#rebels display

[ryndraws2manythings]

I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENTTTTTT

I’m working on an animated series called Rebels Display which is a circus based series

There are 5 different circus's. They are all at a war with each othe until a new circus begins, this new circus is called the Rebels Display, its a rather strange circus, only filled with clowns? i guess we'll see what these clowns have to offer then

And I’m looking for animators, voice actors and story boarders!

So if your interest msg me here or at discord

My discord username is boxyghostt

[ghost-in-disguise]

Hey yall!! I would like to announce that I am working on a new project called Rebel Display!! It's going to be an animated series and I need voice actors so repost this post if you want to become a voice actor!!

[rebelsdisplay]

Woop woop

I’m excited for this project to fully start up :3

[beauzos]

[hide-your-bugs-away]

CALL MY ROOM A ZOO BECAUSE THERE ARE A LOT OF ANIMALS IN HERE.

[engagemythrusters]

thinkin about fenn rau again i hope that whiteboy made it

[pepprs]

the mortifying ordeal of today being a potluck day.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

i don't really like ezra bridger 90% of the time, but something i love about him is that he continuously trusts shady older men (namely hondo and maul) even after they keep betraying him. attachment issues innit.

[hiddenwashington]

@infcinity​ said : Was that [AVAN JOGIA]? Oh no no, that was just [EZRA BRIDGER], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [STAR WARS]. They are [TWENTY SIX] years old, use [HE/THEY], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long. (issa me jodie) me being boo boo the fool 🤡

accepted! welcome to washington d.c. ezra bridger [avan jogia]! please send in your account within 24 hours! please be sure to take a look at the checklist now that you've arrived! we look forward to seeing you around the city!

[leftistfeminista]

Gaza's women are just like any other women: they are wives, lovers, partners and feminine beings with desires, interests, drives and needs. The mocking of their lingerie by dozens of IDF soldiers isn't just a depraved and childish act; it's indicative of a dehumanization trend in which Palestinian women are viewed as entirely alien and otherized - that the presence of lingerie in their bedroom drawers is so shockingly surprising & unexpected, it is worth playing with and showing off as battlefield souvenir. I remember vividly how widespread lingerie stores were throughout Gaza City and how they were such a casual thing. In fact, I remember numerous instances of seemingly religious men with beards and the Quran playing in the background having or operating underwear and lingerie stores and stands, with their wives or female salesladies even helping them with customers.

These images by IDF troops will have long lasting consequences and will undermine de-escalation and de-radicalization efforts, particularly in a conservative society that views female-related spaces, items and topics as particularly sensitive and private/sacred. This isn't about worn out soldiers blowing off steam during battle; it is a sick lack of discipline & lackluster standards & operational security protocols. These images are deeply disrespectful and offensive and further alienate a civilian population that is paying the price for circumstances over which it has no control.

A Revolutionary Feminist Hip Hop collective released this diss track to the IDF. Inspired by the fierce lioness dignity of PFLP women commanders who have had their underwear publicly displayed. The IDF pigs have been hanging the lingerie of Marxist-Leninist women from the PFLP and DFLP to distance them from their Islamic comrades. Women from the secular leftist revolutionary organizations of Palestine have had their underwear especially targeted. The IOF had worked very hard to "otherize" Gaza as medieval, playing down Marxist-Leninists like PFLP who showed solidarity with Heather Heyer and BLM. They want to distance Gaza from western leftists. But women Marxists who dress like western women have their underwear paraded by IOF.

Yes it is mortifying for Marxist-Leninist PFLP commanders like Shireen Said to be waging guerilla war in the ruins of your homeland. While IOF pigs taunt that they can taste your juices on your stolen underwear. But she fights on with more determination in spite of it all. They can't take away her revolutionary dignity. And even if her panties are something very private, personal and intimate to the proud Marxist commander. It has been the IDF chauvinist pigs who have been more shamed before the world by their behavior.

Shireen Said's brave, dignified, courageous response to the IDF's attempt to humiliate her with her stolen panties, was turned into this hip hop anthem.

[midascrow]

Great Minds Think Alike

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

synopsis: Alastor is jealous of his own shadow.

a/n: The reader is portrayed as being pretty smart and into science and stuff. I like the idea of Alastor being fond a character who’s pretty intelligent, he finds them fascinating and likes seeing how they tick. Also this might be a little rushed I apologize in advanced!

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

Alastors shadow is a traitor and a fake.

That’s what the man himself believes anyway, whilst he watches HIS shadow flutter around you, a wide smile trying far too hard to appear innocent on its face, as it helps you reach an especially high set stack of papers.

“Oh! Thank you so much…” Your sweet, melodic voice trailed off into an unsure note, not quite aware of how you should address the shadow that’s…ears(?) Twitched and wiggled, eyes(??) squinting back at you as it danced across the walls.

The radio demon wasn’t the least bit sure what had caused his shadows sudden bout of rebel, or why it had seem to take a special interest in you of all people.

Not that there was anything wrong or displeasing about you. Actually it was quite the contrary. Alastor found your company to be far more pleasant than most of the hotels staff and inhabitants.

You were awfully kind for a sinner. And not quite in the same realm of naivety that was the princess’s kindness.

You were smart. Clearly. Always aware of what went on around you and the neighboring spaces. Hardly had you been known to be caught off guard by the entrance of another, nor had you ever bumped into any of the sinners contrary to how the group seemed to enjoy clumping around each other in the foyer during special…”redemption” activities.

You were even so aware as to avoid any touch with the inhabitants of the hotel, including Alastor himself.

And while he wasn’t a very large fan of touch himself, even finding that he could appreciate your aversion to it, the demon couldn’t help feeling a little displeased by the lack of power it left him with when you evaded his touches so expertly.

Always stepping just slightly to the side when his hand attempted to connect with your shoulder. Head craning back, just quickly enough to appear natural when he made and effort pinch your cheeks condescendingly.

Frankly..it was frustrating.

And despite all that, despite all your evasions of the radio demon….here you were, practically-!-canoodling with his own shadow!!

“Oh..! You’re so sweet..” Red ears flopped and twitched, while his eyes narrowed. Alastor could not believe he was being made to watch this…disgusting display of treason.

You giggled softly, hand brushing along an invisible form, as the shadow curled around your own. You watched with a smile as your shadowed hand fell into the hair of the deers, only to gasp when met with the soft sensation of hair beneath your finger tips.

“Oh my…so you’re tangible..?” The shadow nodded vigorously, bumping its head into your palm before grabbing your wrist and laying a gentle kiss to your hand. With that smug fucking grin.

A static screech echoed in the parlour, turning the heads of the incoming dwellers, prompting them to gap at the twitching and seething demon.

And oh, was he seething.

You were far too curious for your own good frankly. So eager to dissect and experiment in what ever had caught your eye. Magic, contracts, demons, anything you could possibly find you wanted to study.

And Alastor was known to be one of the more enthusiastic individuals who indulged in your fascination. Encouraged it even.

Angel had often joked about the way he seemed to preen and puff up in pride whenever he dropped a newly disembodied sinners corpse at your feet, seemingly delighted in your ecstatic gasp of approval.

Which was…another thing. Redemption. Did you want to be redeemed? You’d hardly spoke of it. Sure, you participated in the trust exercised that the princess set up, but nearly everyone had to regardless. Perhaps you were too fascinated with the underworld to truly even think about the idea of redemption.

Alastor himself knew he wouldn’t, nor could he ever be redeemed. And frankly, the idea of you being thrown up to those pearly gates made his insides squirm in the most horrible way.

But that’s not something he wanted to ponder on right now. Not as he practically teleported to your side, shooting his shadow a sneer that it had the nerve to return, as he bent slightly over your shoulder. “My dear! What is it that has currently caught your eye this fine evening?”

When your eyes snapped to his own, he could practically feel the static buzz around him pleasantly, a smug shine in his eyes having successfully stolen your attention from that accursed shadow.

“Alastor! I was just…uh..chatting I suppose with your shadow! He’s been very helpful today. Did you send him?”

No-“Why yes! I did my dear. I figured it wouldn’t help to lend you a helping hand this night, after all you’ve been such a joy around the hotel since your arrival!”

The shadow swished and darted around, vigorously shaking its heads and hands in a way to catch your attention, but a small tap of alastors can to the floor sent it dissipating back to his feet with a displeased hiss.

“I simply could not stop myself from assisting the lovely little sinner that had come into the arms of our sweet little hotel.”

His smile twitched and stretched at the sight of your shiny flattered gaze, that darted across his face with the same awe you exuded when coming upon a new bit of information you had to uncover. A new mystery.

Perhaps Angel had a point. Prior to before…he could feel the way his back straightened..the way his ears stood tall and proud, and the tail of his coat shifted just slightly. The Radio Demon could not deny the pride that fluttered into his dead heart and seeped into his flesh.

Even as he hummed about a new species of sinner he had stumbled upon. Even as he watched with somewhat softer eyes as you gasped and leaned just the slightest bit into his space, eyes alight with interest. Even as his dark shadow like tentacles darted beneath his feet and out the door, in search of a new test subject to grab- just for you.

Even as his hand touched the dip between your shoulders blades, when he led you towards his room for a refreshing lunch before your next scientific session.

Alastor could not deny,

He and his shadow were one and the same.



[astrodescent]

MARS THROUGH THE SIGNS AND HOW YOU ACT WHEN ANGRY

aries mars:

- quick to anger, often explosive

- assertive and direct in expressing anger

- may cool down quickly but can hold a grudge

- deals with anger through confrontation and physical activity

- the fire inside is dynamic and intense, appearing as a burst of flames

taurus mars:

- slow to anger but intense when provoked

- displays anger through stubbornness and resistance

- may hold onto anger for a long time

- deals with anger by seeking comfort and stability

- the fire inside is steady and enduring, resembling a smoldering ember

gemini mars:

- expresses anger through words and sarcasm

- quick-witted and adaptable in heated situations

- may not hold onto anger for long, easily distracted

- deals with anger through communication and mental stimulation

- the fire inside is lively and changeable, flickering like a vibrant flame

cancer mars:

- sensitive and easily hurt, leading to passive-aggressive behavior

- tends to withdraw when angry, seeking emotional refuge

- may hold onto anger, especially if it’s tied to emotional wounds

- deals with anger by retreating and nurturing themselves

- the fire inside is protective and nurturing, resembling a warm hearth

leo mars:

- dramatic and expressive when angry

- seeks attention and recognition for their emotions

- may forgive but won’t forget easily

- deals with anger through creative outlets and self-expression

- the fire inside is bold and radiant, shining like a theatrical spotlight

virgo mars:

- internalizes anger and may not express it openly

- critical and analytical when upset

- holds onto anger through perfectionism

- deals with anger through problem-solving and self-improvement

- the fire inside is precise and controlled, like a focused laser beam

libra mars:

- dislikes conflict and may avoid direct confrontation

- seeks harmony and balance in handling anger

- may struggle with decisions when angry

- deals with anger through communication and compromise

- the fire inside is harmonious and elegant, resembling a delicate flame

scorpio mars:

- intense and passionate when angry

- can hold onto grudges and seek revenge

- may express anger through power plays

- deals with anger through deep introspection and transformation

sagittarius mars:

- blunt and direct in expressing anger

- values freedom and may react strongly to restrictions

- tends to forgive and move on quickly

- deals with anger through physical activity and exploration

- the fire inside is adventurous and optimistic, burning like a spirited bonfire

capricorn mars:

- controlled and disciplined in expressing anger

- may appear cold and detached when upset

- holds onto anger but keeps it hidden

- deals with anger through careful planning and self-discipline

- the fire inside is determined and enduring, resembling a slow-burning ember

aquarius mars:

- unconventional and detached when angry

- values independence and may rebel against restrictions

- may detach emotionally to cope with anger

- deals with anger through innovative solutions and detachment

- the fire inside is eccentric and futuristic, glowing like a neon light

pisces mars:

- passive-aggressive and elusive when angry

- sensitive and easily overwhelmed by emotions

- may escape into fantasy as a coping mechanism

- deals with anger through artistic expression and escapism

- the fire inside is dreamy and ethereal, shimmering like a gentle candle flame

© spirit-of-phantom 2024

[saphronethaleph]

Fascist, Thus Inefficient

“As you can see, my young apprentice, your friends have failed,” the Emperor said, triumph in his tone. “Now, witness the firepower of this fully armed and operational battle station!”

Luke looked at him in shock.

“Fire at will, Commander!” the Emperor said.

Fourteen months previously…

“Shipment IL-214-73 arriving,” a petty officer reported.

“Thank goodness,” muttered one of the technicians. “After the delays we’ve been having, we need to get those Khyber crystals into the third main focusing array. It’s been on the critical path for a week.”

He brought up the display, frowning. “All right, I think we can make up a bit of time if we just get them straight to cutting and installation.”

“Don’t we need to run them through the testing process first?” a more junior technician asked. “That’s on the list.”

“I know it’s on the list,” the senior tech replied. “But the list was written when they didn’t expect there’d be rebel attacks hitting our supply lines.”

He waved at the screen. “The testing process means heating each individual crystal up to eighteen hundred, even though we know Khyber can all handle temperatures of up to forty-seven-fifty. The cutting process doesn’t rely on heat tolerance either. Any crystalline flaws will come out in cutting, and we can just junk them. It means cutting takes a bit longer, but by going straight to cutting we can save at several hours on the overall process. And you know how much time we’ve lost already.”

The junior tech looked worried, then shook his head.

“All right,” he replied. “I guess so.”

“You need to learn how things are done in practice,” the senior tech said. “No big deal.”

Eleven months previously...

“I’m quite sure Rothana Heavy Engineering’s XJ-15 hypermatter feed systems will meet your needs better than the alternatives,” the Rothana representative said, as Admiral Jerjerrod examined the datasheet.

He wasn’t so sure. The newer units had better specifications, certainly, but they weren’t proven, and they were also somewhat more expensive.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily the case,” he said, out loud. “While I appreciate Rothana’s position, the Sienar alternative has similar flow rates and more proven applications.”

The Rothana representative nodded, sagely.

“I understand entirely,” he said. “However, I must point out that Rothana has some important additional information to present.”

He held out a credit chip, which Jerjerrod took and inspected.

“Owing to the XJ-15’s protracted development, we are willing to provide our test units at cost,” the representative went on. “That is in addition to having a higher production rate than our competitors and a less committed production output.”

Jerjerrod hesitated, then pocketed the credit chip.

“That all seems in order,” he said. “The XJ-15 it is.”

“Marvellous,” the representative declared.

Nine months previously...

“I’ve examined the records that exist from the first Death Star,” a senior technician said. “The amount of strain that was placed on the flash suppression systems was minimal to nonexistent. Even with the full firing that destroyed Alderaan, surviving records indicate that the flash suppressors had no more than a five percent load placed on them – an amount that can be handled by untreated durasteel.”

The other men and women in the meeting looked at the data on the screen behind their colleague.

“You’re suggesting we forego the duratemp treatment on the flash protection systems?” one of the women asked, cautiously. “I can see the advantages, but the downsides seem significant. I’d even say potentially destructive.”

“It is my position that the cost of including the duratemp treatment is unacceptable,” the tech replied. “It takes time and effort, including supervisory attention which cuts into the available man-hours on the project. We only have so much experienced manpower.”

That drew winces, though none of the humans in the room drew attention to the fact that they were spending a lot of that time in interminable meetings.

“In the following presentation, I’ll discuss my proposal and how it could shave as much as one week off the final completion timetable,” the senior tech continued, flicking to the next screen of his presentation. “This model shows how the flash suppression systems are built around the main weapon…”

Six months previously…

“There simply isn’t an option,” the head of personnel replied. “Our existing system is not providing enough technicians and operators.”

“This was quite sufficient for the first Death Star,” Jerjerrod protested.

“The first Death Star was a project that took decades,” the manager replied, shrugging. “It didn’t come up at first, sir – for that I apologize – but if we are going to redress the problem, we need to act now. There is no alternative.”

Jerjerrod rubbed his temples, thinking about the problem.

The fully functional Death Star was going to need hundreds of thousands of qualified technicians and operators, familiar with the systems of the vast battle station, and so many of the men who knew much about the Death Star at the moment were busy building it.

There hadn’t been many left after the destruction of the first battle station, because most of them had been working on it at the time.

“All right,” he said. “So your proposal is…?”

“We keep the same number of trainers for now, but abbreviate the course,” the manager answered. “Two months – at most. Then we have the new graduates train the next batch for two months, and so on. Exponential growth. At twenty students per instructor and a hundred instructors to start with, we’ll end up with eight hundred thousand in six months.”

That was extremely tempting… they wouldn’t be anything like the equal of what they should be, but they could learn on the job.

“All right,” Jerjerrod said. “Approved – see to it.”

One month previously…

“Next item on the checklist?” Commander Jaskier asked.

“Step one hundred and seven,” Technician Mils replied. “Self test.”

She pressed the self-test button, and the computer system clicked and flickered as it ran through the diagnostics.

Data results and readouts went up on the screen, and Jaskier and all the others in the control station watched the results.

None of them had any comment to make about the numbers. The checklist said to run the self test, so that was what they were doing.

“Step one hundred and eight,” Mils went on. “Sign off on results.”

She did that, as well, and Jaskier nodded.

“Good,” he said. “And I believe we’ve finished that half an hour ahead of schedule! Good work, everyone.”

Now.

The firing commands flashed out through the Death Star’s systems, triggering a cascade of further commands, and the whole massive battle station’s main superlaser woke for the first time.

Fifty XJ-15 hypermatter flow regulators controlled the flow of energy from the power core into the power collectors, and the energy being channelled into the system surged rapidly – rising to one hundred and eighteen percent of nominal, above what would have been anticipated, and greater than the one hundred and two percent that the older, more proven Sienar systems would have generated.

Thousands of high powered beams were generated, controlled and focused through an enormous array of Khyber crystals… a small but measurable fraction of which were cheap industrially grown diamonds instead, added to the shipments by subcontractors eager to stretch out their production from the strip-mined planet of Ilum without running so late on their deliveries that financial penalties were imposed.

None of the technicians who were in a position to spot the problem at this stage were actually capable of doing so. Their necessarily abbreviated training had mostly been on what buttons to push, and nobody had the deeper knowledge of the systems to recognize that the system was in an anomalous state.

Then some of the diamonds shattered under the load, allowing the beams free to damage adjacent systems, and in moments the whole of the energy drawn from the hypermatter core was unleashed.

The flash suppression systems were wholly, and fatally, inadequate.

“Watch yourself, Wedge!” Lando called, his head on a swivel, and banked the Falcon around so his ventral turret gunner could clear off one of the TIEs attacking Red Leader. “We’ve got to-”

Then there was a sudden blinding flash, and Lando did a double-take.

The Death Star’s protective shield was instantly, and dramatically, visible – because the entire inside of it was full of plasma and flame, lighting it up as clearly as Ackbar’s briefing had done back before the operation was launched in the first place. Then something blew up on the surface of the forest moon as the plasma followed the funnel of the shield, and the explosive force was no longer contained but began to drift out into space.

“...the kriff?” Lando asked, eventually. “What just happened?”

“Ow,” Darth Vader said, indistinctly, reaching up to feel his helmet, which had been crushed in by an impact with the ceiling.

The Emperor’s throne room seemed to mostly be intact, though there was an Emperor-shaped hole in the window nearest his throne, and Luke had his hands out to either side as he stood on the wall.

“Father, are you all right?” the younger Skywalker asked.

“What happened?” Vader replied. “I remember the Emperor ordering that the Death Star should fire…”

“I don’t know, it exploded just after he said that,” Luke answered. “It turns out that overconfidence was his weakness… do you have any idea where the nearest spaceship is? Keeping the atmosphere in is tiring me out a bit.”

[monimccoythings]

Like Father Like Daughter

I have so many WIPs from different fandoms and this Wolverine fic ideas just keep coming and coming... I appreciate so much the support I've been shown, I don't look at the notes because it shows in activity that is 99+ and I get anxious lol. Logan has a nasty temper but is really fun to write.

Living with an ill-tempered man like Logan wasn't always easy, but living with him and his variant's teenaged clone turned adopted daughter who had the exact same temper as him, was proving to be quite the challenge.

As anybody would expect, those two were constantly butting heads at everything, be it food, curfews, or, just as they were doing at this very moment, Laura's choices in fashion.

The girl had chosen some shorts and black leggings, with black sneakers, and a crop top that was way too short for an old fashioned man like Logan to approve, to hang out with some friends she had made at her new high school. Barely sparing a glance at her outfit, Logan had snapped at her to go back to her room and change into something more appropiate, which Laura took it as well as any teenage girl that had spent part of her earliest teen years dressing and doing what she pleased in the void would. And then the screaming match had begun.

"NO CHILD OF MINE IS GOING OUT DRESSED UP LIKE THAT."

"IT'S JUST A SHIRT, IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL."

You let out a quiet sigh. You knew daughters were supposed to rebel against their parents, but having two superpowered beings at each other's throats at all times wasn't the great idea the universe thought it was. You knew they loved each other deeply and would kill for each other, but sometimes they were way too much alike.

"Sweetie, listen to Daddy on this one, he just wants what's best for you."

How the fuck had Wade gotten in and embraced your husband's muscular arm without anyone noticing. With a low growl, Logan pushed him away. Laura did not seem too pleased with him either.

"FUCK OFF, YOU AREN'T MY MOM!"

Wade covered his mouth and let out a shocked gasp that honestly was worthy of an Oscar nomination. You quietly thanked him for his presence, maybe that would help relieve the tension in the room. Laura turned at you, imploringly.

"Tell him he's just overreacting. Please."

You sneakily looked at your husband, who seemed to be red with rage, his lips pulled back in a feral snarl that clearly was a display of dominance, knuckles pressed against the wooden table so tightly that you started to fear for the well being of the furniture. His muscles were so tense he looked like he was going to burst out of his shirt, by the way the veins in his neck were swelling.

You didn't want to disrespect his authority over his daughter, but you also didn't want to make Laura direct her hate at you; you loved that girl and her attitude as if she was your own child. It seemed they needed some consesus, and you guessed you'd have to be once again the bigger person here.

"Laura, your father is just worried about you. If you want to wear that top, then you'd have to put a jacket on. And we want you back home by eleven."

"But my friends-" She started to protest, but you quickly cut her off.

"Eleven and that's more than your father was willing to give you."

She bit her lip, considering her options. With a huff, she stomped back towards her room to get that jacket. She slammed the front door on the way back out, not even bothering to say goodbye. Teenagers.

The living room got quiet. Really quiet. You could only hear Wade munching on some popcorn he had gotten from God knows where. Logan was fuming, not at you of course, but at his unruly adoptive daughter's behavior. He stormed towards your shared bedroom and slammed the door close hard enough, it made the pictures on the wall tremble. You sighed.

Well that went well.

It wasn't until half an hour later that he cooled off and decided to come out. You were cleaning up some dishes while Wade sat on the couch watching some cartoons. It made you smile, it was like you had two children running around.

You felt your husband's stubble and nose nuzzle against the back of your neck, as he embraced you from behind, his massive hands covering the entire expanse of your fourth month pregnant belly. "Feeling better now?" You casually asked.

His teeth nipped at the skin on your neck leaving a burning feeling that only his tongue could soothe. "I don't know what to do with her, she seems to fight against everything I do or say." His deep rumbling voice sent shivers running down your spine.

"Deep down she knows you love her. And she loves you too, even if she is too 'cool' to admit it." He let out a bitter chuckle, massaging your belly while leaning his chin on your shoulder, his sideburns made you tickle.

"I just hope this little one doesn't give us that much trouble."

"Hey, however they come out, we will love them the same, because they are a part of our family." He kissed your cheek and you leaned back into his embrace.

"Yes, our family." You let out a laugh at the sudden extra weight on your backs. Looks like Wade had gotten tired of the tv and had decided to join you into your little embrace.

"Wade..." Logan started warningly, carefully prying his hands away from your belly.

*SNIKT*

[engagemythrusters]

Imagine if Mr Sumar saying "you cut your hair" to ezra was the first time Kanan knew about that. it would be so funny

[baelarys]

THE WOLF

Lord cregan stark X reader targaryen

word count : 2669

Warning : Fluff :)

The war had ended. Rhaenyra had perished, Aegon had died, and the dragons had ceased to exist. The letter you received from King’s Landing confirmed these events and proclaimed Aegon III as the new king.

The Stark army had already taken the capital, and ravens were sent to every lord in Westeros, urging them to bend the knee to the new monarch. Storm’s End was the first to submit. Lord Stark, who had assumed control of King’s Landing until the culprits of your brother’s poisoning were captured, ordered that you and your niece, Princess Jaehaera, betrothed to Aegon and the future queen, travel back to the capital.

The journey was long and tedious. Accompanied by Jaehaera and some daughters of Lady Baratheon, who had been sent to serve as the queen's ladies-in-waiting, you arrived in King’s Landing. Though these young women were likely hostages, their presence ensured that House Baratheon would not rebel again.

Upon arrival, the city felt both familiar and foreign. The people cheered for their new queen, hailing her as you and Jaehaera were transported in the carriage towards the castle.

The little girl clung to the sleeve of your dress as she observed the crowd. It was no wonder she was not an ordinary child; she had witnessed the death of her twin, lost her siblings, mother, and father. Though just a child, her gaze reflected a depth of sorrow acquired at a great cost.

You thought of your mother, the former Queen Alicent, now consumed by hatred and madness, according to what you had heard. Concern and sadness mingled in your heart as you prepared to face her.

Lord Corlys Velaryon greeted you at the entrance, accompanied by the young King Aegon III and Lord Cregan Stark. You could not deny Lord Stark’s imposing presence; his grand furs, despite the sweltering heat of the capital, spoke of his northern heritage.

Aegon III, at eleven years old, displayed a seriousness beyond his age. His features, inherited from his mother and father, bore the marks of ancient Valyria: dark violet eyes, almost black, and platinum-white hair. Beside him stood his cupbearer, Gaemon Palehair, the bastard of your brother, who was derisively called the "Rabbit King" by the people and his mother when they took the castle.

“My king,” you said, bowing to the young monarch.

“Princess,” greeted the Sea Snake, stepping forward. You observed Corlys, whose face, though lined with age, still radiated the authority and wisdom of yesteryears, qualities he had shown when your father was king. “Welcome back to your home.”

Corlys’s tone was firm but warm. The Red Keep, with its towering walls, seemed to whisper tales of glory and tragedy, and your return was just another chapter in that vast history.

As you moved into the castle, you hoped Lord Stark would say something, but he remained in quiet reserve throughout the journey. His presence was imposing yet unobtrusive, allowing you to acclimate to your surroundings in peace.

Everything looked as familiar as it was distant. The corridors, now enveloped in constant silence, were the same ones where you and your siblings used to play, filling them with laughter and voices now reduced to echoes of a distant past.

You were escorted to your former chambers. Before entering, you exchanged a final glance with Lord Stark. His eyes, filled with a silent understanding, seemed to offer you a tacit comfort amidst the confusion of your return.

Upon opening the door, you were met with a poignant sight: your belongings remained in the same place where you left them when you had to flee the day Rhaenyra took the city. The room seemed frozen in time, a sanctuary of unaltered memories amidst the ravages of war.

Every object, every detail, evoked a fragment of your past life. The childhood toys, the books you had eagerly read, the fabrics and adornments you had carefully chosen to make this space a reflection of yourself, were all there, waiting for you.

You hoped Aegon III’s reign would be peaceful. He and Jaehaera were to be married in two days, giving the realm something to celebrate. As you immersed yourself in your thoughts, one of your new ladies-in-waiting entered the room, announcing that you could see your mother now.

To be honest, the news did not excite you; rather, it filled you with dread. You nodded as you followed the lady to the Maegor’s Holdfast, where two guards stood watch over your mother’s chambers.

Queen Alicent appeared haggard. Her room, once adorned with greens and the Hightower sigils, had lost all traces of its former splendor. The tapestries and decorations that had once symbolized her power and status had vanished, leaving behind a coldness that reflected her current state.

Alicent turned to look at you, her eyes sunken and dim. You did not know what to do. The contrast between the mother you remembered and the figure before you was striking. The strength she had once shown seemed to have dissipated, leaving you face-to-face with a woman consumed by pain and despair.

“Mother,” you said softly, taking a step towards her.

Alicent regarded you with a mix of recognition and distrust. Her lips moved slightly, as if attempting to form words that refused to emerge. The room was in a deathly silence, broken only by the faint murmur of the guards in the hallway.

“Daughter,” she finally responded, her voice a faint whisper laden with contained emotion.

You approached her cautiously, unsure of how to comfort her in her current state. You sat beside her bed, taking her hand in yours. Alicent’s skin was cold and rough, a reflection of her suffering.

“I am here, mother,” you said firmly, trying to convey the strength she so desperately needed.

Alicent closed her eyes, a solitary tear sliding down her cheek. The pain of past years was palpable, and you knew that recovery would be slow and difficult. But in that moment, your presence was a small ray of hope in her darkness.

The conversation with your mother was brief and fragmented, but each shared word was a step towards reconciliation. When you finally rose to leave, you felt a small bond had been restored between you.

As you descended the stairs, you encountered Lord Cregan Stark in the vestibule. His presence, though silent, exuded a quiet strength. His eyes, serene but vigilant, regarded you with a mix of curiosity and respect.

“Princess,” he said, inclining his head slightly.

“Lord Stark,” you responded, returning the nod.

The silence settled between you, creating a tense but not uncomfortable atmosphere. The men of the North were not known for their friendliness or talkativeness, and Lord Cregan Stark was no exception. However, his presence conveyed a seriousness and commitment that did not go unnoticed.

“Are you enjoying your stay in the capital, Lord Stark?” you asked, attempting to break the ice with a question.

“I would enjoy it more if the circumstances that brought me here were different,” Cregan replied with a cold tone, his face as serious as ever.

You nodded. “I understand, milord. The circumstances surrounding us are far from ideal.”

Cregan looked at you for a moment, his grey eyes scrutinizing yours. “Do you not wonder who was responsible for your brother’s death?” he suddenly asked.

The question took you by surprise. The truth was, you had not deeply considered it. Aegon deserved that end; he was your brother, but perhaps it was for the best.

“Anyone could have done it, and besides, what purpose would it serve to torment myself with that?” you sighed, lowering your gaze. “Aegon III would have been his heir after all.”

Cregan nodded slowly, his expression showing a hint of approval. “True, the succession was clear. But justice is important, and the guilty must be found and punished.”

“Indeed,” you responded, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. “And will you be the new Hand of the King?”

Cregan shook his head. “No, my place is in the North with my people,” he replied firmly. “I will leave once I find someone to manage the realm until the king is old enough to fully assume his responsibilities.”

"Understood," you said, feeling a mix of respect and admiration for his sense of duty. "Your commitment to your people is truly admirable."

Cregan nodded, a faint glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "The North has its own needs and challenges. I can't stay here forever, but I hope things stabilize soon."

"I hope so too," you replied. "The situation isn't the easiest, but with the right cooperation, I'm sure we can move forward."

"I hope so," Cregan said. "In the meantime, I'll ensure the kingdom has the necessary direction until I can return to the North."

"That's all anyone can ask for," you said. "I appreciate your willingness to help in this transition."

The conversation, though brief, was quite gratifying. You retreated to your room to resume your old duties, those you had set aside during the war. It was a moment to take up the tasks that once were part of your daily life.

A month had passed since your return to King's Landing, and life in the capital was beginning to find a new balance. Aegon and Jaehaera's wedding had taken place without incident, and most seemed to accept this new chapter in the kingdom's history. Lord Corlys Velaryon had taken on the role of Hand of the King with an efficiency that surprised no one, while Lord Cregan Stark and his men prepared to return to the North.

However, among the new debates in the council, a matter arose that directly affected you. Marriage was a topic that, in times of peace, was treated with the same seriousness as in times of war. You were already of age to consider a suitable marriage, and several lords had shown interest in your hand.

The council actively discussed the best path forward, considering both your personal needs and political ones. Marriage, in the context of nobility, was not simply a bond between two people but a strategy that could affect the balance of power and alliances within the kingdom.

Meanwhile, you found yourself at a crossroads. On one hand, there was a desire to preserve your autonomy and make decisions based on your own desires and aspirations. On the other, the reality that a marriage could be a crucial strategic tool to consolidate alliances and strengthen the position of your House.

You had shown interest in several knights, though your attention had particularly focused on the lord of the North. The encounters in the hallways and conversations in the gardens had revealed a connection that went beyond mere courtesy. The mutual attraction between you and Lord Cregan Stark was evident, though kept with the discretion that court politics required.

When Lord Cregan made the formal proposal of marriage, no displeasure was shown on your part. On the contrary, the proposal was received with a mix of pleasure and expectation. The connection you had established with Cregan, combined with the political stability that a marriage with the lord of the North could provide, made the idea a logical and acceptable option.

The council, upon learning of the proposal, recognized that this union could strengthen relations between the North and the rest of the kingdom, creating a valuable strategic alliance in times of reconstruction.

You prepared to travel to the North, bidding farewell to King Aegon III and your mother. The journey promised to be long and challenging, but you were determined to move forward with this new stage of your life.

The North greeted you with the cold welcome characteristic of the region. The cold was intense and penetrating, a stark contrast to the warmer climate of King's Landing. Despite the harshness of the weather, Lord Cregan Stark was attentive and ensured that your stay was as comfortable as possible. His efforts to provide warmth and comfort were a tangible sign of his care and concern.

The wedding ceremony was scheduled for that night. The atmosphere in the castle was imbued with a mix of solemnity and anticipation. The ceremony would take place before an imposing weirwood tree, a symbol of the ancient tradition of the North. This majestic tree, with its wrinkled bark and evergreen leaves, would witness your vow to spend the rest of your life alongside your new husband.

The preparation for the ceremony was meticulous. You dressed in an elegant wedding gown adapted to the cold of the North, decorated with embroidery reflecting the region's tradition. Every detail was carefully considered to honor both your new family and the customs of the place.

As night fell, the castle filled with a warm and soft light, contrasting with the cold outside. Guests gathered around the weirwood tree, while bonfires created a cozy and ceremonial atmosphere.

When the moment came, you approached the tree, feeling the weight and importance of the commitment you were about to make. Lord Cregan, beside you, was equally prepared for the exchange of vows. In the presence of the men of the North and the gods they worshipped, you would pronounce your oaths, hoping that this union would bring both stability and a new beginning for both of you.

"In the Presence of old gods, I bind these two souls, joining them for eternity. Look at each other and say the words," ordered the maester of Winterfell with a solemn voice.

Lord Cregan, holding your hands with firmness and tenderness, recited the vow with a clarity that resonated in the cold night air:

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days."

You, with a pounding heart and a voice full of emotion, followed the ritual:

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days."

As you recited your vows, snow fell gently around you, creating a charming contrast with the warmth of the ceremony and the glow of the bonfire lights. The snowy landscape and the cozy atmosphere of the castle fused into a scene that seemed straight out of an ancient tale.

At the conclusion of the ritual, Cregan looked at you with an expression of deep emotion and devotion. Slowly, he leaned towards you, his eyes reflecting a bright intensity under the torchlight. With infinite delicacy, he placed a hand on your cheek, and his lips gently touched yours.

The kiss began with palpable tenderness, a light contact filled with promises for the future. It was a kiss full of the promise of support and unconditional love, one that extended and deepened over time. The connection between you was evident in every caress and in the way your lips moved in perfect harmony.

The cold night breeze, combined with the warm glow of the ceremony, created a magical atmosphere. The kiss, besides sealing your commitment, seemed to absorb the essence of the night itself, symbolizing the start of a new life together, full of hope and a love that promised to grow with each day.

When you finally parted, Cregan looked at you with a smile that spoke of his joy and commitment. The ceremony, although marked by the winter's cold, had been warm in spirit, and the future that awaited you seemed full of promising possibilities.