#i know a lot of you followed me when i was drawing a lot of aoex so thanks for sticking around still!

[teaboot]

Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence?

My earliest memory of what I would call self-awareness occurred spontaneously in the middle of my fourth birthday party, where I suddenly became alert to my existence as a separate entity surrounded by other conscious beings.

This presented to me as not dissimilar to simply being brushed along the flow of a river- experiencing life as a serious of flashbang moments and instants and sensations, like meditating to music until the individual notes break into sounds that follow no rhythm and are only noise- no past or future, only now- and then suddenly finding yourself holding a paddle in the belly of a boat with no idea what to do next.

I remember running to the body that felt safest, who I did not recognize as anything else, and asking it who all the strangers around us were. The person that I learned was my mother told me they were my aunties and uncles, and I was being silly because I KNEW them, and why was I so shy all of a sudden?

Learning to articulate myself after that instant, I remember, was immensely frustrating. Learning your first language, as I remember it, is wuite a bit like how Ive been told recovering from brain damage feels like.

YOU know what you mean. YOU know what you're saying. But there are holes where you reach for something you know MUST be there and find nothing, and must find a way to communicate using only what you have at hand. Except there are always faces looking at you, talking down to you, asking you to do tricks for them to prove you really are a real human person.

I loved art, and I'm very good at it, but GETTING good at it was the worst. I'm told I started with scribbles at six months or so, before I could walk, and at three and four I remember being immensely frustrated that I could see in my head exactly what I wanted to produce, and I didn't know how to PRODUCE it.

And simple shit, like drawing shapes and circles, developing fine motor skills. You FULLY UNDERSTAND THE ASSIGNMENT, but your hands are soft and wobbly and don't cooperate. Getting your mouth and body to obey your directions is hellish, especially when all the appliances and furniture and installations around you are built for someone easily triple your size.

Chairs are hard to sit in when you're small and cant touch the ground. Your legs dangle and you cant scoot closer to the table, and the backrest is so far back you cant use it for support, and the table comes up past your chest so your chin is amost in your plate and your dumb clumsy hands cant hold a big spoon or fork in a way that feels natural or elegant so you end up smearing shit EVERYWHERE and getting yapped at for having your elbows on the counter.

Reading people was interesting. Most people are condescending and plastic when you're small, and you can tell when they're being saccharine and fake, but you're told the polite thing is to believe what they say and be polite back. I used to try using big sentences on purpose just to het them to leave me alone. "What a pretty girl! Can you say Hello?" was the most common ask I can recall. Id answer with the floweriest thing I could think of, usually, "I'm very well, thank you for asking, how are you?", because people only ask you interesting questions after you do well enough on their tests to prove you're people.

Being small was very tiring, and very frustrating, and becoming aware of myself in my own head probably made everything a lot worse overall.

No regrets, though. From what I can recall, life is far more enjoyable when you're aware of it occurring. Time can't slow down until you know it's there, I think

Being a baby full of instincts felt like living as a live grenade. Being a child was far harder, but more Full. More Human. A LOT more like adulthood than infancy, and I was very determined to remember that.

If any of that makes sense

[livefromtheelephantsfoot]

I've had this sitting in my drafts for over a week bc I AGREE and I have SO many thoughts abt this.

I think one of the underlying reasons is a failure to engage with the fact that, to a lot of people at least, eugenics makes intuitive sense. I remember as a kid when I first had natural selection explained to me, and it didn't take much for me to wonder "huh, what does that mean for humans? does that mean it's a bad thing that we've insulated ourselves from stuff like disease?" (Obviously 8yo me wouldn't have said it like that, but I did wonder.) I'm almost afraid to point it out, but I really don't think it's just a me thing.

Later I learned abt Eugenics, that it was this bad evil thing that lead to genocide, and I was horrified. If I could empathize with the proponents of it, at least early on, what did that say about me? But it didn't actually answer my question. So now I had this first idea, evolution, that was obviously true and explained so much about the natural world, and this second idea that still seemed to naturally follow from it but was Bad. And I didn't know what to do with that.

And I started to notice how common the second idea was, too. The most pervasive thing I noticed was how common "Darwin Award" jokes are-- the joke, of course, being that people who die doing something stupid are making a positive contribution to the human gene pool. I don't really like those jokes. I ended up with the impression that eugenicists were right abt the human gene pool being a thing that we ought to be concerned about damaging, but they just went Too Far. You'll notice people who think this way disagree on where Too Far was. It made me uncomfortable that there could be an idea that was right, and if ignored would cause problems down the line, and at the same time acting on it was morally wrong, and everyone agreed it was a bad idea but only when called by a particular name--otherwise it's just common sense.

I don't think it was until high school that I started to understand that eugenics was, in fact, bad science. It makes sense with a surface level understanding of evolution, but the more in-depth you go, the more it falls apart. Artificial selection in dogs is such a great way to point this out. "It worked so well in dogs, why not try it in humans? Oh, wait..."

Eugenics requires the assumption that natural selection is at once a great and powerful force worthy of abandoning all morals in order to worship, while being so fragile that human civilization is at risk of overthrowing it within a couple hundred years.

Of course, the truth is that eugenicists weren't and aren't abandoning their real values in favor of what their understanding of natural selection would suggest. Eugenics was built on racism and ableism, and there is no escaping that. People latch on to ideas that validate their preexisting beliefs. You know what we can say, pretty confidently, about what's "healthy" genetically, for dog breeds and for humans? Variation. You'll notice that you don't see a lot of eugenicists advocating for interracial marriage. Even setting aside the (very important) ethical considerations for their methods, if eugenicists had their way, humanity would be barreling toward an artificial bottleneck that would REALLY fuck us over genetically.

Even that is missing nuance, though-- we're still in the realm of stick figure drawings. Genetics are really complicated. All this requires you to pretend that we fully understand what all of our genes even do, and we just don't. And that's ok! We do not, in fact, have to base public policy on whether G exists!

Natural selection is still happening to us, and if its slown down lately then I'd chalk that up to a global civilization mixing up our gene pool (which, again, is unambiguously a good thing from a genetic perspective) more than modern medicine helping disabled people have kids (which is not a new thing! we have been helping each other for millions of years). The human genome is not at risk of collapse.

We haven't even touched on poverty being a structural issue that requires people to exploit (ie, if all the poor people disappeared poverty wouldn't end, the next group up would be moved into their place) or the question of what mental health issues even ARE (I'm a proponent of the idea that, of the disorders/cases that are primarily caused by genetics, most are just the extreme ends of traits that are necessary to the general population and can't actually be removed-- extremely simplified example: everyone needs a sprinkle of neuroticism to function, sometimes someone gets a heavier dose and winds up with clinical anxiety, and every once and a while someone gets way too much and had OCD. even if environment weren't a factor at all, and even if anxiety were such a simplistic trait that we could track it with a very high degree of confidence, keeping the person with OCD from having kids wouldn't stop OCD from existing. they might be more likely to have kids with OCD, but them not having kids does nothing to the fact that OCD is a product of inherent variation that it would be a VERY bad idea to try to eliminate), or delving into IQ [even longer rant redacted].

I think sometimes people think eugenics is bad but its still true, like thinking that if people with certain traits have children it will change society for better or worse based upon what traits are promoted. I think its important to emphasize that eugenics is not only wrong morally it's also fake and stupid bullshit

Like eugenics was supposed to be based on the idea that "If it works with animals to select only the best ones to breed, why wouldn't it work with humans?"

well it doesn't work with animals, that's the thing. applying the eugenics ideas to domestic breeds of animals hasn't made better animals it's just made animals with more extreme expression of certain traits. turns out that when you decide which traits are the "best" and become obsessed with the genetic purity of the animals that have the "best" traits, you might well end up with some sad suffering creature like a Pug, or the Persian cats with the smashed faces that are in constant pain because their teeth and airways and brains are getting crushed by their skulls, or those meat chickens that grow so fast they can hardly even stand up after a few weeks old, or inbred race horses with tiny feet and fragile toothpick legs

like almost all traits are neither "good" or "bad" they're way more complex than that. a long tail or a long snout or a stubborn, independent personality can be good or bad depending on the situation. Who gets to decide what is a "good" trait or a "bad" trait? It's arbitrary and selecting for traits that are "good" in your opinion will often have both "good" and "bad" outcomes because the "good" and "bad" are part of each other and not separate its just part of being alive

Obviously oversimplifying everything but you get it. we did eugenics with dogs and how did that go? not very well

[gingerale13]

I churned this out so fast excuse the quality.. anyways there's a cheesy ass note to my mutuals + followers under the cut bc I love you guys 🧡🧡

This year kinda whizzed by for me! A lot happened in my personal life that I don't want to share online, but throughout all of the highs and lows I was always able to come back to this wonderful fandom. It's been a huge comfort seeing other people theorize and discuss my favorite characters!

I've meet a lot of awesome people through Tumblr & Ao3, cosplaying, and various TF2 groups. As of writing this post I've got a solid 260 followers, which is an insane number to me when this blog simply started as a place to organize my creative works 😭

All of the little tags and comments on my stuff have seriously kept my life whimsical (for lack of a better term) and I would like to shout-out some notable people and works that kept me going through 2024!

First up, and probably the biggest one, is the lovely @aussie-bookworm and their fic, Going Through The Motions. These updates seriously made my day, and I couldn't have been happier you accepted my offer to proofread. It's been super fun discussing the differences between our countries, yapping about the Mercs, and different AUs. I hope to read many more of your works in 2025 B)

Next, another fanfic author, is AhChunta! If you like slow burns, mystery, and Speeding Bullet, I would really recommend Stolen Pieces. It's a super cool crime boss AU that I've been enjoying this year. Plus it deserves more attention!

Another awesome artist is @800db-cloud, who is honestly CARRYING the Freak Fortress fandom. I love how silly your depictions of those freaks are 🧡 and also YOUR ARTSTYLE IS SO COOL AND SATISFYING TO LOOK AT ARGHHH.. You're just super awesome 👍 also shout-out to @riskreward1, my chillest mutual. I think your Getting Milk comic series is hilarious and amazing, but seeing all of those other fandoms you draw is like a gateway drug to me because it's drawn in your KICKASS artstyle‼️plus you like The Mountain Goats and that's based

@thechocolatearmor!! The other Medic Cosplayer I met at my first con!! My friends still mention the in-character convo we had, you were hilarious and I'm so glad I got your Tumblr because I love reading all of your takes on reblogs. I hope I see you again so we can be insane together again 🔥

also @mikimel, I admire how silly you are 😭 I still have that little doodle you drew at the con, and I wish your Tomodochi Miis well <3 AND THE SOLLY FIGURE. He's beautiful. Your fashion sense is fire, and I hope to see more of your cosplay projects! :0 (specifically Soldier Miku. If that's still a thing hehe)

@ivvyzzspark you. You know what you did.

Another HUGE thanks to my very very patient proofreader @emiette for helping me make Crates readable! Em dashes are my new favorite form of punctuation.

And lastly I would like to thank @mvabank because you were the one who made me start rotting over TF2 in the first place 🫶 Magmas were always so fun with you and the image of your little sona with the big ass eyes is forever seared into my brain <3

Maybe it's because 2025 is divisible by 5, but I have a feeling this year is going to be a good one. Stay safe out there, people! Cheers 🥂

[damn-stark]

Chapter 35 I live. I tell your story

Chapter 35 of Moonlight

A/N- Happy New Year and I really hope you all like it!

Warning- some angst, FLUFF!!! Talks of death. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- Past 578

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*25 YEARS LATER*

Flying in the sky is a lot like swimming in the sea. On warm days when the sun is out the sky is blue just like the body of water. The sky is endless just like the sea is. And on any random day, the sky is cold or chilly because you’re up so high, and when you’re in the water the deeper you dive the colder the waters get.

Unlike when you’re in the water though, there’s no constant need to keep surfacing for air though. True, sometimes the air in the sky gets thin, making it hard to breathe, but you don’t need to hold your breath and keep coming up and down. You’re just on your saddle, drawing in crisp air through your lungs, you’re breaking apart wet clouds, startling flocks of birds, or sometimes even joining their beautiful formation as you and your dragon become one with the endless sky touched by only you.

Isn’t it so fascinating that besides winged creatures you and Rhaena are the only ones who can touch the sky and be a part of the endless horizon?

You think about that often and always take great pride in the fact that you have your dragon now that you live so far from the sea. You might be dramatic but what would be of you if you couldn’t touch the sky whenever you wanted to?

You don’t want to know. You lost so much, but Astraea has been your constant companion since you were an infant. If she hadn’t made it—-well you don’t want to think about it.

What you will think about once you dismount your dragon is breakfast. Everyone must already be around the table—except for Jacaerys maybe. He’s never on time anywhere.

“Ser Cane,” you greet your old but fiercely loyal sworn protector.

“Good morning?” He asks as he watches you walk past him before he follows at your tail like always.

“Great,” you let him know and turn around to watch your dragon back peddle before she walks forward and flaps her giant purple wings to gain momentum before she departs for the skies again—“you were late,” you point out as you drop your gaze on the man and raise your eyebrows teasingly.

“Or you woke up earlier,” he retorts. “My Princess.”

You snicker and then turn around on your heels to face forward. “I knew you’d be here when I landed so I didn’t want to bother you before it was time.”

He sighs in defeat knowing nothing will change. The only advantage to this disadvantage is that at least his heart doesn’t strain with worry because he knows that the people of the North love you, and your dragon is fierce. You can be fierce too but you stopped carrying weapons on your person long ago, so you’re left vulnerable when you’re alone, but you ignore that.

“Cregan!” You call out when you spot him walking toward the dining hall, and he immediately comes to a stop as he hears his name. When he turns, his grey eyes brighten as he sees you picking up the skirt of your gown to run over to him.

When you reach him you throw your arm around his and then lean toward him to press a kiss on his lips, making him smile sweetly.

“How was your flight?” He asks against your lips as he savors your kiss as if he hadn’t tasted them in the morning.

“Refreshing,” you share with a smile before you turn forward and walk to the dining hall side by side now. “You’re late to the table how come? Did something come up?” You ask curiously as you look at him trying to find the answer on his face.

“Yes, some of the lads needed my help. I almost thought I wouldn’t break fast with you and the boys,” he says.

You hum and let your eyes flicker to the corridor as you walk inside the stone building. “You should have taken Jacaerys with you so he could work up the courage to talk to you.”

Cregan turns his head and probes. “About?”

You draw out a deep breath and then turn your head to look him in the eyes. “It’s not for me to say. I just wanted to let you know that he wants to talk.”

He hums and shrugs. “He’s welcome to talk to me anytime he wants. He knows that.”

You keep your eyes on him and sigh, he hears it and he sees your softened eyes full of love start to harden and create a deep crease in between your eyebrows as they furrow in response. “What?” He presses.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you say and leave him wondering what you could mean.

“Okay,” he scoffs softly.

You huff and rub his bicep with your other hand before you slip your hands away from his arm and walk ahead and enter the dining hall first, causing all the chatter to silence as all the attention falls on you and Cregan walking in a bit late.

“For once I am not the late one,” Jacaerys breaks the short-lived silence, making his older brother Maekor scoff in annoyance.

“Grandmother! Grandmother!” Maekor’s twin boys both then shout in sync with excitement, making Maekor’s wife lean down to scold them for shouting over the table in the same way their uncle just did.

“Good Morning everyone,” you announce. “Please as you were. Sorry, we’re late.”

“Good morning,” Cregan greets as he makes his way to his seat.

“Mother,” Rickon, Cregan’s first-born son with Lady Arra Norrey, greets you as you sit down between him and his father.

“Rickon,” you redirect and stroke his chin gently.

“How come it’s alright for you to be late because of your dragon riding, but it’s frowned upon when I’m out all night?” Jacaerys remarks as he reaches over the round wooden table to place food on his plate, making you sit back and slowly look at him with curiosity.

“Can you ever shut up?” Maekor hisses at his brother.

Yet you only add fuel to the matter. “Because it’s not truly the same is it? And you’re out all night without guards doing…well, I do not wish to know what.”

Jacaerys scoffs and proceeds to add. “Father and you go out at night as well—”

“Jacaerys,” Maekor cuts his brother off sharply, making the corner of your lips twitch to a smile that you share with Cregan.

When your husband sees your reaction his lips upturn to a smirk and he passes you a look that says, “that's your son.”.

You snicker in response and he then strokes your chin before he reaches over the round table without needing to be told and passes you what you wanted. After you all serve yourselves breakfast there’s a serenity that blankets the round wooden table, the oldest boy of Maekor’s twins walks over and sits between Cregan and you because he says he wants to tell you a story that never gets told because he gets sidetracked on a matter you start to make sense of before you get lost as you drift your attention to Torrhen.

Your youngest son and child has always been quieter than his other siblings, even before his dragon dreams and Greenseer notions started. Some people might even say that he blends into the room, that’s how quiet he is, he’s never expected to be the loudest one, but he’s never lost to you. He's like the brightest star in the night sky, you always find him like right now, and at this very moment he seems lost in his food as if he’s trying to decipher something within it.

You hope he’ll snap out of his stupor as he feels your eyes on him trying to decipher what thoughts might be forming in his mind, but he seems to be hundreds of years away from where he actually is. Thus you intend to call out to him to snap him out of his stupor and begin a small conversation, but just as you part your lips the dining hall doors open, and the maester walks and makes his way to you.

“Princess,” he whispers by your ear as he pushes a scroll toward you. “This just came to you from the Riverlands. It has an unknown mark on the wax.”

You grab the scroll and turn it, seeing the wax and identifying who the sender is; it’s Alys.

“Thank you, Maester,” you say back with a smile directed at the scroll.

The Maester quickly bows his head at you and Cregan before he scurries off, leaving the room to you and your family once again.

“It's Alys,” you let Cregan know since you know he’s curious about the raven scroll.

“Hm, I wonder what she could want,” he comments and you giddily smile at the scroll one more time before you tuck it away so you can read it later. As of now, you finish your breakfast with more enthusiasm since you're anticipating reading the scroll, which is why you finish quicker than the others.

“I’ll be in the Godswood,” you let Cregan know and kiss his cheek. Before you can lean back and walk off you grab his shoulder and slide your lips to his ear. “Talk to Torrhen, please my love.”

Cregan’s eyes slowly find your son and you follow his line of gaze, noticing that he’s only eaten half of his food and the rest is just sprawled around his plate as he keeps playing with it.

“He’s…having a hard time and I know he doesn’t say it or it may not look it, but he really does need you,” you continue to whisper as you focus back on Cregan. “So talk to him. Take him with you to help you, okay? And be…warm, hm.”

Your husband's grey eyes snap to you and he raises his eyebrow to question your comment.

“He’s your son. Our youngest child, keep that in mind, okay?” You press to give him some idea as to what you could mean without having to explain it right now.

“Alright,” Cregan says back with confusion but he doesn’t press on the matter, he just lets you know he comprehends, letting you leave to go read your letter and respond to Alys in the Godswood like you tend to do when she writes.

“Dear, Princess,

I write to you in regards to Prince Aemond—“

You blink repeatedly in surprise and quickly lean forward to continue reading with a new sense of urgency.

“—some of the King’s men traveled to the God’s Eye in search of your lost ancestral Valyrian sword and stumbled upon it on the lake's surface still attached to your late husband's skull. The men want to recover the blade, thus I thought I’d ask if you would want to recover his bones to do with it as you please or let them disregard it back in the lake. Let me know as soon as you can, the King’s men don’t find value in the bones of the enemy.

-Your friend, Alys Rivers ”

You blink again with surprise and sit back to go over the news the letter contained over and over again, with each time the scab over your heart tearing little by little.

For ten years all you thought of when you thought of Aemond was his death. You remembered the grief and agony that tormented you when you saw him fall into the water and never get out. You remembered how empty you felt without him. You remembered how much you missed him every time you looked into Aerion and Daenys’ eyes. Your memories were never kind until ten years passed.

After a decade of agony, you stopped aching and looked back fondly at your memories. It’s true you’ll never stop missing him or the rest of your family, you’ll be cursed to grieve them until your memory fails you or until you die, but you’re at peace, so to learn that they found his bones, rattles you. You thought you’d never get to lay his body to rest or have your two children that you share with him see him one last time…

Thus now that you can give him a proper funeral you won’t let it go to waste or have his bones return to the lake. You’ll give him a proper Valyrian funeral and have Aerion and Daenys attend. You know the Riverlands still remembers him as a terror of the trident and the rest of the realm remembers him as a kinslayer, but you don’t need them to stand next to you as you burn his bones, all you need is the children you had with him. Fuck everyone else and what they might think when they hear what you do.

As for what Cregan might think…

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

After a rather long day, after thinking about Aemond since you read that letter, and after putting your conversations with your husband aside, Cregan and you prove your son Jacaerys right and find yourselves in a discreet hot spring where you know no one will disturb you. And you know that because you only stumbled upon the hot spring when you were a ward sneaking off in the middle of the night with your lover.

“Did you talk to Torrhen?” You finally get to ask after only since you didn’t want to risk being overheard by one of your sons or anyone else eavesdropping.

“Uh,” Cregan hesitates to answer as he undresses.

You look back at the sound of his response and raise your eyebrow even though he has back-turned, letting you see his pale ass as he takes his pants off. “Cregan,” you press.

Said man turns at the sound of his name coming from your lips and lets his pants fall before he proceeds to shake them off, and then walk over to you.

“Need help?” He asks smugly.

You swat his hand away and back away as you untie your gown and let it fall around your ankles, leaving yourself in a lighter gown.

“I told you to talk to him and Jacaerys,” you press impatiently.

Cregan pulls his leather vest off and then takes off his shirts, leaving himself completely nude to jump in the hot water while also ignoring you.

“Cregan Stark,” you hiss and finish undressing before you face him from dry land with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Can you get in the water,” he counters and waves you over. “I can’t think properly when you’re like that.”

You roll your eyes and join him in the water before you look at him with irritation all over again. “Explain why you did not talk to Torrhen or Jacaerys.”

Cregan meets your gaze and his eyes wander down to your breasts so you cross your arms again and press him. “You did not have to talk to the both of them. Just one for now. Why didn’t you?”

Cregan’s grey eyes slowly scale back up to meet your gaze and he sighs deeply before he finally shares what he’s been holding back. “I…tried. I did, but I could find a way to offer him what you want me to give him. And he brushed the matter aside, I did not want to pry.”

You take long blinks as you let his words sink and when you remember that he did not have the same attention from his parents growing up, you let out a deep sigh and approach him to gently grab his arms.

The thing is that his parents were good to him, but his mother died when he was fairly young, and his father wasn’t as open and warm with him as your mother and your father were to you and your brothers. Cregan is a man and he was the eldest, he needed to be tough to face every challenge head-on, so he wasn’t talked to with sweet words laced with honey like the way your mother talked to you and your brothers. He wasn’t told to let his feelings out, they needed to be kept in, whereas your brothers had your mother's shoulders to cry on.

It’s because of that upbringing that it’s second nature for you to be present and warm in your children’s lives. It’s hard for Cregan to be so with his sons, but with your daughters it’s a different story, he was terrifyingly overprotective when your daughters still lived with you. Now they’re too far from him to be menacing to any dangers that could put them in harm's way. And! You don’t want him to be the same way with your sons, you just need him to be someone they can open up to. They need him.

“I’m not telling you to do the impossible, just be…warmer,” you explain your thought process. “Press Torrhen to open up. He really needs you, my love.”

Cregan slowly lowers his head and his eyebrows knit together as he grows conflicted. “I don’t know how to help him,” he confesses quietly and with shame laced in his voice.

“I…” you trail off and hesitate. “I admit it’s not easy. We don’t see what he can, but,” you pause and raise your hands to grab his jaw and tilt his face up so you can look him in the eyes. “Tell him you’re there for him. Be someone he can rely on, instead of someone to avoid. He thinks that you think of him as mad. That you wouldn’t understand and that he’s a burden.”

Cregan shakes his head and his eyes begin to brim with tears. “No,” his voice quivers. “Never. I know there are things in this world that cannot be explained. I mean you fly a dragon and walk through fire, my ancestors were wargs. Some of us live to fight the dead beyond the wall, he’s not mad. I just…haven’t tried I suppose. I’ve relied on you too much to be their support when…it should’ve been the both of us.”

You stroke his cheeks and nod gently. “You understand.”

Cregan raises his hands to cup yours and keep them on his cheeks as he whispers. “I love that you’re so caring to our children. I admire that about you, did you know?”

You giggle as your heart swoons even though this is all something you already heard. “I like to be reminded from time to time,” you tease him and lean in to slowly take him in for a passionate kiss, making him let one of your hands go to slither it to the back of your neck and keep you secured against him as he just deepens it and lets his tongue dance with yours.

When you wrap your arms around his neck he lets his other hand slide down to cup one of your ass cheeks and knead it as he only lets you take in small breaths before he continues to devour you completely in sync with your movements.

One would say he’s gone months or years deprived of your lips, but this morning you woke up early to fuck before you started your day. He’s just as needy as you are, so when you finally pull apart it’s after you’re both heaving from a quickie in the hot spring.

“What did your witch friend say?” Cregan finally asks, making you laugh and kiss his forearm as he has it wrapped around your neck while he keeps his chest pressed against your back.

“Alys,” you correct him with a giggle before you draw out a deep breath and go serious. “She let me know about the King's men diving in the God’s eye to recover my family’s Valyrian sword, ‘Dark Sister’, from Aemond’s skull, and she asked if I want her to have the men recover his body for me or let it sink back in.”

You feel a breath unfurl over the back of your neck before he shares what he’s thinking. “What did you respond with?”

“Yes,” you let him know without shame because it’s not like Aemond’s corpse can do anything to harm him or you—“I want to give him a proper funeral. For me and Aerion and Daenys. I sent them and Daenerys a raven to go to Harrenhal so they can be a part of it and so I can see them.”

Cregan hums and you turn around to face him whilst you remain wrapped in his arms, only now his hands are wrapped around your waist and you have your hands pressed against his chest.

“I sent a raven to Alysanne,” you say in reference to your (second) daughter and second born child with Cregan, who was named after Good Queen Alysanne because she’s someone you admire and because of her good relations to the North—“I told her to go to Harrenhal too, so maybe you and the boys can come? I’m sure Rickon can handle being Lord for a while.”

“He’s told you, hasn’t he? He wants to do more?” Cregan asks and you can’t help but smirk, giving away your answer.

“Perhaps, so come with me,” you plead. “Let's see our children. And our Alyssane is with child, it gives you the opportunity to see her.”

The corner of his lips pulls to a smile and he lifts his hand to grab your cheek. “If that’s what you want.”

You nod right away and look at him with a pleading look to sway him to what you want.

“We could also visit my brothers at the Red Keep while we’re out there already, and…maybe we or I can ask Alys to help Torrhen,” you share that last bit quieter as you sound desperate for anything to make Torrhen feel better about his abilities.

“If he wants to go that is,” Cregan interjects and you drop your head on his shoulder.

“If I ask him he will,” you tell him confidently before you go back to being worried. “I just hope Alys can offer him some peace of mind.”

“I’m sure she can. She’s already offered, hasn't she?”

You nod softly and he starts to caress the back of your head as he leans down to press his lips against the top of it. “See? Then there’s nothing to worry about. She’ll help him with what she can.”

You nod as you take his comfort and linger in the silence for a short while before you pull your head back to look at him giddily. “I was thinking that on our way back from Kings Landing, I could stay with Alysanne until she gives birth. I’ve been at Daenys and Daenerys' side when they had their babes, I want to do the same with Alysanne.”

He huffs and presses a kiss on your forehead. “I’m certain she’ll appreciate it.”

“That’s if she doesn’t want her father instead,” you tease the fact that your daughter favors Cregan more than she favors you.

“I’m certain she’ll want her mother there at her bedside when the time comes,” he offers reassurance. “I’ll go after and we can return home together.”

“On dragonback?” You probe as you mindlessly trace circles on his chest. “It will be quicker.”

He sighs and lolls his head down but he can’t refuse you, so he gives in. “On dragonback,” he assures you, making you giddy before you go on spewing about your failed attempt at knitting Alysanne a blanket for her babe before you both talk and enjoy the silence and your alone time together.

When the kids started getting older and you added more to your family way back then, Cregan and you would sneak off to steal time for yourselves. After all, having four children to start off with right way and then increasing that number to four, to five, to six, seven, and then eight doesn’t leave much privacy, so you had to rely on sneaking off like when you were young. Now as the kids are old and the girls have left to start their own families Cregan and you simply enjoy spending time away from the castle from time to time. Eventually, before dawn, to get some sleep in, you would return home. Just like now.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. THE RIVERLANDS*

“I have forgotten how ugly the Riverlands are,” you hear Jacaerys comment under his breath. “I do not get why people live here.”

“You’ve only been here once,” Torrhen corrects his older brother with some impatience after a long ride of dealing with him in a small carriage that only persisted of Cregan, you, him, and Jacaerys; Maekor and his family took a different carriage from the harbor, and Ser Cane is leading the way on horseback with a few other guards.

“Once was enough to dictate that I don’t like it. As to how Alysanne lives here is beyond me,” he says snobbishly.

“It was her duty to her husband. She, unlike others, understands the responsibility of duty,” Torrhen retorts sassily, causing you to lift your eyes off your book to watch the pair of brothers.

“Hm,” Jacaerys huffs as he flashes his little brother a feigned smile, “you sound like Maekor and Rickon.”

The corner of Torrhen’s lips twitch to a smirk and he counters back quickly. “They are our brothers.”

Jacaerys feigned smile falls flat and he looks back at his brother with a scowl. “Why don’t you doze off—”

“Jacaerys,” you warn him and finally lower your book to give them all your attention.

Said man drops his scowl and sighs deeply before he looks out the window and adds another comment. “I don’t think choosing to marry Ellis falls in the line of duty. Duty would be if she had to marry him, but she chose to.”

“She still has to move to Raventree Hall for her husband. She uprooted her life to come live in the Riverlands. That’s duty.”

Jacaerys eyes fall on you and he simply shakes his head. “It doesn’t bear heavy weight though, does it?”

You sigh and hold his gaze with pity as you know where he’s coming from. You just don’t add anything to the matter, choosing silence and acknowledgment instead.

“Mother,” Torrhen calls out and steals your attention. “You mentioned once that you thought of moving over here, how come?”

You put the book aside and glance at Cregan with a teasing smirk before you look back at your sons and share what you told daughters before. “Before your father and I married, when I was Regent, Lord Kermit Tully fancied me.”

“And you him,” Cregan inputs with annoyance so you nudge his arm and quip.

“No, I did not!” You chuckle. “Sure he was handsome, but I did not fancy the man. He was just someone I considered marrying to do my duty to my family.”

“But?” Jacaerys probes, letting his curiosity get the best of him.

You look at Cregan and offer a much warmer smile. “Your father and I worked out our problems and he asked me to marry him first, so I did.”

Cregan flashes you a smile before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you to him. “I would have challenged Lord Kermit for your hand, do you know that?”

“Would that have been after you had killed my grandfather or before?” You snap him as you pull your head back to shoot a pointed look.

“You wouldn’t have married me if I had?” He teases as he leans toward your lips.

You shake your head, making him smirk and quip.

“Then I would have stolen you.”

You giggle. “Oh would you have, oh, so honorable Stark?”

Cregan smiles wider and he nods as a response before he whispers. “If you had said no then, then that’s when I would have let you go.”

You hum and look at him with amusement and fondness. “It's a good thing you did not commit to killing my grandfather then,” you add, making your sons share a disgusted look that Cregan and you miss as you’re too busy gazing into each other's eyes.

“Well it’s a good thing I wasn’t born a Tully,” Jacaerys cuts in, making Cregan and you slowly peel your eyes away from each other to look at your son.

“They’re honorable people, Jacaerys,” Cregan defends them. “They’re good fighters that risked their lives for your grandmother Rhaenyra and your mother. You should not say things like that.”

Jacaerys lets his eyes linger on his father before he drifts his eyes away and turns his body to be able to look out the window some more. When Cregan is assured that his son won’t move he looks at you, making you look at him to take note of the confused look he gives in response to Jacaerys reaction.

You can’t offer him much but grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure him because you know it’ll pass quickly, he just needs to leave it be.

After that as a silence sets within the carriage, you notice the carriage slowly rolls to a stop and as you look out the window the first thing you catch a glimpse of is your firstborn, your Aerion waiting for your arrival.

You then see the grey eyes of Daenerys and behind her, you catch Alysanne with her husband Lord Ellis Blackwood, and your entire being lights up, but your attention is completely stolen by Aerion. So much so that before the carriage can come to a stop, you get up from your seat. Once the wheels stop moving against the ground you don’t wait for the doors to open, you burst out of the carriage with your eyes darting to your son.

“Aerion,” you greet excitedly before you pick up the skirt of your gown and run over to greet him with an embrace. “Aerion,” you whisper once you have him in your arms.

“Mother,” he greets in his deep gravelly voice that is like sweet music in your ears every time you hear it.

After lingering in each other's embrace you pull back and cup his cheeks. “Look at you,” muse and study his towering figure which appears to be more buff than the last time you saw him. “You’ve put on more muscle.” You point out.

He chuckles breathlessly and drops his head causing your hands to fall back to your side.

“How did the waters treat you?” He asks and lifts his head to look at you with his father's blue eyes that hit you with a wave of longing for a man who's been dead a long time.

“They were on our side, thankfully,” you assure him and caress his arms as if trying to grasp the fact that he's flesh and bones. “How was your ride here?” You redirect, causing a sparkle to shine in his eyes as he flashes you a beaming smile.

“Safe and good. Thank the gods.”

You smile softly and muse. “Yes thank the gods.”

You linger in his presence as if you hadn’t seen him a few months back for his name day and just take in the sight of him. Out of all your children who left, his departure hurt the most. Maybe it was because he was just seven years old when he went to ward with your grandfather Corlys, or maybe it was because when he was a boy he looked so much like his father, and having that beautiful reminder leave you was like losing Aemond all over again. And it was not just a temporary loss, you lost that reminder forever when Aerion stopped looking less and less like Aemond as he grew older. Now he only has Aemond’s eyes as a sole similarity, but besides that, Aemond is lost in Aerion forever.

You would argue that Daenys bears a heavy resemblance to Aemond, but the truth is she grew out of her father's looks rather quickly. She’s slim and tall just like him, and her attitude and the way she carries herself is just like him, but she hates and you mean hates when you compare her to Aemond. She takes offense to it so you stopped looking for her father within his only daughter to please her. Besides, it was easier to stop comparing the two because Daenys’ blue eyes changed when she was a babe to the same shade of brown as Alicent’s. Which must be some cruel joke the gods chose to play on you because how can you hate the woman who bore those brown eyes first but love the girl who bears them now?

In any case, you move away from Aerion and immediately take in his wife and your daughter Daenerys.

“Hello, my lovely girl,” you greet her warmly and embrace her tightly.

“I almost thought I didn't exist in the presence of my husband,” she sasses you, causing you to pull back and shake your head in response.

“Stop that,” you scold her lightheartedly and then take her face like you took Aerion’s and just admire her pretty face.

“I missed you,” she lets you know kindly, making her grey eyes soften.

“I missed you too.” You redirect without hesitation and stroke her face.

Daenerys smiles with dimples appearing on her cheeks and then lifts her eyes to the sky. “Where is she?” She asks.

You follow your daughter's line of gaze and before you can search the skies intently Astraea dives out of the cloud bank and lets out a rather greeting roar that makes all your children grin from ear to ear.

“There,” you point to your dragon flying by to most likely circle around to land close by. “Where are your kids?”

Daenerys returns her attention to you and drags out a deep breath. “Home. It’s a short trip away from home. We did not want to make it a big deal.”

You hum with a hint of sadness, but you don’t let it linger to avoid making her feel bad, instead, you think of a solution. “Well, I’ll have to pay you a visit with Astraea then.”

Daenerys smiles cheekily. “Sounds like a good idea. The kids will love it.”

You offer her a sweet smile and just as you’re going to move down the line to greet Alysanne, shouts break through the air and echo, “Aerion!” As all your sons cry out for their older brother with so much excitement before they run over and tackle him to trap him in a group embrace that he gladly welcomes as he matches their excitement.

“Dany,” you hear Cregan say before you hear him approaching his daughter who isn’t publicly acknowledged as his daughter, but is. And she, along with all your children knows that. It’s not a secret Cregan and you kept, and it’s not one that can be uncovered due to her white-silver hair and the fact that she was born at the same as Daenys, so no one is the wiser. Thankfully.

“Mother!” Alysanne calls out dramatically, making you turn to look at her and cover your mouth out of pure admiration as you take note of her little belly.

“<My little Siren,>” you greet giddily in a sing-song voice in Valyrian before you skip and jog over to catch her in an embrace as she runs over to meet you halfway.

“<Mother>,” she redirects with a hint of relief. “<How I’ve missed you.>”

You rub her back and nod gently. “I’ve missed you too. How are you feeling?” You ask right away and pull back to caress her belly. “Nauseous? Tired?”

Alysanne, who loves to be pampered and given attention to looks at you with a sweet and helpless look. “Tired. I’m always tired, but I feel much better now that you and father are here.”

You stroke her cheek and then stroke her chin. “I’m here for you now, okay?”

She sighs with more relief and nods in comprehension before her eyes dart to her father approaching her as the boys are still hogging Aerion’s attention, and she immediately looks at Cregan with a pout and her eyes brimming with tears, captivating all his attention just like a siren captures their prey

“My darling,” he coos and she coos back.

“Father.”

You roll your eyes and then finally give attention to Alysanne’s husband. “Ellis.”

“Princess,” he greets you with a bow just like his father Lord Benjicot Blackwood always did, however, Ellis’ smile is much more charming than his fathers ever was.

“How are you, my boy?” You ask him with genuine curiosity as you take him in for a short embrace.

“Honestly?” He says as you both pull away—“I’m nervous. My father says that I shouldn’t be, but I am. Alysanne is…” he sighs with concern. “Very important to me. I treasure her, and I hear what happens to women. I don’t want that fate for her.”

You swallow back nervously and remain positive yourself. “It happens, but it won’t happen to her. Just try to remain strong, and level-headed, and remember to breathe. She’ll be okay, and so will your babe. In any case, I’ll be there when she gives birth.”

Ellis lets out a relieved breath and nods in comprehension. “Good. Thank you.”

You offer him one last smile before you glance over at the others and see that Aerion now has Ser Cane captive while Cregan is talking to both Daenerys and Alysanne, letting you let out a small and content breath before you let your eyes wander to the distance to find none other than the women who summoned you here, Alys. She’s keeping to herself in the distance, letting you have your time with your family, but also making sure that you know she’s here too.

Once you make eye contact she turns away and walks away all mysteriously except there’s no mystery as to where she’s going. To avoid all the attention, she disappears into the Godswood, so you let Cregan know where you’re going and then approach Torrhen.

“Darling, meet me at the Godswood when you’re done here, okay?” You let him know as he’s still getting carried away with his brothers. “Have Ser Cane show you the way.”

Torrhen's face doesn't drop the smile he carries, he just agrees with a quick nod. “Of course mother.”

You give his arm a gentle squeeze before you watch Astraea land nearby, drawing the attention of Daenerys and Alysanne and whisking them toward her. And even though she won’t let the girls ride her, she still welcomes the attention they give her, and if the occasion arose she would protect them too just like she protects you. Therefore you’re able to leave her with your family without a second thought to walk to the Godswood to join your good friend Alys underneath the Weirwood tree.

“Hello…old friend,” you greet her as you approach her figure facing the old Heart Tree.

“Princess,” she returns in a kind voice before she turns around and shows off her face untouched by aging. “It’s a pleasure seeing you again.”

You smile brightly and when you reach her you grab her hands and caress her knuckles. “You must tell me what you do to not age. Maybe I want to live forever too.”

Alys laughs softly and with her thumb, strokes your cheek. “You age gracefully, my friend. Besides, my time will come when my flesh and bones will return to the ground and bring new life.”

You snicker teasingly at her choice of words and she catches it right away and scoffs before she moves back and points her chin to the exit. “You’re missing one. Where’s Daenys?”

You draw out a solemn breath and offer her an answer. “She couldn’t come. She said her daughter Naerys just recovered from a cold. She didn’t want to risk exhausting her so I am going to her after Harrenhal.”

Alys hums and then draws out a deep breath as her looks give a flicker of pity. “I had your husband's bones wrapped. All that’s left is you putting them on a pyre.”

You swallow thickly and nod stiffly in comprehension before you look down at the rings around your fingers. “I’ll do it after dinner. When the sun sets. I don’t want to leave him waiting longer.”

Alys nods once and as you look up at her face you see her eyes once again drift past your shoulders. You follow her line of gaze by peering over your shoulder and notice Torrhen approaching hesitantly.

“Mother?” He calls out quietly and you flash him a smile before you turn swiftly and meet him halfway to walk him toward Alys.

“Alys you remember Torrhen, don’t you?” You ask with hints of excitement as you show off your son to your friend—“Torrhen this is Alys Rivers. My friend. You met her once when you were fairly young so I don’t think you remember her, but this is her.”

There's a flicker of recognition that flashes in his grey eyes as he takes in the woman who has not aged a day since the time she went to visit Winterfell.

“Hello, it’s nice to see you again,” he greets her kindly, making her close the gap between them by grabbing his face and looking deep into his eyes with a narrowed gaze filled with curiosity.

“Gods,” she mutters. “You look every bit like your father. Shame.”

“Alys,” you exclaim with a wobbly smile threatening to spread on your lips.

Said woman lets Torrhen go and steps away, letting your son pass you a concerned look that you try to assure by caressing his arm.

“Do you have your mother's talent?” She asks your son and his eyes dart to you before they find her again and he shakes his head.

“No.”

Alys sighs with disappointment before she turns to you and asks for your permission to take him to help him, and you of course give it to her with a single nod out of desperation.

“Torrhen,” you say and bring his attention back to you whilst Alys walks closer to the weeping face carved on the tree. “I want you to go with Alys right now and let her help you.”

Your son's dark eyebrows slowly knot together and he probes. “What? Why?”

You exhale deeply and grab his hand to offer him your explanation. “I mentioned that she can do magic and she also has visions. Do you remember?”

He nods and you sigh and continue softer.

“Well, she might be able to help you understand what you can do in ways I never could. So I need you to be honest with her, okay? Tell her everything you dream and see, hm?”

He blinks slowly and interjects with a hint of disbelief. “You told her about my visions and dreams?”

You nod and his jaw hardens as his lips form to a small and displeased pout.

“I’ve seen you, Torrhen. It all takes so much from you, especially lately. I just want to offer you a solution, okay, so please for me,” you press and touch your chest. “Let her help you. She won’t take them away but maybe she can offer some relief to all the chaos, hm?”

Torrhen clenches his jaw harder but a huff of air runs out of his nose before he faces you again and hesitantly nods.

“Good,” you whisper and stroke his cheek before you step away from him and turn your head to Alys to offer her a small smile before leaving the Godswood.

After that before dinner and during dinner, you bask in the bliss that you feel over having almost all your kids under one roof again. Rickon and Daenys are missing but you don’t let who you’re missing stop the joy bursting in your heart. You know what awaits you later, and all the feelings that will come with it so for now, before you’re riddled with grief, you find joy in the sound of all your children’s laughs.

You admire the way Cregan interacts with Maekor’s twin sons, while also helping him create those splendid memories in your grandson's minds. You coddle Alysanne as she demands your affection in what she calls her time of need, but in doing so you also feel pride and happiness as you see how much Ellis loves and cares for Alysanne. He might look intimidating as he towers over with his tall and slim figure, and with his dark hair and the mysterious way he looks at the world, but he’s really sweet, funny, and affectionate. He surely makes Alysanne feel better as she deals with a wave of different emotions during her pregnancy, and that makes you glad; it reminds you of Cregan and you when you were with child multiple times throughout your life, letting you know that you couldn’t have asked for better for your daughter because Cregan has always been so good.

Moreover, you continue to get drunk in the buzzing emotions, in the way Daenerys and Aerion look out for each other as their brothers get carried away with the wine and pull them into their madness. You watch the way Maekor’s wife fails at reining him in as he’s too driven by his high from being with his brothers. You even join Jacaerys in singing a few sailor shanties and upbeat songs.

There’s only short moments of silence here and there but life travels through the haunting halls of Harrenhal. Even when you drift away and at last bring yourself to what’s left of Aemond Targaryen; your uncle, best friend, and great, epic love of your life.

“<I'm sorry it took so long,>” you talk to the perfectly wrapped bones laid down on the stone table. “<I thought they’d never find you, but here you are. I’m sorry.>”

You get closer and closer, with each step feeling a heavy weight of grief and sorrow that you haven’t felt in a long time fall over your chest and push you down and further down while faded memories once so vivid swirl through your mind.

“<Your face is a blur,” you admit, “I’m older now, but I have not forgotten you, I swear. And I still miss you.>”

You reach the side of the table he was left on and feel your breath shudder and a grip tighten around your throat.

“<You must have been lonely, Aemond. Oh…Aemond. Why didn’t you listen to me?>” You ask a pile of hollow bones with tears crawling to your eyes and making your voice sound shaky. “<Why did you have to be so driven by your ego? We…” you pause and draw in a shaky breath. “The truth is I’m happy with the life I have. I built it. Me. Yes, there are bad moments, but I made this life I’m living now. I built my family with my husband. I have loved like my mother. I have taught my children to love the same way my brothers and I loved each other…the same way my mother taught us how to love, so I can’t say I wish my life was different, but…but…>” You sniffle and press your hands on the surface of the table.

“<…There are times when I wonder what our life would have looked like. Would it have been as beautiful?>” You ask the emptiness of the room where his ghost doesn’t even linger. It’s just the presence of his remains, you, and the dancing flames giving the chambers light.

“<I like to think so because I knew you. You had a good heart and you just wanted to be loved…>” you scoff softly and finally lift your hand off your side to very slowly and carefully lay your hand on his head, feeling a wave of sorrow hit your heart and causing streams of tears to break out of your eyes.

“<I wish my love could have been enough for you Aemond,” you whisper and lower your lips to his head. “But as selfish as you were about my love and you loving me, it didn’t satisfy you. That’s why you’re gone and I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry for everything. Even though I was unfaithful, even though I was mad you killed my brother and my grandmother, even though…so many other things I still loved you with all my heart. I still do. I love you as if you were still alive. I will love you forever.>” You finish and breathe out before you press a gentle kiss on his forehead and keep your lips pressed against the cold surface.

The door proceeds to creak as it opens, causing you to stand up to your given height and steal a peek over your shoulder. When you catch Aerion walking in you wipe the tears off your face and let out another breath before interjecting.“Are you ready?”

Aerion sighs deeply. “Mother.”

“Do you want time with him?” You ask as you think that’s why he called out to you, but when you turn around to face him he doesn’t look sorrowful, he looks like he’s dreading having to say something.

“What is it?” You ask curiously

Aerion draws out another heavy breath and takes a step forward before he swallows nervously and shares what he’s keeping inside. “I will not take part in the funeral.”

You scoff and confusion flickers on your face. “What do you mean?” You mutter. “He was your father Aerion.”

Said man shakes his head stiffly. “No. He was not. Cregan was my father, Ser Cane and Corlys were my father, Aemond Targaryen never was. He might be the reason I am here, but he is no father of mine,” he finishes with a hint of disgust and your face falls with utter disbelief.

“That’s why Daenys is not here either,” he adds and drops his head to talk to the ground. “She wanted no part in it either. We are sorry for you, mother, but we do not care for him.”

“Aerion,” you warn with no actual threat in your voice.

“Do you really expect me to grieve for a man who took part in the reason our family was killed? A man who was at fault for why my grandmother is not here?”

“He had no fault in that,” you cut in for Aemond’s defense. “You know that. He might have been against my mother, but I was too at some point.”

“But you never killed your brothers—”

“He did not kill his brothers,” you cut him off but he quickly snaps back.

“That’s not the point!” He heaves and you look at him bewildered as he meets your gaze with the same eyes of the man he despises—“He was a bad man, who left. Every chance he had to stay with us he used to turn around and leave. I will not grieve for someone like that. His blood may run through my veins but I will never call him father. I will never remember him as such, and I will never claim him as such either. I am sorry mother.”

Aerion steps toward you and cups your shoulder to lean in and press a kiss on your cheek before he abandons the room and leaves you alone, letting you let out a small sob.

What could you say to make him feel otherwise? His mind is made about his father and he has a right to feel what he wants because he’s a grown man. You can’t beg him to look at things differently, you’ll probably talk to him but never beg him.

If only he could remember how much his father really loved him, but alas…he can’t.

“I guess it is just me and you, huh?” You direct to Aemond’s remains as you turn and face him again. “It’s okay. You always preferred it that way anyway.”

You let out a deep, shaky breath and then collect his remains to walk out to the pyre that was built for you and place his remains on top.

When the remains are where you want them to be you step away and that’s when it sets that Aerion kept his word; he doesn’t come. No one does and you don’t expect anyone to join you because no one knew him but you, and he would have hated it if Cregan were in attendance so it’s just you, Ser Cane, and Astraea standing around the pyre, but you’re the only one grieving him.

Alas, in the silence of the night of Aemond’s lonely funeral, as you hesitate setting his remains ablaze, two pairs of footsteps echo as they approach, so with the little energy you have you look back and gasp softly when you see Daenerys and Alysanne are joining you.

“Maekor and the others are drunk and we didn’t want them to ruin it, so we came alone,” Daenerys shares before you can ask what she’s doing out here. “We didn’t want you to be alone. And father didn’t want you to be alone either.”

You sniffle as your heart swoons and you mewl as your emotions get the best of you. “Thank you, my girls.”

Alysanne wraps her arm around your shoulders and Daenerys holds your hand, giving you the strength you need to at last say the word to send Aemond off at long last.

“Dracarys.”

.

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[dollya-robinprotector]

I’d still like to know what you consider copying if you’re willing to answer! ^_^

I just look back and realize you asked about "artstyle", which I don't really have an answer for. I believe artstyles are meant to be "adapted" and "improved" and there's nothing too definite to be called "copy artstyle" for those who genuinely want to learn. Ah, but there are still some shitty examples, so follow me down on this...

For example: Rei17, is known for being an absolutely massive A-hole and treating people like shit, but also a legend for having the most magical use of colors, lighting and composition, along with a perfect dynamic for anatomy.

That is to say: an "Artsyle" is made up of many elements. One cannot copy an artstyle if one can't copy everything that artstyle is made of, and that's a LOT of work, especially to copy a master of masters like Rei17. Instead, they mimic some fractions, that make things easier. But then that's not "copy artstyle" anymore, that's "copy concept", "copy color", "copy composition", etc... and suddenly it's not really very "copy" anymore because when we break it down, those fractions becomes "knowledge" that's really "learn-able":

For example: Turn out Rei17's color skill is a very clever use of color theory and by learning about it, many and many other artists can also use it so vividly, without even looking remotely like Rei17's "artsyle"

Taro-K from TamoTaro

Or you can have some cases who tried to mimic everything - the entire artstyle, and fail miserably. For example, this artist I know from some time ago:

left: copy works from that artist and right: original works from Rei17

above: copy works from that artist and below: original works from Rei17

Now, this is called traight-up copy too, I think you can see why:

left: copy work from that artist and right: original work from Rei17

this artist also copied Azling

and once again failed miserably because he lacked the knowledge and didn't understand the fundamentals behind the drawing :)

Now that I saw those messy lines without a horizon line or focal points again it indeed reminded me of something.... ah!

Now, joke aside, I honestly cannot give more insight into this problem since I'm not exactly too keen on just one artstyle myself. BUT I know it when someone learned from my "concept", "paneling", or shits like that, and especially my "designs".

I remember one time there was an artist, who appeared on tumblr dot com one day, and drew their Whitney with the exact choker tattoo I gave my Whitney, with the exact 4 little triangles on the side too. And when I reached out to them and said I was more than happy to let them use my design, but they needed to know the "lore" behind it, they admitted that they saw my drawings on the top tag and just thought it was a common thing, and despite my efforts to communicate, they never reply again, and then fade away with all their drawings......

Mystery...

Recently, I reached out to some artists I've noticed were kinda of copying or referencing my works, and to my relief, they all admitted their wrongs and were willing to make up for it. For example, when I put a drawing that references my work, side-by-side with my drawings like this, do you see the issue?

This case is not the only one, but it is the mildest of the conversations I have had in the past few days addressing almost the same issues. I've asked the artist for permission to use this drawing as an example of obvious referencing.

yup, they admitted they learned from my work but did not ask because they were "shy and afraid of asking because that would bother" me.

And to that, I say: "ALWAYS REACH OUT AND ASK FOR CONSENT FIRST". If you can ask, just ask. If given permission, wonderful! And if not, oh wew I just avoided upsetting my fav artist any further! Or if the artist doesn't respond: oh I should still be respectful and give them the credit. Do it, be respectful, and give credit to your source of learning because confrontation is never a nice thing to face.

And if you want to ask about copy and heavy ref in Designing, especially Character design, I think that'll have to be for another day because I'm so tired now U_U) I hope this post can clear up something and give someone who needs it some insights

And remember: ALWAYS ASK FOR CONSENT AND GIVE CREDIT!

[pankowcrumbs]

Little moments X Rudy Pankow (requested)

The air was thick with the salty tang of the sea, the faint sounds of distant waves mingling with the chatter and laughter on set. The Outer Banks crew was in full swing, the buzz of cameras and the shuffle of feet on the wooden docks creating a symphony of organized chaos. But here I was, tucked away in the shadows near the craft services table, sipping on a lukewarm iced coffee and watching Rudy charm everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Y/N, we need you for Scene 27 in ten minutes,” one of the assistants called out, her clipboard balanced precariously on her hip as she passed by.

I gave her a quick thumbs up, even though I knew full well I wasn’t needed for another hour. Rudy caught my eye across the lot and flashed a grin that made my heart do an involuntary flip. He started weaving through the crowd toward me, his boyish charm and effortless charisma drawing attention as he moved.

“Hey, you busy?” he asked, leaning casually against the table.

“Not for a while,” I replied, swirling the remnants of my coffee. “Why? What’s up?”

He glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was paying too much attention. “Want to sneak off?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sneak off? Where?”

His grin widened. “Trust me.”

Against my better judgment—and because it was Rudy, whose spontaneous ideas always seemed to end in either mild chaos or unforgettable fun—I found myself following him toward the boats docked at the edge of the set. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting the world in shades of orange and pink, the kind of lighting that made everything look like a dream.

We slipped past the crew unnoticed, ducking behind trailers and sneaking through a gap in the fencing. When we reached one of the smaller, less-used boats, Rudy jumped aboard with the ease of someone who’d done it a million times. He turned and held out a hand to me, his expression softer now, less mischievous.

“Come on,” he said.

I hesitated for a split second before taking his hand. His fingers were warm and calloused, and he pulled me up with a strength that sent a little jolt through me. The boat rocked gently beneath our feet as I settled beside him on the deck, the fading sunlight painting his features in golden hues.

“So, this is your big plan?” I teased, gesturing around. “Hide on a boat?”

“It’s not just hiding,” he said, lying back and propping himself up on his elbows. “It’s escaping. Big difference.”

I laughed softly and followed his lead, stretching out beside him. The wood beneath us was rough but comforting, the kind of texture that grounded you. Above us, the sky was deepening to a dusky purple, the first stars beginning to peek through.

For a while, we didn’t say anything. The quiet was companionable, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. I glanced over at him, noticing the way his eyes reflected the sky, like he was carrying a piece of it within him.

“You know,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful, “this is my favorite part of filming.”

“What is?”

“The in-between moments,” he said, turning his head to look at me. “When it’s just us, the cast, messing around or finding little pockets of quiet. Feels more real than the cameras.”

I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “Yeah. It’s easy to forget we’re making a show sometimes.”

He reached out then, hesitating for the briefest moment before brushing his fingers against mine. I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let my hand slip into his, our fingers intertwining naturally, like it was something we’d done a hundred times before.

“You okay with this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” I said, my heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the rocking of the boat. “I’m okay with this.”

We stayed like that for what felt like forever, the world around us fading away until it was just the two of us, the stars, and the gentle lapping of water against the hull. At some point, Rudy closed his eyes, a soft smile tugging at his lips as his breathing evened out. I watched him for a moment, marveling at how peaceful he looked, how different from the energetic, joking persona he showed the world.

“Caught you!”

The sudden voice startled us both, and Rudy’s eyes flew open as we turned to see Carlacia standing on the dock, her phone held like a trophy. The flash of her camera went off, and I groaned, burying my face in my free hand—the one not still clasped in Rudy’s.

“Seriously?” Rudy said, though he didn’t sound angry. If anything, he sounded amused.

“Oh, this is gold,” Carlacia said, laughing as she tapped away on her phone. “The group chat is going to eat this up.”

“Carlacia!” I whined, but she was already backing away, her laughter echoing across the water.

Rudy squeezed my hand, drawing my attention back to him. He was grinning now, his cheeks flushed in a way that made him look younger, boyish.

“Well,” he said, “guess the secret’s out.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and unrestrained. “Yeah. Guess it is.”

And in that moment, with the stars above us and his hand still holding mine, I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not even a little.

[thatguywhodoesstuff]

What about you? What about the Warhammer Chaos gods interests you?

Alright, sorry for the late response, but here’s a point by point rundown on my thoughts on the various Chaos Gods and Chaos as a whole:

Khorne————————

The big man of Chaos and the one (besides Gork and Mork) that is benefiting and reveling the most from the constant battles and wars being waged throughout the franchise. In my opinion, the Lord of Blood’s main appeal to me is his simplicity. He knows what he wants and what he expects of his followers, and while at face value this makes him seem like little else than a blunt instrument, just how raw and utterly human the sensation of overwhelming and all consuming anger is both terrifying and compelling, especially in how it plays into and with Khorne also focusing on a traditional, albeit heavily blood soaked, concept of honor.

Tzeentch—————————

Ah yes, the Changer of Ways, Tzeentch is a tricky one on practically all levels. I will admit Tzeentch isn’t a personal favorite of mine, but I am a big fan of how the various domains he covers overlap and interact, such as showing the dual nature of desiring change which isn’t intrinsically good or bad, the danger of recklessly seeking knowledge, and not to mention the blinding effect unchecked ambition has on people. I can honestly get behind Tzeentch, his followers, and the nebulous, ever changing goals on paper, but the fact there isn’t much in the way of defined parameters regarding what Tzeentch draws power from is a bit of a turnoff.

Nurgle———————

Now we come upon my undisputed favorite amongst the Chaos pantheon. Grandfather Nurgle has a rather personal place in my heart as ever since I was young I’ve struggled with anxiety and fears regarding matters of death, pain, filth, sickness, and feelings of depression. See, when I first got into the Warhammer franchise, I found myself drawn to the Plaguelord and his followers as I felt strangely seen in them.

As for in-universe reasons, I find the paradoxical nature of Nurgle and his followers very intriguing. How this god of death also holds dominion over a twisted form of life. How he expresses his own twisted brand of love by “blessing” whole worlds with nightmarish blights. How his acolytes are all twisted & diseased pseudo corpses that are free of pain & fear of death as they shamble forward across the battlefield. I suppose the best way I can describe my feelings for Nurgle and his grandkids is that I find them sickeningly sweet.

Slaanesh——————

Okay, so I’ll admit Slaanesh honestly unnerves me as someone with obsessive tendencies. Aside from the more… obvious aspects of She Who Thirsts and her followers, what always interested me regarding Slaanesh was the personal connection and enmity it has with the Elvish/Aeldari factions. I will say, I do have one major gripe with how the Slaanesh faction is presented almost strictly in a carnal manner in WH40k and wish they would take more from the more widespread concepts of obsession and overindulgence they have been using in Age of Sigmar.

Malal/Malice———————————

Ah yes, the oft forgotten son of Chaos (and Games Workshop). I don’t have much else to say other than I find the overall aesthetic and concept of a faction that embodies the tendency of Chaos to turn inwards and self destruct to be absolutely phenomenal. 11/11, I really wish we would get more regarding this infrequently mentioned and not completely canon Chaos god and faction.

The Horned Rat—————————————

He’s the self serving god of a race of psychotic rat-men hooked on radioactive moon cheese that literally feeds on desperation and desires little else than to despoil literally everything, which led to him just inserting himself into the empty space left in the Chaos pantheon by Slaanesh’s imprisonment. What’s not to love about him and his manic followers in all the different and innovative ways they manage to manifest their depravity?

Hashut/Vashtorr————

Alright, I’ll admit I don’t have a whole lot to say about Hashut, but I thought I’d discuss these two together given their whole focus on the evils born of unchecked innovation and industrialism. Now, I will say I do find Hashut managing to corrupt and radicalize a whole group of dwarfs into their own subfaction with the promise of better materials/conditions to work with and the ability to wield conventional magic (albeit at a price) rather impressive, having basically carved out his own niche separate from the Primordial Four.

As for Vashtorr, I’m really interested in how the story regarding his quest to become a Fifth Chaos god will unfold, especially given how he’s aligned with the Black Legion, and while its clear that someone is going to get screwed over in that particular partnership, especially since it’s currently unclear who the unlucky party is going to be when that time comes. I also find it very interesting how Vashtorr more or less takes the opposite route of Hashut and instead has ingratiated himself to the Primordial Four via the manufacturing of Daemon Engines, while also being mostly untouchable in the greater scope of the Great Game.

Misc. Other Chaos Gods—

There isn’t much to say about the other Chaos gods as they are either yet to manifest or non-canon. I will say the idea of the Emperor of Mankind being a likely candidate of becoming the Fifth Chaos god is something I absolutely love and wish was more fleshed out aside from the rare references to the Dark King and the Star Child. I mean, common, it’s just so poetic that the man that spent thousands upon thousands of years busting his hump trying to elevate humanity and protect them from the forces of Chaos becoming just like the very beings he sought to starve and extinguish with his Imperial Truth and possibly condemning mankind, if not the entirety of existence, just like Slaanesh condemned the Aeldari. I get it’s something on such a massive scale that it’s just not feasible to properly tackle without massive effort on Games Workshop’s part, but it’s still something fascinating to explore.

Also, shout-out to the non-canon Necoho the Doubter and Zuvassin the Undoer for literally being the Renegade Chaos gods of atheism and plans going awry respectively.

Chaos Undivided—————

I suppose to answer the question of what draws me to Chaos is the fact it’s a dark mirror of the rawest, truest parts of humanity. It’s a corruptive force literally born from the minds of mortals and true to human nature, people try to rationalize it, direct it, wield it, only to invariably fail and fall deeper into its clutches. Chaos comes in so many forms and in some there are shades of good, yet it’s all clouded by the horrors it brings. It’s like an exploration of the human condition and yet, at the same time Chaos is in a way a literal man made hell, and that fact just fascinates me on a near morbid level.

I’m sorry that this was such a long read, but I hope this answered your question.

[anxiousthoughts365]

Read

'Whatcha reading, Moonbeam?'

Remus didn't look up from his page. He was so engrossed in the words that he didn't care that his back and hip were aching from being crushed into the window seat of the boys' dormitory room for too long, or that the sun was dipping so low beneath the tree line of the Forbidden Forest that he was having to strain his eyes to keep reading. Even his boyfriend's proximity wasn't enough to draw his attention away.

'Muggle book,' he muttered, only half-aware of what he was saying. It wasn't until Sirius' head, cocked to one side so that he could read the tile on the book's cover, entered his line of vision that he placed a long finger between the pages to save his place and made himself look at the other boy.

'Oh, Oscar Wilde!' Sirius said, his handsome face lighting with recognition as he met Remus' surprised gaze. 'He was the guy who wrote gay poetry, right? And got sent to prison for it?'

'Sort of? He - Wait, how do you know about Oscar Wilde?' Remus blurted.

'Reggie reads,' Sirius sighed, rolling his eyes, as though being well read made his brother a lost cause. 'Then he yaps about his books to James, who yaps about them to me. Getting rather boring, to be honest.'

'Well, maybe you should read some of the books that they talk about?' Remus tried. 'You never know, you might find something you could talk to Regulus about in them.'

'Riiiiight,' Sirius drawled, shaking his head as though the idea of it was impossible. But suddenly he paused, then grinned at Remus. 'Wait, what if you read it to me?'

'You ...' Remus blinked up at his triumphant boyfriend, his mind moving slowly around the concept. 'You want me to read you The Picture of Dorian Gray?'

'Yeah! It would be brilliant!' Sirius looked smug, like he'd just solved all of the world's problems in one fell swoop.

'It's ... It's quite an old book, Pads,' Remus murmured, treading carefully with his wording.

'Alright, well, I won't touch the pages or anything.'

'No, Love, I mean ...' Remus grappled with himself for a moment before plunging on, 'The wording is quite, um, flowery? It uses a lot of old language, and it's quite hard to follow in places, and -'

'Oh,' Sirius breathed, the smile slipping from his face. Remus started to panic when he saw the walls beginning to build behind the silver eyes that he so often got lost in, and then Sirius was turning away, muttering, 'You know, Remus, if you didn't want to do it, you could have just said -'

Remus lurched out of his sitting position, wincing slightly as his joints twinged at the sudden movement. But he still managed to catch Sirius' elbow, still managed to pull him back. The barriers weren't fully in place yet, as Sirius allowed himself to be turned, so Remus began blathering.

'Alright, look, it was written in the 1800s, and it was illegal to be gay back then, so Wilde couldn't just write an openly gay novel. He had to use a lot of imagery and careful language to hide what he meant. It's a story about love and obsession and how those things can easily become confused, but because of the style of the writing it's not as thrilling as a spy book or a crime novel. It's not that I don't want to read to you. I would love to read to you. But I just wanted you to know what you were in for, and that it's OK if you get bored and want to go do something else, yeah?'

Remus waited for a heartbeat, then two, panting slightly from his rant. But finally, Sirius softened, his eyes losing that harshness, and he lifted one hand to cup Remus' jaw.

'I think you could read me Hogwarts: A History from cover to cover, and it would be the most fascinating thing I'd ever heard,' Sirius murmured, the sincerity in his voice making Remus melt.

'Well, we'll see,' he rumbled, smiling when Sirius' thumb stroked gently over his cheekbone. Silent thanks for catching him before he spiralled. Remus turned his head to press a kiss against the other boy's pale wrist, then added, 'Could we move to the bed, though? My back is killing me.'

'Just say the word,' Sirius purred, and Remus chuckled at the elusion to one of their favourite songs. Quite an apt song, really, for the moment.

He allowed Sirius to pull him to his feet, and in no time they were curled up on Sirius' bed, with Remus' back well supported by numerous cushions and Sirius splayed out on his front, his head on Remus' chest, arms wrapped around his waist and hips nestled between his thighs. Remus opened the book at the first page.

'The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses,' he began. 'And when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.'

'Sounds lovely,' Sirius sighed, his voice already heavy and relaxed. And Remus couldn't help smiling as he tangled his fingers into his boyfriend's long black hair, and read.

[dlsau]

Happy New Year! Alts and slightly long-winded ramble below the cut!

This blog has over 100 followers! Wow. Thank you guys, and I’m glad y’all like seeing my shitty little doodles that much!

That being said, we’re also not getting as many asks as before, which is why posts have sort of slowed down. I’m not really pressed about that, but I figured I’d let y’all know the reason you haven’t been seeing these guys as much. If we get more asks, great! If not, that’s cool too. I’ve got other projects to work on to keep me entertained! (I’ve got one ask in the inbox rn, working on it, sorry abt the delay).

Finally, I would say that I’ve accomplished the goal I had when starting this account. The whole point was to get more comfortable drawing and throwing things out even if they aren’t perfect. I draw a lot more now, and I post those drawings more (on my main, even!), and I’m happier with them in general. Looking back through this blog and my other art, I can see how much I’ve grown as an artist and it makes me really happy! Also, I think I’m hilarious LMAO

All that to say, this blog will continue to post as frequently as it gets asks, for now. If there’s any stories or character interactions you want to see more of, feel free to send em in. Generally, you guys decide on the story here.

If anyone has any ideas for a 100 follower event (M!Anons, etc.) feel free to suggest!

Thanks for sticking with us! Here’s to another year of drawing like shit!

Alts:

[chumbyy]

How you so creative (genuine question because all your art is so wonderful and you dont seem to be afraid of expressing ideas)

(╥ᆺ╥) tht's so sweet of youuu.... gwuhhh aauhhh i've never thought of it before... i listen to a lot of music, and some of my favorite pieces have been just how those songs made me feel in my head. once or twice i've had funky dreams and woken up at like 4am to draw them >w>;;; BUT uhm uhm. uhm. another part of it also is. i think i just would rather be in a different body if i could, and when i draw i can be a billion different things in a billion different ways. this is a really nice little group of followers, i know nobody's going to be mad at me if i post art they don't like or if i don't post any art at all for a while, and if they are then,,, that's unfortunate lol i make art Just For Me. everyone needs some creative outlet that's Just For Them, cause ur creations will outlive you when you're gone ^_^

[blessedbyahuntress]

Two Demigods and a Goddess

Pairing: Leo Valdez x Daughter!of!Hades!Reader

Warnings: I don't think so

Word Count: 1.9k

You dipped your feet in the water, sighing as it cooled your skin. 

The sun shone down on your face, blinding you as you slipped your hoodie off; it was too hot to be wearing extra layers.

You traced the lines that had been engraved into the rock beside you with your knife- your only possession when you were sentenced to this island. Twenty four lines, twenty four months, or two years, if you preferred. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of light. You turned your head toward it and frowned, puzzled. Another innocent girl coming to join you in Ogygia? 

You decided not to dwell on it, instead taking your dagger out of its sheath. You angled yourself back to the rock to draw a few more images. Calypso would tell you if anything major happened while you were away.

After all, nothing really happened often on this isle. Usually.

At least, that’s what you thought until you heard Calypso practically scream, “what are you doing? You blew up my dining table!”

“Great,” you muttered, rising to your feet. You slipped on your sandals, speed walking to the shore of the island. 

~

You stayed in the shadows, watching your best friend sassily argue with a short, curly haired Latino. 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” He said. You could tell that he already disliked Calypso. “I just fell out of the sky. I constructed a helicopter in midair, burst into flames halfway down, and barely survived. But by all means- let’s talk about your dining table!”

“Who puts a dining table on the beach where innocent demigods can crash into it?” He continued. “Who does that?”

Calypso clenched her fists, looking about ready to march down to the Latino and punch him in the face. 

Before she could do anything of the sort, you emerged from the shadows, compliments from your father. 

“Well, well, well,” you said, strolling up to the pair. “What do we have here, Calypso?”

She snorted. “No one important, as you can see.”

You tsked. “You should at least ask his name, before you label him as ‘not important’.”

The boy beamed at you. “Why, thank you, Sunshine!” He looked you up and down. “I must say- loving the outfit, too. Sandals with cargo pants? I don’t know a lot of people who could pull that off.”

You raised your eyebrows, slipping your sunglasses back over your eyes. “The one thing I’ll allow you to label him as, without asking his name, is annoying.”

The boy raised a hand to his chest, acting like he was wounded. “Oh, how your words hurt me, Sunshine! But your gloomy aesthetic isn’t fooling me any time soon!”

You scowled and turned to Calypso. “This’ll be tough,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “He’s by far not as attractive as Odysseus nor Percy, and he’s rather annoying. How do we get him out of here?”

“Tell you what.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’ll take him to my side of the island. And maybe, just maybe, I can build something that’ll get him out of here.”

Calypso gave a small nod, relief overtaking her features as she slowly walked back toward the winding trail which led to her home. You watched her go until she was out of sight. 

Turning to the boy, you said, “what’s your name?”

He got up, and you realized he was clutching an odd-looking sphere. You raised your eyebrows as he stumbled out of the wreckage of Calypso’s dining table.

“Leo,” he answered. “Leo Valdez.”

You gestured to a different footpath a bit of a walk away from the one Calypso had run off to. “Alright, Valdez. Follow me, don’t ask any stupid questions, and I’ll make you as comfortable as I can. If you ask me anything along the lines of, “who are you?” or, “Why are you here?” I’ll skewer you.”

You grinned at his slightly uneasy expression before stalking off into the woods. 

~

Leo found you the next day.

You were wandering the shores of Ogygia, fiddling with a black ring that had been gifted to you from Hades. 

You jumped when the Latino from the day before tapped you on the shoulder.

You turned the skull on your ring toward the left, the simple piece of jewelry enlarging into a stygian iron dagger. The blade found its place under his chin in one swift movement. 

He yelped.

“Oh,” you said, sounding rather disappointed. “It’s just you.”

Leo released a breath. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Just me.”

You rolled your eyes, removing the knife from his neck. “I mean just you as in, ‘oh, it’s an annoying boy who I unfortunately am not allowed to decapitate yet, though it would be fun to do so.’.” 

He blinked, and you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yes, Valdez? What do you want?”

Leo blinked again, trying to ignore the strong scent of your perfume. It smelled so good. 

“Valdez?”

He realized he’d been staring at you, and had to rip his gaze away. “Uhm,” he said. 

You quirked an eyebrow.

He felt his mouth get dry as he tried to remember what he’d come to ask you for. Gods, why did you have to apply your makeup much better than you had yesterday?

“Uh… I-You.” Leo could tell you were growing impatient. “Do you have any scrap metals?” He blurted.

You barked a laugh, and Leo found himself loving the sound of it. 

“Of course I have scrap metal!” You exclaimed. “For gods sake, I have a whole forge!”

This earned you another blink from Leo. 

You grabbed his wrist, dragging him to the cave a few feet away.

Stopping in front of the entrance, you announced, “this is my home. You’re welcome here, but only, and I repeat only, to ask a question, grab food, or use the forge. You still get to sleep outside.”

“Yippee!” Leo remarked sarcastically. 

You scowled at him, dropping his forearm. Gesturing farther into the cave, you started retreating back into the sunlight. 

“You’ll find everything prepped and ready for use,” you told him before vanishing from his sight.

~

You hadn’t returned that night. Nor the night after that one. 

Leo hadn’t even thought about it until you showed up holding a basket of grapes and a loaf of bread.

“Valdez.”

He glanced up and nearly smashed his thumb with his hammer; he’d forgotten how utterly breathtaking you were. 

“You haven’t eaten in two days,” you said, frowning. “You need to take a break, Leo.”

It was the first time Leo had heard you use his first name instead of ‘Valdez’, and he tried to ignore the fact that he wanted you to say it more often.

“Two days?” He asked.

You nodded seriously before snorting. You moved to grab his hand before he could bash his thumb with his hammer. 

Your touch burned. In fact, it seemed like his skin was still on fire from where you’d grabbed his wrist earlier in the week. He tried to ignore the sensation, having to focus on the food in your other hand instead. He didn’t find this to be a very difficult task, considering that he was starved. 

You took the hammer from Leo’s hand gently, setting it off to the side. 

Satisfied that he would stop and eat, you gestured to the table a few feet away. “Sit with me, Valdez. Let’s eat.”

Once properly situated- Leo sitting like a normal human being, while you put your feet up on the table- you ripped off a chunk of bread for yourself, offering the rest of the loaf to the boy next to you.

He took it as you chewed your piece with a thoughtful expression. 

“I think I’m ready to tell you about myself,” you decided.

Leo, who was apparently trying to see how many grapes he could feet in his mouth without choking, froze.

You tilted your chin up, avoiding his gaze as you said, “i’m Y/N L/N, daughter of-”

“Hades,” Leo finished. “Variable of the Battle of Manhattan, assassin for hire, most deadly and unpredictable demigod in the world.” He released a breath. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you.” 

Your gaze flickered to him, surprised when you didn’t see what you were expecting; Leo’s eyes meeting yours, understanding, curiosity, and perhaps admiration in the depths of his stare. 

“Don’t you… hate me?” You couldn’t help but ask in a hushed voice. 

Leo frowned. “Hate you? Why would I hate you?”

“Because…” You struggled with an answer. 

The boy beside you rose to his feet, taking both of your hands in his. “Y/N, I don’t think I could ever hate you for anything, much less the things you had to do.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek. The only other person who’d reacted like this had been… no one, actually. “I-I-” You stammered. “I don’t know what to say.”

Leo gave you a small smile. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know what I say is true.”

You found yourself looking to the entrance of the cave. You stood abruptly, dragging the Latino boy after you as you ran to the beach. 

“Whoa!” He yelped. “Y/N, what’re you…”

He trailed off as he saw the raft that awaited on the shore. 

“Hurry!” You said, tugging him toward the raft. “I don’t know how long it will stay!”

“But…” Leo found himself not able to finish that sentence as you glared at him over your shoulder.

“Come on, Valdez!” You cried. “Move! It’s supposed to take you where you want to go, but the island’s magic is obviously unstable! You have to rig up your guidance device to navigate!”

You continued to sprint to the raft, Leo behind you; he’d snapped out of his daze when he realized you had grabbed the console from the other table beside the forge. 

You and Leo worked in sync, stepping back once you were sure everything was situated correctly. 

“Go,” you said, stepping off of the raft. You inched back a bit when Leo hopped off too. 

He grabbed your hand again, and you stared down at your intertwined fingers. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“You have to.” You cursed yourself for how heartbroken you sounded.

“Then, once the war is over, I'll come back to you.”

“Leo-”

“I know that no man has ever landed here twice, but I have to. I’ll find a way, Y/N. If it’s the last thing I-”

You lurched forward and placed your lips on his.

Leo’s brain seemed to have short-circuited. He stood there for a moment, unsure if this was real, if you were real- ‘cus it sure as hell felt like he was dreaming.

Then he closed his eyes, hands finding a place on your waist. 

You pulled away far too soon, in Leo’s opinion.

“Go,” you repeated, stepping away.

“Okay.”

“And don’t give me any empty promises.”

“Okay.”

Leo stepped back onto the raft, not sure if it was salt water or tears running down his cheeks. 

He looked back at Ogygia, only to find it was only a spec in the distance now.

You had said not to give you any empty promises. And he wouldn’t. 

He’d give you his vow.

“I’m coming back to you, Y/N,” he whispered. “I swear it on the River Styx.”

[myonmukyuu]

Art Summary: 2024

I've been posting my art online for 11 years! wowie!!

My yearly review is under the cut (1.8k words):

Previous: 2014 | 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022 | 2023

Happy new year everyone!!! This is actually the first time in a long time that I've not posted my yearly summary on the 31st. I was a bit caught up with visiting family and being a good host so I didn't get time.

Anyways! Time for my year in review that no one reads except for me the following year. 💪💪💪

How this year went:

I think this year went... alright? Let's see, what did I get up to...

Ah. Okay! Art-wise it went "alright" but life-wise I had a pretty good year! Got a boyfriend! Got a cat! Went on two holidays (Japan, USA)! Visited family! Met a lot of online friends! Went to a bunch of concerts! (YOASOBI, Nijigasaki 6th, Hololive Down Under, Miku) A pretty eventful year ✌✌✌✌

But this is actually an art year in review so I'm going to focus on that! And... yeah, I think I went 'alright'. I don't feel terrible about how I went, but I also don't feel amazing? C+ or B- I think...

How did my art go?

Like I said, I think I went 'alright'. I felt very rocky several times in the year with periods of art block and a good chunk of time where nothing I drew felt 'right'. Was it burnout? Maybe. It took me some time to find my footing again. It also didn't really help that I had a lot of "interruptions" throughout the year. Traveling, getting sick, artist alleys and stuff really messed with my momentum. I did a lot of individual little works rather than comic works. I'm not exactly happy with that but it's something to look at for next year.

In terms of raw, technical skill I'm not really too far from where I was last year. But to be fair, after drawing for a decade that's to be expected. While I want to be always improving, I know that's not always immediately visible. That being said, my shikishis are a lot better than the first ones I made! (But technically it's more like my traditional skills are catching up with digital skills???)

Like I mentioned earlier I spent a lot of the year feeling "lost" when drawing. It was kind of like I forgot my own style? In my eyes that made a lot of the work shakey in quality at best... But excluding that fact, I'd like to highlight that I should probably revisit fundamentals. I think when I'm feeling lost, stronger anatomical fundamentals and linework would probably ground me a bit better. Will that be something I look at in 2025? Who's to say 🧍‍♀️

In terms of comic works I think I under performed in terms of quantity. And IMO they were affected by me feeling "lost" while drawing some of them. If I were to revisit them I'd probably touch them up.

I liked how the comics turned out though. 😊 (more in the next section)

My 2024 Goals and how I did:

This is the part where I read what I wrote last year and check if I acted on them at all ✌

As always, it doesn't really matter to me if I fulfill these goals or not. What's more important is the "why". It's good to be aware of what is important to you and what isn't.

“Draw more comics.”

Last year I was dissatisfied from a lack of comics. I think I released 1 doujin... and posted 2 mini-comics? So I don't blame myself for being so dissatisfied. Like I said, I’m a story-teller first, illustrator second.

I blamed an art block that had me eventually scrap a 20 page comic that was drafted and lined. I wasn't satisfied with the storyboarding at all. Because I was burned out, the storyboarding was done in a very direct/ dull way so I wasn't happy with it. But, it was a cute idea and I probably should've finished it. (It's like throwing a month of art into the void.)

While I've decided not to salvage that comic, I've taken the experience to heart. This year when I went to the US, I was interrupted while working on a comic I will be uploading somewhat soon. It took about 5 months to finish the comic. Which is a lot for a 14 pager. And that reason is because I was similarly dissatisfied with it. The paneling and the script just felt like it could be better and I wasn't happy working on it. But instead of randomly dropping it, I just re-storyboarded it until I was happier. The comic isn't posted yet, but I like it sooo much more than the initial draft! So my lesson going forward is to put more focus on my personal satisfaction. This isn't my job, it's a hobby I'm passionate about so I should always prioritise my own feelings!

I did end up drawing slightly more comics though. So technically I've "fulfilled this goal". I still don't feel satisfied with my productivity but it's an improvement.

“Push those shikishi to the next level!”

This goal is pretty self explanatory. Like I said, I think I've improved my shikishi craft quite a bit. I've also experimented with various materials like craft flowers and foil! The road of improvement is long and I still have so much more to learn but I'm fairly happy with how I've done.

There is one stipulation though, which is...

“Do artist alley, but don’t burn out!”

...burn out from doing too many artist alleys.

I did explicitly remind myself not to do too many, but I ended up doing 4 this year. I think this had a direct impact on my productivity and my overall satisfaction.

Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy doing artist alley with my friends. It's very rewarding. But it's also clear that I've been shooting myself in the foot. While I enjoy making shikishi they're not very sustainable for populating an artist alley table. When they've sold, they're gone. And it becomes empty space on the table. It isn't like prints or keychains where you can mass-produce some more. It could take me weeks to fill my table again. And I think this is where my productivity feels very strained.

"There's a con coming up... so I should prepare! I guess I should put this comic on hold while I work on shikishi/print stock." <- this ended up happening a lot this year. When it comes to making comics I'm really momentum-based where I have to basically hyper focus. So when my momentum is broken, I have a hard time going again...

And focus issues aside, when I combine it with the holidays I've taken I just haven't had as much time to work on comics in general.

It'd be convenient if I aimed to print every comic I made as they're completed (then you'd have a cycle of new prints on the table every time) but I'd rather aim towards thicker books/ bigger projects.

My problems would probably be solved if I made more prints or keychains and the like. I wouldn't have to be so pressed. But again, I know the issue just stems from me. I don't enjoy those things as much and I really want to specialise in shikishi and hand-drawn art along side my comics.

This year I want to be more selective with my tabling. Either that, or draw faster lmfao .

“Actually start planning that next story”

LMFAO what a big joke. I didn't do much on this.

I actually changed my sights to a few more scale ideas, so I'm not terribly fussed by this. Priorities change sometimes, y'know? What's important to me is that I'm still working towards something.

Goals for 2025:

With all of that in mind, here are the goals I've set for 2025! There's a lot so I don't expect to do them all. I would be happy to select a couple of things 😊. Step by step y'know?

"Draw more comics" (Repeatable Quest)

Continue my setsuayu anthology

I'm working on a bunch of little setsuayu stories I'd like to combine into a collection! I don't know if I'll finish for sure, but I'd like to make more progress.

Make non-setsuayu works

I've been bouncing ideas in my head for R3B1RTH comic ideas. And YuShizu. I've always liked these characters so I'd like to finally dedicate some time to them.

Honestly this goal is so incredibly malleable. I don't see it productive to set a static number of works I'd like to release. Because what really matters is if I make work I end up happy with. I could even end up drawing comics that are completely different in topic but still feel satisfied!

"Improve at art" (Repeatable Quest)

I made this goal super broad too because there's a number of things I want to try doing.

General:

study painting techniques

I think more practise with realism and still-life painting would do wonders for me. It'd give me more familiarity with tone and values that would help me in general. I also would like to make little shikishi with still life!

study composition

Recently I bought a textbook about this topic. My composition skills... could be better! It's truly a mystery how I've made so many comics. When I feel stuck with comics, I get the feeling that not being familiar with composition techniques contribute to that.

Traditional:

Continue producing shikishi

This one is a no-brainer! I still want to do artist alley! I still want to practise shikishi more! Not too much to say here specifically since everything else contributes to this.

Learn how to paint

When making traditional pieces, I'm not limited by media. So why not go more multimedia? Specifically I'd like to try a workshop with watercolour painting, or even gouache! Copic markers, although fun to use do have weaknesses. It'd be good to learn more about different media and how they interact with each other to create more interesting pieces moving forward!

Continue to experiment with craft/media

I did a piece with foil this year and it was pretty neat! (but a bit shoddy since it was my first time haha). I'd like to go further and continue designing pieces that use other materials in different ways.

I've also bought special inks that I'm excited to use as well!

"Improve my actual health"

Okay this one is the hardest goal... For context towards the end of this year I've been really tired. By what? I'm not that sure. I'd take multiple power naps a day and still feel sleepy. And I'd get 8 hours of sleep each night... And it's not like I'm restless when sleeping. I sleep perfectly fine but there's always a blanket of exhaustion....

Anyways I think I should eat healthier and get more exercise in. I think it would help my productivity more. (Less snackies for me 😢)

If anyone read this, damn that's crazy!

Let's have a good year!

[docholligay]

I have a whole video coming about this, about confidence and being a unique dresser, but as I've been trying to do it (editing for myself for the first time!! Applaud me!) I realize it's going to take me awhile, so I promise I will have it for you by the end of the month, but for now, let's talk about boiling the frog of your own personal anxieties in post form.

I am a unique dresser. I dress in a way that draws attention. I have been doing this for a long, long time.

There are a million things I will tell you about dressing this way in public, and they're 96% good, honestly, mostly you have to deal with people telling you how nice you look. But that's for the video, and I'm working really hard on it, so I'm not going to give the milk away for free here. You gotta watch my painstakingly hand-edited artisanal woman-centered garbage!

But what I will say, is how you get used to the idea.

When I get ready to wear something that is out of my comfort zone*, I wear it a few times just for myself. I look in the mirror, not looking for flaws, really, but just observing how I look in it. What about it do I like? What do I like less? Is it bad, or am i just not used to it?

Then I wear it around the house for a whole day. I make sure to catch a look at myself whenever I pass a mirror or a window or something. I need to be able to see myself in the item because it needs to become a part of the way that I think about myself. Because that's what a lot of this kind of anxiety is. It's that, it's not a way that you think about yourself. When you see an outfit or a style and you want to imitate it, and you think, "I wish i could wear that" a lot of what is stopping you, generally, is this idea that you're not the kind of person who wears that. That it would be odd for you to. We have to fight that, and the best way to fight that, is to utterly disprove it. You ARE the sort of person who wears that, and the more you see yourself in it, the more it becomes true.

Vacations are a great time to wear something that feels new to you, especially if it feels scary. You don't know these bitches! No one will ever see you again. (I actually forget that I dress so distinctly sometimes, or rather, that it's not usual, because in my community people don't say much unless I get a new dress or hat or something. But I get so many comments when i travel ahaha) So, if you feel like the look isn't working, that's okay because in some ways, this is not your real life. This won't haunt you or follow you.

So let's say you wore it on vacation, and it was great. Just wear it to one thing. The grocery store. An easy errand. Something like that. You don't have to wear it to work where everyone knows you.

But then you do. Because the more you do it, the more you'll see that there's really nothing to be afraid of. Most of what people will notice and say is complimentary, but even if it isn't. You only get one life. This is it. You can live as the most boring version of yourself, or you can add color and interest and beauty to this world. I will take a thousand sweet lolita and leather daddies over people who don't try at all. I thank God for people who are wear too much makeup and giant painted silk caftans. They are doing the fucking thing!

When I was a little girl, I used to watch old movies, and read old books. All I wanted was to be glamorous and poised, and I used to drape my sheets around myself and imagine going to grand balls. I practiced my fine dining manners in my games, and I studied maps of the world, and I loved to wear blouses and embroidered skirts. In the eyes of my extended family, this was silly. I was putting on airs.

But I am the girl I dreamed of being. I stroll through the airport in high heels and I wear silk blouses and I drink champagne out of crystal glasses and sometimes I wonder, if I had let the fear of being ridiculed override my desire to be exceptional, who would I be? You cannot be an interesting person without doing interesting things, without doing things that other people don't. I can only imagine that ten year old Doc would see me strolling along, and gasp. And that is a good feeling.

Here is your sign. Try. It's always better to try and fail than it is to be stuck in mediocrity for the rest of your life. Tuck in your shirt. Buy the belt. Try going a week without wearing black. Without wearing a t-shirt. Expand your world, and expand the pleasure you bring to others simply by existing. It's worth a try! You are worth making an effort for.

*There ain't much left, to be quite honest, but still, it can happen.

[princessfanonanona]

Something I've noticed lately, and has become really prevalent, is the idea that a "warmup doodle" is anything less than a full illustrated completed piece.

Which is NOT correct.

When I was in school, and it follows every single sport I ever participated in, it was taught that a warm up is a way to physically warm up and loosen muscles to prevent injury which is why you also have cool down stretches to help get any lactic buildup out of the muscles to prevent cramps.

So it should follow that a warm up drawing should be movements to loosen and relax the muscles in your drawing hand/arm to prevent injury before actually working on a piece. This means drawing squiggles, loops, hatching areas, just absolute nonsense. (There's also a whole slew of physical stretches that you can do as well to help, but that's for another post). The point of warm up drawing is to physically warm up and loosen the muscles directly related to holding your stylus/pen/paintbrush/charcoal/whatever before you actually work on the piece you actually want to work on.

"But this isn't a fully illustrated art that took me bajillions of hours to complete, so its obviously-"

A sketch! A practice drawing! Drawing exercises! A speed test! A draft! Concept art! There are so many other words to use to describe your art!

A professional soccer player doesn't just warm up and go play in a match. They have drill practice, they have mock matches, they have exercises and trainings and everything in between.

Your art is the same.

You need to practice, anatomy exercises, line exercises, shading practice, point drills (draw a bunch of dots and connect them with as smooth of a line as possible without a ruler), hatch shade practice, color exercises, etc. You know what a lot of classical artists did before painting on the giant canvases? They sketched the image over various iterations to get the shape and form and layout, they did a rough painting to show what colors and where they were to go, and did it over and over before working on their final pieces.

Just because it's not perfect, does not mean its just "a warm up doodle." Please expand your vocabulary and understand a "warm up" is to prevent injury not "imperfect illustration." You are not only hurting yourself physically, you are going to hurt every young artist who's still learning.

[moeblob]

Someone pointed out "Alex is the glass half full guy and Shane is the glass half empty but he's working on it guy" and so true.

I think Alex is a finger guns kind of guy and I have nothing to support this claim but I'm gonna stand my ground on it. (Alex also just kinda lost on if the blushing or the tearing up is more important and did HE PERSONALLY mess up saying this because he sure as heck doesn't know.)

[chropyl]

hi 👋 I made a bluesky! come follow me there if you're on it ^^ I already made a post there I haven't posted here yet aheh ( I got another drawing I wanna include ) soooo ya