#angsty angsty goodness

[leiawritesstories]

hiiii you might be busy with rowaelin month but can i ask for you to bring fedreick out ang give me a really angsty one shot about how rowan dies but aelin needs a heir for tesseran and she basically has to have a heir with a important lord or something but after they have sex he tries to stay and aelin just kicks him out and cries

and the maybe after if your feeling nice you could be fredick away and give me a rowaelin baby being born one shot?????

(Frederick speaking) oh i would love to do this mwahahaha

(Leia speaking) i modified the prompt a little because it genuinely hurt my soul but i hope you like it

word count: 4k (oopsies)

CW: references to death and illness, crying, pain, angsty angst, medical talk, doctors, Frederick's work ;)

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

Aelin had known this day, this meeting, was coming, but it didn't stop her splintered heart from breaking into a thousand more pieces the moment she walked in the door.

Following the usual opening remarks, she motioned to Lord Darrow, and he stood, offered her a hint of a pained smile, and pronounced the words she knew were going to come. "Your Majesty, there remains the matter of an heir." He cleared his throat, stifling the faint tremor his voice had carried. "As you remember, it was the final clause of the succession."

Aelin laced her fingers tightly together beneath the table and nodded once, a bare dip of her chin. "I am aware of the terms of the royal succession, my lord." When she had come of age four years ago and been crowned Queen of Terrasen, she had been fully aware of the terms of her great-uncle Orlon's will. For her to keep the throne, she had to be married and have a child within the first five years of her queenship, else she would be subject to a council vote on whether or not to keep the throne in the Galathynius line.

It was a horrifically outdated custom for the twenty-first century, but here they all were.

Darrow paced a slow line back and forth across the front of the council chamber. "We understand that His Majesty's...untimely passing...was a great tragedy." The words shot spears through Aelin's fractured heart. "Because of this, we are willing to extend the term to six years. However, Your Majesty, with all due respect, if you are not with child by the time your sixth year has elapsed, we are afraid we shall have to call for a vote."

Tears prickled at Aelin's eyes, but she forced them away. "I thank you for your generosity," she murmured, unable to speak any louder lest she burst into sobs in the middle of a meeting. "My husband..." She took a deep breath, compressing the painfully beautiful memories of Rowan back into the ironclad box where they belonged. "Losing my husband has been the hardest part of my queenship, even the hardest part of my life."

"We understand." Genuine empathy rippled across the lines of Darrow's aged face.

"But there is still the matter of the will," Aelin finished. "I understand." Softly, she cleared her throat. "What is your suggestion, council?"

Darrow motioned at Lady Alister, who passed him a small sheet of paper. "With your permission, Majesty, we have prepared a short list of, ah, acceptable father candidates." He spoke the words with discomfort--the will had stipulated that the father must have noble or royal heritage, yet another horribly outdated custom. "Thanks to modern medicine, you have the option to conceive via IVF, but if you would prefer the, ah, traditional--"

"Show me the list." Aelin wiped all emotion from her voice and held out her hand. With a brief nod, Darrow passed her the short list, and she glanced over the handful of noble names. "Are you all not aware that Dorian is happily married?"

Lady Alister cleared her throat, a little nervously. "The King of Adarlan...he, well, he volunteered."

"Of course," Aelin sighed. She crossed his name off the list. "You may thank him for his willingness, but I shall have to turn down his offer." She turned back to Darrow. "What are your suggestions for this process?"

"Each of the men listed there has agreed to the terms of this...ah, arrangement, so if you'd like, you may either go the traditional way of dating or we can arrange a meeting with the doctors."

It wasn't even a decision. "Please schedule me a doctor's appointment. The sooner, the better." Clinging to her last shreds of composure, Aelin stood. "Will there be anything else?"

"That is all, Your Majesty." Darrow and the rest of the council stood and bowed as Aelin left the room.

~

In the darkness of the wee hours of the night, Aelin jerked awake with a shuddering gasp. Tears spilled from her eyes as she instinctively reached across the bed to find Rowan's half empty, the sheets and pillows cold to her touch. The dream had been so vivid, she'd almost believed she'd wake up and find him smiling sleepily at her.

"I--gods, Fireheart!" Rowan's yelp pierced Aelin's ears. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Live a little, buzzard!" she yelled back, laughing giddily at the exhilarating rush of wind blowing past as she urged her motorbike faster along the track. She tipped her helmet-protected head back and whooped, the bright sound bouncing off the walls of the canyon.

With a rumbling whoosh of engines, Rowan pulled his motorbike up alongside hers and flicked up the visor of his helmet so he could roll his eyes at her. "I swear, Ae, you're going to make my heart stop one of these days."

"I'll settle for making your brain blank out," she smirked, snickering at the way her husband's throat bobbed thickly. "But that's after I win!" She floored the gas, and her bike leaped forwards, outpacing Rowan in seconds.

He charged up behind her, following her as closely as he dared without risking running his bike into hers in the confines of the narrow canyon road. "Don't be so sure of that, love!"

She just laughed and coaxed more speed out of the motorbike, leading them out of the twisting curves into the final, flat stretch of track, where she could see the handful of staff waiting at the bright green finish line. She knew at least a few of them were rolling their eyes at the wild antics of their queen and king, but what could she say? It was her once-a-month free day.

"Fifteen seconds!" she shouted over her shoulder, pushing for one last burst of speed. She flew through the finish line half a second ahead of Rowan, slowed down, and eventually turned around and made her way back, slowly.

Rowan was waiting at the finish line, looking absolutely delicious in his tightly fitted jeans, boots, and black leather jacket, helmet tucked under his arm, his pale hair a windblown mess. "Congratulations, love," he murmured, shooting her one of those smirks that made her core turn to jelly.

"Thank you," she purred, dismounting from the bike and taking off her own helmet and gloves. Her hair was braided tightly around her head, but some strands had worked their way loose and brushed against her sweaty neck.

"Let me." Handing off both his and her helmets, Rowan tucked the loose strands behind Aelin's ear. "Better?"

"Much better." She rose onto her tiptoes, grabbed the collar of his jacket, and yanked him down for a kiss, not giving a shit who saw. Her kingdom was used to the affection she shared with her husband. "Want to give me my prize now?"

"In front of poor Lord Darrow?" he teased in a low, raspy whisper. "I didn't know you were that exhibitionist, Ae."

"You naughty boy." She playfully swatted his shoulder and led him into the car. "When we get home."

He hummed in agreement but still spent most of the drive back to the castle with her in his lap, brushing teasing little kisses to the sensitive skin of her throat. She barely made it through the private entrance and into the elevator before she jumped on him, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and crashing her lips into his.

The elevator stopped with a ding and she stumbled out with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, hand in hand with her husband, and all but sprinted into their bedroom. He kicked the door closed and hoisted her back into his arms, burying his fingers in her hair, and kissed her deeply, his tongue stroking perfectly against hers.

With a low moan, he broke the kiss, pulling away to rest his tattooed hand against her face. "I love you so much, Fireheart." Instead of burning, desperate need, there was quiet tenderness in his voice.

Aelin wrapped her hands around Rowan's wrist and pressed her forehead to his, tears springing to her eyes. "I love you more," she breathed. "Rowan--"

"So much," he repeated, holding her watery gaze with the emerald depths of his eyes. "To whatever end."

"Don't say that," she choked out, placing her hands flat against his cheekbones. "Godsdammit, Ro, it wasn't supposed to go like this!"

"I know." He pressed her close against his chest, and she inhaled the scent of winter breezes and pine forests, the scent of him. "From now until the darkness finds us, yeah?"

She traced the ink flowing down the side of his face with trembling fingers. "Don't you dare."

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you," she murmured thickly. "To whatever end, my love." He kissed her forehead, a tender brush of his soft lips, and his figure dissolved into mist in her arms.

And she jerked awake in the still, empty silence of her bedroom, tears pouring silently down her cheeks. If the godsdamned illness that had yanked her husband from her arms were a tangible thing, she'd be figuring out the best way to murder it. But even she couldn't make an illness vanish, so she just wrapped her arms around Rowan's pillow, buried her face in the scent of him that still clung to the cotton, and drifted back to sleep with her heart bleeding once again.

~

"Your Majesty." The doctor stood and bowed from her waist as Aelin walked into her office.

"Please, there's no need for all of that." Aelin dropped into the comfortable ivory leather wingback chair opposite the doctor. "I'm here for...I assume you know why I'm here."

"Indeed." The doctor settled into her seat and laid a file folder of notes on the desk. "My name is Dr. Yrene Towers, and I've been working in the women's health field for eleven years." She glanced at Aelin's charts. "So you're here to consult about IVF?"

"I am." Aelin laid her hands flat on the expensive mahogany desk to stop them from trembling. "There's no need to go into the reasons why, unless you're required to ask."

"That's not a requirement, no." Dr. Towers pulled a few pages out from the file and picked up a pen. "We need to discuss your medical history, your fertility and cycle history, and the actual IVF process." She cleared her throat. "Your--ah, Aelin, when was your last menstrual period?"

Aelin pulled out her phone and opened her period tracker app. "April 6th to 11th."

Dr. Towers noted down the dates. "That was nearly three months ago."

"I have a history of infrequent cycles," Aelin explained. "It's nothing new for me to go two, three, or even four months without a period."

"I see." The doctor scribbled down a few notes. "As part of the preliminary material, I am required to ask if you were trying to conceive, and for how long you've been trying." Her warm brown eyes met Aelin's, and she offered a soft, sympathetic smile. "It's alright if you need some time to answer."

Aelin closed her eyes. Yes, she and Rowan had been trying, without success, to conceive. For months, if not a year. Every month that passed without any signs, every negative test, every tear she'd shed over her body's refusal to cooperate--every memory cut deeper with Rowan...gone. "Yes." She bit her lower lip. "We were...trying."

Dr. Towers nodded. "Do you remember how long?" she asked, gently.

"A little over a year," Aelin murmured. "Since last winter."

The doctor made a small noise of agreement. "Alright. Well, the next step in our consultation is for you to take a pregnancy test, simply to confirm that you aren't pregnant so we can proceed with IVF medication and treatment." Aelin nodded. Dr. Towers gestured to a door near the back of her office. "There's a private bathroom back there where you can take the test, it's all set up."

"Thank you." Quietly, Aelin rose and walked into the bathroom, closed and locked the door behind herself, and found a digital pregnancy test and a small glass cup on the counter. With practiced motions, she took the test, capped it, and washed her hands as she waited for the small plastic stick to load its results. She exited the bathroom with the test still undeveloped and passed it to the doctor. "I...I don't think I can look at it," she admitted.

Dr. Towers laid the test in front of her notes. "That's alright," she said, reassuring the queen. "I'll watch it for you, and--oh!" Her gaze snapped to the test, dark eyes widening in shock.

Aelin's brows scrunched together. "Is everything alright, Doctor?"

"I...you..." Dr. Towers cleared her throat. "Your Majesty," she whispered, sliding the test across the desk, "it's positive."

Pregnant, declared the little gray screen. 3+.

Aelin's heart leapt into her throat. "Are...no, no, that can't be right." She refused to let the bright flash of hope get ahold of her tumultuous emotions. "Can you confirm that, Doctor?"

Dr. Towers nodded. "I can order a urine and a blood test, if that's what you would want."

"Yes." Aelin's response was whip-quick. "Yes, I want that."

"Alright, just a few minutes here." Dr. Towers opened her laptop and typed away for a few minutes. "Okay, Aelin. If you'll come with me, I'll get you to an exam room, and we can get those tests started."

Wordlessly, Aelin collected her small purse and followed Dr. Towers out of her office and down a wood-paneled, softly lit hallway into the clinic and down a pastel yellow hallway to a tidy exam room. "Thank you," she murmured as the doctor led her into the room."

"Of course." Dr. Towers patted Aelin's shoulder kindly. "I'll send in a nurse with the equipment in a minute or two."

Aelin sat down on the paper-covered bed and twisted her wedding ring around her left ring finger. She hadn't removed it--she flatly refused to remove it. No matter what anyone else tried to say, she had sworn vows to one man and one man alone, and she would keep the ring of those vows on her finger until the day she joined her husband in the afterlife.

There was a polite double knock on the door and a young female nurse in bright blue scrubs entered the exam room. "Hi," she said in a quivering, small voice. Her big blue eyes were huge with awe and a little bit of fear.

"Hi," Aelin murmured, cracking a soft smile at the young nurse's trepidation. "There's no need to be afraid, Miss...I'm sorry, I can't read your nametag from over here."

"N-no problem, Your Majesty." The nurse scurried over towards Aelin. "I'm Evangeline, Your Majesty."

"Lovely to meet you, Evangeline, and please, just call me Aelin. Right now, I'm just another one of your patients, okay?"

"O-o-okay." Evangeline agreed. She flashed a bright smile and snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves. "So, Dr. Towers ordered a blood test and a urine sample to confirm or reject pregnancy, yes?" She seemed so much more confident when she was speaking about the medical orders.

"That's right." Aelin twisted her wedding ring around her finger, her thumb rubbing against the square emerald. "I took a digital test and I don't believe that it's positive."

"Mhmm, that's pretty typical," Evangeline agreed. "I have to ask--is it alright for me to draw your blood?"

"Yes." Aelin laid her arm on the padded armrest and made a fist at the young nurse's directions. Swiftly, Evangeline found a vein and took a small blood sample, then placed a gauze pad and a bandage over the draw site. "That wasn't so bad."

Evangeline chuckled. "It's a lot different than injections, for sure." She labeled the small vial, took off her gloves, washed up, and handed Aelin a small plastic cup. "There's a bathroom just outside this room. In that bathroom, there's a sample collection door. Go ahead and do the urine sample, and place the cup in the collection door when you're done. You can come back here when you're finished, and I'll walk you back to Dr. Towers's office."

"Thank you." Aelin smiled at the young nurse. "Not that I know anything about nursing, but you're a wonderful nurse." She headed into the bathroom, took care of the sample, and let Evangeline lead her back to Dr. Towers's office when she was done.

Dr. Towers let her in. "It might be a couple of hours before your results come back in, just so you know."

Aelin sighed. "That's okay. Do you need me to leave? I can go home if you need me to go."

"No need," Dr. Towers interjected. "You're welcome to stay here while you wait. I do have patients to see, but you're welcome to stay in my office."

Gratefully, Aelin settled into the comfortable armchair, tucked her head to the side, and was asleep before she knew it. Some time later, she was gently awakened by the doctor's soft voice and gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Aelin? It's Dr. Towers. How was your nap."

"Too good," Aelin mumbled, slowly coming to coherence. She blinked, rubbing her eyes. "How long was I out?"

"A little more than two hours." Dr. Towers sat down at her desk and placed a few papers on top of the smooth wood. "Long enough for your labs to come back." She met Aelin's eyes, her gaze steady and professional. "Aelin, both the blood and urine tests came back positive. You're pregnant."

You're pregnant.

"Alone."

Dr. Towers blinked. "Hmm?"

"I'm pregnant alone," Aelin whispered, tears clouding her eyes as she processed the news. "I'm pregnant, and he--my--Rowan." The last word was a choked sob. "And Rowan will never know our child," she croaked, dissolving into muffled sobs.

The doctor slid her a stack of tissues and laid her soft brown hands atop Aelin's trembling ones. "I know it's a hell of a lot to take in."

Aelin sniffled. "Should my doctor really be swearing?"

"Fits the situation." Dr. Towers squeezed Aelin's hands. "Aelin, I'm legally required to ask this next question: do you want this pregnancy?"

"Yes," Aelin breathed. "I don't fully believe it yet, but yes. Absolutely."

"Wonderful." Dr. Towers beamed. "I'm going to refer you to an imaging clinic for an ultrasound, okay? We'll want to schedule that as soon as possible to find out how far along you are."

"Okay." Aelin's voice was small and unsteady. "Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Do I...how..." Aelin linked her fingers together, rooting herself in the feeling of her wedding ring pressing into he skin. "How am I supposed to go through this alone?" she whispered, anguish coating her question.

Dr. Towers's expression went soft, caring. "If you need professional assistance, I can refer you to one of my colleagues. If you're asking about a support system, let me remind you that you have your close circle of people to rely on. Let them help you, Aelin." She held the queen's shaky hands. "Let them help you."

~

Buzzard,

It's been seven and a half weeks. I still see you everywhere, in every little thing from my dreams to my nightmares. There will never be a part of me that doesn't miss you. Never.

I'm ten weeks and four days pregnant, Rowan. I just found out. Believe me, I'm as stunned as you probably are, wherever you are. It was...it wasn't what we were expecting, and I'm torn between the urge to scream at you for leaving me before we knew and the urge to imagine everything you'd be saying and doing right now. Yes, that's a tear on the page--gods burn me, I'm crying, I can't help it.

I don't know if I can do this alone, my love. I don't know how I'm going to bring our child into the world knowing that you won't be there to hold them. I don't know how I'm going to make it through the next seven months without you fussing over every damn step I take. I miss you so fucking much.

I swear to you, my Rowan, my buzzard, that our child will grow up knowing how incredible you are and how much you love our little family, even from where you are.

To whatever end, my heart.

Aelin

Tears splashed onto the stationery as Aelin signed her name and tossed her pen to the side. She traced the letters of Rowan's name with trembling fingertips, breathing the syllables quietly, almost like a prayer. Reaching for a tissue, she blotted her eyes, then folded the note in half, pressed a kiss onto the paper, and placed it in the simple wooden box of letters she'd written to her husband every day since he passed. She held the box in her lap, idly running her fingers over the initials etched into the smooth, pale wood, closed her eyes, and let the tears drip silently down her cheeks.

Why did you leave me, buzzard?

Deep in her heart, she felt a faint stirring, a faraway echo of her husband's presence. I'm right here, Fireheart.

A muted sob hitched her chest. I need you. She flattened her free hand against her belly, atop the tiny baby growing inside of her. We need you.

I'm right here. It was no more than a whisper in her mind, a flicker of reassurance from a voice that would never speak again.

Aelin closed her eyes, searching for that faint echo, and drifted into sleep, her tumultuous emotions quieting as she slept. In her dream, she walked into the forest, her shoes near-silent atop the soft spring moss. She followed a familiar, well-worn path through the ancient oaks and pines until she came to a clearing beside a stream, an idyllic spot where she and Rowan often hid away for a night or two.

And there was Rowan, sitting beside the stream, his tan skin vibrant with health and his bright pine eyes alight with joy.

Stifling a sob, she sprinted across the clearing and threw herself into his strong, steady arms, burying her face into his solid, warm chest. "Rowan," she gasped, clinging to his dream body. "You--"

"I'm here now," he promised, quieting her questions with a kiss. "I'll always be here."

"I'm dreaming," Aelin whispered, her heart shivering with the knowledge.

"I know." Rowan trailed his fingers through her hair. "And I'm here, and you're here, and if you want this to be real for a little while, then it's real for a little while."

"I love you," she murmured.

He kissed her gently. "I love you too."

She wiped tears from her cheeks. "I'm pregnant, Rowan."

"We..." She guided his hand down onto her stomach, and he exhaled shakily, tears clouding his eyes. "We're having a baby?" She nodded. "I'd give anything to be with you, Ae."

"I know." His dream-form started to fade as she began to wake up, and she clung to his hands. "Every damn day, I need you here."

"I'm always here," he whispered. He kissed her forehead. "Right here." His thumb brushed over her heart. "Right here. To whatever end."

~

Seven Months Later

Utterly exhausted, Aelin lay back against the heap of pillows piled onto the bed and cradled her newborn daughter to her chest, gazing down into the tiny baby girl's big, sleepy green eyes. The bustle of the nurses and doctors in the room faded into background noise as she held her daughter, beaming and crying all at once.

"Hi, baby girl," she whispered, her voice a hesitant, croaky rasp. "I love you so much."

The baby wriggled a bit and curled closer into her mother's skin, as if she could sense Aelin's overpowering emotions.

"Majesty?" The nurse's voice broke into Aelin's little bubble. "So sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty, but have you chosen a name?"

"Yes," Aelin murmured, smiling brighter as her daughter's tiny fingers clutched her thumb. "Yes, I have." She kissed her baby's delicate little forehead. "Everyone, meet Princess Sana Whitethorn Galathynius." The name Rowan had chosen all those months ago.

And she was perfect. Half him, half her, completely perfect and completely loved, both from the earth and the afterlife.

~~~

not tagged bc tags AREN'T FREAKIN WORKING so reblogs/comments/shares are most appreciated :)

[lejoursobre]

Global warming is wild isn't it? I mean? Warm and salty raindrops 24/7? specifically in Soho???

(I physically can't draw angst sorry I did my best here)

[perpetualcontrolleddrowning]

Something something the way that Crowley introduced himself to Aziraphale the first time they met in the garden and reacted as if they had never met before. Something about him later behaving as if he did actually have those memories of their time in Heaven together and trying to pass it off as being someone different now. Something about Heaven's way of punishing angels that go against the plan by erasing their memories. Something about Crowley seeing Gabriel without his memory and saying "ask him properly." Something about "remember it now" "it hurts, to remember. my head isn't built for that" "I know. Do it anyway"

Something about "I know. Looking at where the furniture isn't"

Something about I know

[wilderbas]

got hooked on dbd didn’t i

[lorehappy83]

"Grant me your wrath, my dear. For I've become unworthy of your forgiveness"

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[galaghiel]

Both Jack and Maddie stared at him, speechless. Silence blanketed the lab, everything but Danny’s strangled crying, his hand pressed over the muzzle as if to hide it. No- to hold it still, to still the dozen wicked barbs that were digging into his tongue, probably ripping it with each sob.

a little sketch of @liketolaugh-writes amazing one-shot fanfic that you can read here

[mcducky1356]

Firefight by @remedyturtles is all wrapped up! If you haven’t read it check it out! It is so good!

[ninjasmudge]

something abt the horrors of godhood

[kringle-c]

"It's only-"

[hitwiththetmnt]

Just a Number P1 P2

@butterfilledpockets bent boys have a good spread of ages between them to talk about

[avalonlights]

"Yes sir."

[fairsweetlonging]

( ˚❀˳ ) ERROR_FILE_CORRUPT || shen qingqiu (shen yuan) & yue qingyuan

* . ⊹ synopsis. shen qingqui has not been giving the system satisfactory results. it decides to take matters into its own hands. yue qingyuan tries to persuade it otherwise.

notes: @artsarasp this is all your fault

word count: 774

based on this post and this amazing art

The afternoon sunlight trickles ember and gold through the latticed window, soft and bright and warm as it fills the room. In the stillness between them, it feels distant, wavering, like still water disturbed somewhere below the surface where he cannot see.

Hazy steam curls from two teacups set on the low table, pale porcelain gleaming faintly against the dark grain of the wood. It’s an old blend, something light. A favorite. He doesn’t know why that matters. Maybe because this one has never been rejected. Maybe because he’s grasping for something that is no longer there.

On the other side, Shen Qingqiu sits unnervingly still, as if his body has forgotten how to breathe, how to live, his back straight but rigid, like a figure carved from stone rather than a man of flesh and blood. 

When he reaches for the tea, his fingers move with a strange, stilted motion, like a doll whose joints have rusted with disuse, or the rotten wood of a foundation that shakes the house with every gust of wind, about to collapse. As he leans forward, his robes don’t move along; not even a hair falls out of place. 

There is something profoundly wrong about him, as if he’s not even actually there. 

Yet it follows their rituals, to perfection, moving through the steps of their routine as if they were its own; slow sips, remaining silent as they drink, no idle talk, leaving the only sound to be the soft clack of porcelain on wood. 

Yue Qingyuan drinks faster than he would any other time, faster, even, than is proper. It burns the roof of his mouth. There is no need for formalities, not here, not for that thing. 

It is the same face, the same gentle slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth, the raven black hair that lies gracefully along his shoulders, but the eyes… Xiao Jiu’s eyes are blue, all of it, sickly, devoid of life; when he stares into that hollow nothingness, it is almost as if something is staring back at him. 

Yue Qingyuan puts down his cup. His voice is deceptively calm. 

"What do you want."

Something flares in Xiao Jiu’s eyes at the question, almost as if it’s been waiting for this.

When he answers it is not in words, but in a cacophony of metallic hollow sounds that reverberate through the back of his mind.

【 this system does not ‘want’ for anything. this system is tasked with helping user002 create a good story 】

It doesn’t even bother opening Xiao Jiu’s mouth as it speaks, keeping that same, placid smile on his face. Somewhere, Yue Qingyuan is glad for its lack of trying—it never seems able to match its movements to the words quite right.

【 your interference caused a plot-divergence too difficult for him to fix. so this system has taken over 】

It’s said that before, when they first caught on, back then, when they thought it was only a matter of time before they had driven the creature out. User. Plotlines. Story. Protagonist. He interfered with something, poked the sleeping bear where he should have let it lay. He doesn’t know when. He doesn’t even know what he did.

But Shen Qingqiu cannot be the only one, not with how the system speaks about him; the number two insinuates the existence of a user one, like how nine insinuates there is a seven. 

Yue Qingyuan isn’t sure he wants to know whether user two has come with user one, or after him.

Despite his diligent studies, his upbringing to become the future sect leader, Yue Qingyuan isn’t that well read, not in these kinds of stories, anyway—in stories with protagonists and heroes and villains, the kinds that have overarching themes and conflicts. 

But he knows that though audiences are fickle, they are also easily entertained. After all: the worst crime of a character is not his flaws, it’s being boring. He's heard Shang Qinghua speak of it often enough, how audiences care very little for the quality, but will sing the praises of any story that manages to keep their attention. 

Perhaps there is a different way to keep their invisible audience entertained.

"Does… does it have to be Xiao Jiu?" His fingers curl to fists beneath the cover of his wide sleeves, grasping the fabric until his knuckles turn white. Please. Please, just this once, let him do something right. "Could someone else create this story?"

The system blinks. 

【 someone like –yue qingyuan–? 】

He nods.

【 calculating… 】

Xiao Jiu shakes his head.

【 perhaps the next story… 】

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Can you teach me one more time?

The Time of Fever

[gleafer]

My sorta kinda Graphic Novel: Crowley Falls Again, in its entirety (so far) free at this link!

Click and HAVE FEELINGS

[plagalkey]

my lovely talented friend wrote an F1 AU fic focused on oikage's time at red bull racing!!!