the two of you continue to stroll towards the gardens, the pace becomes less leisurely, and more Qoren hurriedly ushering you to the privacy that the lush greenery provided, the running water which masked hushed-conversations 

“Father always wants to send me somewhere. Who is it now? The Uller’s? The Dayne’s?” 

Entering the garden, you both instinctually pull towards the farthest corner of the garden, the view of its splendor clear from this vantage point. 

Beautiful sunflowers, shrubs, lily pads drifting in the pond. The rustle of birds in the trees and bunnies in the grass. The memory of how you pleaded with your mother for the addition. The way they immediately fled when they were placed before you in this very spot. Clearly not appreciating your spirited howl of excitement. 

That was the first time Qoren had called you an idiot. Your mother was not pleased.

You looked upon his face as you had many times before. Marrying you off has always been… low in the great Mors Martell’s long list of tasks to ensure the independent principality of Dorne remains as such. 

Had you been the daughter of a Tyrell, a Lannister, even a noble Stark, you eagerly would have been fed into the marriage mart the moment you were able to do so. Even in Dorne, which had the reputation of being one of the more… looser realms on the continent was no exception. Girls of high status to low status had come and gone in court over the years. Sometimes returning with one babe on their hip and another in their belly.

To say this remotely interested you would be of the most inconceivable lies. To say it did scare you lay among more nasty truths.

While it was low on the list of priorities, that didn’t mean your father hadn’t made his attempts. 

Slowly over the years you’ve been introduced to soft men, kind men, stubborn men, strong men, scary men. None of them to your interest, none of them making it past your feigned flattery, or your defenses which stood tall and strong like the dun coloured walls of the Old Palace.

You’d much rather spend your days lounging in the sun. Opting to sup with Lady’s of the court. To laugh at your brother as he is tossed around, spear in hand, while training with the household guard. To read with your father in the extensive and intricate libraries housed within your home.

What foreign keep could provide such contentment? Such joy?

As your arm falls away from his, it’s now your brothers turn to grab you. The firmness of the hold not uncommon in his bouts of anger against you- and any other- who is subject to it.

“You do not listen!” He seethes, pushing closer. 

In a practiced reaction to his outburst, you yank your arm away, using it to point an accusatory finger in front of Qoren's sneer  . “And you are being dramatic,” You gritted in exasperation “you fucking loon!”

“Oh I am the loon, dear sister! Clearly it is I, and not the… the…” his speech was made no less intense by his musing pause, though it was impossible to not let out a chortle. “Clotpole-””Prick!”“-who chooses to galavant about as if nothing is amiss!”

Grabbing your finger gently, Qoren bats it away as a low sigh slips from his mouth. With a stern look only your elder brother could fix you, it causes you to cross your arms in pause.

“I am not trying to be a prick, you know.”

You exhaled audibly,

“And yet you are failing.”

The air grew still as a calming silence descended. Amiss? Courtly behavior has the right to intrude not only on your freetime, but also upon your relationships. Gods! Was it all too much to just shut it all up. Quiet all the protocol and whispers.

Breaking the silence, your brother throws you a partly understanding, partly irate glance. “I know.” he responded breathily, a resigned tone. Ill-omens piling up and alluding to his trying mood today. Something amiss indeed. How bothersome.

…

“Fathers council grows restless.”

A spark of anger ignites in your eyes to which Qoren’s frown returns. As you open your mouth to speak a hand comes up to gently interrupt, his expression softening for your sake.

“You continue to grow older, with absolutely no progress being made on the front of marriage. Alliances.”

Of course this was not the first time you have heard such a thing. There was no shortage of boys -men-  available to the only Princess of Dorne. These councilmen made sure to demonstrate that. Nonsense of alliances and strengthening a constantly challenged Dorne.

A need for power. 

When faced with dragonlords in the neighboring kingdom … perhaps they be better considered at the doorstep.

Across the desserts they flew. Dorne had withstood them once, a time ago. Though you would be dense if you didn’t acknowledge the sizable threat the Iron Throne posed to your family. An ugly chair as per the description of your ancestor Deria Martell. But one forged by dragonfire.

At the time of Meria Martell- a personal hero to you- Aegon the conqueror and his sister-wives Rhaenys and Visenya were not able to break the Dornish resistance with three fully grown dragons. Even when fueled by rage at the loss of their beloved Queen Rhaenys, the first Dornish war came to a close by initiation of a Dornishmen. With high loss on both sides, but Dornish independence prevailing over vain hopes of conquest.

House Targaryen stood with three dragons then… Now, they stood with eight. Six of which are mountable according to reports which pass to and from the council room.

“I have no want to rehash old quarrels with you. You will tell me what you’ve heard and you will make it quick” You replied with a tone that brokered no argument.

You had to give it to the man, your father acted upon his tolerance for your stunts rather than the anger most would think entitled to them. 

Still, it was not wise to stay entrapped by your fool's paradise in Sunspear. There would come a day when you would be forced to come to terms with your place in court, to be in another.

“There have been correspondences. Ever since that Myrish admiral got ahold of the Stepstones there has been many a word exchanged between Kings Landing and here.”

With a scoff you fire back a surprisingly decisive retort. “Father would never give me away to a Myrish pirate!”

“You’re right about that. He wouldn’t. I never said that was who he intended.”

Qoren sits down on the stone bench of the sun-filled garden, an arm resting on the backing of the seat.

“Not when there’s a much bigger threat on the horizon.”

“I do not understand, brother! I beg of you to make sense of your words. I tire of this dance.”

“We are vulnerable and we are being strong-armed!” Qoren exclaimed thunderously, on edge from your (rightfully) incessant prodding. Drawing another breath, he continues.

“I have yet to take anyone to wife. Your spectacular ability to find the wrongs of some of the finest men in Dorne has reached from Salt Shore to Winterfell. And father’s… weakness from his ailment grows more apparent by the day.” 

Grabbing on to your hand with a tenderness reserved for only a few, Qoren looks at you with an expression you are unfamiliar with. A flicker of sympathy he would offer you as children when you wept and begged to sleep on the floor beside his bed for moons after the passing of your mother. The sympathy on his face torn between itself and fear.

The same fear which would leave him in tears on those very nights after he double, and then triple checked you had fallen asleep. He never did know how to keep quiet when his emotions break free.

“You can’t possibly be serious! There are other ways to ensure our survival, surely. The words of our house are anything but volatile. We have waged conflict with the Targaryens for almost a century and we are still here! This cannot possibly be the best course of action.” You tone seeping with disbelief as your eyes widened with trepidation. Your unblinking stare trying to will your brothers gaze up to yours.

A distinct breath left you. 

Without meeting your eye, Qoren stares at the ring sat prettily upon your finger, the insignia of house Nymeros Martell adorning the gold.

“I cannot in good conscience help lead us into a fifth war with those silver-haired shits. Whether we care to admit it, if father were to start a war now, I could very well be the one forced to finish it. Another conflict might just kill him. And so soon from the last, who knows how the common people would react!”

Ripping your hand from Qoren’s you back away, a slight shake of your head. Your face begins to heat as suddenly the air possesses none of its usual and pleasant tranquility. The open air not open enough. The distance between you and your beloved brother not enough.

They wouldn’t. They would not. Not to you. 

Like an executioner with his sword raised over you. Your slender neck bare on the chopping block, presented for a clean cut.

“You know as well as I do there is only one true way to pay for peace, sister.”

One swing. Not enough. Perhaps the blade of duty had been dulled from the swings it has tried you with in years past.

“Qoren. Qoren tell me you didn’t let him.” Your voice going shrill as your mind wars over anger and dread. Dread for the way his mouth curls into an unpleasant grimace. Anger for the act that could only be perceived as deception and disloyalty on his part.

The cowardice which drove your brother to not meet your gaze began to ebb away as he listened to the panic rise in you as it did him mere moments ago, his eyes meeting yours.

“He’s already sent a raven.”

You were sure your head had rolled off with such a forceful swing.