#I reblogged this post with the rest of the story

[achingly-shy]

now that you're here, please consider reading the rest of this post and supporting my friend asmaa and her family in palestine!!!! those things that we may need more of every so often are critically important to asmaa's family, so please consider helping them.

asmaa is a 19-year-old student of computer engineering from gaza who dreamed of making a difference through work as a computer engineer after the conclusion of her schooling. however, her dreams have been disrupted by the war and bombardment, and her and her family desperately need our help!!!

asmaa's home was destroyed and her father lost his means of livelihood. she is trying to raise $50,000 ($5,000 for each of her family members) so that they can escape gaza and rebuild their lives, including the continuation of asmaa's education.

please please please consider donating to their campaign, or at the very least, please follow asmaa at @asmaamajed2 to keep up with her posts. i know there’s a lot going on with the us election results, but it’s important that we don’t forget about palestinians now more than ever. asmaa wanted me to make this post to boost her story, so please reblog reblog reblog to spread the word!!!!

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XIV

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Aemond wallows in his grief over Valaena.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Grief, Desperation, Heartbreak, Talks of Euthanasia, Attempt at Euthanasia.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4465

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, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

The days had blurred into an endless stream of anxious hours. Aemond stared wordlessly out the window, his gaze vacant, face drawn and pale.

It had been over two weeks since Valaena had slipped into unconsciousness, and each day she remained silent, Aemond felt himself slipping further into despair.

Gerardys attended to Valaena daily, meticulously ensuring she received nourishment and care, his expression tightening each time Aemond asked if there was any sign of improvement.

Lirri and Arro had taken to caring for the children, who missed their mother terribly, not fully understanding what was going on.

Aemond himself had hardly eaten or slept. His usually pristine silver hair hung tangled, his appearance dishevelled. He spent nearly every hour by Valaena’s side, laying beside her, listening to the soft, rhythmic beat of her heart.

Sometimes, he would clutch her hand and sob, his pleas spilling out in quiet desperation, “Please-please, my love, come back to me. I can’t live without you.”

Family and friends came often, each one sharing their love, speaking as though their words alone could bring her back.

Rhaenyra would sit by her daughter’s side, clutching her hand, and Daemon would stand nearby, his hand occasionally brushing over Valaena’s dark hair.

Jace and Luke shared stories, speaking of their own daughters and laughing softly, trying to bring warmth into the room.

Alicent held Aemond often, her own tears mingling with his as she begged him to eat, to rest, to care for himself.

But nothing anyone did or said could reach him.

Even his new, unnamed son, waiting to be held by his father, had yet to meet him.

Aemond refused to see him, insisting that he would wait until Valaena could be there too.

One afternoon, as Gerardys was finishing his usual checks, Aemond whispered, “Is there any change?”

Gerardys let out a weary sigh and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my prince.”

Aemond’s heart dropped, his gaze fixed on Valaena’s still face. He hardly noticed when Gerardys left the room.

There was a knock on the door, and Aegon stepped in, his expression shifting as he saw his brother’s grief-stricken face.

“What did he say?” Aegon asked quietly, already dreading the answer.

Aemond’s voice was barely a whisper. “There’s no improvement. S-She still won’t wake.” His voice broke, and he turned away, clutching the edge of the bed as though it could anchor him. “What if she never does?” he gasped, his face crumpling. “I-I can’t lose her, Aegon. I just can’t.”

Aegon crossed the room, wrapping his arm around Aemond’s shoulders. “Hey-it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice gentle. “Let it out.”

Aemond resisted, but only for a moment before he collapsed against Aegon, his body racked with sobs.

“W-What if she doesn’t wake up. I can’t lose her” he choked, the raw fear and sorrow cutting through every word.

“You won’t lose her,” Aegon murmured, his voice steady even as his own heart twisted painfully.

He had rarely seen Aemond cry, and never with such anguish.

Quietly, he brushed his fingers through Aemond’s tangled hair, trying to comfort him as best he could.

“Is she not responding at all?” Aegon asked gently after a few moments.

“N-No,” Aemond replied, his voice hoarse “How am I supposed to live without her?”

Aegon took a deep breath and, with quiet certainty, said, “You won’t have to. Valaena will come back to you. She loves you too much to leave you—not after everything you two went through just to be together.”

“I-I just—”

“No,” Aegon interrupted, his voice firm. “You listen to me. Valaena loves you, and she will come back. She’s fighting her way back to you, I know it.”

Aemond took a shaky breath, nodding as he wiped his tears furiously. He glanced at Valaena, his heart aching with every beat.

“I hope you’re right, Aegon,” he whispered. “I really, really do.”

Days passed, and Aemond felt hope slipping through his fingers. Each morning, as he opened his eye beside Valaena’s still form, the weight of despair grew heavier.

His sister, Helaena, would visit frequently, talking in her quiet, lilting voice about crickets and how they would all sing together again.

Although he didn’t understand her words fully, he found comfort in them—a flicker of brightness in the midst of his grief.

Rhaegar and Elaena would bring small bouquets of flowers, placing them tenderly by their mother’s side.

Daenys, too young to understand, would pat her mother’s arm, murmuring, “Mama, mama,” in her small, confused voice.

Each of her innocent touches and soft calls felt like a dagger to Aemond’s heart.

He tried to stay strong for them, though with each passing day, it felt like his own strength was crumbling.

However, on one of Gerardys' routine visits, the tension reached breaking point.

Gerardys moved from one side of the bed to the other, checking Valaena’s pulse and her pallor.

His sigh was heavy, and his eyes held none of the hope Aemond longed to see.

“It has been over four weeks,” Gerardys said gravely. “And still, there is no sign of improvement.”

Aemond’s hands gripped Rhaenyra’s tightly, his heart pounding painfully. When he glanced at his good mother, he saw her own pain mirrored in her eyes.

“Is there truly nothing more you can do?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice strained with desperation.

“I am afraid not, Your Grace,” Gerardys replied, shaking his head. “I have tried everything within my knowledge and means. The princess simply does not respond.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and his voice came out rough, nearly a whisper. “If she doesn’t wake up what will happen to her?”

Gerardys hesitated, his expression a mix of compassion and sorrow. “If she remains in this state, it is likely her body will eventually begin to weaken, and she may pass away-but there are also ways to help her pass-to end her suffering”

Aemond's brow furrowed. “What do you mean, help her pass?”

Gerardys looked between Aemond and Rhaenyra who nodded before speaking. “The Queen and I, along with her council have discussed the possibility of administering a high dose of sweet sleep to the Princess. It would allow her to pass peacefully.”

For a moment, Aemond was too stunned to respond, his mind reeling. “You-you want to kill her?”

“Please, my prince,” Gerardys said, raising a placating hand. “Allow me to explain—”

“Get out” Aemond’s voice was a low, dangerous whisper, but his expression blazed with fury.

Rhaenyra reached for him, pleading softly, “Aemond, please. Try to understand that—”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”  His shout rang through the room, raw and filled with rage and pain.

Without another word, Gerardys bowed his head and quickly left the room, and Rhaenyra followed after him, her shoulders slumped.

As soon as they were gone, Aemond rushed to the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind them.

He turned back to Valaena, his chest heaving. Sitting by her side, he took her hand in his, pressing it to his lips.

“I won’t let them- I won’t let them take you from me-” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Aemond clutched her hand, drawing it to his heart. He sat like that for hours, unmoving, praying that somewhere deep within, she could hear him.

Aemond barred the door to the room, turning away every visitor, every knock, every entreaty to let someone in. He didn’t want anyone near Valaena, didn’t want anyone near them.

He was done with their attempts to comfort him or, worse, convince him to let her go.

As he sat slumped against the wall, Gerardys’ words replayed over and over in his mind: that she may never awaken, that her body would weaken until eventually, she would pass.

The suggestion of sweet sleep to ease her passing had ignited anger so fierce it had consumed him, but now, in the stillness, that anger simmered into something else entirely—.

The ache in his chest was so raw, so all-consuming, that he felt as if he were being hollowed out from the inside, his heart twisted into a mass of pain he could barely breathe around.

The thought of her slipping further and further away, of her body growing frailer with each day, was like a knife twisting in his heart.

He didn’t want her to waste away; he didn’t want her to be in pain.

Slowly, he got to his feet and approached the bed, his gaze fixed on Valaena’s face.

She was so beautiful—ethereal, almost as if she were caught between this world and another.

Her skin was pale, but her features were softened, the gentle rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life, and with every second, he feared it would be the last.

Even in this slumber, she was radiant, a vision of the fierce and tender woman he loved more than life itself.

It was almost cruel, the way her beauty remained undisturbed, untouched by the weight of what they were enduring.

He couldn’t look away; he was terrified that if he did, he’d forget this moment, the way she looked, lost in a place he could not reach.

In his mind, she was still full of life, laughing, fierce and strong. He closed his eye, recalling her strength, the fire in her gaze that had captivated him from the beginning.

Wanting to remember her as she was.

Aemond picked up a pillow, clutching it in his shaking hands. He remembered what she had said to him in their cabin.

‘Just promise me one thing. If I am to die, I would rather it be by your hand’

She’d made him promise. The thought of letting her linger in this half-life, slipping further from him, made him feel like he was failing her.

Taking a shaky breath, he lifted the pillow, his vision blurring as he held it above her face.

Every fibre in his being screamed at him to let her go, to do the one thing he could do to free her from this endless silence.

But standing here, the pillow shaking in his hands, he couldn’t bear it.

Looking down at her face, so still and beautiful, he saw the traces of her smile, the faint lines around her eyes from all their laughter, all the quiet moments they’d shared.

Memories surged forward—Valaena laughing, Valaena fierce and defiant, Valaena holding their children.

His hand dropped slightly, then his grip loosened, and the pillow slipped from his fingers onto the floor.

He stumbled back, horrified at what he had almost done. He pressed a hand to his mouth, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

“I-I can’t do it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. His chest felt as though it would shatter from the weight of it all. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so sorry-”

Weakly, he lowered himself to his knees by the bed, clutching the sheets as he buried his face in them.

“Please come back to me,” he whispered, his voice raw with desperation. “Please, I can’t do this without you. I don’t know exist without you.”

After a long, silent moment, he pulled himself up, he leaned forward and kissed her gently on her lips before he laid down on the bed, drawing her close.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, feeling the faint warmth of her skin.

 “Sleep as long as you need to, love. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll take care of you.”

With his arms wrapped around her, he rested his head beside hers, feeling the faint warmth of her skin against his own.

As he drifted off to sleep, he let himself hope—fragile, desperate hope—that somewhere, somehow, she could hear him.

Aemond was soaring through a vast, endless sky, the blue stretching out forever above him, beneath him, and all around.

Vhagar’s mighty wings carried him effortlessly as he glanced over to see Valaena riding alongside him, Silverwing gliding through the air.

Her dragon’s silver scales gleamed in the sunlight, and Valaena herself was laughing—a bright, carefree sound that echoed around them.

Aemond felt joy fill him as he watched her lean forward, urging Silverwing into a dive. She tucked her wings close to her body and plunged toward the glittering sea below, the wind rushing past in a blur of motion.

At the last moment, Silverwing pulled up, wings slicing across the ocean’s surface so close that sprays of water fanned out behind her, shimmering in the sunlight.

Aemond laughed, his voice echoing with pride and exhilaration, as he shouted, “Show-off!”

Valaena threw her head back in laughter, her dark hair streaming in the wind, her voice bright and filled with a joy he hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.

But suddenly, a flash of blinding light tore across the sky, so fierce that he instinctively shielded his face.

Blinking, he looked around in panic. “Valaena!” he shouted, desperation cracking his voice. “Don’t go towards it—stay by my side!”

Her laughter faded, replaced by a strange, echoing silence.

Then, her voice drifted through the air, soft but clear. “Is not my time,” she said, her words rippling through the air like a gentle breeze.

“No, not yet. Come with me,” he pleaded, his heart hammering in his chest.

Valaena hesitated, glancing toward the bright light in the distance.

But then she turned Silverwing, guiding her away from the beckoning glow.

She followed him, and together, they flew back toward King’s Landing, circling the Red Keep in unison before landing in a green, sunlit meadow just outside the walls.

Aemond descended from Vhagar’s saddle, climbing down the sturdy rope ladder.

He barely had time to turn before Valaena was there, sliding gracefully down Silverwing’s wing and landing with a soft thud on the grass.

Aemond felt his breath catch as he closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth against him, tangible and solid.

He whispered against her ear, “I love you-”

Before she could reply, footsteps sounded in the distance. Aemond turned to see Helaena approaching, her eyes soft and distant, a serene smile playing across her lips. She tilted her head, meeting his gaze.

“The crickets will sing together again,” she said quietly, her voice lilting with a familiar, otherworldly calm.

Aemond furrowed his brow, confusion knitting his expression. “Helaena, what—?”

But before he could finish, she turned and walked away, humming softly to herself, her voice fading into the distance.

Aemond glanced back at Valaena, who simply shrugged and took his hand. She looked at him, her gaze warm and full of affection.

“Let’s go home,” she murmured, her voice soft and comforting, her words echoing around him as the world began to fade.

Aemond’s eye fluttered open, the remnants of the dream lingering as a dull ache in his chest.

For a brief, beautiful moment, he half-expected to see Valaena there beside him, her smile bright, her eyes filled with that warm, knowing light.

But as he blinked, the cold darkness of the room settled around him, and the fog of sleep cleared, allowing the painful truth to seep in.

It had only been a dream.

Reality crashed over him like a tidal wave, and he clenched his fists, feeling an unbearable weight in his chest.

The vividness of the dream—the warmth of her laughter, the thrill of flying together, the strength of her arms around him—had felt so real, so heartbreakingly close.

But now, she lay beside him unmoving, locked in a silent slumber.

Aemond let out a shuddering breath as he realized how foolish it had been, to believe even for a second that she might have woken, that she might be well again.

A faint spark of hope that had flickered in his chest during the dream faded, replaced by a hollow, gnawing grief.

He turned toward her, studying her face—the face that had smiled at him moments ago, so vibrant and alive.

But now, her expression was empty, serene but lifeless, her shallow breaths offering a miniscule amount of comfort.

He reached out, his hand hovering over hers, hesitant, as if to touch her would shatter the fragile illusion he’d clung to in the haze of sleep.

His fingers brushed over her cold skin, and he felt an ache so deep it threatened to unravel him.

Aemond drifted into another restless sleep, but a faint sensation roused him—a delicate brush of movement against his hand.

At first, he thought he was still dreaming, that his mind was playing tricks on him.

But the gentle twitch continued, soft and real, grounding him back in the present.

His eye flew open, heart pounding, and he looked in disbelief as Valaena’s fingers moved, curling ever so slightly against his.

He sat up with a jolt, staring at her face.

Her eyelids fluttered, and then they slowly opened.

 With a quiet gasp, he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her soft skin. "I knew you'd come back to me," he whispered, voice breaking with relief and disbelief.

Tears spilled from his eye as he leaned down, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, his arms wrapping around her protectively. "Thank the gods-”

Aemond felt her hand, still weak, but unmistakably real, move to rest on his head. Her fingers stroked gently through his unkempt hair, a familiar, tender gesture.

A shiver ran through him as he held her closer, feeling the weight of his anguish begin to lift, replaced by an overwhelming wave of gratitude and love.

For a long moment, he stayed there, sobbing quietly, pouring weeks of heartache and fear into her presence.

Valaena’s touch anchored him, assuring him of her return.

When he finally looked up, her gaze met his, tired but warm, filled with a quiet strength. His heart clenched as he took her face in his hands, memorizing every detail.

"I was so afraid," he murmured, voice trembling. "Afraid I'd lost you forever."

She managed a faint smile, her eyes filled with the same love that had carried them through every trial before this.

 "I’m here," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely more than a breath. "I’m here, my love."

Aemond kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, and finally her lips, a desperate and reverent touch, as though it might bind her to him forever.

And for the first time in weeks, he felt peace.

“Our son?” Valaena’s voice was soft, hoarse from the long silence she’d endured during her coma, but it was full of that familiar warmth Aemond had missed so much.

Aemond’s smile faltered, and he looked down at her. His heart ached to see the longing in her eyes, but he kept his voice steady as he responded, “I haven’t seen him, not yet.”

Valaena frowned slightly. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but her gaze searching his face for an answer.

“I-I wanted us to see him together,” Aemond said, his throat tightening at the memory of the promise he’d made to her, the one he had struggled to hold on to in the weeks since her coma.

Valaena’s lips curved into a gentle smile, a glimmer of her usual warmth returning. “Can we see him now?” she asked, her eyes softening.

Aemond nodded and stood up, walking toward the door. His heart swelled as he imagined the moment when Valaena would finally get to hold their child. He unlocked the door and called for Lirri.

A few moments later, Lirri appeared, her expression concerned as she saw Aemond’s face. “What’s wrong, my prince?” she asked quietly.

“Could you bring me the babe?” Aemond asked, his voice low.

Lirri nodded and, without hesitation, disappeared into her chambers. A few minutes later, she returned, carrying a small, swaddled bundle in her arms.

She gently placed the baby into Aemond’s arms, and he held the tiny form, feeling the weight of it settle against his chest.

“Thank you, Lirri,” Aemond said, his voice filled with gratitude. He shut the door behind her and returned to Valaena’s side.

With a tender smile, he carefully placed their son on her chest. Valaena’s breath hitched, her eyes wide with wonder as she gazed down at the small bundle, her fingers trembling as she lightly traced the baby’s tiny features.

“He looks just like you,” she whispered, her voice full of awe as she stared at the baby.

Aemond couldn’t help but smile as he looked at their son, his heart filled with a profound love that he could barely put into words.

He stroked his son’s cheek gently, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry that I waited this long to meet you properly,” he murmured, regret lacing his words.

Valaena reached out, her hand taking his in a gentle, soothing gesture. She kissed his palm softly, and Aemond’s eye closed briefly at the touch.

When she pulled away, her gaze returned to their son, her expression tender.

“Does he have a name?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost like a prayer.

Aemond’s eyes met hers, his heart heavy with the weight of their shared decision. “No,” he replied softly. “I wanted to wait for you.”

Valaena’s lips curled into a small, affectionate smile. “I’d like to name him Aemon, in honour of his father,” she said, her eyes sparkling with love.

Aemond chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you sure you want to do that?” he asked, teasing, though his heart swelled with affection.

Valaena nodded with certainty, her eyes warm with emotion. “I’m sure.”

Aemond stroked the baby’s soft silver hair, a tear threatening to fall as he marvelled at the life they had created together.

“Aemon,” he whispered, the name tasting like hope and promise. “He may look like me but he’ll grow up to be strong. Just like you.”

“Now’s not the time for Strong jokes my love” said Valaena,

“Time and a place. I know” replied Aemond smiling slightly.

Valaena shifted slightly, her eyes filled with concern as she looked up at Aemond. “You look so tired,” she said, her voice gentle.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Aemond admitted, his gaze dropping to their son. “Not since you’ve been in the coma.”

Valaena’s brow furrowed, and she gave a soft gasp. “How long was it?” she asked.

“Just over a month,” Aemond said, his voice tight as the pain of that time resurfaced.

Valaena’s eyes widened. “A-A month. What about our other children?”

Aemond placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “They’ve been well taken care of,” he said gently. “They visit often. The flowers over there are from Rhaegar and Elaena.”

Valaena nodded slowly, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She looked at the flowers with longing. “I want to see them,” she said, her voice breaking.

Aemond smiled softly. “Tomorrow, I’ll bring them to you,” he promised.

Valaena shifted again, the weight of the baby becoming too much for her.

Aemond gently scooped Aemon up, cradling him in his arms and rocking him softly as he looked at Valaena with concern.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond asked, his voice laced with worry.

Valaena’s gaze was sad as she watched Aemond care for their son. “I can’t even hold my son properly,” she murmured, the pain of her weakness clear in her eyes.

“You’ve just woken up from a month-long coma,” Aemond reminded her softly. “It’s going to take time to build your strength back.”

Valaena nodded, a sad smile flickering on her lips. “When will you tell my mother I’m awake?”

Aemond sighed, a small chuckle escaping him. “Not yet,” he said. “I want to keep you to myself for a little longer.”

The soft cry of their son brought Aemond’s attention back to the baby. He carefully opened the door noticing Lirri waiting outside in the hallway.

“Lirri,” Aemond said quietly, “He’s hungry. The wetnurse will need to be summoned.” As he placed his son gently into her arms

“Is my lady well?” asked Lirri.

“She’s awake”

Lirri smiled widely. “Does the prince have a name?” she asked softly.

“Aemon,” Aemond replied, a proud smile on his face.

Lirri smiled warmly “A good name-it suits him well”

“Don’t tell anyone that Valaena is awake,” he said softly. “I need a bit more time with her.”

Lirri gave a small nod. “I understand, my prince,” she said before slipping back into her chambers.

Aemond returned to the bed and sat beside Valaena, his heart light for the first time in so long.

He laid down next to her, his hand gently brushing her face. She was so tired, but there was a quiet contentment in her eyes as she watched him.

“I’ve been asleep for a month,” Valaena murmured, her voice faint, “yet I feel so tired.”

Aemond smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s okay, my love. Sleep. Rest.”

Valaena’s eyes fluttered closed, and she whispered softly, “I love you.”

Aemond kissed her forehead gently. “I love you too,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close.

Just as the gentle rhythm of her breathing steadied.

"I dreamt we were flying," Valaena murmured, her words barely a whisper.

Aemond froze, his chest tightening at the sound. He looked down at her, her eyes closed, her face soft and peaceful as she rested.

The vulnerability of the moment struck him, but there was something else in her words, something that tugged at his heart.

"Flying?" Aemond whispered.

Valaena stirred slightly, the corners of her lips lifting as though recalling the fleeting images of her dream.

“Yes, with you,” she murmured, her voice still heavy with the weight of sleep. "You on Vhagar, me on Silverwing-The sky so blue and endless. There was a light, you wouldn’t let me go-and the crickets they sing together again"

Aemond’s heart caught in his throat. The images she spoke of mirrored his own dream so closely, it almost felt as if they had shared the same vision.

For a moment, he dared to believe that her mind was reaching out to him, somehow connecting in a space beyond reality.

Her hand twitched slightly in her sleep, and he gently took it in his, his grip tight, as if holding on to a memory, a hope that perhaps, just perhaps, she could hear him, could feel him there.

And as the weight of their shared grief, their joy, and their love settled over them, Aemond finally allowed himself to close his eyes, drifting off to sleep with Valaena nestled safely in his arms.

TBC

[runawaydr3amerao3]

Wincest Big Bang 2024 Master Post

Peeps! The @wincestbigbang is officially over for 2024! From February to October, we toiled, and now we can finally rest. 🥰

🥳👉 wincest big bang 2024: fic & art master post 👈🥳

If you missed the individual posts going up last month, you're in for a treat, because now you get to see them all in one place!

Want some figures to go with your links? Try these on for size:

✍️ 16 Authors 📚 16 Fanfics 📝 340,770 Words 🧑‍🎨 11 Artists 🎨 75+ Artworks

Is that amazing or what?! I'm ridiculously impressed by all of us and I think everyone else should be too, hence this post. 🤩

Extra and additional thanks to @bluefire986 for the modly duties that made all of this possible, the alpha readers who helped us spin the stories out, the beta reader/artists who made sure we didn't make bigger idiots of ourselves than we had to, and every last cheerleader who made sure we didn't give up along the way. 💖🏆🏅

Please share this post or the master post or any individual fic or art post far and wide to get my fellow authors and our wonderful artists the love they deserve!

And if you do check out any of the fruits of our labours, don't forget to comment, like, kudos, reblog, rec, etc. All of that good stuff keeps the fandom turning. 🫶

Congrats, all! We did it! 🎉

(Oops, sorry, Sam, wrong glitter bomb...)

[mightydyke]

This is a short story from the manga Children of the Whales by Abi Umeda. It appears at the end of volume 7 but you don't need to have read any of the manga or know the plot to understand it. It's such a beautiful story that makes me so emotional. Trigger warnings for injury and mentions of death and torture. You can read this manga for free here.

[sergle]

I really truly, from the bottom of my heart, hate you bitches so much, because on the tiktok of literally COCK AND BALL jokes w brittany broski, there were a few notes/messages like this:

And I KNOW you don't think anyone's going to check. You had someone go into your askbox and say "hiii brittany broski is shitty about palestine she's really ignorant :/" and you went oh omg I didn't know!! thanks for telling me! So I checked! This is in reference to her talking in her podcast, because people were asking why she hadn't done any big press statements about Palestine, you didn't retweet this or that, you must not care, don't you care, what's your stance, etc etc please say more OKAY COOL. So what's going on there? What did Brittany say on her podcast? Is she a Bad Person? Can I have some transcript, please? ____ "Hey guys, before we get into this week's episode, I want to talk to you about the ongoing and prolonged suffering and loss of life in Gaza, in Israel, and the oppression of Palestinian people widespread. I don't ever want it to be a question that I would ever not be against the oppression of any group of people, that I would ever stand on the side of the oppressor." "There was a lot of fear of misusing my platform." ... "I will admit that I was nervous to talk about it, because I don't want to say the wrong thing. And this is too fucking serious of an issue to misspeak, or to spread misinformation, or to speak over or for someone." ... "So I want to take a moment on my biggest platform- which is this podcast, to say that I stand with the people of Palestine, I stand for the liberation of Palestinian people." ... "Every day, to log on to social media, and be just inundated with graphic, unimaginable violence, and loss, and grief, it's just--There are no words." ... "And I feel helpless. That's part of it too, when you feel helpless, the last thing you want to do is talk to people about it-- but visibility is a resource in and of itself. And I can offer that." ... "The outpouring of rage and passion online, and anger at what's happening, I would argue needs to be dedicated and focused on our elected officials. We live in a democracy- albeit an inherently flawed one- we live in a democracy where we have elected officials who were elected and put in power to represent us, and if we feel misrepresented, if we feel underrepresented in foreign affairs? These officials have public phone numbers and emails. There are scripts available online to express your disdain and your rage, and unfortunately that's one of the only ways we'll see actionable change."   "If you expected more from me, it's a terrible feeling- but I don't want to center myself, this needs to be all eyes on Palestine right now, where the real activism is happening. I would encourage you to follow journalists that are on the ground, people who are in Gaza, we need to be listening to them. I would also hope that we're at a point in this conversation where I can express my desire to stand in solidarity with the people of Palestine and that NOT meaning or suggesting or condoning anti-Semitism of any kind. There's a rise of anti-Semitism and islamophobia in the United States and it's just-- it's disgusting, and it's scary, so I want that to be said too. I just wanted to share that I am experiencing part of this collective sense of helplessness and hopelessness-- but it DOESN'T HAVE to be hopeless. I'm going to include a phone number in the description of this episode where, if you don't know the name of your senators or your Congressman, it's never too late to learn, and you can reach out to them." _______ Hm. What a bitch!! Yeah, just so ignorant and uncaring. Obviously she's not keeping up with anything. Should've retweeted more shit ig!

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Fic idea: Before or during his Red Hood plan. A returned from the pit Jason Todd is determined to make it to his high school senior prom

WAIT EVEN BETTER, It'd be longer and harder to write but I really like the idea of Jason just casually going to highschool too, and maybe it leads up to the prom. He just shows back up one day. Does something that manages to keep media attention off of him. Would it be before Red Hood? would it encourage him to not don the helmet? Would he do it while Red Hooding? Would he finally get to join an after school theater club?

[il3x]

s.so the great tale of how i ruined it all is a ryujin coded album (pianist in opposition to a society that forces him into a heavily uniform, militaristic role, vengeance) and beginner's guid e is. [i falter for a minute as the truth hits me but plough forward] sayeon coded on account of pressure adn d perfectionism and long delayed consequences for your actions,

[theplantbish]

It's been six days since I saw K should I maybe edit those photos already.....

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning! <3

[sagethegremlin]

I miss cucumber quest :(

[finxwrites]

writing meme!

send me a fandom and an au concept and I’ll cast it / tell you what story I’d write for it

[chatxkilluaxnoir]

I sincerely hope u won’t stop after UV 0.8 Part 1, so close to the finale.

UV/XT has always been one of my favorite series’s (literally bought the full bundle zine and I hope to still be able to buy the the stake comic and other stuff in the future), and I would love to see a proper end to the series in 0.8 Part 2.

I also love ur finished and ongoing XTale comics very much.

And u have algae always been a really inspiring creator and one of my favorite UT creators so I would hate to see you fully leave.

Saying that, I understand if u want to take a break/step away (for awhile).

I just hope ti see the last of UV at least someday if u do And the rest of ur ongoing XTale comic(s). Since I do truly adore and love ur work so much.

I also hope u come back to UT and stuff someday too if u decide ti take a break/leave.

And that u don’t step away from YT forever and that the stuff o there says. Because ur stuff is awesome and I’m a huge fan of urs.

I hope u don’t need to. Or at least not fully(from UT, UV/XT, YT, etc.). It is good to try to curate ur online experience, and take breathers and stuff.

Have a good day/night! I hope u feel better.

And still excited for more UT/UV/XT stuff from u when/if u are able.

“I'll make an announcement when the trailer/full episode will be released.”

Cool, thank you. Genuinely very excited. Just hope it is not the last episode. Or the last UT/XT/UV thing in general. Because this stuff is awesome.

Take it easy.

ENGLISH: Underverse 0.8 part 1 might be the last Underverse episode I publish. I'm done with the toxicity, the hypocrisy, and the bias. I give up trying to explain that I'm not a monster, I just wanted to have fun with a video game that made me happy. I'm not sure if I'll come back or want to make content on YouTube anymore, I'll have to take a long break after this, find another job, I don't know, stay ayaw from all this. Every year, it's the same thing, and I don't feel comfortable in this fandom anymore. I'm not mentally okay. I'm done pretending all this hate is not affecting me. Maybe if I step aside, these people will get the attention they've been wishing for, since there won't be that person and her work they hate so much. They feel I shouldn't have gotten an opportunity in the first place and that they could've done way better, as if this fandom were a competition. Or they'll just find another target to turn into a pariah. I'll make an announcement when the trailer/full episode will be released. ESPAÑOL:

Underverse 0.8 parte 1 podría ser el último episodio de Underverse que publique. Estoy harta de la toxicidad, la hipocresía y los prejuicios.

Me rindo tratando de explicar que no soy un monstruo, solo quería divertirme con un videojuego que me hacía feliz. No estoy segura si volveré o si querré hacer contenido en YouTube nuevamente. Tendré que tomarme un largo descanso después de esto, buscar otro trabajo, no sé, alejarme de todo esto.

Cada año es lo mismo, y ya no me siento cómoda en este fandom. No estoy bien mentalmente. Estoy cansada de fingir que todo este odio no me afecta.

Tal vez si me hago a un lado, estas personas obtendrán la atención que tanto han deseado, ya que no estará esa persona y su trabajo que tanto odian, que sienten que no debería haber tenido una oportunidad en primer lugar y que podrían haberlo hecho mucho mejor, como si este fandom se tratase de una competencia. O simplemente encontrarán otro objetivo para convertir en un paria.

Haré un anuncio cuando el tráiler/ episodio completo esté listo para ser publicado.

[blam-marie]

A Metaphor's Guide to Rewriting Destiny

Like this? Please subscribe to my Patreon!

We hurried to the hotel’s coach house, where we took one of the nondescript carriages that were used to ferry around paying guests at their convenience. Our same coachman as on the first night took the reins and Jeanne, perhaps having gotten into her head that she ought to keep an eye on me, begged us to wait as she changed into her footman attire before catching up to us outside.

Compassion and two of the scholars climbed inside of the cabin after me. There was an air of heavy expectation as the carriage rumbled over cobblestones as we undertook our journey. The men tried to draw me into conversation but I did not have the patience for it. I shut them down and they lapsed into tense silence.

Sat on the seat facing mine, Compassion watched me with dark, pensive eyes. We had never been companions but I had tried to kill him many times, and we kept aware of each other’s work. This situation was unlike either of us. But few knew what I did outside of the times when Walls actively deployed me as their Rage, and few believed the rumors of what Compassion got up to outside of the sanctuary of the various temples and monasteries where he kept incarnating. That was because they did not understand what Compassion truly was. I did. I had asked myself the day before, when wondering how he had known how to take down a magical barrier, ‘compassion for whom’. That was a flawed question. The answer was ‘yes’. It was ‘everyone’, or ‘whoever happened to be in front of him at any given moment’. Regardless of who that person actually was.

I was not surprised that he was involved in this brewing revolution. What surprised me was that he was not involved more. He did not care about politics but he cared very, very much that people were suffering.

Unfortunately, here and now, it was me that he was focused on. My suffering which he sought to diminish or ease. I clenched my hands into fists and stared out of the window. I didn’t want this. It would have been better for everyone if he had cut me loose at the gate of the Lighthouse and turned his purpose towards those who actually wanted him. I was keeping him from them now. I was restless under his attention. I never should have pushed him into the cell and extracted his promise to help.

I closed my eyes. I tried to remind myself that I was doing this for Astoria, that I owed her this at least. I tried to lie to myself that there was still something that I could do for her, that my efforts were not too little and far too late. It didn’t help.

I wished that I could simply set this city ablaze with everyone in it and never have to look upon it and its misery ever again. There was a time when I would have. When torching vast swatches of land instead of pretending to be a nice little civilized Exemplar who played by the rules was an option that was open to me. But not anymore. The world had gotten too complicated. I had made too many ties, gathered too many stories to keep locked behind my breast, safe from the world and the passage of time.

I had gotten soft. And tired.

This exhaustion was exactly what made Compassion so dangerous to me. His purpose was the end of mine, and therefore it was he that would be the end of me, some day. This had not been prophesized, nor was it written down anywhere for anyone to see. But I knew it, and I suspected that he did too.

After three thousand years I was well aware by now that my destiny was set in stone, and could not be rewritten by will nor stubbornness alone. There were some who believed that Anydrite was not truly gone, and that one day she would return and call back her aspects to her, and that this would be the end of the Exemplars. Others believed that if only the three hundred of us could just gather at the same place at the same time, then our powers would be pulled out of us and she would be re-formed. But these were ridiculous and fanciful notions, formed by minds who had not been suited to immortality and strained under its weight.

We were nearing our destination. As our carriage slowed down, I set my jaw and told myself firmly that whatever end awaited me, today was not that day. I caught Compassion’s eyes again. He seemed to sense my renewed resolve, for it was he who lowered his gaze now.

We rolled to a stop in front of some manner of factory. The door opened, and Compassion turned to our boy leader.

“I will speak to the workers here. Don’t wait up.”

He stepped out. Then a tall man in faded clothes emerged from the factory’s shadowed doorway. He exchanged a nod with the Exemplar and climbed up into our carriage to take his place. Jeanne closed the door firmly behind him. We felt the coach dip as she climbed back onto her perch at the rear. The two scholars greeted the man, who seemed rather exasperated with them. He shot me and intrigued look, but as no one had yet introduced me, he chose instead to sit next to our charismatic blonde leader. He removed his hat and ran a hand over his bald head.

“I appreciate your kindness in bringing me to the train station,” he began before anyone could say anything. “But if this is another attempt at convincing me, I will remind you that my position is perfectly clear—”

“The situation has changed,” interrupted the leader of our cause.

“Jean-François...” cautioned the other scholar under his breath.

Jean-François twitched a hand towards him, as if ordering him to settle down and let him work.

“I apologize for being so candid,” he told the man whom I assumed was Ambreville, “but we will not gain anything by hiding behind manners and double-speak.”

The other man sighed. “Speak plainly then. What exactly has happened that is so important that it could change my decision?”

Jean-François and the other scholar turned to me then and waited. Perhaps they thought that I would speak, or at the very least lift my veil. I did no such thing. I had been a propaganda piece for longer than they both had been alive. I knew how best to play my part. I raised my chin and tilted my head to the light coming through the window, knowing that the glow of my inhuman golden eyes would shine through the dark fabric.

Ambreville noticed, and his expression fell into frank astonishment.

“Another? But I thought... Compassion...” he gestured back the way we had come.

“She is nothing like Compassion,” said Jean-François, leaning in. His eyes glowed almost as much as mine in the shadowed interior of the carriage. “Mr. Jules-Honoré Ambreville, let me introduce you to the Exemplar of Rage.”

***

As expected, my presence had the desired effect. They spoke animatedly the rest of the ride to the train station. I kept my eyed fixed on the man I had been brought here to convince, my posture confident but alert, my hands loose on my cane. I knew how to give the impression of a predator, coiled dangerously in the darkness. It made men’s pulses race, sweat gather at their temple, their breathing grow shallow. Their entire body trembled in terror, when they knew me their enemy, or excitement, when they thought me their tool.

Sometimes, I even had that effect on other Exemplars, who really should know better. Or perhaps they were stirred because they knew me and what I was capable of. I wondered whether I could arouse such turmoil in Compassion if I really applied myself to it. It seemed unlikely. He did not seem a man easily threatened, and he was not foolish enough to think that I could be controlled.

As expected, I did not need to speak to Ambreville, nor was I asked to. As the conversation washed over me, I let my mind wander. There had been a time when I would have cared about such things. The first of me had been a king, a leader of men. He would have had much to say about this revolution. But that had been the first and last time that I had had any such power. Every one of me afterwards had been part of the lesser, the downtrotten, the ones who did not have a voice until I started stabbing in their names. The world seemed different from that angle, desperation more cruel, pain more raw. Lessons had been learned.

[bweirdart]

nearly oc-tober time again - time for some prompts for 2024

F.A.Q

do i have to draw?

not at all! you are free to participate with any medium that suits you... writing, artwork, free bases and templates, simple text posts, in-character-as-your-oc roleplay, whatever! (just no stealing or AI)

do i have to make new content?

nope! re-uploading old stuff that fits the prompts is allowed (and encouraged) ... old art that didn't get the appreciation it needed always deserves a chance to be shared again, it's a fun throwback!

do i have to post every day?

nope! only 10 days are mandatory (the ones in red with a star symbol) and everything else (yellow) is 100% optional! if you're busy or tired, please skip as many as you want

can i start early?

you can prep your posts in advance if you need to ... but please wait until the right day in october to share them!

can i re-upload your prompt list to another site?

i would prefer if you dont - i have accounts on most sites, so just reblog/retweet/share from me!

event tag?

#bweirdOCtober

have fun!

image desc/text version ↓under the cut↓ or on bweird.art/october

prompts:

WEEK 1: OC INTRODUCTIONS

⭐ 1: FAV OC

what makes them your fav?

2: NEW OC

how recently did you make them?

3: OLD OC

how long ago did you make them?

⭐ 4: UNDER-APPRECIATED OC

an oc you feel like you don't talk about enough, or you haven't fleshed out as much as you would like

5: RE-DESIGNED OC

an oc who has changed a lot (what changed about them?) or, if you haven't redesigned an oc: is there anything you might want to change about an existing oc?

WEEK 2: BUILDING BACKSTORY

⭐ 6: PAST

where is your oc from? what did they look like as a child?

7: LIKES

what do they like (and why?)

8: DISLIKES

what don't they like (and why?)

⭐ 9: RELATIONSHIPS

doesn't have to be romantic! can any kind of relationship (frienship, family, rivalry etc)

10: PERSONALITY

what are your oc's main personality traits

11: SYMBOLISM/THEMES

what represents your oc? is there a specific colour you associate them with, or a specific animal?

12: FUTURE

what will your oc look like in the future? do they have any plans or goals?

WEEK 3: FUN + GAMES

⭐13: MEMES

do any memes remind you of your oc? are there memes your oc would find funny? maybe you want to redraw your oc as one?

14: WHO/WHAT INSPIRED YOUR OC

are there existing characters that your oc looks like? was your oc based on yourself? is your oc originally from a specific fandom?

15: MUSIC

share a character playlist, write a songfic, post lyrics that remind you of them, etc

⭐16: EYES CLOSED or NON DOMINANT HAND

draw a picture of your oc with your eyes closed or with your non domminant hand, write or type a paragraph about them without your eyes closed, etc ... have fun, and don't worry about it looking "bad" -it's meant to!!

17: DnD ALIGNMENT CHART

put all your ocs into a DnD alignment chart, or any other similar chart if you prefer

i've compiled a few templates on my site, but you can find more easily if you google "oc alignment chart"

⭐18: SWAP

swap something between your ocs - their role in the story, hairstyles, personalities, fashion taste, species ... whatever you want! how would this difference change them?

19: PALETTE CHALLENGES

draw your ocs with as many of these colour palettes as you want (or just skip if you don't draw/don't like doing these!)

hex codes for the colours:

palette 1 - #3C1E81 #6D1EA2 #B059E8 #FE0876 #FE5284 #FE7C96 #E0CFE3 #FFD5C3

palette 2 - #352823 #673F28 #AB541C #BA8233 #897128 #A68B2F #F7BF6A #DAC3A4

palette 3 - #A42E25 #D7412B #E47C29 #F7A233 #FCC02D #FCE4A6 #486548 #FEFDE8

palette 4 - #2F4769 #39597E #53779C #94D1E7 #AADDE7 #D48DB7 #D498B5 #D2BABA

WEEK 4: COMMUNITY

20-26: A WHOLE WEEK OF SOCIAL STUFF

if you don't have the time/energy to do every day this week, ⭐ day 23 is the only one marked as mandatory! you can skip the rest!

some ideas for what you could do: talk about a friend's oc you like, make gift art/writing of them, collabs, trades, reblog/appreciate ocs in the event tag, make interactions between your ocs and other people's

WEEK 5: HALLOWEEN

⭐27: FEARS

is your oc scared of anything? do they have any phobias? are they startled easily? would any of your ocs try to scare ppl on purpose?

28: MONSTER

what would your oc be if they were a monster (eg: werewolf, vampire, eldritch beast.. whatever) or, do you have an oc who is already a monster?

29: PUMPKIN CARVING

your ocs carving pumpkins, a drawing of a pumpkin carved to look like your oc ... or even carve it in real life!

30: GHOST

this can be literally a ghost, or a concept that haunts your oc! up to you!

⭐ 31: COSTUMES

what are your ocs wearing for halloween?

[bookscorpion73]

guys I’m doing it!!!

ok *deep breathe* if this post gets 7,300 notes I will tell my parents I’ve been writing this story (my sci fi story) and ask if I can get it published by next Christmas also if this does end up getting that insane number of notes I may have to take my word back on the “finish and publish on wattpad or ao3 all four of my wips by next new years” because the sci fi one is obviously going to need a lot more attention but I will finish the drafts for my other 3 wips by next Christmas as well (the summer rom com, the Christmas rom com and the sapphic vampire heist one)

Update: it’s already at 1,000 and I’m dying

Update: shit shit shit how is it at 4,000???

Update: 6,000 notes??? Why guys why 😭😭😭😭😭

Update: 7,300 notes… well shit

Update: thank you all <33333333

Update: guys you can rest now no need to keep reblogging and commenting so much it’s hit the goal

[aromantic-pantyanarchy]

It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.