#the aaaangst

[sherlocking-out-loud]

I just had a thought... what if we get beenado -> Gerrard yelling at Buck -> Buck punching Gerrard -> Buck gets suspended -> airplane emergency happens and Tommy does something very heroic and dangerous and ends up hurt and... Buck watches it all happen live on television, far away and unable to help?....

[mirafran]

So after this we just need an episode of hualian hugging for 20+ minutes amirite

[itlogarts]

xenia has me writhing screaming sobbing but like not in that way

[nouverx]

Day 5 and Day 6 of Radiostatic Week

Free day (Picture) and one sided attraction. Seems like purple doesn't suit Alastor...

[armanisluv]

in the extra content nora mentioned that in all of the other aftg drafts except the final published draft andrew has this fatal brain disease that causes him to forget everything. leaving aaron to be the one to take everything andrew would’ve received since andrew would just forget about it anyway. i’m willing to go fucking desperado to see some art or a fic about this. i’m fucking begging please.

[artsyhamster]

Some HarryJean. Imagine something like Harry having charged headfirst into danger, without thinking, and Jean being angry about it, because Dammit Harry do you ever think about what could have happened to you? Do you ever stop to THINK?!

[the-haunted-office]

The Free Wi-Fi Woods are full of scary things. Ghosts. Zombies. Fungus shaped like headstones that only grows over top of dead bodies. Carnivorous living buildings that lure victims in with a number of methods tailored specifically to their preferred victims - including one particular species that broadcasts a wide range of wireless internet out into the forest, along with an enormous glowing neon sign advertising FREE WI-FI INSIDE!!, thus earning the woods their name.

It's an area fraught with dangers and scary things for sure.

But none of this is scary, not to Thursday. There's nothing to fear when you're functionally immortal and you've seen just about everything.

There's even less to fear when the worst things out there are simple humans.

(Cut here due to length!!)

It's been a long time since she's come out this way, to this particular area of the woods. She hasn't been out this way since she gave the orders and everything went down, actually. If you want to be more precise than that, she hasn't been out this way since she buried him here. And if you want to be even more precise, there wasn't anything left of him to bury - just a small clip he'd kept in his hair, and it wasn't even his clip. It'd belonged to someone from long ago, someone he'd refused to tell her about, although Thursday could tell it was someone very special to him, perhaps even someone he'd once been in love with. She couldn't tell for sure - she just knew she'd never seen him without it.

Well. The pin is buried in the ground now, at the base of this crooked and dead old weeping willow tree. Thursday had once joked that this tree must have been planted here specifically to freak people out, because it looked like it belonged here, like it had been placed here rather than having grown here at random. It even had a sort of face on the front of it, formed of some knots that made it look angry, like it didn't want anyone meddling with it. Get away from me, don't you dare climb up on me! But they'd climbed up on it anyway, laughed at it, hung out up there for hours. Thursday always had trouble getting back down, but Brian had helped her get back down when she'd needed it.

That was his name. Brian. Her friend. The one from the outside. One not from the Offices, who'd been pulled in by the shards in the In-Between doing their typical bullshit and bumping into one another and yanking in innocent bystanders from their own dimensions. Brian had been unlucky. Or maybe the Office folks had been. Or maybe they all had been. That was probably the best way of putting it.

But nothing had felt unlucky to Thursday at the time. Not for a long time. Things with Brian had been difficult and challenging for sure, yes, true, but Thursday had never viewed his presence in the Office as unlucky. She treasured his presence there, looked forward to seeing him every day, even if the only thing he'd say to her was, "Hmph".

That wasn't an uncommon thing at all, in fact. Days would go by with "Hmph" being the only thing he'd say to anybody. Brian didn't have much to say, nor much in common with any of the Office folks, and he had even less he wanted to do with any of them, and they even less to do with him. He was grouchy, cantankerous, irritable, easily annoyed, touchy, and just downright mean at times. Intimidating was the least of it. One look from him would send some of the ghosts running, and even a couple of the living folks.

Cyrus wanted him gone. Doomsday wanted to kick his ass. September wanted to kill him.

Thursday wouldn't allow any of it. And in the Haunted Office, with her being the elected leader of the bunch, whatever decision she had to make, the others followed, even if they didn't quite like it. They trusted in her decisions, although that didn't stop them from either giving Brian a wide berth or keeping their eyes on him, some of them quite literally, as Shadow Stanley was frequently caught stalking Brian at all hours of the day and night.

In any case, it'd taken a while, but Thursday had eventually gotten him to warm up to her. She could remember how once he felt he could trust her, how quickly they'd become, almost as if they'd been friends all along. Pretty soon they started spending every day together, hanging out in the employee lounge, in each other's rooms, all over the Office, even venturing outside of the Office. He even sought her company, instead of her always seeking his company, like it'd been for weeks.

During this time, they grew remarkably close. They talked about just about anything and everything, most of the time with Thursday leading and even dominating the conversation, but Brian didn't seem to mind. He actually seemed to relish it. He was a guy of few words, and so it seemed to suit him, although he did open up and start talking a lot more, especially there towards the end.

That was perhaps what pained Thursday the most, looking back. How open and... just... raw he'd been there, those last couple weeks before he converted back to full-on virus. He'd been so... clear-minded and beautiful and just........ She didn't even have a word for it. She just knew that she loved him. With all of her heart, she loved him, and she wanted him to be happy. He seemed happy, and she was happy that he was happy, and she was happy that he was happy because he was there with her, and the he was smiling despite all the pain he'd shared with her.

It's just that... happy things never last, and viruses are viruses, and some people are who they are, no matter how much they seem like they've changed.

Thursday should have known this. She knows she should have known this. How many times had she been through this exact same thing in her life, through the same scenario, under slightly different circumstances, with different people, with different diseases, different illness, different afflictions, but essentially the same song and dance in the end.

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, no matter what you do, a person is who they are at their core. And Brian, at his core, was a virus. And she'd known this from the very beginning.

It'd started with him wrecking the Office. Destroying rooms. Ripping out the carpets. Trying to kill Dorian. It was by a stroke of luck that he hadn't, because if he had, he might very well have doomed them all. They'd only managed to save Dorian thanks to Thisday, drawing him away from the maintenance room. But then that had cost them dearly.

It had cost them Thisday.

After murdering Thisday, Brian had taken his brain - where the soul is stored - and then sequestered the two of them away in the In-Between, where only Doomsday and September could enter. From there, it was only a matter of time before he might have corrupted the whole of the In-Between, the whole of the Office, and then there might not have been a way of bringing not only Thisday back, but anybody.

The choice wasn't an easy one... but it was a clear one.

The woods have always been pretty quiet. Strange for being as full of scary and dangerous things as they are. It's not those things that scares Thursday now. It's the sound of her own gasping sobs, because they are so loud in the comparative silence. She doesn't want anyone to hear her, even though she's alone.

"Why'd... Why'd you do it? I-... I- I- I did- I did everything for you- you idiot-" she says, pressing her face against the bark of the old dead weeping willow tree, as if that might help muffle her cries. But of course, there's no one there to hear. Only the clip, and that wasn't even his.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Closer

Summary: Your due date is close and you finally give in and reach out to Frankie to talk over things. But before the talk can happen you run into him. And his son.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. Reader; Marcus Pike x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, fluff, angst, implied complications at childbirth, implied character death

A/N: so. yeah. this escalated quickly.

Part of the (Ir)replaceable series

You were getting closer and closer to your due date. And by closer you meant next week.

You, for some reason, hadn’t run into Frankie anymore. And you didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand you were happy, because he seemed to respect your wishes, on the other hand… 

It was his child you were carrying. Yes, he hurt you, more than you would ever wish to anyone, but he was the father of your child. Your little girl.

God, you wished you could just handle this like every other break up and move on. But you would have to see him at some point. If he chose to have a relationship with this child, your child, that was. You didn’t even know if he told the truth about having told his wife. 

“Sweetheart?” you turned your head, a smile sneaking to your face as you heard footsteps. 

“I’m here,” you called out, your smile widening when you saw Marcus walk on the patio. 

He kissed your forehead before he sat down next to you, his arm coming to rest around your shoulder.

Marcus had turned out to be your biggest surprise. Again.

Yes, he had come home with you, and yes he continued to be a big support for you but there was a voice deep inside in your head that told you every single day that he would leave. 

But it’s been months and Marcus had been to every single doctor's appointment with you. He had gone to birthing classes with you. He had been your rock. 

But you both decided that you would take it slow. 

Not only because you both had been burned in the past, but because you were a hormonal mess and Marcus was scared you would hate him once you had given birth and your hormones were back to normal. 

And while you wanted to laugh as he told you about this fear, you ended up kissing him softly and agreeing to wait. 

Which was why even though you were sleeping in the same bed, you haven’t had sex yet. Much to your (and his) frustration. 

“You really wanna go to the store? I could get what we need,” he asked. 

You smiled, taking his hand. 

“Might be the last time we can go alone to the store together for a while,” you hummed and he smiled. You both rested your hands on your belly that looked like it was ready to burst. 

You felt so fucking huge, you were ready for this pregnancy to be over. 

Lately you had caught yourself wishing it wasn’t Frankie’s baby, but Marcus’. A thought you felt guilty about. But then you had talked to your therapist about it (oh yes, you had started therapy to work though all of those feelings and issues) and they had told you that it was normal for you to imagine this with how you had been hurt by the biological father. 

Marcus had practically moved in with you. He still had his apartment and he still had his job back in Washington. But three weeks ago he had officially asked to transfer to the office here which was only a formality. The FBI was glad to have him here. 

“I can’t believe you’re due next week,” he said.

“Me neither,” you sighed. 

“Have you… Have you thought about reaching out to him?” Marcus asked hesitantly. 

“Honestly?” you asked. He nodded. 

“I think about reaching out every single day. I… Even though he hurt me, he has the right to see his daughter. And I have to…. I have to come to terms with seeing him. If he wants to see his child that is.”

Marcus kissed your temple. 

“Maybe ask him to come over to talk? I could go so you could talk about everything and…” you shook your head. 

“I want you there when I talk to him. You are going to be part of her life too. You will most likely spend more time with her than he will. You… I can’t do this without you,” you said. Marcus squeezed your hand. 

“Tell me when and I’ll be there.”

“Which one?” Marcus held up two different brands of mint chocolate chip ice cream and you pursed your lips in thought. 

“Both?” you said after a while and he chuckled. 

You had texted Frankie, left your phone at home and then went to the store with Marcus. It was almost 10pm and the store was pretty empty. Only a couple of people walking around. You were pushing the cart, which was mostly filled with snacks you had been craving throughout your pregnancy. 

Marcus came over, his hand resting on your back after he put the ice cream into your cart. You grinned up at him and he kissed you, his other hand resting on your belly. 

He was obsessed with your belly, talking to your little girl all the time, telling her goodnight stories when he thought you were already asleep. 

You wondered if Frankie would have been like that too. Was he excited to be a father? And to two children at once? 

You wondered how his wife took the whole affair and second baby thing. You didn’t know if he told the truth when he told you he had confessed everything to his wife. 

You blinked your eyes, getting rid of the thoughts as you pushed the cart forward into the next aisle. 

And suddenly he was there, his eyes already on you when you stopped in your tracks. 

You could hear Marcus say something, but it was like you were under water as you looked at him. But it wasn’t him that had your attention, it was the child strapped to his chest. You only got out of your trace when you felt Marcus hand on top of yours, your knuckles white from the way you were squeezing the shopping cart. 

You felt the familiar panic inside of you building as you looked at Frankie. 

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Marcus tilted your head towards him and you blinked up at him. 

“Do you want to leave?” he asked quietly. You gulped, letting go of the shopping cart to let him guide your hands to his chest. He breathed with you, in and out until you felt the fog in your brain disappear.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked again, his eyes full of concern. His eyes left yours only briefly to look behind you before they were on you again. It was forever before you shook your head. 

“Are you sure?” he asked again, checking in with you. You nodded, taking a deep breath before you turned around again, finding Frankie still at the spot you had last seen him. 

Marcus' hand on your back was grounding you as you slowly made your way down the aisle. 

You were tired of running. 

And until you moved to another city (which was a whole other conversation you would have with Marcus at some point) you did not want to walk around town, scared you would run into the man who broke your heart. 

“Hey,” Frankie said as you stopped next to him. 

He looked…. He looked miserable. His eyes sad and exhausted. And you hated the part of yourself that was happy about it. 

“Hey,” you said back, your eyes wandering down to the sleeping baby against his chest. 

It looked so tiny against him as it slept peacefully, the squishy cheek resting on his chest. 

“Uhm… Hi. I’m…. I’m Frankie,” you watched him reach out his hand towards Marcus, who shook it. 

“Marcus Pike,” he said with a nod, before his hand came to rest on your back again. 

“How… How are you?” Frankie asked and you shrugged. 

“Almost there. My due date is next week so… Any day now,” you said and he nodded. 

“I… I got your text. I wanna talk. I just….” he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I have to bring him, if that’s okay,” he gestured down to the sleeping child. 

“What’s his name?” you asked softly. 

“Mateo,” Frankie said with a small smile as he looked down. 

“It’s okay to bring him, but why? Can’t you leave him with… with your wife?” you asked. Frankie looked briefly at Marcus before he looked at you before he shook his head. 

“She’s… He came early, got out of the hospital only yesterday and there were complications during the delivery and…” Frankie shook his head, clearing his throat. 

“I can’t leave him,” he said, looking at you. 

You looked up at Marcus, whose hand ran around your back, resting on your hip, squeezing you softly. 

“Come over for lunch tomorrow?” you began to speak. Marcus nodded at you and you looked at Frankie. 

He nodded at you. 

“Okay. We’re… We’re home all day. Just come over around lunchtime. So… So we can talk,” you said. 

“I’d… I’d like that,” he nodded. Frankie looked down at Matteo just as he blinked his eyes open. You smiled softly. He was really cute. 

“See you tomorrow then,” you said and Frankie looked at you. 

“See you tomorrow,” he whispered before he slowly pushed his cart forward and walked away. 

You stood there for a couple of moments gathering your thoughts before you looked up at Marcus. 

“Do you think…?” you whispered. He sighed. 

“It sounded like it….”

Marcus pulled you against his chest, kissing your forehead as tears sprung to your eyes. 

“Let’s go home,” you whispered. He nodded, taking your hand, leaning down to kiss you softly.

He didn’t let go of your hand until you went to bed and you fell asleep in his arms. Safe. 

[nalu-gifs]

“You gotta get up, Natsu! For me. Please.”

[robinsnest2111]

thinking about @crueclown22 angsty nikkimick post again.....

got visions of Mick holding Nikki's face in his hands and wiping away the tears with his thumbs (kinda like Benson does with Randy but a little more awkward and tender lol)

and Nikki being equal parts comforted and pained by the action. Because, Mick showing he cares for him and hates to see Nikki in so much pain, but also Nikki feeling like he doesn't deserve this level of softness from Mick which makes him cry and sob and hiccup even harder. It's so confusing and convoluted and horribly painful.

Mick just looking on in concern at Nikki's continued tears which only seem to get worse the more he tries to comfort his bandmate. Wondering if he's doing a bad job. Wondering if his attempts at comfort are only making things worse...

And neither of them saying anything of course, never clarifying why the comfort makes Nikki cry even more or why Mick eventually pulls away with a quiet "Sorry, I'll go now". Both of them just keeping things to themselves, misinterpreting the other's reactions. A tiny seed of hurt and resentment sown and slowly growing...

Nikki and Mick the miscommunication brotherssss 🙏

[lettherebemonsters]

Shoutouts to the top four Lucifer's that always make me feel feelings.

@edcnfell

@heliacalxrising

@themosthatedbeingg

@flawlessfallen

Because me God I love seeing how sad these two are and how a mistake ruined everything for two good friends.

Special shout out to @hells-greatestdad too for your sassy Lucifer. XD

[leiawritesstories]

blood-soaked gown

*clears throat nervously* Welcome to this You're On Your Own, Kid-inspired oneshot! (@house-of-galathynius it's angst monster playtime)

word count: 2.5k

warnings: language, Arobynn, business talk, drunkenness, violence, blood, miscarriage, angst

enjoy (?)

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Remind me why exactly we're here again?" Aelin Whitethorn Galathynius whispered into her husband's ear, slipping him a covert little wink.

Rowan's lips twitched with the effort of keeping his polite expression in place. "The usual--workplace expectation, family expectation, you know the drill."

"Ah, the perils of being born into a disgustingly rich family," Aelin murmured, squeezing his arm. "First chance I get, though..."

"I'll be right beside you," her husband promised. "Gods, I might hate these damn parties worse than you."

She chuckled. "That's because you weren't brought up to schmooze, Ro."

"Poor me," he whispered, his voice dropping low. "Having to sip drinks and serve as arm candy for my gorgeous wife all night long."

"You've got a few more uses than that," she teased, winking.

His smirk set fire to the embers pooled low in her belly. "Allow me to show you just that, my love."

"After the dinner, buzzard," she reminded him, giggling softly at his frustrated grumble.

"Fine," he conceded. "But if this thing drags on...we're leaving."

Aelin grinned. "I'll make my excuses." Smoothing one hand down the fine, lustrous silk of her formal gown, the deep pine hue perfectly paired with her husband's eyes, she redirected Rowan over towards the beckoning circle of her parents and a few of their business associates.

"Aelin!" Evalin exclaimed warmly, welcoming her daughter into the cluster of elegantly dressed, fabulously rich business aficionados. "You look stunning, my dear."

"Thank you," Aelin smiled, painting a charming smile across her face despite the faint nausea lingering in the back of her throat and pit of her stomach.

Probably because Arobynn Hamel was there.

A longtime business associate of her parents', Arobynn had long been known to have near-infinite wealth and almost as much affinity for eyeing young women. Aelin had first been introduced to the red-haired man at a gala she'd attended with her parents when she was fifteen. She'd immediately internally recoiled from his oily leer and the way his hand lingered on hers a little too long. And each time she came to a business function, she grew a little more disgusted by the man.

But his apparently endless wealth was well tied into Ashryver-Galathynius Realty, so she gave Arobynn Hamel the same cool, professionally detached treatment she gave to every other business partner and client with whom she met.

"Congratulations, Ms. Galathynius," Arobynn purred, tipping his whiskey glass at her. Aelin's blood froze solid for a moment, until he continued. "Closing that deal with the Cortlands is a remarkable achievement."

Right. The Cortland deal. Aelin inclined her head, smiling modestly. "Well, after enough time, even the Cortlands realized how much of an asset to their business it would be to partner with us."

The Cortlands were an old-money family who'd long been established in the banking business, and they had been Aelin's clients for several months as they looked into purchasing a new property in the sleek new business district in South Orynth. The only catch? They had been trying their very best to swindle one of the company's associates into buying the property for a ridiculously low price, until Aelin stepped in and told Sam Cortland in very few words where he and his dynasty could shove their offer.

Nearly seven months after the Cortlands had approached AG Realty, Aelin had closed a deal on the property, shaking hands with Sam and restraining her triumphant smirk to a pleased smile. That had been a mere week or so ago, so of course the firm and its associates would be hearing about it.

"I'm sure the Cortlands will be a wonderful asset," she added, flicking a knowing glance at her parents.

Rhoe grinned. "My fearsome daughter."

She chuckled. "Hardly, Dad. People are just scared of a woman who knows what she's talking about."

"Quite the threat indeed," Arobynn offered, his gaze a few shades more than could be considered polite.

Aelin restrained herself from stepping on his foot with her stiletto heel as she made her excuses, noticing Elide beckoning her from a short distance away. "Thank you," she murmured to her friend, giving the petite brunette a quick hug.

"Anything to save you from that creep," Elide returned, flicking the blonde a knowing glance. "Having fun, Whitethorn?"

"Shut up," Rowan mumbled, taking a larger-than-necessary swallow of his drink.

Aelin chuckled, sliding her hand back around her husband's arm. "He always has the time of his life at these lovely little parties." She pecked a kiss onto his cheek. "Love, will you get me a drink?"

Thankful to have something to do besides pretend he could tolerate anybody except his wife and the few friends in the room, Rowan strolled over to the bar, pouring Aelin a glass of sparkling cider. Why she preferred to drink something nonalcoholic at these functions, he didn't entirely know.

Though he suspected it may have something to do with how tense she always was around Arobynn Hamel and his disgusting roving eye.

"Here you are, love."

"Thank you." She stole a quick kiss, making Elide flutter her lashes and coo.

"Aww, look at the lovebirds!"

"Quiet," Aelin laughed, "you and that hulking brute of yours are just as bad."

Elide snickered. "It's not my fault Lorcan's a big old softie."

"Bet that's not what you call him in bed," Aelin smirked.

Her friend's face went scarlet. "Aelin!" she whisper-shrieked, smacking the blonde's shoulder. "No!"

"Girls' night never lies," Aelin crooned.

"And what happens at girls' night stays at girls' night," Elide retorted.

"All right, all right." Aelin raised her drink in concession. "I won't say anything else about you and Salvaterre being all sappy." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught yet another senior business partner motioning to her, and sighed. "Once more unto the breach."

"Do you--"

She shook her head, squeezing Rowan's hand. "It's just Darrow and a few of his associates, you can stay here and keep Elide and Lorcan company."

"Thank the gods," Rowan mumbled.

She just chuckled, kissed his cheek, and strolled over to meet Darrow and the few men with him, greeting the man who'd been her business advisor for many years affectionately. "So you need some young ears, hmm?"

"I'm not a fossil yet," Darrow fake-sighed, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he smiled at her. "We just wanted to congratulate you on the Cortland deal."

"Ah, don't make such a fuss about it," she smiled.

The older gentleman shook his head wryly. "Always downplaying your achievements, young one." He patted her shoulder. "Mrs. Whitethorn Galathynius here managed to rope the Cortlands themselves into a deal with AG Realty, can you believe it?"

"Impressive." Dorian Havilliard's dark brows shot up. "And you managed to do this in under two years?"

Aelin laughed quietly. She and the younger Havilliard--a brilliant civil defense attorney--had been friends since they were young. "Seven months, give or take a few days."

Dorian whistled. "Congratulations, then!" He raised his glass to her. "I argued a case for old Cortland several years ago, and let me tell you, the amount of demands that man had almost drove my partners insane."

"Oh, stop flattering me," she laughed, but raised her glass anyway. "Thank you, Dorian."

He winked. "Anything for the future of Orynth's commercial real estate."

She chatted with Dorian, Darrow, and a couple of others for a short while before Evalin came and stole her away to speak with the senior associates of AG Realty. Aelin caught Rowan's eye as she walked with her mother.

Need me? his raised eyebrow asked.

I'll be fine, she returned. Keep Lorcan from drinking too much, yeah?

Will do, Fireheart.

So Aelin sipped on her sparkling cider and chatted with the senior associates and her parents, discussing a few upcoming clients and whether or not they should accept some of the offers that poured in daily. Most notably, Arobynn Hamel was considering buying yet another property in the industrial district.

What that man wanted with so many warehouses, Aelin couldn't even begin to imagine.

"I don't see any reason why we shouldn't move forward with that deal," Rhoe mused. "He's always been a credible buyer, never misses payments or defaults on anything."

"What about the..." Evalin lowered her voice, keeping their conversation private. "What about that article?"

Two weeks ago, the Orynth Journal, which was admittedly a tabloid at best, had published an article that almost instantly went viral. In it, they claimed to have evidence linking Arobynn Hamel and his holdings in the industrial district to an international drug trafficking ring. Of course, since it was tabloid journalism, the reliability of this "evidence" had to be questioned, but still--was there any truth to it?

When privately questioned, Arobynn had--of course--denied all of it, maintaining his sleek professional exterior and, apparently, putting AG Realty enough at ease that they decided to dismiss the rumors as the workings of the tabloids. Aelin still had her suspicions, given that the man was a certified creep, but she deferred to her parents' judgment. She wouldn't raise too many questions, not unless some new information that cast true suspicion onto Arobynn came into light.

"We agreed that was all tabloid nonsense," Darrow reminded Evalin, though there was a hint of concern buried in his keen gaze.

"I know," Evalin sighed. "Very well, then. We can negotiate the deal with him when--"

"FUCK OFF!" The slurred yell completely shattered the elegant mood of the evening.

Horrified, everyone whirled around, finding Arobynn Hamel with a half-empty bottle of Scotch clutched in his hand, a glazed sheen of obvious drunkenness in his eyes and a sneer on his face.

His yell had been directed at Dorian, who held up his hands in a placating gesture. "No, Mr. Hamel, you misunderstand! I am not--I would never accuse you of anything illicit without proof!"

"Fuckin' lyin' lawyers," Arobynn growled, anger flaring in his posture.

Slowly, Dorian backed away from Arobynn, careful not to say anything lest he set off the drunk man's rage. Just as slowly, a few others approached Arobynn, gingerly offering to make him another drink, to get him some water, anything to defuse the situation.

"Don't fucking offer me water, you cock!" Arobynn snarled, whirling sharply about to rage at Darrow, who'd made that offer.

CRASH!

In his clumsy turnaround, Arobynn smashed the bottle of Scotch against the bar top, littering shards of broken glass atop the bar and leaving him with a broken bottle top clutched in his hand.

"Mr. Hamel--"

As if realizing he now held a weapon, Arobynn brandished the broken bottle at Darrow, all semblance of sanity drained out of his wild eyes. "Fuck off, Darrow."

"Arobynn." Aelin broke into the tense standoff, matching the drunk man's crazed look with her steel will. "Put down the bottle, gods dammit!"

"Don't tell me what to do, bitch," Arobynn snarled.

Aelin's glare intensified. "You want your new warehouse, don't you?"

A brief, charged moment of silence.

"Bitch," Arobynn hissed, but he released the bottle.

CRASH. It shattered all over the floor, shards splintering up into the air and clinking in discordant symphony against the polished marble flooring.

Aelin winced as something bumped into her stomach--probably just a stray elbow as everyone around Arobynn collectively rushed backwards, out of range of the glass. Behind her back, she gave the prearranged signal to her parents, clasping her fingers together.

Call security.

The building's security personnel were in the room only minutes later, swiftly and efficiently subduing Arobynn and escorting him out, most likely to spend a night in the loving embrace of the Orynth Police Department.

"Everyone all right?" Aelin asked, brushing her hands against her gown, feeling the oddest sticky-wet sensation. Huh. Probably liquor from the mess.

Nods and murmurs of "yes, I'm okay," rippled through the guests.

Until Dorian gasped sharply, his sapphire gaze trained on Aelin's stomach. "Fuck!"

"What?" She glanced down at her gown, wondering what the hell had gotten into her friend.

And gasping, the color draining from her face.

Apparently, it hadn't been an elbow bumping into her, but a stray shard of broken glass.

Her breath breaking, shuddering, Aelin touched her fingertips to the warmth spreading over her stomach and pulled them away slowly, almost unable to believe the dripping crimson stain. Blood, some faraway part of her brain realized. My blood.

And as her legs quavered and failed beneath her, Aelin Whitethorn Galathynius could only form one thought. Her eyes shot across the room to a lock onto the pine green gaze latched onto her, her heart constricting at the sheer depth of shock and pain etched into her husband's eyes.

“Rowan…”

The only thing she could think, the only thing keeping her rooted to the ground as she splayed one hand over her stomach, over the thick dark pool of blood welling there, the scarlet stain seeping into the fine silk of her evening gown.

“Rowan….I’m pregnant.”

And then everything went black.

~

Aelin blinked awake slowly, like she was rising up from a bath of molasses, her head fuzzy and disoriented. Slowly, the room around her came into focus--an IV coiling out of her arm, the steady beep of machines tracking her heart rate and pulse and oxygen level, the slightly uncomfortable bed, the cotton fabric against her skin, the firm warm pressure of Rowan's hand in hers.

She was in the hospital.

"Rowan," she croaked, her voice a bare rasp, turning her head to meet his broken gaze. "Ro..."

"You're going to be okay, Fireheart," he rasped, not bothering to try and mask the tears choking his face, his voice.

Ignoring the agony that sliced through her whole self, she gripped his hand and swung herself out of the bed, suddenly desperate, flattening her other hand atop her stomach. "Our baby, Rowan," she gasped.

Her husband's veneer of calmness cracked, splitting down the seams, and his shoulders heaved with a choked sob. "They--Aelin, they said you--miscarried." He could barely get the last words out.

"No." She shook her head, dropped his hand, wrapped her arms around her middle reactively, protectively. Her whole body screaming with the effort, with the pain, she took one searing step after another until she reached the mirror over the sink and stared into her pale, shell-shocked reflection.

Familiar heat bloomed at her stomach, her disoriented stumbling having torn her stitches, letting the deathly rose of her blood bloom across her abdomen. The blood seeped through the bandages, through the thin cotton hospital gown, soaking her hands with the heat of her own life.

Words failing her, Aelin stared at herself in the mirror, captivated and horrified by the broken, bleeding woman who stared back, a chasm of unspeakable pain yawning in her eyes.

And as the nurses who'd come rushing when Rowan pressed the call button caught her, murmuring soothing words into her ear, and injected something that slowed her pulse to drugged sleep into her IV drip, Aelin tilted her head back and released a scream that clawed up and out of her throat from the shattered coffin of her womb.

They can't take my child. The last thing she remembered thinking before the pull of the sedative claimed her.

They will never take my child.

~~~

A/N: if you thought bit at the end resembled Rhaenyra in HOTD no it didn't ;))

~~~

TAGS (please lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

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[dragongutsixofficial]

wip

[tanaleth]

Miego series continues!

This broody one-shot takes us to 3-2. ☕

Excerpt:

He'd never have said he cared much about color before he lost it. Bold colors, soft colors, they were just… there. That's what he'd have told you.

Well, something was better than nothing. And of all the things he'd lost, "color vision" ranked pretty low on the list. One of the innumerable things he'd taken for granted.

The other inconveniences of the visor grated, but he adapted. He learned to look straight ahead if he wanted to see clearly and to blink more often so his eyes didn't dry out while he was wearing the stupid thing. He learned not to panic when he woke up in darkness. He even started dreaming in black and white… most of the time. 

There was still an unending stream of faceless medical professionals eager to see him. Doctors, residents, nurses, and technicians all blended together. Most tried to keep his expectations low, but others tried not to discourage him. The words "damned by faint praise" came to mind more than once when he was lauded for performing some basic act of personal maintenance.

It was a test of will not to tell them all to fuck off. Because of course he did it himself. Who else was there?

Shorter Godot:

Read the rest on AO3.

[bdrmhymnz]

[COMFORT] — nic & scott.

with a wave of nausea, scott came to. she staggered under the sudden influx of feeling. it was like waking up from a dreamless sleep except for whatever reason right now she was standing up. there was grass under her bare feet and vaguely the girl registered the smell of peat and pine. the next thing she noticed was that it was dark. so very dark. " nic ?? ... NIC ?? " more panicked now, scott realised it wasn't just dark but she couldn't see a thing. was it night time ?? had she managed to give him the slip while possessed ?? something hot and wet was running down her face. she wouldn't find out until later when nic recounted the event that it was blood and not tears streaming in rivers down her cheeks. a trick of the entity's doing but a horrific sight to behold nonetheless. only when she heard his voice drawing closer did she try to move. like a baby deer, wobbling and stumbling in the direction she thought he was. " HELP !! PLEASE, NIC, I CAN'T SEE !! WHERE ARE YOU !? " scott wailed into the darkness before her, unaware that for the other it was only early evening.

gentle hands took her by the jaw, cupping her damp cheeks and pressing their foreheads together. the girl could only sob, grasping at his shirt in an effort to ground herself. it would take some time but slowly, he was able to lull her into calmness.

[lilunaire]

Teaser 2 for "Til we burn our skins"

Friendly reminder english isn't my native langage, so please be indulgent with me <3

I'm almost done with the french version of chapter 3. Hopefully, I will be done correcting the three chapters and translating the first one for next week.

Oh, and I'll probably drop the summary of the story as the third teaser ;)

byyye