𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓

Someone the other day asked me for a link for a masterlist with my premade blog packs so here they are. Considering my ankle injury and the new painkillers and antidepressants i'm in, I am uncertain how much I will be in (plus working as a teacher, september-december are heavy months). Here is a list for anyone who wants something quick and easy to edit and do! also some psd packs as well promo packs. this post will be added to my pinpost!

SHARMA BLOG PACK. a blog pack that is simpler and easy to use.

a three panel promo pack.

a blog starter pack.

earth pack, psd pack containing 8 psds.

NIGHT PSD PACK. this psd pack contains 8 psds.

midnight psd pack. contains 10 psds.

sea snake blog pack. another blog pack.

morning delight icon pack. 8 icon templates pack.

eve eden promo.

atomic queen promo.

old page graphic.

I wanted to be the man promo.

you owe me a song. a 4 slides promo.

brina graphics. pinpost or promo graphics.

clueless. a promo graphic.

helaena had spend the entirety of the day to convince herself that it was indeed a good idea and to gather courage, for how to approach. she had made up her mind the days prior, yet it was still a little daunting. even then, she had made her way to aegon's chambers in the evening and had carefully begun trying to show her intentions to aegon, once the two were alone.

Their   bed   was   one   made   by   arrangements   and   their   family's   desire   to   keep   the   traditions   of   their   blood.   Not   that   it   was   unpleasant   but   never   once   it   was   done   by   the   pleasure   Aegon   knew   it   could   come   from   it.   To   be   honest,   he   never   imagine   she   would   be   interested   in   him   in   that   regard.   "There   is   a   book   of   such   things   for   ladies?   How   scandalous."   He   raves   and   jest   in   turn,   his   hands   moving   to   the   familiar   spot   over   her   hips,   gently   keeping   her   and   dragging   her   closer   to   him.   For   the   princes   and   royal   men   it   was   an   easy   education,   brought   to   brothels   and   pleasure   houses   before   he   could   learn   properly   what   it   meant   in   order   to   get   what   he   knew   was   education   in   the   bed.

She  has  been  restless  all  day,  the  Gods  only  know  why,  her  mind  wandering  and  distracted  with  unbidden  memories  of  the  night  before,  and  many  nights  and  mornings  and  days  beforehand.  She  crosses  her  thighs  a  little  too  hard,  her  nails  drum  with  impatience  on  most  surfaces.  Drumming,  even  now,  on  the  pillows  of  the  carriage,  rocked  and  jolted  ever  so  slightly  by  the  cobblestones  beneath.  The  shutters  are  fastened  against  a  cool,  sea  breeze, it's private enough. Rhaenyra, in truth, cares very little right now.  And  as  she  uncrosses  her  legs and drags her vision over Aegon, nails dig into the pillow beneath her and  restlessness  overtakes  her. With little warning, Rhaenyra reaches  for  the  subconscious  distraction  she  has  been  craving.

Handfuls  of  fabric  are  gathered  by  her  hands,  lifting  her  skirts  up  so  she  can  straddle  Aegon's  legs,  knees  pressed  against  the  almost  too-thin  cushions  of  their  carriage.  "Yes  here,  Aegon.  Is  that  a  problem?"  her  lips  are  on  his  neck,  nipping  skin  in  a  mix  of  frustration,  lust  and  the  desire  to  provoke  her  new  husband,  her  hand  is  immediately  between  them  and  sliding  between  his  legs.  First  teasing  him  over  the  annoying  fabric  of  his  pants,  and  then  moving  to  fiddle  eagerly  for  the  fastenings.  The  sway  of  the  carriage  encourages  each  desperate  roll  of  her  hips,  settling  herself  against  his  upper  thigh  and  breathing  harshly  at  the  much-needed  sensation  as  she  grinds  against  him.  Sometimes  she  is  coy,  flirtatious;  she  drags  it  out  like  a  game  between  them,  but  this  time  she  is  demanding  and  unabashed.  "You  know  what  I  want,"  she  grasps  one  of  his  hands  from  her  clothed  hip  and  harshly  guides  his  touch  beneath  her  skirts,  pressing  Aegon's  rough  fingers  against  the  wet  outline  of  her  sex  through  now-ruined  silken  undergarments,  "as  you  said;  I  am  the  Realms  Delight,  so  —  delight  me,  husband."

He   laughs.   Loud   and   only   drowned   by   the   sound   of   the   carriage   taking   them   back   toward   the   Keep,   but   that   would   take   hours   at   best   and   if   they   must,   they   would   tell   the   person   to   stop   and   let   them   do   their   thing,   but   Aegon   always   had   a   thrill   about   the   discovery   of   it   all,   to   be   discovered   doing   things   that   should   not   be   seen   by   the   public.   Royal   weddings   are   spared   the   consummation   for   everyone's   sake   but   Aegon   made   sure   there   was   no   doubt   that   their   was   consumed   and   specially,   to   send   the   message   clear   to   anyone   who   dared   to   think   Rhaenyra   wasn't   his   to   take   and   control.  

Older   she   might   be   but   his   desire   to   be   better   and   have   his   control   over   her   wins   every   other   thought   in   his   mind.   And   the   fact   she   was   now,   straddling   him   in   their   carriage,   desperate   rolls   of   hips   against   his   clothed   frame   told   him   that   he   had   a   control   in   one   way.   Aegon's   eyes   remain   on   the   desperate   glim   of   her   eyes   as   his   hand   is   guided   between   her   legs,   finding   the   prized   wetness   and   warmth   he   does   love.  

She  doesn't  hate  the  queen,  nor  dislike  her.  Her  sadness  and  pity  for  the  torment  Queen  Helaena  had  experienced,  a  grief  shared  with  the  king,  and  most  of  the  realm  and  Keep  itself.  Gannica's  actions  come  from  a  place  of  self-interest  and  self-serving  instincts.  When  even  the  whisper  of  an  opportunity  tickles  her  ears,  she  tucks  it  away  for  the  most  strategic  time  to  strike.  Like  a  blacksmith  crafting  a  blade,  or  a  hunter  aiming  his  bow.  Lady  Gannica  wasn't  raised  like  this;  it's  in  her  blood.  So,  when  she  brushes  her  hand  against  his,  stares  a  little  longer  than  proper,  and  conjures  forth  that  delighted  sparkle  in  her  eyes,  it's  not  because  she  dislikes  the  queen...  it's  because  she  loves  herself.

It  has  been  a  slow  game,  thus  far,  save  for  her  manoeuvring  her  father  and  her  House  out  of  unwanted  attention  when  he  foolishly  tried  to  declare  for  Rhaenyra.  Balancing  herself  between  the  Queen  Mother,  the  king's  grandsire,  the  pious  nature  of  the  Faith,  brimming  war  tensions,  and  the  hawkish  eyes  always  on  the  king  himself,  whether  he  seemed  to  want  it  or  not  —  Gannica  has  been  presented  with  very  few  true  opportunities.  She  has  been  patient,  cautious,  and  eager.  "It  is  not  about  what  I  'want',  Your  Grace,"  Gannica  replies,  her  voice  coaxed  into  a  soft  but  unyielding  tone,  drawing  her  breath  intentionally  into  her  upper  chest  and  allowing  her  breasts  to  strain  against  her  gown.  "—  it  is  what  I  need,"  she  repeats  the  word  with  a  small  shiver  born  of  the  thrill  of  her  chase  drawing  a  fraction  closer  to  her  goal,  "to  want  is  such  a  trivial  thing...  but  needing  something?  Need  consumes  a  person,"  she  curls  her  fingers  to  brush  against  Aegon's  hand  where  it  grasps  her  wrist,  "as  thoughts  of  you  have  consumed  me."

She  won't  deny  his  accusations;  she's  too  smart  to  make  the  mistake  of  thinking  Aegon  would  believe  she  has  no  interest  in  power,  in  a  crown  —  Gannica  is  drawn  to  it  like  a  moth  to  a  flame.  The  only  person  in  the  world  who  knows  the  true  extent  of  her  obsessive  desire  for  power  is  Gannicus;  some  may  see  glimpses  of  her  nature,  but  only  her  twin  knows  the  full  depth.  She  doesn't  play  the  wallflower  when  Aegon  bears  down  on  her  a  little  more,  a  little  closer,  his  breath  on  her  skin...  she  subtly  shifts  her  body,  her  stance,  the  tilt  of  her  head,  all  to  invite  him  in.  "I  know  what  I  am  asking  for."  Gannica  twists  her  hand  in  the  king's  grip,  pulling  it  to  settle  on  her  waist  with  a  smile  mostly  hidden  from  view,  the  cool  metal  of  his  rings  contrasting  the  warmth  of  his  skin.  "Let  me  offer  my  company,  Your  Grace;  my  body  against  yours,  your  hands  on  my  skin,"  she  all  but  purrs  into  his  ear,  her  voice  thick  with  desire  and  promise,  "the  nights  grow  long,  and  I  am  so  deeply  gripped  by  a  need  for  my  king."

Aegon   is   not   entirely   sure   she   speaks   the   truth.   The   Reah   women,   if   his   own   mother   is   anything   to   go   by,   hide   under   pretty   dresses   and   sweet   words   but   have   ambitions   highger   than   any   mountain   or   dragon   he   had   witnessed   in   his   life.   Barely   any   dragon   blood   in   them   but   they   truly   play   the   game   as   such.   His   bed   had   been   lonely   and   cold,   the   death   of   Jaehaerys   had   hit   him   hard   and   Helaena   in   her   grief,   had   began   to   loose   herself.   Not   that   he   can   blame   her   on   that   matter,   it   is   anger   and   frustration   that   holds   him   together   through   his   brutal   elimination   of   the   ratcatchers   and   attempt   on   his   sister's   life.   Gannica   Grimm   looks   at   him   with   desire   though,   that   much   is   clear.  

Be   it   his   power,   the   crown   or   himself,   or   perhaps   all   of   the   above.   Lavender   like   eyes   flicker   down   to   the   precise   movement   she   caused,   strained   breast   press   upon   his   chest   and   he   shallows   for   a   moment.   Cunning   little   thing,   he   should   let   her   walk   out   there   in   shame   for   all   of   the   Keep   to   see.   But   even   Larys   had   said   he   needs   more   heirs,   for   Jaehaera   is   a   girl   and   Maelor.   .   .well,   war   has   not   been   kind   to   them.   "And   you   understand   the   results   of   bedding   a   king,   do   you   not?   Does   the   thought   of   a   babe   entice   you?   Trap   me   in   such   a   way   and   to   be   crowned   Queen   of   Roses?"   Not   that   the   title   would   not   suit   her.   Her   touch   is   electric   in   his   hand   and   the   smile   on   his   lips   is   real.