#Looking for Gold Logistics Services

[natalminerals]

https://www.natalmineralslogistics.com/gold-and-minerals-logistic-services-a-secure-and-streamlined-solution-for-gold-buyers-and-sellers/

[moonlightspencie]

rewatched the update video, read some posts from both people who like and dislike the update, and just finished charlie’s (mo1stcr1tikal) video about watcher. here are my complete thoughts:

Video Execution

i appreciate that they seem to have consulted with a PR person, or at the very least really sat down and thought through their approach with the video.

they didn’t try to boo-hoo themselves.

they used a lot of positive “you language” for the fans (which i very much appreciate as a media and communication person myself)

they took accountability for their mistakes, and actually uttered the word “sorry”. low bar, i know, but many apology videos still somehow slip under the bar.

they very clearly put the focus on ryan and shane in the video. it sucks a bit that they probably felt they had to since much of that was probably due to the negative comments directed at steven, but it WAS a smart move. fans feel most betrayed by the two the majority connect with the most.

it. wasn’t. overproduced. (again, low bar, but it is what it is).

overall thoughts on execution? it was smart. they look uncomfortable, and whether that’s intentional or their true feelings, regardless of why they look so uncomfy, it makes it easier to watch. they don’t look pissed or smug. they look embarrassed. which, in an apology video, is a good thing. sorry to say

The Solution

i think they came up with the best alternative they could after royally fucking up with the majority of their fans.

the patreon solution… mixed feelings. i understand they don’t want to just go forward with one or the other: the patreon or the streamer. however, as ive seen some patrons say, it doesn’t make all that much sense to have both logistically. i think it’s only set up this way because they can’t go back entirely on watcher.tv now. good on them for giving a bit of a fix with the codes being sent to patrons.

i was still lost on how they weren’t “advertiser friendly”, and that’s where charlie’s video came in to affirm my suspicions. go watch his video for more information, but long story short: watcher is a GOLD MINE for advertisers. huge and loyal audience, engaging ads that make the viewer want to watch the ad, and an ever-growing channel.

on the back of the last point: how on earth were they struggling with money to begin with? it simply doesn’t make any sense. they had so many revenue streams & again, DO get sponsors and appear to be incredibly brand-friendly.

trust is still lost with most fans, and that will be hard as hell to regain. the ex-buzzfeed three-guys-on-a-couch model didn’t even work when the try guys were fucked over by their friend and brand trust was lost a little bit. and this loss of brand trust is fully on all three dudes on the couch this time

overall thoughts on the solution? it’s good for what they can do now that they obviously cannot just fully backtrack. that would arguably be a worse idea than the original idea for the streaming service itself. i think this would have worked much better and they would have retained integrity if they had done this from the beginning, and/or had a slow rollout instead of jumpscaring us like that. ghost files is supposed to spook us, not surprise paywalls.

Final Thoughts

a ton of trust was lost. the parasocial relationship that specifically shane and ryan fans had with them, that was the REASON for so much of the loyalty, is fractured, and for many it will never be the same as it was. i understand their fuck up when it came to the announcement was likely just them needing more self-awareness and a professional to guide them through it, but i still question how it got to that point where they felt like their fans would enjoy this to begin with. not to mention, again, how were they not making enough? why not try other options first?

i hope sincerely that watcher truly learns from this. that they remember their business isn’t about money or ambition (in a positive or negative way), but is built on the backs of their fans’ loyalty. without that fan loyalty, buzzfeed unsolved would have been the only thing we knew ryan and shane for. we wouldn’t have followed them to a new channel if we didn’t care about them and their work to certain degree.

it was a good apology video. genuinely. i’m glad they didn’t jump into it with a bandaid solution. i just wish they had the foresight to know their fans well enough to understand that there is NO way this would be well received by the majority. and there’s no going back on that now, obviously. what’s past is past. i hope moving forward that they gain a little self-awareness and that they gain some FAN-awareness. until/unless they start working on television and movies, they have to keep their fans happy. we are the consumer, not the employee, and it feels like they started somehow blurring those lines with the original video they posted. it felt like one of the corporate ‘training’ videos for my job when we start using a new system.

fans are important in online spaces, particularly. we provide free advertising for our favorite bloggers/youtubers/etc., and willingly give up money to support them through various streams (in watcher’s case: patreon, merch, live shows). you cannot exist as a creator online and think that you don’t need to keep your fans happy when it is your source of income. it’s simply how being a successful internet personality works, for better or worse.

good job to the watcher boys on how they went about the apology/fix. i hope things go better from here on out.

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Like a Dream

CW: language, sexual references, light drinking

AN: Happy Yulemas @goddess-aelin!! Or I guess New Year’s now… this is very late but I hope you enjoy it all the same, and I hope your holidays have been lovely ❤️

8047 words

“I’m sure you’ve wondering been wondering what this is about.”

Rowan shifted uncomfortably. Lorcan, his boss, had requested his presence in his office several hours ago, and the day had passed with relatively little worry.

Even upon seeing Aelin Galathynius, someone whom he very much did not want to be in the same room as, waiting in Lorcan’s office as well, he hadn’t felt concern. It was probably just an update to policy or something similar. Hell, maybe the coffee machine had broken and Lorcan wanted them to inform their departments.

But then Lorcan had greeted them, and asked them to sit, and stated that he knew they’d been curious about the topic of this summons.

And a pit of anxiety had opened in Rowan’s stomach.

Lorcan Salvaterre was not a man to make small talk. He didn’t wait for others, he didn’t bother with light conversation, and he wasn’t friendly.

Which meant he was about to tell Rowan and Aelin something that they wouldn’t like, and not a small thing like they’d have to coordinate a client together or share the break room sometimes, because Lorcan had no trouble breaking bad news. Something worse, something bad enough to have the bluntest man Rowan knew stalling to conversation.

Rowan took a deep breath and said, “What is it?” He didn’t dare look to Aelin beside him.

Lorcan leaned forward and laced his fingers together on the desk. “You both know of Dorian Havilliard.”

Of course they did. He was one of the biggest names in romance writing in the country. Their publishing house had been trying to get him to switch over from Hamel Inc. for years, but they’d had no luck.

“Yes,” Aelin said, and Rowan jolted at the sound of her voice. He finally risked a glance and was met with startling blue eyes rimmed in gold.

Rowan looked away.

“Well, as you know, Terrasen Publishing has been working on him for years.”

Rowan’s fingers tapped against his thigh impatiently as Lorcan restated what he already knew.

“We’ve finally convinced him to discuss the possibility of switching over.”

Considering the meeting, Rowan was hardly surprised. It also made sense for the two of them to be here; Rowan was head of the editorial department and Aelin was his counterpart in publishing. Together, they represented most of the publishing house and were often paired together when it came to potential clients.

It was the easy explanation for this meeting that had Rowan on edge. This didn’t make clear Lorcan’s apprehension.

“And what do we need to do?” Rowan asked cautiously.

Lorcan sighed. “Mr. Havilliard is working on his next book. He predicts the first draft will be finished soon; he’s using his Yulemas vacation to get it completed. And he doesn’t want any delay on the editing process, which means if we haven’t convinced him to switch contracts by the end of his vacation, he’ll remain a part of Hamel Inc.”

A sinking feeling formed in Rowan’s gut.

“He’s leaving for his vacation tomorrow,” Lorcan continued, “and even if we could have managed a short meeting before then, he needs more time with us to discuss logistics and a contract for him. He needs time to see everything we have to offer.”

“I’m sure he’d be open to discussing it over Zoom or even email,” Aelin suggested, and from the waver to her voice Rowan guessed she’d caught on as well.

“Mr. Havilliard is traveling to a resort in the mountains for his vacation, where there will be no cell service. He says the lack of distraction helps him concentrate. He graciously offered two fully paid tickets for any of my employees who would like to join him. You two will be traveling with Mr. Havilliard on his Yulemas trip. You leave first thing in the morning.”

Silence washed over the office as the pair of them took everything in. Rowan opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I don’t recall expressing my desire to join him,” Aelin protested.

“Me neither,” Rowan managed.

Lorcan sighed once more. “Look, let’s face it. You two aren’t going home to your families for Yulemas and you don’t have any significant others to celebrate with. Everyone else, including myself, is not completely void of a social life and has plans for the holidays. You two are lonely as shit and I’m taking advantage of that.”

Aelin’s mouth had dropped open at some point during that little spiel but Rowan was used to Lorcan’s blunt transparency. He was honestly relieved that Lorcan had given up on trying to break it to them slowly. He liked the man, even—if he could manage to overlook the fact that he was being asked to spend his holidays on a work trip with his least favorite coworker.

Okay, maybe he didn’t like Lorcan so much after all.

“You can’t just,” Aelin spluttered, “I, my vacation, it’s my time off, you can’t…”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Galathynius, but this was his only offer and we’re in no position to deny him. If it helps, Mr. Havilliard alloted only a certain amount of time to meet with you as he wants most of the time to write his novel. And as I mentioned, he paid for the tickets and everything else that comes along with them. You’ll be spending most of your Yulemas holiday in a high-end resort doing whatever the hell you like. I’d say it’s a step up from whatever you were planning to do instead.”

Rowan leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. “Surely not both of us need to go.”

Lorcan glared at him. “Please explain to me the publishing process that Mr. Havilliard will be subject to.”

Rowan just blinked at him.

Lorcan turned to Aelin. “And do you know anything about the editing process?”

“You just… do grammar checks and stuff.”

Rowan cringed at the crass oversimplification of his job.

Facing both of them now, Lorcan said, “He needs every specific detail of every process. Neither of you can do that on your own. Both of you are going. That’s final. Now go home. I’m giving you the rest of the day off to pack, and I’ll email you the information of where you need to go tomorrow morning and at what time. Are we clear?”

Aelin nodded mutely. Rowan was pretty sure he felt himself do the same.

He lived in hell.

First he’d been transferred to a different publishing location six months ago as part of a promotion, only to find an enemy on the very first day. He’d smiled at her and was met with uncalled for distain and malice. The months had passed torturously slowly as the woman who’d shown him so much unkindness on the first day was constantly by his side, coordinating clients, attending work parties at his side, acting as a liaison. And throughout it all she was constantly either bickering with him, or ignoring him, or silently scowling at him. He just couldn’t figure her out.

But of course that wasn’t enough. No, now Rowan was being sent on a Yulemas vacation with Aelin, just the two of them and some eccentric smut writer who would be spending most of his time locked up in a room writing, which left Rowan and Aelin. In a resort with no cell service. Alone.

Only Hellas himself could have been so cruel as to put him in this situation.

—

Aelin dumped her bag in the back of the car with a little more force than necessary. She knew she was pouting, and she knew it wasn’t a good look on her, but how the hell else was she supposed to react to being shipped off on a work assignment for the entirety of Yulemas?

Of course they’d been given a rental car to drive together, just the two of them. Just Aelin and Rowan, a shitty GPS, a map for backup, and six months worth of loathing.

What fun.

“Are you ready?” Rowan asked.

Aelin looked up and was met with something slightly more passive than a scowl. She nodded, breaking eye contact, and slumped inside the passenger seat.

A moment passed before Rowan opened his door and got in the driver’s seat. Aelin didn’t look over, focusing out the window on some obscure building as he set up the GPS, then buckled in and put the car in drive.

This couldn’t possibly be more uncomfortable for her. All of this was just one more thing to torture her after another. But honestly, Aelin couldn’t say she didn’t deserve this. This was probably the gods’ way of cursing her for being such a jackass to Rowan that first day, and failing to apologize every day since.

Why couldn’t she just have the holidays to herself?

The first two hours passed with little fanfare. At one point Aelin had turned the radio on, almost driven insane by the silence, and the soft tunes of some laid-back pop music—not her first choice, but she wasn’t going to risk Rowan’s objection with anything more flamboyant—had helped to ease the tension.

At the halfway mark Aelin asked Rowan if he wanted to switch, but he gruffly told her the driving was a nice distraction. From what, he didn’t say.

So Aelin pulled out a book and spent the following hour consumed in the pages. The turns became sharper after that and she had to put her book away for fear of becoming carsick. Aelin then glanced at the GPS and saw their estimated arrival was still nearly an hour away.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Aelin asked, desperate for something to do.

Rowan glanced over at her. “No thank you, I’m okay.”

Frowning, Aelin turned back to the window and watched the trees fly by. She eventually zoned out as the scenery became greener and the atmosphere much more frigid.

The road become steeper and icier, and their pace slowed to a crawl. Aelin’s boredom became unease, and she gripped the sides of her seat a bit tighter.

The remaining time passed uneventfully: no conversation, no accidents, no nothing except for silence and staring. Finding the resort was fairly simple, and parking was as well. The moment Rowan slid the gear into brake, every muscle in Aelin’s body relaxed. “Thank the gods,” she muttered.

Aelin climbed out of the car. The door shut with a satisfying slam. She stretched her legs, unsure of where they were meant to go from here. Before she could say anything to Rowan, a man exited the large log-themed building and began to make his way over. As he approached, Aelin realized that this was Dorian Havilliard, not some employee. He must have been notified of their arrival somehow; Aelin decided not to ask.

“Welcome!” he called, and Aelin couldn’t help but smile. She waved as he continued to step through the thin layer of snow that coated the ground.

Dorian definitely fit the manic writer stereotype; he wore a sweater vest and wire-framed glasses, and he actually had a pencil—did writers even use those anymore?—tucked behind his ear.

“You must be Ms. Galathynius and Mr. Whitethorn. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Pleasantries were exchanged, and Aelin felt she and Rowan did a decent job of pretending their Yulemas vacations hadn’t been stolen out from under their noses. Dorian’s grip on her hand lingered for a bit longer than necessary when they shook hands, but otherwise he seemed like quite the gentleman, and Aelin found herself thankful that at least their client wasn’t a douche. She’d had plenty of less-than-friendly clientele and was glad Yulemas wasn’t entirely ruined with another.

Really, Aelin hadn’t wanted to meet Dorian. She’d come face-to-face with several authors whose writing she enjoyed and their rudeness had ruined the reading experience for her. Hopefully Dorian remained polite and she didn’t lose the will to read his books.

“So when will we have our first meeting to discuss? Immediately?” Aelin asked.

“I figured you’d want the first day off as you’ve been traveling for so long.” Aelin really just wanted to get this over with, but she could hardly contradict the man. “You two will meet me in my room at nine tomorrow morning and we’ll begin. I’ll show you to your rooms in the meantime.”

Rowan thanked him while Aelin reached for her bags. Rowan turned around to do the same, but Dorian stopped them both.

“We can have someone take that in; you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Rowan said. “I only have one bag.”

Aelin had two for the ten-day trip, but neither was particularly large. She certainly wasn’t in need of a fucking bellhop. “We’re good, really.”

Dorian protested a bit more—he didn’t seem like a man used to doing much on his own—but finally allowed them to take their own luggage. He led them inside a massive lobby/commons room that Aelin didn’t get much of a chance to take it in before they were whisked up a grand staircase, not stopping to check in. They followed Dorian down a well-lit hallway that was surely adorned with enough gold to buy a house. Finally, they stopped in front of a doorway near the end, spaced out from the handful of other doors they’d passed.

“Here’s you go.” Dorian inserted a key in the door and pushed it open.

“Oh, which of us…” Aelin trailed off when Dorian looked over.

“Whose room is that?” Rowan finished for her.

“Both of yours,” he replied simply.

No. This could not be happening. Dorian had said rooms, hadn’t he? Plural? Or maybe he meant rooms as in the bedroom and… the sitting room?

Apparently dissatisfied with their expressions, Dorian continued. “I arranged for one room to be shared; they had limited bookings left when Mr. Salvaterre and I arranged this agreement and I figured you wouldn’t mind, as there is plenty of space to claim as your own.”

As if they were in any position to deny him.

“That’s fine,” Aelin assured him. “Thank you again.” She flashed her fakest smile.

Seeming satisfied, Dorian smiled back. “I’ll leave you to it. Remember, our first meeting to discuss logistics will be tomorrow morning, at nine. My room number’s with the informative pamphlet I gave you.”

“We’ll be there,” Rowan replied. The pair of them exchanged farewells, and then watched as Dorian sauntered off.

“So.”

Aelin glanced over at Rowan. “Um.”

He looked conflicted. “Which bed do you want?”

Aelin sighed, brushing past him and stepping inside the room, their room, at last. “I guess that one?” She pointed at the bed on the left of the room at random.

To be fair, there was a decent bit of space between the beds. And the room was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the beautiful snowy mountains were framed by plush curtains. Carved wooden furniture that Aelin assumed was genuine was placed tastefully around the king-size beds. A wide open doorway led to what appeared to be a sitting room and another open door showing a hint of tile probably connected an oversized bathroom. Aelin figured it’d have some kind of jacuzzi or gods knew what else in there.

It began to truly sink in why Terrasen Publishing wanted Dorian Havilliard so badly. The man knew how to make money.

“So what are you planning on doing first?”

Aelin glanced over. “I’m not sure… I don’t really know what these kind of places have. Like, skiing?”

Rowan shrugged. “I don’t know either. I might just read a book.”

Aelin nodded tersely.

In an effort to distract herself, Aelin pulled the key out of the door and shut it, then set it on a table. She carried her things to the bed she’d pointed at and arranged them neatly on the wooden bedside table, then, with nothing left to do, turned to Rowan.

“Do you want room service for dinner? I’m about to order something.”

Rowan looked up from his book. “Uh, yeah, I’m getting kind of hungry. Is there a menu?”

“Yeah.” Aelin stood and walked over to his chair, handing him the resort’s restaurant’s menu, which allowed room service.

Rowan reached for it and his thumb brushed Aelin’s hand. She jerked away.

Frowning, Rowan started at where their hands had met. “Why do you always…”

“What?” Aelin asked defensively.

Rowan sighed. “Look, this isn’t going to be fun for either of us, but can we just try to be civil? So that this whole trip isn’t as miserable as humanly possible for the both of us?”

“We don’t need to be civil. We can just go our separate ways, okay? You can stay in here and I’ll eat in the other room.”

Rowan rubbed his temples. He looked like he was figuring out how to phrase what he said next. “I don’t understand why you’ve always acted like this, Aelin, why you can’t just behave like a regular person. You’re always trying to stay as far away from me as possible and when you can’t avoid me you treat me like scum under your shoe. I just don’t get it.”

“Is that a question?” Aelin asked, avoiding eye contact.

“Yes, that’s a fucking question,” Rowan snapped. “Why do you hate being around me so much, Aelin? What have I ever done to you?”

Aelin deflated at that. Her shoulders slumped as all the fight drained out of her and she sank into the chair beside Rowan.

“I caught my boyfriend cheating on me the night before you started at Terrasen Publishing.”

Rowan’s lips parted in shock and understanding, but Aelin didn’t stop.

“That first day, I was cruel to you. I didn’t just cold-shoulder you or glare. Lorcan told me to show you around and acclimate you the publishing house and you were right there and I—”

Aelin cut herself off and squeezed her eyes shut. She opened them and looked down, too afraid to meet Rowan’s eyes.

“I was nasty to you, I spent the day belittling you and making you feel uncomfortable, just throwing all the shit on you I could because all I really wanted in that moment was for someone else to be as miserable as me.

“And I was so… I don’t know, embarrassed? That you’d seen me vulnerable, even if you didn’t realize it, so I just started avoiding you. That way I treated you that first day reminded me of the worst parts of myself and I just wanted to forget about it, but we were always forced to work together.”

“Aelin… why didn’t you just explain to me the next day what had happened? Or at least told me you’d had a rough day if you didn’t want to share the whole story? It didn’t have to go on like that.”

Aelin’s finger twisted around a hole in her jeans anxiously. “I’m not good at apologies, Rowan. And the longer it went on, the harder it got to think about explaining.”

Moments passed. Aelin kept her eyes down, barely keeping herself together with sharp breaths as she waited for Rowan’s response.

Finally, it came.

“I forgive you.”

Aelin scoffed. “No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know me, Aelin, and you have no right to tell me what I do and don’t mean. I forgive you,” Rowan repeated. “I’m not saying you treating me the way you did was excusable, or that all those months of bitterness can be forgotten. But you’re apologizing now, and that counts for something.

“Look, you heard what Lorcan said. We’re at a high-end resort at no expense to us. We aren’t working the whole time. I know it’s not an ideal situation, but it could be a hell of a lot worse. Let’s try and, you know, start over?”

Aelin finally got the nerve to look over and was met with the intense stare of Rowan’s pine green eyes. Her fingers stilled against her thigh.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she rasped.

Then Rowan smiled, and something deep inside Aelin’s chest began to thaw.

—

“Where should we start?”

Rowan opened his mouth to respond to Dorian, but before he could Aelin reached for her bag and retrieved a small binder.

Aelin pulled a stack of stapled papers out of her binder. “I brought a sample contract to go over with you; it’s all very adaptable to your needs but in preliminary form it still lays out the rudiments.”

Rowan blinked in surprise. He hadn’t thought to do anything other than show up, and here Aelin was with her organization and a whole fucking binder despite the one night to prepare. Though, Rowan really shouldn’t be as disbelieving as he was; he may have his strengths in overseeing the editing process but Aelin’s strong suits were people and deals.

Dorian nodded at her, and Rowan leaned back, ready to watch Aelin do what she did best and answer any questions about the editing if needed.

The next hour passed with less misery than Rowan had anticipated. Watching Aelin negotiate with an expensive client-to-be like some kind of lawyer was… impressive. To say the least.

Dorian was rushing them by the end of the meeting, seeming keen to return to his new novel, but they’d gotten a decent bit of talking done. Feeling satisfied with their work—or rather, Aelin’s—Rowan followed Aelin from Dorian’s lavish hotel room, even more grand than their own, and out into the hall.

“Do you want to do something together today?” After hearing why Aelin had always acted the way she had, it had been easier to look past her actions and closer at her. They’d spent the evening eating room service dinner in bed and talking—not about anything too personal, but about their work and their hobbies, interests, all the like. Rowan was pretty sure he’d learned more about the prideful woman last night than he had over the course of six months of working together.

Aelin looked over at him, a surprised smile pulling at her lips. “Like what?”

Rowan shrugged. “Like ask the front desk what kind of rich-people activities they offer.”

Aelin laughed, bright and melodious. “I’d like that.”

Upon walking to the front desk, the pair was informed they could go skiing or snowboarding, go snowmobiling, swim in the indoor pool or jacuzzi, ice skate, relax in the spa and/or get a massage, visit the bar, exercise in the full-size gym, or do a number of other activities that Rowan hadn’t even heard of before.

The front desk attendant, Yrene, sent them a friendly wave as they walked away.

Rowan, mouth hanging open, glanced over at Aelin, who snorted at his expression.

“Is it all really paid for?” Rowan hissed. “Fully?”

Grinning maniacally, Aelin nodded. “I read in the pamphlet Dorian gave us that to go skiing or snowboarding you need to have brought your own equipment, but everything else is entirely paid. We can do anything.”

“Maybe I’m not so mad at Lorcan after all,” Rowan murmured.

“So what do you want to do?” Aelin asked, looking more excited than he’d ever seen her.

“You pick,” Rowan said.

Aelin bit her lip. “Ice skating?”

He smiled. “Have you been before?”

She shook her head. “You?”

“A couple times. It’s been years though.”

Aelin nodded and grinned again, and then they were walking back to their room to get coats.

Ten minutes later left them outside next to an iced over pond bordered on one side by the resort, another side by a rock overhang that sheltered the space from the wind, and the rest by a grove of massive conifers. The frozen pond was almost perfectly circular and surrounded by an iron handrail. It seemed like a convenient, authentic location, but Rowan guessed at least some of the details aside from the rail were artificial.

Rowan had no idea how many guests were staying in the resort, or what they spent their days doing, but apparently none of them were interested in skating. The enclosed outdoor area was void of all life aside from Rowan and Aelin.

They’d been provided with skates and then showed out the door. Aelin had been bouncing with energy, seeming quite youthful, and Rowan had realized this was the most unguarded he’d ever seen her.

Rowan watched as Aelin eagerly stumbled toward the rink, her hands out to keep her balance. She placed one blade on the ice, sliding almost immediately.

Aelin fumbled around for a moment, then gave up trying to skate and clutched to the handrail. “This is not as easy as it looks on TV.”

“You’ve only just started. Give it some time.”

She blew a stray tuft of bangs from her face, no less determined. Rowan watched in amusement as Aelin started clopping around the perimeter, most of her body weight on the handrail.

Rowan stepped onto the ice himself. It was a little tricky at first, but after a few minutes his body had remembered how to move and soon enough he was skating upright, albeit with a wobble, decently enough.

The thump of Aelin hitting the ice caught Rowan’s attention and he looked over to find her sprawled out on her back, a pout on her lips.

Rowan chuckled. He skated a smooth line across the ice and Aelin glowered at him from below.

“Having fun?” he asked.

Aelin frowned as Rowan extended his arms. “Yes,” she said stubbornly. She reached for him, clasping her hands in his.

“Careful,” Rowan murmured, holding them both steady as he adjusted his weight and pulled her to her feet. Aelin swayed, but Rowan’s grip was firm.

He could feel Aelin’s grip loosening when she regained her balance, trying to let go, but Rowan kept his hold on her. “What—”

“Let me help,” he interrupted. Rowan tugged her forward and she gasped, but didn’t fall.

Rowan skated backward a few more feet, letting Aelin get a feel for her balance and how her feet needed to move. Her body relaxed a bit as she accepted his help, trying to move her feet in time with his.

As Rowan skated back and Aelin stared at the ground in concentration, he watched her. Her hat was askew and her bangs were falling into her face again. A determined little frown resided on her lips.

After a few laps around the rink, Aelin’s grip on Rowan became less lethal and her feet began to move more steadily. Something had clicked for her, it seemed.

Aelin looked up from the ice and their eyes met.

“I really am sorry for how I’ve treated you,” Aelin whispered.

“I know,” Rowan said simply, and Aelin’s returning smile was answer enough.

“Ready to let go?” he asked.

Aelin nodded, and Rowan watched with a warm heart as she released him and tried moving on her own, one hand hovering over his just in case.

—

Aelin woke shivering.

Her eyes snapped open and she recounted her surroundings, processing the stack of blankets on top of her and the heavy, thrumming feeling of cold.

Aelin slipped out from under her mound of covers, wincing as she was surrounded by freezing air. She stumbled over to the radiator.

There was some kind of error symbol in the corner. Frowning, Aelin tapped at the buttons, unsure of how to use such a high-tech system. Only a thin hint of residual heat emitted from the thing.

“Dammit,” she murmured.

How was she supposed to stay warm in the mountains at night with no heat? The past few days of ice skating—Aelin had insisted on going every day, getting better with each try—had chilled her but not severely. It was the nights that Aelin couldn’t handle, and this one was even worse than the last. She’d already pillaged every spare blanket Rowan hadn’t claimed and still she’d woken feeling a chill in her very bones.

Trying the stay quiet, Aelin reached for the closet doors and started sifting through the various linens. Finding nothing, Aelin rifled through the drawer below, only coming across towels.

Aelin was just reaching for a whole stack of towels, too desperate to care about propriety—and honestly, these towels were nicer than any of Aelin’s bedding at home—when a voice rasped, “What are you doing?”

Aelin winced, not wanting to have woken him. “I can’t find any more blankets,” she whispered.

“That’s because you already have seven on your bed.”

Aelin shot a glare in the general direction of Rowan’s bed. “I’m cold.”

She waited for a witty retort, but all she got was the rustling of his covers and a faint silhouette as Rowan sat up. “Come here.”

“What?” Aelin asked cautiously.

“Come here,” Rowan repeated.

Rising clumsily and kicking the drawer shut, Aelin walked toward Rowan’s bed. She hesitated when she reached him.

Rowan moved over, making space beside him. In the dark Aelin couldn’t make out his expression, but she could see him gesture beside him, faint but unwavering.

Still tentative, Aelin slowly eased onto the bed, breathing rapid. She didn’t dare say a word as she lowered herself onto the bed, jerking backward when her leg brushed Rowan’s.

Maybe he was still half-asleep, or maybe he really didn’t see this as anything odd, or maybe a wave of confidence had washed over him, but Rowan only wrapped an arm around Aelin’s waist and tugged her flush against him, every curve and edge of hers pressed against hard muscle.

Aelin was pretty sure she gasped at the contact.

He pulled his covers over her, cocooning her in warmth. “Still cold?” Rowan asked, and Aelin bit her lip as his breath tickled her ear.

“No,” she whispered.

“That’s good.”

“Mm.” Aelin lay perfectly still as Rowan’s arm went farther around her waist, his hand sliding underneath her from the other side. Getting comfortable.

“Your heart’s beating very fast.” Rowan’s voice was still gravelly from sleep. Aelin told herself the shiver that followed was from the cold.

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s definitely is.”

Aelin could hear the smugness in his voice. “Shut up,” she hissed.

He let out a soft, rumbling laugh, and the vibrations traveled down Aelin’s spine. He didn’t say anything more, though, and Aelin pressed her head against Rowan’s chest, seeking his warmth and trying to relax.

It took a while for Aelin’s heartbeat to slow and her heavy breathing to subside, but when sleep finally washed over her, it was more deep and peaceful than it ever had been.

—

Morning hit Rowan in the form of a head of blonde hair.

Blinking away the sleep, he looked over at Aelin, curled into his side. Her cheek was pressed up against his bare chest. His own arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her securely.

The drowsiness had obliterated his restraint.

Trying to process the fact that Aelin was really here, in his arms, rather than in some twisted wet dream, Rowan gently let go of her. He scooted away, wincing when Aelin whined sleepily and reached for him.

Climbing out of bed, Rowan rubbed his temples. What was he doing with Aelin? What did all this mean?

“Rowan?”

He pressed his eyes shut and let out a heavy breath, then turned. “Morning.”

“Mornin’,” Aelin slurred.

“We have another meeting with Dorian today. We should get ready.”

Aelin groaned in protest, pulling the covers over her head. Deciding to give her a few more minutes, Rowan checked the time and then grabbed a towel from the linen closet, headed for a shower.

It wasn’t as cleansing as he’d wished it to be. Rowan had thought the cold water would wash away all the inappropriate thoughts, the twisted emotions, the smell of Aelin’s perfume. But ten minutes later he was wrapping a towel around his waist and the confusion lingered.

Rowan left the bathroom to grab some clothes, noticing Aelin’s sleepy gaze snap straight to his bare chest, then his arms. Pretending he didn’t notice, he reached for clothing out of his unpacked bag, then retreated back to the bathroom.

Aelin had finally gotten up when he emerged, and was reaching for an outfit from the neat little stacks she’d set up next to her own bed. They exchanged a heated stare and Rowan wasn’t entirely sure of what he read in Aelin’s expression.

She waltzed past him to change in the bathroom, and he just grabbed some notes on the past few days with Dorian to distract himself.

They’d had three meetings so far, spaced out every other day. The first had been a day of covering the basics of the contract, and the next two had been full of negotiations, shaping Dorian’s potential contract into something he could agree to. Aelin and Rowan had been discussing yesterday and come to the conclusion things were wrapping up in Dorian’s mind; the contract-to-be was close to being fully edited to suit his needs. He was going to give them an answer on switching publishers soon, one way or another.

After each meeting, and on all the off days as well, Aelin had dragged Rowan outside to practice skating, and each time he got a little more emotionally confused. Sure, she’d apologized, and his forgiveness was genuine, but that didn’t mean he could just brush right over everything. A week was hardly enough time to go from hating someone to… not hating that person. Rowan shouldn’t be—

Rowan stopped that thought. So much for distracting himself.

He let out a frustrated growl, clenching his fists.

“You okay?” a voice asked, and Rowan cursed himself to hell for not noticing her leave the bathroom.

He turned to find Aelin leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a cream sweater and jeans.

“I’m fine. I was just thinking about Dorian. Lorcan will be pissed if all this was for nothing.”

Aelin’s face said she didn’t believe a word of it, but she didn’t pursue it. Instead she asked, “Do you think he’s finished the book?”

Rowan shrugged. “He said he was getting close a couple of days ago. He could be. He might even give us the draft today if he’s finished it.”

“If he’s going to sign with us,” Aelin added, wandering over to a dresser.

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to start editing right away if he gives you the draft?”

Rowan gave another shrug. “Probably. Or maybe I’ll be able to stretch out the last few days of this vacation and pass it off when we get home.”

“Why?” Aelin reached for a pair of earrings, gaze on a mirror as they made small talk.

“I don’t often edit romance books. That’s Fenrys’ job.”

Aelin sent a smirk in his direction. “Ah, yes. You’re the historical fiction editor. How could I forget?”

“What’s funny about that?” Rowan asked defensively.

“Nothing at all,” Aelin replied, but she couldn’t keep her laugh in.

Rowan sighed. “Historical fiction is good. It offers a realistic perspective on time frames and events that deserve to be delved into. You shouldn’t be laughing.”

Grinning fiendishly, Aelin finished with the mirror and crossed her arms. “If you say so.”

Rowan just shook his head, shooting her an exasperated glare and nodding toward the door. “You ready?”

The walk to Dorian’s room wasn’t tense or silent, but it wasn’t as open as previous conversations between them had been. Aelin had likely picked up on Rowan’s weird mood, he thought with an internal cringe, and they were both nervous about the book deal as well.

Dorian greeted them and showed them into his sitting room as he’d done every other time. He had set out tea again, a habit of his, and Aelin accepted a cup graciously. Less inclined toward the substance but never wanting to offend a potential client, Rowan sipped his as well.

“I’m sure you’ve both realized that my mind is made up by now.” Dorian clasped his hands together and let the suspense linger.

Geez. This man knew how to be unnecessarily dramatic. Then again, maybe the millions his books had made had earned him the right to be a little sensational.

“Yes, we figured,” Aelin replied smoothly. “Is it good news?” Rowan could tell she was just as anxious as him, but Aelin was a hell of a lot better at hiding it.

Dorian smiled. “For you, quite. I made some last edits to the contract. You can look them over here, and if you find everything satisfactory, I’ll sign.”

Relief washed over Rowan in waves. He may have been lying to Aelin earlier when he told her that was what was on his mind, but he truly had been concerned. If Dorian had declined their offer and renewed his contract with Hamel Inc., Lorcan would be furious.

“Then I’ll give you the first draft of my new novel,” Dorian continued. “I finished looking over it yesterday so it’s very rough around the edges, but all the same, you can start editing right away if you so choose.”

Rowan nodded, and Aelin asked for the contract. They looked over it together, finding only minor changes that were acceptable to them. Dorian signed with an expensive fountain pen, and Rowan and Aelin released their bated breaths.

The whole meeting was a whirlwind of suppressed celebration and shared grins between the pair. Dorian sent them off with the draft, and they left, almost skipping down the hallway. As soon as Dorian’s room was out of earshot, Aelin let out a squeal and Rowan whooped.

“Thank the gods,” Aelin exclaimed, raising a hand for a high five.

Chuckling, Rowan met her hand. The contact felt like an electric shock, but Rowan ignored his confliction. They’d gotten one of the best-selling authors in the country to sign with their company. Today was not a day to be moping.

“Let’s go to our room,” Aelin said. “I want to read it.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

Aelin shrugged. “I can help.”

Rowan squinted. “Why?”

“Well…” Aelin looked away. “I’ve been waiting for book four in this series since January.”

Rowan let out a surprised laugh. “Oh, don’t tell me.”

“Shut up,” Aelin hissed.

“You read…” Rowan looked down at the draft. “The Toxic Heaven series?” he asked, scoffing at the title. He hadn’t even realized this thing was part of a series until now.

Aelin frowned. “It’s good. You can’t judge me. And don’t tell me you haven’t read any of them.”

“Um, no. I definitely have not.”

“None?” Aelin gasped.

Rowan crossed his arms. “I’m the boring historical fiction guy, remember? I don’t read this garbage.”

“It’s not garbage,” Aelin snapped, tugging the pages from his grip.

“Hey, that was definitely meant for me.”

“You’ll get your turn soon enough. Just give me a day or two.”

Shaking his head with a smile tugging at his lips, Rowan followed Aelin down the hall and back to their room.

—

Aelin got through the entire draft that day. She had allowed a break for ice skating; she was enjoying it immensely and was actually becoming decent. Other than that though, her eyes were glued to the smutty masterpiece all day long. Rough around the edges, sure, but it still had Aelin blushing.

Rowan had sent her amused glances throughout the day, which she’d pointedly ignored.

Flipping the last page, Aelin closed her eyes and grinned to herself. The main characters, who’d broken up in the last book, were back together. There was I’m-mad-at-you-but-I-still-love-you sex, makeup sex, fluffy sex, dirty sex. And Aelin refused to be embarrassed about enjoying it.

“That good, huh?”

Eyes opening and darting to Rowan, Aelin sent him her meanest stare. “You should try it you know. Maybe you’d get some if you paid enough attention.”

“Who says I don’t already get some?” Rowan’s voice was soft.

Oh, this was dangerous.

“I don’t know,” Aelin said, much more casually than she felt. “I don’t know a whole lot of people who are into historical fiction fanatics.”

Rowan crossed his arms, and Aelin tried not to stare at his bulging muscles. Had the room been this hot earlier?

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? I don’t think there’s a rule that says what I like to read means I’m clueless around women.”

Aelin opened her mouth to retort, but noticed something behind him. “Is that champagne?”

“Yeah, I figured we deserve to celebrate after landing that deal. I didn’t want to interrupt your reading, though,” he added with a grin. “Should we have some?”

Aelin ignored the jest and nodded. “We should.”

She sat up on her bed while Rowan popped the cork poured the alcohol into champagne glasses. He brought two over, sitting next to her on the covers. “You know, not only were we harassed into a work trip over Yulemas, which I’m pretty sure is illegal, we also got a famous author to sign with us. I feel like there’s got to be some kind of raise coming our way.”

Aelin laughed. “Gods, I hope so.” She took another sip of champagne, savoring the way it warmed her as it moved down her throat.

“What is all the fuss about Dorian Havilliard, anyway? There are only so many ways to write porn.”

“You clearly have no creativity,” Aelin replied. She picked up the draft and held it up. “He’s quite decent.”

Rowan squinted. “Let me see that thing.”

Aelin shook her head but he reached for the papers in her hands too quickly for her to draw them back. Rowan set it on his lap and flipped to a random page. “‘Celaena whimpered as Sam fucked her. Gods, she wanted to hate him, and maybe she did, but she could never hate his large, pulsating—’”

Aelin threw a pillow at him. “Stop it.”

“This is shit.”

“It’s not,” Aelin hissed. “Put it down and let Fenrys edit it when we get back.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I never realized what poor taste you have.” He tossed the draft on the bedside table.

“You’re just provoking me.”

Rowan scoffed. “Trust me, I may know nothing about writing smut, but I assure you there are better words to describe a cock than pulsating.”

Aelin sat up beside him. “Do you ever read smut, Rowan? Or do you just criticize people for having more game than you?”

He snorted. “I prefer doing over reading when it comes to certain things.”

Aelin felt her face warm. “Well… that’s just great for you.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow.

Aelin took a sip of champagne to occupy her mouth before she could say anything more humiliating, but Rowan didn’t let it slide.

“Do you ever get laid or is it all fictional?”

“That’s none of your business,” Aelin blustered.

“I entirely agree, but you’ve already asked me. I feel like it’s only fair.”

Aelin scowled. “Of course I do.”

“And when you do is it more or less pleasurable than reading Toxic Heaven?”

“Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Oh, I definitely am.” Rowan’s eyes darkened. “We’ve been dancing around each other all week, Aelin.”

Her toes curled. “I guess we have.”

Rowan plucked the glass out of Aelin’s hand and set it with his on the table. “Tell me you don’t want this.” Their knees bumped.

“I do,” Aelin whispered, shivering when Rowan’s hand found her hair, gently tugging on a strand of blonde. He leaned closer and Aelin felt her breath catch.

Rowan’s other hand fell to her thigh, sliding up slowly, giving her every chance to say no. His lips were now so close to hers, their eyes locked.

Rowan closed the last half inch but just before their lips could meet, Aelin turned her head to the side. “Um.”

Rowan leaned back.

“I’m sorry.” Aelin stood up.

Rowan rose beside her. “You don’t have to apologize, Aelin. It’s okay.”

She glanced at him, then looked away, nodding silently.

“If something’s wrong I can—”

“It’s not you, Rowan. It’s not your fault. I just can’t.”

He nodded, not asking her why. Aelin appreciated him for that more than she ever had before.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No, you can stay.” Aelin felt a tear slide down her cheek.

She could feel Rowan’s hesitation. “Aelin, I’m sorry I tried to kiss you, I shouldn’t have done that. We can pretend it didn’t happen if that makes you feel better.”

Aelin shook her head, blinking away more tears and feeling ridiculous for crying. “I don’t want to forget. I just don’t want it to happen. It can’t.”

“Why not?” Rowan’s voice was gentle, soothing.

“Because,” Aelin threw her hands up in defeat, “If we do anything now it’s going to be some short-lived fantasy that ends the second we’re home. And I don’t want this to be like some fucking dream that I—” Her voice cracked. She finished the sentence in a whisper.

“That I wake up from.”

Silence washed over the room. Aelin could barely hear anything over the pounding of her own heart, anyway.

For once, Aelin didn’t look away from Rowan. She started straight at him, watching, waiting.

He stared back at her for what felt like an eternity, unmoving. And then all of a sudden Rowan wasn’t still anymore; he was moving forward, and his hands were on Aelin’s face, and then his lips were on hers, and the rest of the world faded into grey.

Kissing Rowan felt like this whole whimsical, expensive vacation had felt. Like some kind of magic thing that was unexpected but not unwelcome, frustrating yet so freeing at the same time. Like every moment she’d had with Rowan prior, honestly.

One of Rowan’s hands fisted in her hair and the moan that left Aelin’s lips sent her mind straight from convoluted metaphors to the rush of heat headed straight down.

Before Aelin could drag him back to the bed and jump him like every molecule of her body was begging her to do, Rowan pulled back.

“I don’t want this to end either, okay?” Rowan was panting. “All the months we spend bickering because of one misunderstanding, one bad day, have been dissipating over the past week. I misjudged you, Aelin. And now that I’m no longer blinded by the idea that I dislike you, I’ve seen that you’re not somebody that I want to have a vacation with and then forget about. I want to get to know you better, I want… I want this to continue.”

Aelin looked up at him in shock. She nodded faintly. “Me too.”

He flashed a smile then, wide and genuine, and Aelin couldn’t help but grin back.

“I hope this means we get to go on a date,” Aelin murmured.

“Oh, it most certainly does.” Rowan pecked Aelin on the lips again, and the casualness of it sent butterflies off in her stomach. “I hope someday I can live up to the standards Dorian’s novel has put on me.”

Aelin choked on a laugh. “Gods. You’re horrible.”

Rowan twisted a finger around a lock of blonde hair. “You know, you’re going to have to put up with a lot of teasing if you really want me. And gods, imagine what the people will say about you dating a historical fiction editor. It’s not too late to back out.”

Aelin shoved him playfully. “I wouldn’t back out for the world.”

She’d meant it to match the joking mood, but it came out serious. Rowan stared at her silently, then moved impossibly closer. Their noses bumped.

“I wish that first day had never happened,” Aelin whispered. “We wasted so much time.”

“I regret nothing,” Rowan said. “Because things worked out so that I’m here with you, right now, and it was more than worth the wait.”

Aelin beamed at him. “And you say you don’t read romance novels. Who taught you how to charm a lady so well?”

Rowan laughed. “Not everything can be found in a book, Aelin.”

“You’re wrong,” Aelin murmured.

Rowan hummed. “I think I could teach you a few things Dorian left out.”

“Oh yeah?” Aelin tugged Rowan toward the bed. “Like what?”

Rowan grinned ferally. “Let me show you.”

They were laughing as they hit the bed.

———

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Zaldrītsos

(Little Dragon)

Part 7 of ?

On AO3 as “Dragonstone: Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown”

Warning: 18+, NSFW

Summary: Mini-chapter because I want this transition before the next one that will be quite a bit longer. This one is kinda sappy and no smut. Keeping the 18+ for future chapters.

Daemon’s fingers traced the wings on Dark Sister’s crossguard. He couldn’t go to the Vale before they went to King’s Landing, there wasn’t time. And he had not mentioned the obvious to Rhaenyra. He knew she understood the implications. She didn’t broach the subject because she trusted him. If she had any suggestions, any solutions, she would have told him. They both knew the Bronze Bitch would be a problem. 

He would speak to Maester Gerardys about the logistics. He could be trusted. He had proven his devotion to Rhaenyra many times before. And once this was done it could not be undone. The maester could make the arrangements without Daemon and it could be taken care of quietly. If done swiftly the King need not know until it was finished. 

He sent for the maester. They met in the map room and the maester bowed as he entered. In a rare moment of graciousness, Daemon gestured to the chair opposite so Gerardys would sit. Daemon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“Your highness, how can I be of service?” The maester saw the gravity of the situation on Daemon’s face. 

“We need a septon,” Daemon began. “One who is loyal to House Targaryen and not the Faith. Even a loyalty to gold would suffice.” If the maester were surprised he hid it well.

“I cannot be involved directly with the arrangements, of course.” Daemon looked from the maester to the fire dwindling in the fireplace. “Neither can the Princess. I need you to find such a man and write a petition for annulment. Lady Royce has yet to provide me with an heir and with the correct septon,” he looked at Gerardys, “and the correct maester we can prove her to be barren. Precedent or not.”

The maester only nodded. 

“And it has to be completed within the week. Any resources you require can be arranged.”

“That may not be enough time, your highness” the man looked thoughtfully at his hands. “However, I know a septon that can be reached without risking the use of a raven for such a… delicate matter. I will meet with him,” he raised his hand slightly as Daemon began to interrupt. “Away from Dragonstone. And I will go myself. Allow me a day to meet with him to assess his loyalties.”

“Fine. We need not involve the Princess until we know more about this septon’s true faith,” Daemon rose from his chair. The maester followed.

“Of course, your highness.” 

“I will also need to send a raven as soon as possible,” Daemon informed him. “I will have the scroll sent to you shortly.”

The maester bowed and excused himself. 

Daemon quickly wrote out the vile words, rolled up the scroll, and sealed it. 

Dearest Brother, Viserys Targaryen first of his name, King of the Andals….

After reading your letter I have decided to deliver the Princess to King’s Landing myself. I will have her in the Red Keep in a fortnight.

There is no need to involve Hands or guards. Surely brothers can settle this matter between themselves? Who knows what is best for our family more than you and I? And who would know what is in the interest of the crown better than yourself, brother? 

I have told Rhaenyra that we will return but she has been awaiting your reply to her raven. She may grow suspicious.

As always in your service, Your Grace. 

Prince Daemon Targaryen. 

* * * 

Rhaenyra understood why he had not sent the raven the night before, they were not yet settled with the idea, but she feared they were losing more time than they could spare. He was going to send it soon, this morning. She walked the grounds of Dragonstone and thought. 

She fondled her necklace as she did. She could find a way to keep the throne and have Daemon. She had to. There was an appeal to abdicating and letting someone else bear the burden. But in doing that she risked living a life in fear not peace. If the future king decided she or her children would ever contest his claim… she didn’t want to think about that. There was no way to ensure that anyone would trust her. She found herself walking down the stairs to the beach.

Syrax flew overhead. She was agitated as well. The sunlight glinted off her golden wings. Having her near was some comfort to Rhaenyra. 

It wasn’t unfair that she had this thrust upon her but it felt too soon. Her father wasn’t ill and the Seven Kingdoms were at peace for the moment. If she had time to decide. ‘Would more time truly help when they had so many obstacles?’ she thought. Daemon’s marriage, Alicent’s children, her father’s insistence that Daemon was unsuited to be Prince Consort. There were more obsticles than those but she could bear to thing of any others. 

Her skirts fluttered behind her as she walked into the sea breeze. The dark dress made her hair appear even more silver. It swirled around her as the breeze shifted. House Targaryen was proud and had reason to be. Her hair reminded her of her uncle’s desire to keep their blood pure. She had never considered it before she was named heir. There was a part of her mind that had always assumed, naively, that she would marry Daemon when she was of age. The question of having heirs who were not fully Targaryen was never formed in her mind. 

Assuming the Iron Throne meant securing it with legitimate heirs. Once that had settled on her shoulders she knew that he was right. It didn’t come before his love for her but it was important to both of them. Why would her father be so against something that was commonplace for their house? He loved his brother, she knew, and even their parents were siblings. Her stomached knotted as her mind raced through possibilities that could make the King so adamant that this marriage should not take place. Things she might not know, might never know.

She fought a futile battle with the wind and her hair, attempting to keep it out of her face. It was the smallest of irritations but it seemed to break something in her. She wanted to scream, to fight, to command and be heard. The breeze swept her angry tears from her cheeks. She was so dismissed that her father hadn’t even replied to her but to the man nearest to her. He underestimated both of them but in her moment of self-pity she knew Daemon had more power than she did. 

* * *

After having the maester send the raven to King’s Landing, Daemon searched for Rhaenyra. He saw a dark figure on the beach. He was unused to her in dark dresses but it became her. He didn’t want to encroach too soon. She had much to think about. He leaned against the wall at the top of the stairs and watched her. 

He didn’t know what his brother would do. They had a better chance at success with the entire endeavor once this other business was resolved. His jaw clenched when he thought back to his dismay at his betrothal to Rhea. Maybe she was barren, how would he know. After this many years an annulment because they had not consummated their marriage was less feasible. 

Gods, he wanted to be near Rhaenyra. He felt reassured by the strength that radiated from her. He knew she hated for him to see any weakness in her no matter how much he tried to tell her that weakness did not diminish her in his eyes. She would always be the most fearless person he knew. He watched her turn on the beach and begin to walk back to the castle. He went back inside to wait on her. He didn’t want her to know he had been watching her. 

He was leaning by the fire, one hand propped on the mantle, the other resting on Dark Sister, when Rhaenyra walked into the map room. Neither spoke. She was chilled and her hair and dress were damp from the beach. She came to the fireplace. He straightened and looked at her. She stared at the fire, looking into it, through it. Daemon stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned her head against his shoulder. Her hands folded over his. 

She breathed deeply and closed her eyes when he kissed her ear then her cheek, his head bent low to reach her. Her body leaned into his, letting him share some of her burden. Her fingers stroked the back of his hand while his thumb rubbed small circles on hers. He closed his eyes. He breathed in her smell mixed with the salt on her skin. 

Rhaenyra slowly interlaced their fingers together and turned in his arms. Her other hand moved up to stroke the back of his neck. Their violet eyes met. He kissed her, not needing any more prompting. She held their hands against her chest. He felt her breasts rise and fall as she kissed him back, breathing slowly and evenly. They weren’t rushed or hurried. 

When she broke their kiss she tucked her head under his chin. He pulled her against him with his hand on the small of her back. He thought he felt her crying. He wouldn’t be sure until later when he felt the dampness on his shirt. 

Chapter 8

[mjulianwrites]

happy international asexuality day from the next day after dawn gang!

featuring prince cyrus (my cringefail het ace poor little meow meow whose repulsion is intersecting terribly with his religious issues), helios (the definition of aroace trans swag), and austra (sex-neutral unfuckable milf who wrote "conceive second child" in her planner)

transcripts below the cut (and in the image descriptions!)

“Ha!” A laugh like a slap. Cyrus bit into his cheek and barely managed not to look away. “Someone’s eager.” Which didn’t make sense to him at first, because yes, he was eager to leave, but he couldn’t think of a reason why that would be funny. It clicked several seconds too late—that leaving and going to bed on your wedding night didn’t mean sleeping, it meant—and no, no, no, he wasn’t eager for that, because— Well. Because it was wrong. Or because it had been wrong, it had been immoral, not the way of the light, and the dread he felt when he thought about it was a holy feeling, making sure he didn’t stray. There was a path written in the stars for him. He knew that. It had been good not to want that when it wasn’t the right thing to want, only now he was married and it was different, but—

If the Church of Siderum had ever done the world one service, it was letting Helios keep his new clothes. He indicated his outfit with a flourishy gesture—his suit today was a glossy midnight purple with gold lining, and not being in court gave him an excuse to wear his shirt with even more buttons undone than usual, so people could stare at his lack of cleavage all they wanted. Oh-so-chastely, of course, but he didn’t care that much if anyone had less than respectable intentions; that was their problem, and also very funny. Now that he liked how he looked, he minded being looked at considerably less.

You’re not particularly enamoured with Tristan Lunares, physically speaking. Then again, you’re not prone to being that sort of enamoured with anyone, so you’re hardly surprised. The wedding is tolerable. So, in the end, is your first night together; if anything, you somewhat appreciate his utter self-centeredness, because you’d really rather not waste your energy on feigning enthusiasm. But you need heirs, of course, and the logistics of that are rather non-negotiable. You don’t mind, really. You’re much more averse to your particular marriage than you are to the idea of motherhood.

[almarifatourism]

Experience the Magic of Dubai with Al Marifa Tourism

Introduction

Dubai, a city of opulence, innovation, and boundless possibilities, beckons travelers from around the world to indulge in its grandeur. From breathtaking skyscrapers to pristine beaches, and from ancient traditions to modern marvels, Dubai offers a diverse array of experiences. If you're looking to explore this magnificent city, look no further than Al Marifa Tourism, a trusted name in the world of travel. With their Dubai trip package, you can immerse yourself in the luxury and allure that Dubai has to offer.

Unveiling Al Marifa Tourism

Al Marifa Tourism, a prominent player in the travel industry, has crafted a Dubai trip package that promises an unforgettable experience. Their reputation for delivering high-quality travel services and personalized itineraries makes them the ideal choice for anyone looking to explore Dubai in style.

Why Dubai?

Dubai, often referred to as the "City of Gold," is a city that seamlessly blends the past and the future. Here are some reasons why Dubai should be at the top of your travel bucket list:

Iconic Landmarks: Dubai is home to some of the world's most famous landmarks, including the Burj Khalifa, the world's tallest building, and the Palm Jumeirah, a man-made island that is a marvel of engineering.

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Cultural Heritage: Despite its modernity, Dubai has preserved its rich cultural heritage. Explore the historic Al Fahidi Neighborhood, visit the Dubai Museum, and take a traditional dhow cruise on the Dubai Creek.

Adventure and Sports: For thrill-seekers, Dubai offers a range of adventures, from dune bashing in the desert to skiing indoors at Ski Dubai.

Culinary Delights: Dubai's dining scene is diverse, offering everything from street food to gourmet cuisine from around the world.

Al Marifa Tourism's Dubai Trip Package

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Customized Itineraries: Every traveler is unique, and Al Marifa Tourism understands that. They work closely with you to create a personalized itinerary that suits your preferences and interests.

Accommodation: Enjoy luxurious stays at some of Dubai's finest hotels, ensuring your comfort and relaxation throughout your trip.

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Exciting Activities: Whether you want to experience the adrenaline rush of a desert safari, take a helicopter ride over the city, or relax on pristine beaches, Al Marifa Tourism has you covered.

Cultural Experiences: Immerse yourself in Dubai's culture with guided tours of historical sites, visits to traditional markets, and opportunities to witness traditional performances.

Fine Dining: Sample the finest cuisine at Dubai's top restaurants, with recommendations and reservations arranged by Al Marifa Tourism.

Convenience: Al Marifa Tourism takes care of all the logistics, leaving you free to enjoy your trip without any hassles.

Conclusion

Dubai is a city of dreams, and Al Marifa Tourism's Dubai trip package is your ticket to experiencing this dreamland in all its glory. With their expertise, attention to detail, and commitment to customer satisfaction, your journey to Dubai will be nothing short of extraordinary. Don't miss out on the opportunity to explore the marvels of Dubai with Al Marifa Tourism – your gateway to a world of luxury and adventure. Book your Dubai trip package today and get ready for an unforgettable experience.

[goodchoicepackau]

Good Choice - Your One-Stop Destination for Wholesale Toilet Paper in Australia

Are you tired of constantly running out of toilet paper? Are you looking for a reliable supplier of wholesale toilet paper in Australia? Look no further than Good Choice, your one-stop destination for eco-friendly packaging solutions. At Good Choice, we understand the importance of providing quality, eco-friendly products at affordable prices. As an Australian-owned and operated business, we strive to support local businesses and provide excellent service to customers nationwide. Whether you're a small business or a large corporation, we have the perfect range of wholesale toilet paper to suit your needs. Our Range of Wholesale Toilet Paper

We offer a wide range of toilet paper options, including recycled toilet paper, bamboo toilet paper, and even toilet paper made from sugarcane bagasse. All of our products are sustainably sourced and environmentally friendly, so you can feel good about your purchase.

Our toilet paper is available in bulk quantities, making it a cost-effective solution for businesses of all sizes. Whether you need a few rolls for your office or a pallet load for your warehouse, we can provide the right quantity at the right price.

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Why Choose Good Choice for Your Wholesale Toilet Paper Needs?

At Good Choice, the leading supplier of wholesale toilet paper in Australia, we pride ourselves on providing excellent customer service and high-quality products. Our team is dedicated to helping businesses of all sizes find the right packaging solutions to meet their needs.

Whether you're looking for recycled toilet paper, bamboo toilet paper, or sugarcane bagasse toilet paper, we have the perfect option for you. Our products are affordable, environmentally friendly, and available in bulk quantities, making it easy for businesses to stock up and save.

In addition to our range of wholesale toilet paper, we also offer a wide range of other eco-friendly packaging solutions, including compostable bags, biodegradable food containers, and much more.

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We are committed to minimizing our carbon footprint. Our streamlined logistics and careful selection of courier partners enable us to deliver your orders efficiently and sustainably. We strive to make a positive difference in the environment, one delivery at a time. In Conclusion

When it comes to wholesale toilet paper in Australia, Good Choice is the name you can trust. With our comprehensive range, reliable service, and dedication to sustainability, we go the extra mile to meet your packaging needs. Experience the convenience of next-day delivery, same-day dispatch, and fast shipping. Choose Good Choice as your partner, and together, we can make a positive impact on the environment while supporting local businesses. Place your order today and join the growing community of satisfied Good Choice customers.

[boundinparchment]

Of Blood and Sparks - XVIII

Karina Alexandre of Fontaine lost her position, her family, and her Archon's favor. A dead Electro Vision is her mark of guilt. A reminder to never fail again. Faith shattered, and suspicious of the Fatui, she eventually makes her way to Liyue, where she encounters a certain funeral parlor consultant. Little does she know it's only the beginning. Original character centric; eventual Zhongli/OC. Posted originally at @chevalier-of-fontaine. ArchiveOfOurOwn || FF.net || Karina's profile

The pavilion was packed with people surrounding the stage and the wish censers.   A logistical nightmare for the Millelith, she was certain.  Her eyes roamed the area, finding little out of the ordinary other than the sheer number of people.

She was once assigned to the Iridescence Tour in her second year of service.  Absolute madness.  The music was fantastic but she couldn’t enjoy it.  She was there for safety, not frivolity.  She could only imagine it was the same for those serving on Yujing Terrace; an honor, of course, but it took the meaning of public service to the next level when one needed to put aside their own wishes.

As promised, the amethyst hair comb was tucked into her hair, nestled in almost the same location as its original placement.  The piece didn’t stay as well as it had when Zhongli set it but it was safely tucked nonetheless.  Her closet offered little in the way of matching outfits but she hoped her choice didn’t look as uncoordinated as it felt, the skirt flouncing around her knees.  She wanted to pay homage without appropriating and opted for a more modern outfit similar to those worn by other women in Liyue.

At the center of the Terrace stood a small group of individuals and staff members.  Karina could only assume some of them were of the Qixing.  A tall woman with long white hair and carnelian eyes, dressed in a gown of white and gold with black accents, mused over the offerings of this particular Rite.  Murmurs around her were awed.  

The Tianquan, Lady Ningguang, would be welcoming Rex Lapis this year.  If the whispers around her were anything to go by, the crowd made it seem as if the Geo Archon should be honored by the gesture.  Despite the very purpose of the ritual to be one meant to welcome the Archon to the mortal plane.

Rumors were as rich as the lady herself, Karina recalled.  Some said she acted in shadow, pulling the true economic strings of Liyue.  One of Karina’s clients went on and on about how Lady Ningguang wanted rocks made from Geo users to be tax-exempt, how that would allow her to write off the Jade Chamber floating high above the harbor.  

It took everything in her to keep her mouth shut.  Such a notion was child’s play.  They lived in the richest nation in Teyvat and all someone had to complain about from one of their leaders was a tax law change?  Fontaine nobility played with tax laws (and people) as if they were toys.  What many wouldn’t give for that to be their only issue with leadership.

Karina wandered the outer circle before she dared to approach a censer and bother with a wish, a prayer.

Good luck.  Although…you've been doing this long enough, you probably don’t need it.

She never knew if Archons heard their people in the way it was often conceived they did.  They likely had to walk among the populace in order to do so, she supposed.  Perhaps others found comfort in omnipresence.  She did not.  The notion felt creepy, paralyzing even, to think about a higher being judging everyone for every action.

Karina lingered, hesitant, wanting to say more.  But wishes and prayers hadn’t been what saved her trial and they hadn’t saved her parents.  

How fortunate were those who had so little to ask for.

She finally stepped away from the censer and as she gazed around, Karina found a set of blue eyes, cold as ice, looking at her from the crowd.  

What was the Harbinger doing here?  

Even now, the mask stayed firmly pinned to his hair, an accessory; it was the cheery smile and friendly tone that made up his true mask, the one that portrayed humanity.  What little of it he had left.  Childe gave her a wave and her stomach rolled.  Karina nodded in return, lest she lose her breakfast before the Rite began.  His gaze returned to the people, as vigilant as she was.  Karina watched his line of sight for a moment and caught a glimpse of a flying white creature and a head of light blonde hair, bobbing through the masses.

Odd.  Not many traveled in such attire, nor had she ever seen such a floating creature before.

The crowd around her fell into a soft hush as Lady Ningguang looked up to the sky, a jeweled hand blocking out the sun.  She lowered her arm and folded her hands in front of her, solemn as she stepped forward and took center stage.

“The hour is upon us,” she began.

The two attendants flanking the Tianquan bowed and stepped back, giving their charge the necessary space.  In a soft flash of gold, yellow and amber crystals of jade encircled Ningguang.  The stones spun faster and faster as they rose, until Ningguang’s arm reached out towards the nearby censer and the gems flew towards it.  Once properly imbued, a burst of golden light rushed outwards before a powerful beam of Geo energy rose towards the cloud-covered heavens.  A vortex formed, a direct path towards the people of Liyue.

Karina caught awed gasps and whispers of majesty.  Even those who sought Rex Lapis only once a year for financial guidance, those of loose affiliation and belief, marveled in the spectacle.

The calling of a god was a sight to behold, she had to admit.

Clouds suddenly darkened, the golden sky turning the color of churned earth. A ripple of panic seemed to run through the gathered mass.  Was this what Guili Plains looked like, Karina wondered, the day the people lost one half of their Assembly?  Sky the color of grave dirt, a quiet so solemn none dared shatter it?

Lady Ningguang seemed frozen, face impassive, determined to not let her people see her confusion and concern.  

A shape breached the heavens and the nearest set of Millelith dived for the Tianquan.  Screams erupted as realization spread  that the shape crashing to the pavilion was Rex Lapis.  The creature landed suddenly, appendages limp and head heavy.  

When the dust cleared, the large dragon-qilin laid atop the entire display of offerings, the altar destroyed.  Several weeks of hard work, gone.  The silk tapestries she’d helped source were torn, claw marks ruining their stunning visage.

She noticed but didn’t really care.

Why wasn’t he moving?  Why weren’t his eyes moving beneath their lids?  Or his abdomen moving with any sort of inhalation?

Lady Ningguang rushed forward and pressed a hand to Rex Lapis’ snout.  Murmurs broke out when the gesture did not wake the Lord of Geo, panic dancing on tongues that did not dare consider their Archon was no longer with them.

The realization hit Karina like the Skirmisher’s hammer all over again.  Her vision blurred, her pulse raced.

Not him, too.

Not him.

Not when…

The Tianquan stood, her expression firm as she steeled herself for her next action.

“Rex Lapis has been killed!  Seal the exits!”

Millelith from the nearby terrace swarmed in, blocking off the passageway back down.  They created a line on the outskirts of the pavilion as a perimeter to keep everyone in place.  Extra guards began pulling people into groups for individual accounts; they needed as much information as possible.  

Too soon, though, and all they would get were worried citizens.  Concerns would heighten and accounts once possibly helpful would be marred with incorrect information.

Then again, their Archon was dead.  At this point, did that even matter?

Her eyes sought anything except the corpse of the adepti in front of her.  They fell upon the crop of hair the color of fresh hay, a single flower bobbing and weaving through the people.  A fluttering of white followed suit, starlight shimmering.  They were headed towards the exit…

Karina was pulled off to the side before she could see where the stranger went.  She presented her identification, gave her profession.  Reminded herself to keep her shit together a little longer.  She was a foreigner.  A foreigner did not openly weep at the death of another country’s Archon and she did not need the attention.

The Millelith didn’t ask for much else besides what she was doing prior to the Rite and her intentions for the rest of the day.  A shout rose from the exit and her questioning stopped immediately when an order rang out.  A dash of red hair and a flowing scarf broke through her line of vision just before the Millelith gave chase.

Experience told her it was better not to follow, not this time.  Not when there was a Harbinger involved.  

She long speculated what, if any, concerns over the Rite of Descension were.  None of them ever reached this particular scenario.  Despite Fontaine’s recent transition, it never occurred to her that perhaps Rex Lapis would be dethroned.  The people of Liyue loved him, worshiped him, and thought of him as a father to all.  

She didn’t have to take part in a wild goose chase.  And she didn’t have the strength to.

Why hadn’t she just told him?

The hairpin felt heavy and cold against her scalp.

Left with only memories.  Again.

How could she have let herself get attached ?  Stupid.  So utterly stupid.

Not even Archons were infallible, indestructible.  And she had to go and…

Karina found herself looking over the dead form of the Geo Archon.  Golden horns and spines, veined like cor lapis.  A beautiful auburn mane adorned its neck and back, fiery tendrils following the slight breeze.  The tail was not as sharp, spines softening into beautiful, flowing curves.  

His legs bore a familiar sigil.  She couldn’t quite place it.  The shapes nagged her memory but all she could think of was Rex Lapis, in all his glory, stunning and majestic.

Dead.

Who would kill him?  And why?

Lady Ningguang was firing off orders to the nearest attendants and guards, instructing them to secure the remains.  Before Karina could get one final look, she and other members of the public were requested to leave the area in an orderly fashion.  She was too thunderstruck to do more than follow orders.  It was what she was good at.  Orders were at least tangible, easy for her addled mind to understand.

The death of an Archon was not new to her but the Hydro Archon had died in her sleep, in private, and her body was not viewed by the public.  Instead, it was locked away at the center of the catacombs beneath Lutetia as soon as a new Archon ascended.

But she had not loved her Archon, not in the way she loved Zhongli.  Rex Lapis.  Morax.

A Rite to remember, he had said.

He certainly wasn’t wrong.

Her stomach twisted, threatening to expel what little breakfast she hadn’t metabolized.

She clenched and unclenched her hands all the while in hopes to ease her trembling.  Karina didn’t want to return to her apartment, not yet.  Not now.  Her legs didn’t have the strength for the flights of stairs and she didn’t want to alarm neighbors with her sobs.  She could not bear to look at the hanging silks and her almost-finished embroidery.  

A gift that would never be given.

[stonegearstudios]

M.S.D Pyrite - A Solar Cargo Ship of a Used Future

I keep poking at this model, but it's not getting better without a complete rebuild I think. So, I might as well introduce the Pyrite.

The 'small' transport class of the solar system, it fills the role a semi-truck does today. Large enough to make moving cargo worth the time and money, small enough that it can get into all sorts of places that a much larger ship, equivalent in function to a Super-Tanker, wouldn't be able to. It can go the distance, capable of operating between planets, while also easily docking with small stations as much as large habitats.

With the engines and fusion plant in the aft, the command deck and recreation areas in the fore, the bulk of the ships accessible mass is devoted to locking points for cargo containers.

The Containers docked to the ship directly (with a box representing a 6' tall person and a 40' x 8' x 8.5' Semi Container for scale) are plugged into the power plant, able to generate their own bubbles of minimal heat and even atmosphere if specially pods are swapped out for, to allow the transport of perishable goods across the void.

Perishable goods are often smaller than raw goods like minerals so a fair amount can be fit in the 16 pods, but that is not all this class of vessel is capable of hauling.

On the underside is what is often colloquially known as the 'Docking Bump'. While meant to allow docking arms to grab hard onto a solid bit of the ship, a bit like jack points on a car, they also allow additional cargo to be clamped onto the ship, riding on the belly like a young marsupial on it's mother. While capable of attaching far greater amounts of cargo, it's also a lot more limited in what it can move.

Nothing that would be overly bothered by high amounts of radiation, horrific swings between hot and cold, a airless environment. Standalone self powering containers do exist, but they are both expensive and not that common.

Finally, carrying "Belly Cargo" also changes the logistics of being on the move. More mass means a longer travel time, slower acceleration and deceleration. It can mean more time waiting at the other end as, to big now to fit in a berth, you have to wait for more manual unloading. More does not always equal more profit and it takes a canny Quartermaster to find that line. So, the Pyrite is a cargo ship, nothing glamorous, the invisible workhorse of the solar system. But there's more to it than that. While this basic un-textured model doesn't show it, the Pyrite is old, and worn. The M.S.D (Mercury Service Designation) reveals how far this ship came to end up rotting in a berth on Io. The scuffs, stains, oil, and patches show just how long it's been in service.

More than that is the name, Pyrite, who would name a trading ship that they were staking their livelihood that. Pyrite, Fools Gold, what does that say about your prospects?

I will likely never get to make Io, but I'd like to. I'd like to make a game in a cool setting where the stakes are still very personal. Where both the player and the character they inhabit take a small boon revived out of the blue and take a chance on not a momentary distraction but a better tomorrow, on fulfilling a lifelong dream.

The Pyrite is old, it's under-serviced, and it's clearly had a history of bad luck. Everyone who isn't similarly at the bottom will look at all the effort gone to to scrape together enough cash for the ship, a cargo, and crew, and deride it as utterly foolish.

But Pyrite has another meaning, beyond Fools Gold. That of fire, for the sparks it produces when struck, a fact largely forgotten nowadays. Yes, working your way from bottom of the barrel refinery work to ship owner is not likely, it is not a safe use of a unexpected windfall. But within the confines of fiction, it's totally possible Hey, if you read this far for some reason, thanks! Io is one of those projects I'd love to make but, unfortunately, my skills deficient in so many ways. I'm best at worldbuilding, writing and I've been learning how do basic models, but I have no ability to code, getting my head around even basic engine stuff makes it spin, and such things as music and textures are beyond me.

But I keep plugging away at little things.

Speaking of that actually, wish I knew how much it would cost to get a texture made for this ship?

[aecho-again]

OC asks!! 1, 2, 14, 17, 43, go!

1. Your first OC ever?

This question has already been answered here.

2. Do you have a personal favorite among your OCs?

I love all of them almost equally, but Helios from one story and Om from another are dearest to me.

Helios is such a sweet cinnamon bun, loyal to a fault, selfless (I'm repeating myself) and the one character I want to protect the most, but I'm the writer of his story and I make him suffer instead.

Om is my attempt at subverting the Chosen One trope. They are said to be the Chosen One and they train their entire life to meet everyone's expectations and purge the world from evil, but they are lonely and full of doubt. Their parents never cared for their emotional well-being as long as their physical performance was flawless, but once they join the band of heroes (they're not the protagonist), they finally find friends who value their intellect, their mere presence, as much as their physical prowess.

I guess I love mentally troubled darlings with a heart/spark of gold.

14. Introduce an OC with a tragic backstory.

I don't give a majority of my OC really tragic backstories and I can't answer everyhing with Helios (even though he has the saddest sob story of all OCs), so I'll say something about Firecry instead. I'll focus on his TF backstory, not the Brave one.

Firecry was built in a lab by scientists who wanted to create a batch of sturdy war machines who can wield elemental weapons. Their sparks weren't fit to handle such a draining frame, so many died upon activation. But some of his "brothers" survived alongside him and they were written off as obsolete by the council because of their high energon consumption.

He didn't let that discourage him and found a new job in logistics, hauling heavy loads of metal from and to a construction site. This is also where he met his future conjunx, Anvil, a drillformer who leads a team that operates a giant tunnel boring machine which is used to excavate a new tunnel in Cybertron's crust. They have only seen each other a few times whenever Anvil has been cleared to visit the surface after working many shifts. They look at each other through the fence that separates the loading area from the construction entrance, exchanging a friendly smile (Firecry) and a curious glance (Anvil).

After Firecry's shift ends, he and his coworkers go visit a shuttleformer they view as their caretaker (#1 Dad). He is a gentle giant and loves to tell them about all the places he has been and everything he has seen and they like to hear his stories. They gather around him. Some even climb into his lap and he loves to cuddle them, because they're toy sized to him and this is getting too fluffy so I'll just say when the war breaks out and the enforcers storm the construction site, almost all workers go down fighting them, except Firecry and Anvil who have gone in the other direction and escaped this place.

The shuttleformer is waiting for them outside, but then the enforcers attack them and he protects them, getting shot and decimated to bits in the process. Firecry watches his parent figure die and Anvil has to drag him from the fight. The two of them flee from Cybertron and offer their services to work as officers of the Space Police Organization directly under the Galactic Council.

Then their actual story begins.

17. Any OC OTPs?

Firecry/Anvil :-D

Azimuth/Exopulse

Dataduct/Acceleris (combiner polycule)

Scyre/her nameless fiancé

Expugnatrix/Estian

Bravo Volta/Etra

Echo Volta/Ancoralux

Lucerna/Valentine

Searchmark/Polarfront

Honorable mention OT3: Helios/Nightjet/Ironwing

43. Do you have any certain type when you create your OCs? Do you tend to favor some certain traits or looks? It's time to confess.

I lovelovelove characters that are nice to others just because they can be. Life's not fair but that doesn't mean you don't have to be either. There is a significant amount of characters who share one or two traits with me, as I give each of them a part of myself. My doubts, my worries, my thoughts, one thing that fits them and adds to their personality and the rest pretty much builds itself.

All of them are mechanical in one way or another. They're either robots or cyborgs - and if not, then they're aliens.

Also, I favor to give them bell-shaped helmet types. Their color schemes are either a reference to real life objects or to other media. I prefer green optics/eyes and darker faceplate/skin colors because it makes the optics/eyes stick out more. And they need to be spiky, unless it doesn't fit them. I love spiky designs.

[natalminerals]

https://www.natalmineralslogistics.com/not-all-that-glitters-needs-a-brinks-truck-secure-gold-transport-solutions/

[lifecarelogistic]

Value-Added Services that Improve your Competitiveness

Introduction

The fact that you must be able to add value to your product or service in today's market, where so many goods and services are seen as commodities, is the true problem. Without a doubt, the price of almost every good or service may be reduced to its bare minimum in the absence of value-added components. The issue? Profitability, long-term growth, and sales success all rest in high-margin sales, which are impossible to sell when you are only selling price. 

Let's look at 8 ways to increase the value of any product or service you offer, regardless of what you sell regards the Best Logistic Company in India. People frequently dispute with me by claiming that I don't understand them, that their products or services are superior to mine, or both. The fact is that everything has the potential to be valuable. Consequently, let's look at 8 practical ways you can achieve it.

Here are 8 Practical Value-added Services

1. Offering Knowledgeable Counsel and Utmost Professionalism.

Many accounting businesses, consulting firms, and even medical specialists receive large payments for the quality of advice they offer. However, for you as a sales professional to be able to add value, you must realize that you must offer advice that is substantially higher, more complex, and far more valuable than that of your rivals. This denotes a greater level of expertise, knowledge, and comprehension regarding what it is that you perform.

2. Packing and Bundling.

I'm not just referring to the physical appearance of your product or service; I'm also referring to your ability to assemble appealing bundles, pricing tiers, and several other benefits that are highly valued and significantly more valuable than the product alone.

3. Service Standards.

You can set yourself apart from the competition by offering different degrees of service based on a customer's size, frequency, or several purchases in addition to just offering a higher standard of service. For instance, you might wish to offer gold, platinum, or silver levels of service that customers can avail themselves of while doing business with you and are ready to pay for.

4. Programs for Frequent Buyers.

This is related to the idea that customers receive more valuable services, prices, advantages, and related goods the more they purchase from you. It resembles frequent flier miles from an airline in several ways. I have acquaintances who travel tens of thousands of miles just to continue using a certain airline to accrue miles!

5. Education and Transition.

You could wish to offer action or transition teams as new clients join your business so they can use the goods or services you sell them more effectively. Likewise, the more knowledge they have about such goods or services, the better equipped they will be to use them.

6. Hardworking Employees.

If you have a technical product or service that needs help, this works very effectively. It is simple to comprehend that conducting business with a company is much simpler the more one is familiar with its accounts, products, machinery, equipment, and business practices. In this case, you only designate specialized account personnel to individually manage your customers' accounts.

7. The Delivery or Service's Speed.

Guaranteeing on-time or quicker delivery is one approach to stand out from the competition. On-time delivery is a crucial factor for charging full or maximum pricing, as is widely acknowledged and accepted. It also plays a role in the provision of value-added services and goods.

8. Inside Information.

This happens frequently when people are selling information on stocks, bonds, the financial sector, or any other type of information or time-sensitive data. Using this method, you could want to think about publishing an electronic or printed newsletter that provides clients with regular updates on crucial information that they must have.

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Like a Dream (preview)

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @goddess-aelin!! It’s Yulemas Swap time :) Unfortunately I’m sick right now so the time I’d set aside yesterday to finish everything up turned into resting time, so I’m giving you a preview today and a promise of the full fic within the next few days! I debated rushing the rest of it out today but I wanted to do a good job for you so hopefully this is okay. Have a lovely Yulemas ❤️

———

“I’m sure you’ve wondering been wondering what this is about.”

Rowan shifted uncomfortably. Lorcan, his boss, had requested his presence in his office several hours ago, and the day had passed with relatively little worry.

Even upon seeing Aelin Galathynius, someone whom he very much did not want to be in the same room as, waiting in Lorcan’s office as well, he hadn’t felt concern. It was probably just an update to policy or something similar. Hell, maybe the coffee machine had broken and Lorcan wanted them to inform their departments.

But then Lorcan had greeted them, and asked them to sit, and stated that he knew they’d been curious about the topic of this summons.

And a pit of anxiety had opened in Rowan’s stomach.

Lorcan Salvaterre was not a man to make small talk. He didn’t wait for others, he didn’t bother with light conversation, and he wasn’t friendly.

Which meant he was about to tell Rowan and Aelin something that they wouldn’t like, and not a small thing like they’d have to coordinate a client together or share the break room sometimes, because Lorcan had no trouble breaking bad news. Something worse, something bad enough to have the bluntest man Rowan knew stalling to conversation.

Rowan took a deep breath and said, “What is it?” He didn’t dare look to Aelin beside him.

Lorcan leaned forward and laced his fingers together on the desk. “You both know of Dorian Havilliard.”

Of course they did. He was one of the biggest names in romance writing in the country. Their publishing house had been trying to get him to switch over from Hamel Inc. for years, but they’d had no luck.

“Yes,” Aelin said, and Rowan jolted at the sound of her voice. He finally risked a glance and was met with startling blue eyes rimmed in gold.

Rowan looked away.

“Well, as you know, Terrasen Publishing has been working on him for years.”

Rowan’s fingers tapped against his thigh impatiently as Lorcan restated what he already knew.

“We’ve finally convinced him to discuss the possibility of switching over.”

Considering the meeting, Rowan was hardly surprised. It also made sense for the two of them to be here; Rowan was head of the editorial department and Aelin was his counterpart in publishing. Together, they represented most of the publishing house and were often paired together when it came to potential clients.

It was the easy explanation for this meeting that had Rowan on edge. This didn’t make clear Lorcan’s apprehension.

“And what do we need to do?” Rowan asked cautiously.

Lorcan sighed. “Mr. Havilliard is working on his next book. He predicts the first draft will be finished soon; he’s using his Yulemas vacation to get it completed. And he doesn’t want any delay on the editing process, which means if we haven’t convinced him to switch contracts by the end of his vacation, he’ll remain a part of Hamel Inc.”

A sinking feeling formed in Rowan’s gut.

“He’s leaving for his vacation tomorrow,” Lorcan continued, “and even if we could have managed a short meeting before then, he needs more time with us to discuss logistics and a contract for him. He needs time to see everything we have to offer.”

“I’m sure he’d be open to discussing it over Zoom or even email,” Aelin suggested, and from the waver to her voice Rowan guessed she’d caught on as well.

“Mr. Havilliard is traveling to a resort in the mountains for his vacation, where there will be no cell service. He says the lack of distraction helps him concentrate. He graciously offered two fully paid tickets for any of my employees who would like to join him. You two will be traveling with Mr. Havilliard on his Yulemas trip. You leave first thing in the morning.”

Silence washed over the office as the pair of them took everything in. Rowan opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I don’t recall expressing my desire to join him,” Aelin protested.

“Me neither,” Rowan managed.

Lorcan sighed once more. “Look, let’s face it. You two aren’t going home to your families for Yulemas and you don’t have any significant others to celebrate with. Everyone else, including myself, is not completely void of a social life and has plans for the holidays. You two are lonely as shit and I’m taking advantage of that.”

Aelin’s mouth had dropped open at some point during that little spiel but Rowan was used to Lorcan’s blunt transparency. He was honestly relieved that Lorcan had given up on trying to break it to them slowly. He liked the man, even—if he could manage to overlook the fact that he was being asked to spend his holidays on a work trip with his least favorite coworker.

Okay, maybe he didn’t like Lorcan so much after all.

“You can’t just,” Aelin spluttered, “I, my vacation, it’s my time off, you can’t…”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Galathynius, but this was his only offer and we’re in no position to deny him. If it helps, Mr. Havilliard alloted only a certain amount of time to meet with you as he wants most of the time to write his novel. And as I mentioned, he paid for the tickets and everything else that comes along with them. You’ll be spending most of your Yulemas holiday in a high-end resort doing whatever the hell you like. I’d say it’s a step up from whatever you were planning to do instead.”

Rowan leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. “Surely not both of us need to go.”

Lorcan glared at him. “Please explain to me the publishing process that Mr. Havilliard will be subject to.”

Rowan just blinked at him.

Lorcan turned to Aelin. “And do you know anything about the editing process?”

“You just… do grammar checks and stuff.”

Rowan cringed at the crass oversimplification of his job.

Facing both of them now, Lorcan said, “He needs every specific detail of every process. Neither of you can do that on your own. Both of you are going. That’s final. Now go home. I’m giving you the rest of the day off to pack, and I’ll email you the information of where you need to go tomorrow morning and at what time. Are we clear?”

Aelin nodded mutely. Rowan was pretty sure he felt himself do the same.

He lived in hell.

First he’d been transferred to a different publishing location six months ago as part of a promotion, only to find an enemy on the very first day. He’d smiled at her and was met with uncalled for distain and malice. The months had passed torturously slowly as the woman who’d shown him so much unkindness on the first day was constantly by his side, coordinating clients, attending work parties at his side, acting as a liaison. And throughout it all she was constantly either bickering with him, or ignoring him, or silently scowling at him. He just couldn’t figure her out.

But of course that wasn’t enough. No, now Rowan was being sent on a Yulemas vacation with Aelin, just the two of them and some eccentric smut writer who would be spending most of his time locked up in a room writing, which left Rowan and Aelin. In a resort with no cell service. Alone.

Only Hellas himself could have been so cruel as to put him in this situation.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@autumnbabylon

@charlizeed

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@leiawritesstories

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@mybloodrunsblue

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowaelinismyotp

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@the-lonelybarricade

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

@rowaelinyulemasswap

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