#token and 2 sketches

[hceinarchive]

portrait for the inquisition please hold still for 6 hours

[vampirecatprince]

Will we remain stuck in the throat of gods?

Will the pain stop if we go deeper?

[reallemonmeat]

never stop drawing

[jurijurijurious]

W O R S H I P

[elkkiel]

day 1 of relearning sketching/literally basic traditional drawing skills, here's a wonky little II for u

side note: I'm a lil tipsy (we are hanging out in the backyard around the fire pit tonight!) so my hands are extra clumsy lol, bear with me I just thought his not-quite-correctness was a lil cute pls be kind I am so so out of practice :')

[ladycibia]

You and your pokemon x Witcher drawings inspired me. Take responsebility for this mess! (Jaskier is welcoming ralts to his team, before he even met the White Wolf)

On the other hand: I love your Chibi art. They sooth my soul and give me a giddy sort of manic energy. The kind that makes you sing good morning in a off tune screaching voice.

I'm so flattered, thank you! X3 And thanks again, ah! That's totally it, ahah! I'm very happy you enjoy them ^^ and that you added Swablu to Jaskier's team! I've always pictured netflix!Jaskier with an Altaria ☁️ such a cute tiny Swablu aaa

[a-ikuoliver]

w/c: 1.8k tw/s: f!reader, characters 18, a little angsty i fear notes: selfship coded, part 2 to this + archive link if you prefer <3

you celebrated your eighteenth on the phone.

first to your parents. then your grandmother. then your older cousins, texting between the phone calls about how university was going, how being an adult felt. the shortest of the phone calls was a friend from university; promising to be at yours first thing tomorrow to take you to breakfast.

your actual birthdate, you were alone in the tiny flat.

until oliver called.

"there she is!" his face appears with a soft woosh, all teeth and gleaming eyes when you see him.

it's… weird. to see him so grown up. to see him look so starkly different. he's started letting his facial hair grow out (if you could even call it that), his jaw looks sharper, his shoulders somehow larger, his eyes glowing. tokyo is being kind to him, you think.

in comparison to him, you look horrible. circles beneath your eyes as you study, even your face beginning to lose a little colour the longer you holed yourself away to prepare for exams.

thankfully, the glow of the phone makes you look somewhat healthy, like you'd seen the sun in the last week.

"happy birthday!" you feel your shoulders drop, an inexplainable calm washing over you just hearing his voice. a relief at the normalcy of having him around like you had for so long, even over the phone.

"thank you," you feel your cheeks begin to tug into a smile, the kind that came all-too naturally around him.

closing your textbook, you focus on your phone, adjusting it ahead of you as his eyes track something behind him. still not looking at you, oliver speaks again, "did you get my gift?"

"i did! it came last night, i didn't want to open it without you." you show the envelope to the camera, his sharp handwriting of your name in large letters on the front, with a tiny heart beside it. the tiny character had your heart flipping, even now looking at it, you almost didn't want to open the envelope and risk it tearing, right down the middle.

"open it now." getting closer to the camera until you can only see his eyes, you giggle gently, trying again to avoid the heart beneath the seal (tearing straight through it when he breathes into the microphone, a laugh bursting from you, distracting you from your careful attempt to preserve the sketch).

the token falls out easily, landing gently onto your desk, a tiny golden charm clattering against the wood.

the silken fabric of the small bag is soft, almost plush as your fingers trace over the character embroidered on the front, 夢.

you see oliver adjusting across the screen, glancing beside the phone as you pull the strings open, a piece of paper tucked inside.

again, his horrible handwriting makes you smile; one day our dreams will bring us together again.

you stare at the note, at his name at the bottom.

turning back to look at the camera, your mouth opening to thank him, closing once more when you hear him mutter.

"just give me a minute, baby," his voice low, his eyes lidded staring across the room, pupils widening when he turns back to you.

clearing your throat, you glance down at your reflection, hoping you don't look half as shocked as you feel, "thank you."

"you'd love tokyo, the shrine was gorgeous," he shuffles behind the camera, you hear rustling, a shower running despite him still in front of you, "we went last week and i had to get the charm for you,"

"we?"

oliver seems just as surprised at your voice, his eyes flicking into yours, to the shower, to you again.

"yeah, my… friend and i did the hike up."

"oh." you nod along, staring at the torn envelope, the torn heart, "i should let you go then, with your friend. and i need to get some sleep, we're getting some breakfast tomorrow."

"we?" his tone is lighter than yours was, an attempt at relieving the alien-feeling tension between you two.

"a friend." you parrot, "he was busy today, said he'd buy me a coffee to make it up to me."

"oh." there's a deep line between his eyebrows, eyes boring into yours through the camera like he's about to speak again.

you hear a voice distantly, their tone low, flirty, like all the other people that vied for his attention in high school sounded. the giggling girls who'd drop notes in his locker, the shy guys who'd ask you for his number while you walked over to his car, the upper-classmen who'd invite him to their parties with saccharine smiles, oliver's eyes glued to their lips as they spoke.

"you better go." you try your best to smile normally, to jab like you typically did, when you were best friends. joint at the hip as his parents would say.

oliver's still staring at you, the cogs turning behind his eyes as you reopen your textbook. whatever he wants to say, he decides against it when you look away-, "happy birthday."

the video ends with another gentle sound, leaving you back in the silence, back alone at your desk.

it feels weird. officially an adult. without your parents. without the sheets that smelled like your childhood. without the pictures from your albums. without the stacks of trinkets that decorated your bedroom at your parents house; polaroids from every birthday at the aiku house, a random fortune that had yours and oliver's birthdays as the lucky numbers, a pressed flower, the score-sheet from the mini golf near oliver's house.

without oliver.

without your fingers brushing as he passed you your gift. without the warmth of his smile when you'd open the perfect gift. they always were from him.

you spin his gift around in your hand, tracing the kanji on the front until your screen lights up with a gentle vibration.

→ the guy → is he… you know

← you know?

→ you know → like just a friend or a… friend → don't answer that actually → have fun tomorrow, text me when you're home

you don't know if its your exhaustion, or the distance. but once upon a time, oliver could send you a single emoji and you'd know exactly what was running through his head. you could give him one look and he'd know everything you were thinking and more. you wouldn't have to ask him what he meant.

the typing bubble pops up once. twice.

you hate this distance.

you hate not being by his side.

more than anything, you hate knowing someone else is.

← you too

you hope its your exhaustion stopping you from reading him, and that he can still read yours, that he can read between everything, to still know your every thought.

you stare at the jagged ink heart, pressing the envelope back together like you can undo the tear in the centre. to fix it.

"i hope you get everything you dream of."

→ goodnight → happy 18th <3

"tell me you're safe, tell me you're happy. spare me all of the rest."

← <3

"i love you."

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[lunarriviera]

uts meta: two cops eating pizza cause they're not gay (The Drawing, part 2)

[spoilers for s2 in general and ep 17 in specific, and i really hope you've already watched it because, wow. it deserves to be seen.] this whole scene is off the chain but perhaps what's wildest about it is that this has happened once already! shen yi already gave du cheng a drawing! and now he's doing it again! either he wants a marriage proposal or to be [redacted], and honey, you're absolutely gonna get [redacted] tonight. even though you messed up dinner.

when our scene begins, beijiang's finest are about to dine in shen yi's concrete bdsm dungeon new house. but wait, shen yi's a terrible cook, you say? never fear—product placement is here!

glowing, radiant, suffused with light. in the troubled city of beijiang, pizza hut™ shines forth like a beacon of edible hope and justice. even if they do keep putting pineapple on top of it.

(all of s2 we've been subjected to such heavy-handed sponsorship as the team drinking exclusively some kind of fruity (?) tea (?); du cheng barking orders at xiaomi, his new car's shipboard computer while shen yi theatrically changes the cabin temperature; shen yi treating everyone to invisible air coffee (because no property person has ever figured out all you need to do is put some water in the cup); and jiang feng popping up like a prairie dog clutching a green box of cold medicine whenever anyone sniffles. but pizza hut has been the most egregious of all, truly the wolong nuts of uts2. if only dragon city had a pizza hut™! then shen wei wouldn't have had to wear zhu yilong's clothes.)

unfortunately, actors can't actually eat human food, plus shen yi's supposed to be a vegetarian, so here is tan jianci consuming the smallest molecule of pizza possible while pretending to enjoy it. pretty sure tjc last had a junk carb in the hu jintao administration.

after this brief token simulation of eating, shen yi and du cheng have a Serious Conversation about the late captain lei. pls note their blocking here, as it's the only time in s2 you will EVER see tan jianci looking DOWN at jin shijia, who is of course a giraffe.

then shen yi whips out this little baby, and hands it to his partner.

(let's hope our sketch artist had the foresight to spray some fixative on what looks like conté or pastel, before du cheng started smearing pizza grease all over it.) du cheng is, of course, touched. why are they drawn in red? not entirely sure, though it's a color shen yi seems to default to when he's very emotional and/or inarticulate about things.

anyway shen yi mentions that the piece needs a title and he hasn't thought of one yet, so du cheng volunteers a suggestion.

(at this point i started screencapping in chinese, reasons unclear.) du cheng offers 改变我人生的人, "the person who changed my life."

it's a dumb title for an artwork but GUESS WHAT, he's no longer talking about lei-dui. if you thought you might question this, jin shijia is going to make sure you don't, because of the sickeningly transparent infatuated look on his face. but wait, it gets worse!

确实是改变了我人生的人, shen yi responds; indeed, this person really did change my life. HE'S ALSO NOT TALKING ABOUT CAPTAIN LEI.

tjc doesn't want you to feel any confusion about that, so he deploys his patented shen yi gaze. here, you need to see this to believe it.

jianci has developed this little trick as shen yi of speaking with his eyes lowered, and then when he finally lifts them, it's like he's setting off a BOMB. he's fine-tuned this to the point where it's weaponized.

and honestly he's making it so obvious they're talking about each other i don't even know how to say it in human language. those two took these innocent respectable lines about a past case and made them indecent. they did that. all by themselves. no one made them.

at the end of the scene, though, it's this look. this one right here.

the absolutely unbearable tenderness. "yes, you did change it. you changed everything. nothing will ever be the same again, because of you." in conclusion: pls bury me with this, because i suspect it's the most in-love it's possible for a human being to look, outside of a wong kar-wai film BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE [runs away sobbing hysterically]

[seeminglydark]

Mini Comic Masterpost

Thought it would be fun to round up all the mini comics I've done with John and Caro around this site, so they are easy to find all in one place! They will go in canonical (or not) order, not creation order. Here we go!

The Main Projects

Starting this off with the mini-comic about my main webcomic Project, Seemingly Dark

And an introduction to John and Caro's comic, Mil-Liminal

Next up: Teenager things

A silly story about two kids in love, not canon, just cute. I drew this before i knew how their highschool story really went.

First kiss! (canon), sketch only

Schoolyard flirtin' (canon), sketch only

A reminder their story is a horror story, and a teaser from Mil-Liminal (canon)

Homecoming Queen (not canon cuz Caros hair was never short in highschool, one panel)

Punk Rock Princess (canon, one panel)

A teaser and a link to Prom Night, (canon)

Unidentified Flying Objects part 1 (2 coming soon, canon)

The Punk and the Cheerleader (canon)

Tokens of affection (canon)

Not exactly a comic, but a round up of their teenage years right up until they lose eachother (canon)

Adulthood

Teaser for a story about Johns life after prison (canon)

Caro's back (canon)

Caro gets sick, John, who doesnt know them yet very well as adults, takes them back to his house, they wake up and hes at work, shenanigans ensue (canon)

First kiss as adults (canon)

Ace of Hearts link (canon, johns story as an asexual)

I love you (not canon)

Coffee Maker (canon)

Then and Now (canon, mild spice in the sense they are shirtless)

Menace (Canon, Spicy/suggestive, nothing intense)

Halloween Interruption 1: The Void Motel (future canon, linked)

Background and Compilation of their story minis

Look How Far We've Come: intro to Mil-Liminal (canon)

Who are John and Caro (canon, character introduction)

And Finally, AU Stuff, not canon

Mermay

Werewolf (non spicy)

Werewolf part 1 (suggestive)

Werewolf part 2 (suggestive)

[gracedreems]

ok so i watched muppets in space recently and got to thinking about a muppets casting of tma and i had some ideas but the important thing is i think it would be really funny if kermit was cast as elias. do i think its the correct cast? no absolutely not but i decided to do a drawing of pre brutal pipe murder cus i think its funny :3

ok so more blabbing about this... au?? ig u culd call it that under the cut :3

ok so firstly i will admit i havnt really got concrete ideas for the main cast yet but i have some ideas! i feel like tim could be gonzo or maybe rizzo?

then sasha im a bit stuck on as there isnt very many like, female presenting muppets overall (there may be more in sesame street but i am not hugely familar with it) but i did vaugely think of kermit due to constantine but i feel maybe that might not be much of a change lmao and miss piggy does not fit (def smthn to do with the slaughter) and janice doesnt either. and i dont want her to be a chicken :(.

martin is also tricky buttt maybe fozzie but i feel maybe he would be a good michael (long set of jumps in my mind) so not 100 percent on that

and i feel jon would be a fairly good token human, but i kinda think elias would be good as that too augh (also no clue for jon honestly :/)

onto side characters i feel like animal could be grifters bone maybe??

i think statler and waldorf would be breekon and hope for like, obvious reasons (small sketch below)

thats p much all i have rn but i WILL add onto it more...

feel free to suggest stuff also id LOVE 2 hear otherpeoples opinions on this!!!

[velvetvexations]

apologies for not having links but i blocked everyone on the whole thread and i don't care to willingly seek it out again but on the subject of dropout discourse – i saw someone say there needed to be a list of which dropout members were white vs poc in a similar vein to the tme vs tma trans people stats list and........ do.... do you not see how that's literally tokenizing real life people and their identities.... do you not see how sorting REAL people into groups to determine if a media company is diverse enough is.... not exactly the leftist praxis you think it is? maybe instead, idk, support & uplift comedians of color instead of argue about identity politics online? maybe do antiracist work in real life instead of just infighting? or even actually write to Dropout and articulate any worries you have with regards to diversity & inclusion?

(and if you want to make it worse someone on the thread said they weren't "sure if some people (specifically Zac Oyama) 'counted' as people of color" like?????? 1) if you admit to not being sure if someone counts as a poc then maybe you, a stranger on the internet, is not qualified to make a list about real people's identities which can be both fluid and personal 2) maybe such a list isn't actually as useful as you think it is 3) there was literally a College Humor sketch about parodying the idea of being Asian 'enough' featuring Zac *years* ago)

it also just feels like such a clear example of taking the latest queer discourse and trying to justify it by going "well WHAT IF we apply this to race??" when 1) it's usually white people drawing those comparisons (though idk if these people were white or not) and 2) as such is usually a gross misunderstanding of racism and 3) often makes the original point *much* worse.

his last name is Oyama what do these fucking people want

no, you know what? I hope they do it, please Dropout fandom, make the racism version of the tee em ay stats, I dare you

[bryce-bucher]

500 CALIBER CONTRACTZ Post #16

WISHLIST IT PLZ!

Green Demon!!:

This whole post is gonna be about the green demon challenge that I implemented. For those unaware, the green demon challenge is something that originates from mario 64. It's a self imposed challenge in which you try to complete a level after spawning a 1up without letting it touch you. I love the concept so much, so I decided to add in a lil challenge on certain contracts where you summon a green demon and run around to grab 4 token pieces before it catches you.

The process of making the green demon's graphics was v fun. First, I made a sketch.

Then, I rendered out the head and hands in blender. (The animation is only 6 frames of the head and hands bobbin up n down.) Then, I brought those frames into csp and drew the same face on each frame.

After that, I shrunk that bitch down and dithered it with web colors like I had done with the environment textures.

The final result is something that feels like a geocities gif, and I'm really happy with it.

During playtesting I realized that players need to be able to figure out where the token pieces are gonna spawn before the demon is summoned, so I included these green token pieces to take their place before they spawn. Honestly, the only reason I'm mentioning this is because something in my lizard brain tells me to get very excited when I see floating green collectibles in games. I think it is because of how cool and special I thought the green stars were in Mario Galaxy when I was younger.

Conclusion:

I am aiming to have a demo of this game done with a couple contracts you can play by feb. We will see if this will happn... Other than that I don't got a lot 2 say. Next week u might be seeing some v cool ui if I manage to get it done.

[ghostaddictgremlin]

More of the Sleep Token sketches in my sketchbook

Don't be confused by the different signature than last time lol. I've had a bit of an art journey over the past 2 years and changed how and where I wanna share my art and also changing my online nickname and artist name. The sketchbook has 3 different signatures in it

[welcometomysticmeadows]

what are some popular camp traditions?

Wonderful question!

Here at Mystic Meadows we have quite a bit of traditions to make your experience fun and unforgettable!

Among these traditions we have:

1. The Moonlit Walk

On nights with a full moon, campers and counselors go on a quiet, guided walk through the forest. They bring lanterns or flashlights, but once they reach a certain clearing, everyone sits and watches the moon together in silence. It's a peaceful moment where everyone connects with nature, and counselors often tell old legends to keep everyone entertained!

2. Nature Journals

Every camper gets a blank journal on the first day, and is encouraged to fill it with drawings, thoughts, leaves, or sketches of plants and animals they see, anything, really! At the end of camp, the counselors host a "sharing circle," where campers can read or show parts of their journal if they wish. It’s a way for campers to connect and reflect on the memories they've made at Mystic Meadows!

3. The Midnight Bonfire

Once per season, there’s a special bonfire held right at midnight for only the oldest campers. The bonfire is a rite of passage for campers as they grow older, making it something younger campers look forward to.

4. The "Hidden Object" Hunt

Throughout the summer, counselors hide small objects around camp—things like tiny, painted stones or little nature-themed tokens. Campers are encouraged to look for them during free time, and if they find one, they can keep it as a lucky charm. Some of the objects might even have little inscriptions with advice or words of encouragement.

5. Jackalope Week

Once a summer, Mystic Meadows celebrates the legendary "Jackalope Week," a spirited event where campers are split into two teams: Antlers and Ears. Each camper is given either a pair of antlers or bunny ears to wear for the entire week, and they're encouraged to decorate them with natural materials found around camp—like flowers, leaves, feathers, or twigs—to show off their creativity and team spirit.

Throughout the week, the two teams face off in friendly competitions, like nature scavenger hunts, obstacle courses, and even a storytelling contest where they create their own versions of the jackalope legend.

At the end of the week, there's a big "Jackalope Feast" with both teams celebrating together, and they all gather around the fire to reflect on their favorite moments. It’s a way for campers to bond across cabins, and everyone leaves with their decorated antlers or ears as a keepsake from the week.

6. The Wish-Launching Ceremony

On the last night of camp, everyone gathers by the lake. Each camper writes a wish or goal for the future on a biodegradable piece of paper, attaches it to a small leaf boat or flower, and releases it onto the water.

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon 2 - Younger II

Summary:

A glimpse into the past through Aemond's perspective.

Warnings - Fluff, Angst, Language, Eye Injury, Discussion of Dub/Con Street of Silk Visit, Talk of Masturbation, Posessive Behaviour.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

Word Count: 4150

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Aemond stood alone on the balcony of the Red Keep, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the ship carrying Vaelys had disappeared from view.

He felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of his stomach as he watched the ship vanish into the distance. Vaelys, his closest companion, and his love, was now sailing away to Dragonstone, leaving him behind in King's Landing.

Aemond couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of his only friend being taken from him. They had shared so many memories together—playing in the gardens, exploring the corridors of the Red Keep, and dreaming of their future. The promise they’d made to one another.

Just the other day she had slapped her brother’s for mocking him, their cruel prank with the pig, not even his brother Aegon had escaped her wrath when she followed him down into the dragon pit and pushed him into a pile of dragon dung.

Now, all of that felt like a distant memory, a fleeting moment lost to the currents of time. She was gone, ripped away from him by her mother.

He leaned against the stone railing of the balcony, his gaze still fixed on the spot where the ship had vanished from sight. He felt a lump form in his throat as he realized just how much he would miss Vaelys' laughter, her smile, and the warmth of her presence.

With a heavy heart, Aemond turned away from the balcony, the weight of loneliness settling over him like a heavy cloak.

But deep down, he knew that no matter how far apart they may be, Vaelys would always hold a special place in his heart.

As he sat alone at his desk in the quiet confines of his chambers, a sense of melancholy settling over him like a heavy shroud. His gaze wandered to the closed drawer beside him, a silent sentinel guarding a treasure trove of memories.

With a sigh, Aemond reached out and pulled open the drawer, revealing the stack of drawings that lay within. Each one was a testament to the bond he shared with Vaelys, a visual reminder of the moments they had shared together.

He picked up the top drawing, his fingers tracing the delicate lines and curves with a sense of reverence.

It was a portrait of him, sketched in painstaking detail, his features rendered with a tender touch that spoke volumes of Vaelys' affection.

As he sifted through the drawings, memories flooded back to him—afternoons spent in the gardens, laughter echoing through the halls of the Red Keep, stolen moments of companionship that had sustained him through even the darkest of times.

Vaelys didn't know that he had kept these drawings, he realized. She had given them to him as tokens of friendship, unaware of the profound impact they had made on him. But he had treasured each and every one, cherishing them as precious mementos of their bond.

With a soft smile, Aemond gathered up the drawings and held them close to his heart. They were more than just pieces of paper; they were fragments of a shared history, a testament to the enduring strength of their friendship.

Aemond stood by the window of his chamber, his gaze fixed on the bustling streets of King's Landing below. In just a few hours, he would be departing for Driftmark to attend the funeral of Laena Velaryon—a somber occasion that should have filled him with nothing but sorrow.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement stirring within him. For traveling to Driftmark meant that he would see Vaelys again.

He knew he shouldn't feel this way—that it was wrong to feel even the slightest hint of anticipation for such a solemn occasion. But he couldn't help it. The thought of being reunited with Vaelys filled him with a sense of warmth and comfort that he hadn't felt in weeks.

With a heavy sigh, Aemond tore his gaze away from the window, his heart heavy with guilt. He knew that attending the funeral was the right thing to do—to pay his respects.

But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation that bubbled up inside him at the thought of seeing Vaelys once again.

Aemond stood at a distance, watching silently as his uncle Daemon crouched down in front of Vaelys, her young face etched with a mixture of confusion and sadness. He could see Rhaenyra, standing nearby, her expression solemn as she nodded softly in agreement with Daemon's hushed words.

Aemond strained to hear what they were saying, as their voices were barely more than whispers, lost amidst the bustle of the courtyard. He could see the furrow of Vaelys' brow, the trembling of her lower lip, and he felt a pang of concern tug at his heart.

He wanted to go to her, to offer her comfort and reassurance, but something held him back. Perhaps it was the gravity of the situation, the unspoken weight of whatever Daemon and Rhaenyra were discussing with her. Or perhaps it was the fear of intruding on a private moment between mother and daughter.

As he watched, Aemond felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him, a fierce desire to shield Vaelys from whatever was causing her distress. But he knew that this was something she had to face on her own, that he could only offer his support from afar.

And so, with a heavy heart, Aemond remained rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving Vaelys as she struggled to come to terms with whatever news Daemon and Rhaenyra had imparted to her.

“You will die screaming in flames just like your father did-BASTARDS” the venom dripping from Aemond’s voice, his anger directed towards Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena, who had set upon him after he had managed to claim the dragon Vhagar.

But it was the look on Vaelys’ face, that broke his heart. He didn’t want to hurt her. But she stood before him, her lip wobbling, her hair a mess from where she had tried to pull Baela and Rhaena off him as they pummelled him with their fists.

Ever since her talk with Daemon she had been acting strange, avoiding his gaze and his attempts to speak to her.

“My father’s still alive” cried Luke.

“He doesn’t know does he? Lord Strong” mocked Aemond.

His grip around Luke’s throat, tightened. The bastard strong boy struggled against him.

“J-Jace. No” exclaimed Vaelys, her eyes wide as her brother pulled a knife from his sleeve.

Aemond threw Luke to the ground and Jace flew forward, brandishing the knife aimlessly.

Vaelys was stood with Baela and Rhaena, her eyes wide as she watched Aemond smack Jace in the head with a rock, her younger brother falling to the floor in a heap.

“Aemond-No” begged Vaelys as he raised the rock above his head, he faltered, lowering the rock slightly at the sound of her voice.

Then the blade like lightening through the air, sliced through his skin, the blood pouring from his face as he collapsed to the floor.

“What did you do? Luke-WHAT DID YOU DO?” screamed Vaelys.

Aemond gritted his teeth against the searing pain that radiated from the wound where his eye had once been. The Maester's hands moving with practiced precision as he stitched the torn flesh, but each tug of the needle sent waves of agony coursing through Aemond's body.

He felt dizzy and disoriented, his vision swimming as he struggled to remain conscious.

But amidst the pain and the despair, Aemond found himself yearning for the touch of another's hand. He longed for Vaelys to be by his side, to offer him comfort. But when he turned to look for her, he found her standing next to her brother Jace, her hands shaking with fear and uncertainty.

Aemond felt a pang of disappointment, a sense of abandonment that cut deeper than any physical wound. He wanted Vaelys to hold his hand, to be there for him as he faced the agony of his injuries. But she was standing by Jace's side, her attention divided between her brother and her wounded uncle.

With a heavy heart, Aemond turned away, his gaze falling to the floor as he resigned himself to his fate. He knew that he couldn't fault Vaelys for choosing to stand by her brother's side, but it didn't make the sting of rejection any less painful.

As the Maester continued his work, Aemond closed his remaining eye and focused on the rhythmic sound of his own breathing. He would endure this pain, he told himself,

He may have lost an eye, but he gained a dragon.

Aemond lay in his chambers in King's Landing, his body wracked with agony as he endured yet another round of procedures on his injured eye. The infections had taken hold, spreading like wildfire through the delicate tissue, leaving him in constant pain and discomfort.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in his heart—the hollow emptiness that gnawed at him day and night, leaving him feeling more alone than he had ever felt before. He longed for Vaelys, for her presence to offer him solace and comfort in his darkest hours. But she never came.

He cried out for her, his voice a desperate plea echoing through the empty halls of the Red Keep, but there was no answer. She was gone, taken from him in the aftermath of the tragedy on Driftmark, once again whisked away to Dragonstone and out of his reach.

He remembered the promise she had made to him, spoken in front of the sacred weirwood tree—the promise to protect him, to love him. But now she was gone, and he was alone, left to face his pain and suffering without her by his side.

As he lay there in his bed, tears streaming down his face, Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal, a bitter resentment towards the cruel hand fate had dealt him. He had lost his eye, and now, it seemed, he had lost the one person he had thought he could always count on.

The loss of his eye had left him with more than just physical scars; it had forced him to relearn the most basic of tasks, from walking to reading to training with the sword.

At first, even walking was a struggle. His depth perception had changed, and he found himself stumbling and tripping over his own feet more often than not. But he refused to be defeated. With each faltering step, he pushed himself to keep going, determined to regain his balance and confidence.

Reading was another obstacle he had to overcome. His remaining eye strained to make sense of the words on the page, often leaving him with painful headaches that threatened to overwhelm him. But he persevered, his determination driving him to endure the discomfort in pursuit of knowledge and understanding.

Training with the sword was perhaps the greatest challenge of all. Without depth perception, his strikes were clumsy and uncoordinated, his movements slow and hesitant. But he refused to give up. Day after day, he practiced tirelessly, honing his skills with a fierce determination that bordered on obsession.

It frustrated him to no end, this constant struggle to regain what he had lost. But with each small victory, each incremental improvement, he found renewed hope and determination.

He refused to let his disability define him, to limit him in any way. He would adapt, he would overcome, and he would prove to the world that he was just as capable, just as fierce, as he had ever been.

And as he stood in the training yard, sword in hand, sweat streaming down his brow, Aemond knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he would face them head-on, with courage, determination, and unwavering resolve.

Aemond felt a knot of unease twisting in his stomach as his brother Aegon led him through the dimly lit streets of King's Landing. He knew where they were going, could sense it in the air—the unmistakable scent of sweat and perfume, the raucous laughter and lewd whispers that filled the night.

He didn't want to go, didn't want to set foot in such a place, but Aegon insisted it would make him feel better. "It's time to become a man," his brother had said, his voice filled with an odd mixture of excitement and determination.

Reluctantly, Aemond followed Aegon into the brothel, his heart heavy with guilt and shame. He felt out of place amidst the gaudy decorations and scantily clad women, the raunchy music pounding in his ears like a drumbeat of despair.

As they were led to a private chamber, Aemond couldn't shake the feeling of disgust that gnawed at him from within. This was not who he was, not what he wanted. But he couldn't bring himself to voice his objections, couldn't bear to disappoint his brother.

The night passed in a blur of fleeting pleasures and empty promises, but as Aemond lay alone in his room, the echoes of his brother's laughter still ringing in his ears, he felt a wave of despair wash over him.

He had thought that this would make him feel better, that it would somehow fill the void inside him, but all it had done was leave him feeling hollow and empty.

He thought of Vaelys, and he wondered if she would be disgusted by what he had done, if she knew he had laid with a paid whore, they had promised, they had-

Tears welled up in his eyes as he lay there in the darkness, the weight of his shame and regret pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He had betrayed himself, betrayed Vaelys, all for the sake of appeasing his brother's misguided notions of manhood.

But as he cried himself to sleep that night, Aemond vowed that he would never again allow himself to be swayed by the expectations of others.

He was Aemond Targaryen, rider of the mighty Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world and he would not be weak again.

Aemond stood in the middle of the training ground, his sword gripped tightly in his hand as he surveyed the scene before him. The courtyard was alive with activity, knights and soldiers sparring and training under the watchful eye of their commanders.

And then his heart skipped a beat as he saw Vaelys, standing with her brothers, her long silver hair catching the sunlight as it cascaded down her back. Her amethyst eyes sparkled with determination, her gaze unwavering as she surveyed the training ground with interest.

Gods, she was beautiful. Aemond felt like he couldn’t breath as he watched her. He had dreamed of this moment, imagined it a thousand times in his mind, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of seeing her again after so long.

He wanted to go to her, to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. But something held him back—the memory of their last encounter, the pain and heartache that had followed in its wake.

So instead, he stood there, rooted to the spot, his eye locked on hers as he drank in the sight of her.

Six years had passed since Aemond had last seen Vaelys. In that time, he had often found himself sitting alone in his chambers, pen in hand, pouring his heart out onto parchment in letters he never sent.

Fearful of her response, unsure if she would even bother to reply, he had allowed the anger and bitterness of what had transpired on Driftmark to cloud his mind.

There had been no apology, no remorse—only resentment and blame. His father's actions had only served to deepen the divide between them, publicly favouring his older half-sister Rhaenyra and all but disregarding his other children.

Through no fault of her own, Aemond had convinced himself that Vaelys had abandoned him, that she had chosen her family over him.

Aemond angrily around his chambers, the events of the day swirling around in his head like a whirlwind of chaos. The petition for Driftmark, his father's sudden resurgence from his sickbed to defend his favorite child once again, the ploy for power by Vaemond that had been cut short by Daemon's ruthless hand—all of it weighed heavily on his mind, fuelling the flames of his resentment.

And then there was the feast—the gods-damned feast, where he had been forced to break bread with people he despised, to smile and nod and pretend to be civil when all he wanted to do was scream. And through it all, Vaelys had refused to even look at him, her gaze cold and distant as if he were nothing more than a stranger to her.

The injustice of it all was suffocating, crushing him beneath its weight until he felt like he could hardly breathe. He had worked tirelessly, sacrificed everything to prove himself worthy, only to be cast aside time and time again in favour of Rhaenyra and her brood of strong bastards.

But it was Vaelys' indifference that cut him the deepest—the knowledge that she had once been his closest friend, and now she wouldn't even spare him a second glance.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, a reminder of just how far they had drifted apart in the years since she had left the Red Keep and now, she had left him again, back to Dragonstone.

With a frustrated growl, Aemond clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to lash out, to scream and shout and rage against the injustices of the world. But deep down, he knew that his anger was misplaced, that it was not Vaelys' fault.

His father was dead, and now his wastrel of an older brother was King. Listening to his grandsire droning on about the importance of solidifying Aegon’s rule as King was beginning to grate on him.

He hated it, the word duty, it had become like a noose around his neck, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of it.

But ever the good soldier he did as he was asked and flew to Storms End to secure the support of Borros Baratheon through an offer of marriage.

The daughters of Baratheon were lined up in front of him, and he was supposed to choose which one.

But how could he. Though they had their qualities, none of them were HER.

Vaelys had bored her way into his soul, and she wouldn’t leave. His memories of her as a child, and how unbelievably annoying she was, intertwined with those of them reading together in the gardens, the promise they had made, the sweet first kiss they had shared.

Ignited a fire in him, the night before the petition, he’d stripped his cock raw, he drove himself mad, fucking his fist to the thought of her.

Many times, he brought himself to completion, picturing Vaelys.

He even dreamt of fucking her, every night it was the same, him taking her on every available surface, making her scream his name as he thrust his hard cock into her.

For the briefest of moments, he considered taking a woman. To feel something other than his hand, he could close his eye and imagine that she was Vaelys.

The thought of returning to the Street of Silk had turned his stomach, so that left the maids being the only viable option.

There was one-who seemed adequate, she had a similar build, and had nice features. She must have been new as he’d never seen her before.

Ceci her name was, he wouldn’t take without asking, he wasn’t his brother.

But as soon as the thought had entered his mind, it left. He couldn’t do it. So, he walked away and left her to her work.

But standing here now, the dark haired four storms were staring at him expectantly. He was polite as he made small talk, he didn’t want to be here he didn’t want a Baratheon for a bride.

But he had to choose, and in the end, it was Floris.

But then-

“Princess Vaelys of House Targaryen”

What in the seven hells was she doing here? Soaked to the bone, her silver plastered to her forehead, her normally pale cheeks tinged pink, no doubt from the bite of the cold air as she travelled on the back of her dragon.

Floris noticed the shift in his demeanour as she placed her hand upon his arm in an attempt to draw his attention back to her, but he shrugged her off.

“Lord Borros-I brought you a message from my mother-The Queen”.

“Yet earlier today I received an envoy from the King-which is it. King or Queen. The House of the dragon doesn’t seem to know who rules it” laughed Borros.

Aemond smirked slightly when he saw Vaelys clench her jaw, no doubt in attempt to stifle the vitriol she was about to spew forth.

His dragoness had a vicious tongue in her head, she appeared wispy in the wind but by the gods she had a bite to her.

“What’s your mother’s message?” asked Borros impatiently.

Vaelys handed a rolled up scroll to one of the escorting knights who rushed forward and handed it to Borros, who couldn’t read a single word that was written and had to summon a Maester.

Whilst the Maester relayed Rhaenyra’s message, Aemond stared at Vaelys, his hands folded behind his back.

Not one to be cowed, she glared back. Her amethyst eyes narrowed.

“Remind me of my father’s oath. King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids-which one of my daughters will your brother’s wed?”

“My lord-I’m afraid that only two of my brothers are of age and neither are free to marry, they are already betrothed” replied Vaelys.

“-And what of you Princess?” asked Borros stroking his chin.

“Me? My Lord” questioned Vaelys.

“I have no longer have a wife-and you are of age to marry” said Borros.

Aemond was aghast.

That prattling pig actually had the audacity to ask about her hand in marriage.

“You are young and if you are anything like your mother, you would indeed give me many sons”.

“My Lord I-“

“My late wife blessed me only with daughters-I am left without a male heir” replied Borros.

“Under my mother’s rule-the eldest would inherit lands and titles regardless of their gender” said Vaelys.

“But that is not my desire Princess-“ quipped Borros as he leaned forward slightly.

Aemond shuddered at the prospect of Vaelys being wed to that illiterate boar, being reduced to a broodmare, the thought of her being made to birth Baratheon’s sons turned his stomach.

It should be him, it should be his seed that took root, his child that she would grow round with. Him that she grew old with.

But what he wanted didn’t matter, for in that moment both him and Vaelys were nothing but pieces of chess to be moved about the board for the success of others.

It was vile, as was Floris’ repeated attempts to gain his attention, whispering in his ear.

“Shut the fuck up” snarled Aemond quietly as he moved away from Floris.

“Apologise my lord but I am not free to marry either-”

What did she just say? Surely she wasn’t going to mention their promise to one another. A promise made between the two of them when they were naught but children would not be enough to dissuade Lord Borros.

“I am to marry Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell”

Married. To that northern dog? Echoes of the promise they’d made swirled around his mind, like whisps of smoke. Their joined hands, her sweet smile, the leaves of the wierwood rustling in the wind.

“Then you come with empty hands-go home pup and tell your mother that the Lord of Storms End is not some dog she can whistle up at need to set against her foes”

“I will take your answer to the Queen” replied Vaelys as she bowed her head politely and left. The clanging of the knights armour echoing around the hall in tandem with the thunder.

Stark, Vaelys was going to marry Stark? She would spend her days in the North, by his side, wrapped in furs, birthing that brutes children.

Dragons don’t like the cold, she would wither away, she would be married-to Stark not him.

Stark-not him.

Stark.

Cregan Fucking Stark.

NO. He wouldn’t have it. She was HIS woman. She belonged to HIM.

Without sparing Lord Borros or what's her face a single glance, Aemond marched out of Storms End.

[gins-potter]

Here’s a little (preemptive) token of thanks/congratulations for finishing Volume 2! Your writing has been impeccable and relit my childhood love of Winx Club.

The instant I read the description for the Phantom’s dress in ch24 I just knew I had to draw it. I hope this sketch lives to your description.

Congrats again and take a well deserved rest 🎉🎉

Ahhhhh oh my god this is so amazing!!! I love it so much, it's perfect 😍 Thank you so much for drawing this!