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#now that inktober is finally over I never want to do anything in black and white again :D
shadsie · 6 years
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African Wild Dog - Painting Study
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acreepqueen · 3 years
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Inktober 2020 |Day 1: Fish|
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Eek! Guess I’m doing Inktober this year! This isn’t the best thing I’ve ever written but, I really hope you guys enjoy this.
Word Count: 1,679
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You had never been much of a believer in anything you couldn’t see or prove. Even then, you were prone to doubt something you couldn’t explain. That was why, when the aquarium in town had announced it was revealing a newly discovered species, you were skeptical to say the least. The information they had released to the public was limited, but there was talk in the town of it being something monstrous. You’d scoffed at the idea but your curiosity was peaked. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to take a trip to the aquarium. You knew you’d enjoy the species they for sure had even if this new thing turned out to be a bust. 
The crowds at the exhibit’s debut were surprisingly large, though not entirely unexpected. After all, it had been the talk of the town since it was announced. You slipped through the hoard with only slight difficulty. Before long, you were able to see the exhibit. It was odd that there was a barrier put up to keep people away from the glass. The enclosure itself was rather ominous. It wasn’t as well lit as the other tanks and it was huge. You were pretty sure it could comfortably house a whale. Still, it was unnerving that you didn’t see anything but a couple small fish and a manta ray. You eyes scanned the crowd around you for any workers, but you didn’t have time to find anyone. 
Murmurs from the people around you suddenly quieted and you glanced back at the tank in slight confusion. You gasped as your eyes met a pair startlingly similar to yours. Although, with a start, you realized that the face of what ever you were looking at was much bigger than yours. You froze unsure what to do or feel as you watched the creature. Never had you seen something quite like it. It looked humanoid, the biggest difference being the giant fish tail in place of legs. On the tail, the scales were a murky black and sharp looking spines ran down it. What at first you had thought was hair you soon realized was a mass of tentacles on the creature’s head. Its eyes were pitch black voids which made it impossible to tell where, if at all, it was looking. Though, the your main concern lay with the creature’s mouth. Teeth that made shards of broken glass look soft sat in its mouth. You gulped slightly as you watched the thing move. It looked agitated to say the least.
Within moments the silence of the crowd was broken by jeering and the sounds of cameras clicking. Many had neglected to see or follow the many posted signs stating to turn off your camera flash. You winced as the creature bared its teeth. Something in your gut churned as people continued to ignore the rules. One young girl ducked under the banister and walked up to the glass. She stood about a foot away and turned her back to the tank. She smiled, posing briefly for a picture. 
You saw what was going to happen moments before it did. Without thinking you slid under the banister and pushed the girl often the side as it slammed into the glass baring its teeth once more. No one in the crowd behind you missed the loud smash, but with the blood rushing in your ears you didn’t hear it at first. You turned to the tank only to see two huge cracks stretching out from the places where the creatures hands had smacked into the glass. You felt a chill run through you. The glass was a couple of inches thick and it had been cracked as if it were nothing. 
Most everyone had run away by now, but you couldn’t make your legs move. You stood frozen in place making direct eye contact with a humanoid sea monster twice your size. Okay, yeah. This is not how you had planned your day to go. To your surprise it didn’t continue breaking the glass, instead it put its hands on it looking at you in a way you could only describe as curious. Still, you didn’t trust the look in its eyes. It blinked and that was all you needed to snap out of it. You slipped back behind the banister but continued to watch the creature. It was still watching you with interest, hands pressed up against the glass. You took some time to study it more closely. Its skin was a dark greyish blue hue that reminded you vaguely of the deep deep ocean. The more you looked at it the more it looked emaciated and even a bit sickly. Though, maybe that was just how this species typically looked. Afterall, this was the first time you’d ever seen one. 
Hesitantly you waved at the creature. With its sharp, boney fingers it waved back mimicking you. You couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto your face. It once again copied you, smiling back. Feeling more than a little amused you stretched backwards with your arms behind your head and it copied you again. You were getting ready to try something else when a voice behind you caused you to jump.
“Amazing. I’ve never seen em’ do that. Typically he’s pretty damn mean, that one,” a worker stated, looking at you incredulously. You weren’t sure what to say but the creature bared its fangs at the worker beside you and swam away. Only peeking out at you briefly from behind a large piece of coral behind ducking down again.
“He don’t like me one bit, I tell ya. Won’t take nothin’ I give em’. Spiteful lil’ retch would rather starve to death than eat the food I’ve got!” He ranted. You grimaced but listened on politely. So you were right about the creature looking unhealthy. 
“We’re gettin’ real desperate now. Everyone’s had a go at takin’ care of em’ but he’s just hateful. Ricky had to get stitched up after he got a little too close to em’.”
You weren’t sure you liked where this conversation was going. If you were about to be asked to do what you thought you were going to, you weren’t sure if you could refuse. You didn’t want the creature to starve to death and it would probably be a once in a lifetime opportunity. Although, you didn’t really have a death wish either.
“Maybe you’d like to give it a go?” the worker asked hopefully. You frowned slightly and he piped up.
“I’m sure they’d pay ya good money if they know he’ll take food from ya!” he encouraged. You glanced back at the tank, more specifically the large cracks in the glass. Looking back towards the coral your eyes locked with a pair of sunken black ones. To hell with it.
“Okay, fine. But I’ll for sure sue if I get seriously hurt,” you agreed staring down the worker. He clapped his hands excitedly and thanked you, before he practically dragged you along.
The nerves hit you like a trainwreck the moment a bucket of dead fish was placed at your feet. You stood a couple of feet away from the open tank absolute terrified. This was such a bad idea and you were totally going to get yourself killed.
“Now, just scootch a lil bit closer to the tank and call for em’,” the man instructed. You inched forward on trembling legs with the bucket in your hand. Dead fish was certainly not a pleasant smell. 
“H-hey,” you called softly. Your voice was barely above a whisper. 
“He’s not gonna hear ya if-” the man cut himself off when a head peeked out of the water. God, up close he seemed so much bigger. You wanted nothing more than to bolt in that moment but you kept your feet planted firmly.
“Hi, I have food,” you stately lamely gesturing towards the fish. The creature upturned his nose at the bucket and you couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.
“M-maybe something fresher would be better...?” you inquired towards the worker. He shook his head.
“Nah, his kind clean off carcasses normally. We can’t feed em’ rotten fish though, they’re afraid it might hurt em’,” the worker explained. Your eyes widened a smidge, but that would certainly explain the teeth. You picked up a fish from the bucket and took a step towards the creature.
“I know it’s not what you normally eat, but you have to eat something. I don’t want you to die...” you trailed off, unsure why you were trying to converse with it in the first place. To your surprise it placed its hands onto the side and laid its head down on top of it. It still watched you warily but it didn’t seem malicious. Slowly, you set the bucket down and pulled out a fish watching it all the while for any sort of sign it might want to hurt you. You cautiously walked over to it and held out the fish. It snarled and you flinched, but stayed rooted in place. With what sounded like a heavy sigh it took the fish and plunged back into the tank with it. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and turned back to look at the caretaker. His mouth was agape and he looked stunned. 
Finally, he asked, “Why didn’t you just throw the fish!? The hell were you thinking!? Why was he so gentle?! He won’t let anyone get within a foot of that tank!” he didn’t seem like he knew whether he should scold or applaud you. You just grimaced and let the man talk your ear off for a moment. Eventually, you swapped contact information and he said that he’d set up a time for you to be interviewed tomorrow. You weren’t sure the legality of all this, but you’d been meaning to find a new job for a while now. If it meant working at an aquarium with a potentially dangerous sea monster, so be it.
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artisticflutter · 3 years
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AU August - Day Thirty-One: Free Day!
Thanks to @createandconstruct, I used another site to decide what my final AU would be. I might write up others just because I like AUs and post them occasionally, but this is the official end to AU August for now! Enjoy and see ya for Inktober!
Series: Final Fantasy IX Rating: T Genre: Adventure, Suspense Pairing(s): Zidane and Dagger (not together atm) Summary: For perhaps the first time since they met, Dagger begins to wonder who her protector Zidane is. Warning: Part of the Angel of Death AU. A bit of violence and threats involved. This is after Day 12 but waaaay before Day 30.
It had been a mistake to return with her mother - she realized that when the man, Kuja, approached her in her mother’s chambers and cast a spell on her. When she’d awakened, the castle was far behind. Steiner was at her side with a young Black Mage named Vivi, and she could see Zidane’s blonde hair standing out against the night at a distance.
He’d rescued her.
After her decisions in Burmecia - already seeing the horrible deeds her mother’s soldiers carried out - he’d come back. He needn’t have done so, but she was grateful all the same. He said they were heading to Lindblum, but didn’t say any more. She supposed it was fine - she wanted to go see Cid about this development, but it seemed like Zidane had his own ulterior motives.
Why?
And what were they?
She hadn’t thought about it too much in her haste to leave Alexandria, and then she’d become so focused on trying to stop her mother on her own; she only now recalled Zidane had not been with her when she’d spoken to her mother in Burmecia. Kuja had seemed rather angry before he cast his spell over her, too. Had they perhaps encountered each other?
They decided to rest a little longer. It wasn’t until their campfire was long dead that she decided to get up and approach him. He hadn’t moved from this spot, not even to check on her, but there was a tension around. She wished she knew what had occurred between Alexandria and their current location, but she doubted anyone would tell her. For now, she would focus on one and hope he might tell her something - anything that might reveal more of his reason.
“Zidane?”
His head tipped up, but he didn’t look back. Still, for some reason, she imagined him grinning. “Good evening, Dagger! Feeling better?”
“Yes, I am.” She decided to take a chance and sit down beside him. “Thank you for rescuing me… thank you for taking me to Burmecia, even though you were right. We shouldn’t have gone there.”
“If I didn’t, I had this feeling you might attempt to go there anyway,” Zidane chirped and she felt her face heat. It wasn’t a wrong assumption to make at all. “Still, to go with your mother after seeing Burmecia… why would you do that?”
“... I don’t know. Maybe part of me thought if we were at the castle, we could talk it out, but you’re right. I should have been able to talk to her there.” She lowered her head and sighed. “I wish I knew why she was doing this. I know father was killed in the last war with Burmecia, but we’re at peace. This was… there were families, Zidane. Innocent men, women, and children dead in the streets among soldiers...”
“It’s declaring war, Dagger,” he answered, staring into the woods. “And victor can favor the one who strikes first. That’s all I know though; why your mother’s doing this? I can’t tell you.”
“I know… As much as I wish you could give me an answer, you wouldn’t know anymore than I do.”
She said that, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she believed his words.
“... Zidane, why are you helping me?”
“Why?”
His head turned and she caught his cerulean eyes with a raised brow. “You’ve never asked until now. Something up?”
“Mmm… You could say that.” She pressed a finger to her cheek. “In Lindblum, it’s… I feel like I’m ignorant to the situation as a whole. What my mother’s doing, what Kuja’s plans are… even Uncle Cid was abreast of the situation. I only knew that mother had changed and that I needed to leave to try returning her to normal, but she’s already committed atrocities against another Kingdom.”
“It’s not your fault, Dagger. You don’t have the same methods they do to know what’s going on,” Zidane replied, shaking his head. “Your Uncle mentioned having airship fleets monitoring Alexandria and your mother has her soldiers. You were stuck in the castle until we met.”
“I know, but…”
“No buts. You’re trying now.” He turned his head back to the forest surrounding them. “So, for that, I’ll just tell ya. I’ve been given orders to protect you.”
Her eyes widened and she stared at him. “What? By who?”
“Ah, that part I can’t tell you,” he said, grinning. Something about it felt off - no, not off, but… dangerous? “Just know that we’re not gonna have any repeat performances. If Kuja lays a hand on you again, I’ll cut it off.”
Her insides felt cold, but Zidane just continued to grin. It was like he hadn’t just threatened to dismember someone.
But he had.
Nothing was wrong with it, but everything was.
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jj-lives · 4 years
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Dragon Inktober Bmblb
Wow 2 days in a row!!
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As finals drew near there became less and less time for date nights, whether solo or their frequent double dates with Ruby and Weiss. And no matter how convincing Blake thought she was being, Yang refused to accept studying as a date.
“But Yang, Isn’t us spending time together the point of a date?”
“Yes, but studying is not spending time together.” Yang retorted, giving up on her Bio text for the moment. 
“But us reading in the apartment is?”
“That’s different!”
Blake scoffed amused. “How so?”
“Well-“ How was it different? “Because we are sharing something you love to do so I feel like that brings us closer.” Blake looked up from her text with a soft smile. “And no matter how much you tell me studying will benefit us in the long run, you will never convince me this is something you enjoy doing.”
“You’re right about that.” Sighing Blake closed her text and started packing up.
Excited at the turn of events Yang began haphazardly shoving her belongings into her bag as well.
“No, no no.” Blake put a hand on the text Yang was about to pack up. “You are not finished. Keep studying.”
“But-“
“I have to go see if I can catch my History Prof before she leaves campus. I’m having some trouble understanding how her notes say one thing but the text is telling us another.” Blake took a half step passed Yang but paused as the saddened expression Yang was giving off as she pulled her things back out. “You will survive studying. You don’t have to look so sad.”
“I’m not sad about studying.” She defended. “I just- You know what? Never mind.” Yang smiled up at her girlfriend. “I’m just being dumb. You better hurry to catch your Prof.”
“By now I would think you would be aware you can’t placate me with fake smiles.”
“I’m just,” she slumped to rest her forehead on the table. “Everyone is so busy studying I feel like I haven’t seen any of you in weeks.”
“Yang.” 
The soft pitying way Blake said her name unnerved her. She didn’t like being pitied. She was strong and independent and should be able to last the few weeks of finals without the others’ company.
“Like I said,” Yang spoke up stubbornly. “I’m just being dumb. You should get going. Should I wait here for you?”
Blake didn’t answer right away. And Yang knew she would be contemplating how to deal with her.  But right now Yang did need space to sort out her head.
“I’ll meet you at home. I have something I need to pick up at the store. Don’t stay here too late, okay?”
“I only have a few chapters to make it through before heading home. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or so.”
“Okay.” Blake placed a kiss to the top of Yang’s head before taking her leave. It pulled a smile from Yang at least.
She groaned loudly once Blake was out of earshot which garnered her a nasty look from a student at a nearby table. She waved sheepishly in apology before turning back to her text. 
She thought forced studying with Blake had been bad, studying without her was even worse. 
It had taken her longer that expected to get through the remaining chapters. She thought not having Blake around would have been less of a distraction. But the lack of noise from her flipping pages, or the little noises she made when she found what she was looking for through her notes were all things Yang became acutely aware she missed once they were absent. 
So almost three hours later she finally dragged herself into their apartment. Glancing at the whiteboard on the fridge she saw a note from Ruby.
‘Yang grilled cheese in fridge.’
Too tired to make anything else she grabbed the sandwich from the fridge and took a bite. It definitely would have been better warm but she really couldn't be bothered. She picked up the hanging marker and wrote a quick ‘Thanks’ under Ruby’s message before throwing her bag on the couch and making her way to the bathroom.
That’s what their interactions had become, notes on a whiteboard. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen Ruby. She was spending almost every waking moment with Weiss, studying. Yang knew she couldn’t be mad over Ruby’s absence; She was basically doing the same with Blake. She just missed her sister. She even missed Weiss, not that she would ever admit that out loud.  
She let the shower’s hot spray relax the tense muscles formed by being hunched over a table for hours. Feeling a little more relaxed as she exited the bathroom. Yang crept quietly into her room assuming Blake was already asleep.  Her assumptions were proved correct when she saw a still form on Blake’s side of the bed. Quickly and quietly she threw on a clean tank top and shorts to sleep in before gently sliding into bed beside Blake. The other shifted in the darkness when the bed dipped and Yang stared at the ceiling, trying to remain still as Blake fell back to sleep. 
What she missed most was Blake. Yang shifted to her side, facing her girlfriend’s back. If Yang was honest, she was lonely. But it sounded ridiculous in her head, she wasn’t about to voice it to anyone. How could she be lonely when Blake was right there, not even a foot away from her?
Closing her eyes, Yang told herself tomorrow would be better, even though she knew she was telling herself a lie. Her last exam may be the next day but Ruby, Weiss and even Blake still had a couple more weeks left.
“Ugh,” Yang breathed, sliding into her truck. “It’s over.”
The last exam wasn’t as hard as she thought it was going to be; she did have to give that credit to Blake though, it was the constant studying that had accomplished that. 
Tapping the steering wheel, she tried to figure out where to go. She could go back home, but she knew no one would be there. She’d woken up to an empty bed and empty apartment. Blake just left a note on the fridge wishing her good luck on her exam. She could try the library. Blake might be there studying, but without her own subjects to study Yang knew she would more than likely just be a distraction rather than a welcome surprise. 
Not knowing where to go and not wanting to go home Yang ended up driving aimlessly around Vale. She treated herself to a milkshake from the vendor in the park and spent some time trying to relax on a bench in a secluded part beneath some trees. When she had nowhere left to drive and no reason to keep her out she decided it was time to head home. 
She hadn’t expected Blake to be there, not until late, but she was pleasantly surprised to see her sitting on the couch.  
“How was the exam?” Blake asked, getting up to meet her at the door. 
“It wasn’t horrible.” Yang groaned which pulled a smile from the other. 
Blake wrapped her arms around Yang’s waist before leaning in for a kiss. Yang couldn't help but sink into her embrace. She knew Blake only meant it as a welcome home kiss, but Yang just missed her, a lot. And she didn’t seem to mind the slightly desperate way Yang’s lips moved against her own. 
When they pulled apart they were both breathing hard, but Yang kept a tight hold on Blake’s hips; she wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
“Thanks for making me study so hard.” She whispered, lips still millimeters apart. 
Blake’s entire body shivered and Yang revelled in the physical response she could pull from the girl in her arms. Blake initiated the second kiss as well, but this time the desperation seemed evenly matched. 
“Ugh,” Blake growled as they separated. She buried her face in Yang’s collar and sighed deeply. “When finals are over we are making time for us to be alone, deal?”
Yang laughed. “I would have made time during finals. You can prioritize better than me.”
“Oh?” Blake chuckled into her neck before pulling back to look Yang in the eyes. She placed a hand on Yang’s cheek and one more quick chaste kiss to her lips. “My willpower is finite, and it’s been crumbling pretty quickly the past few weeks.”
“Really?” Yang was surprised. It hadn’t looked like Blake was struggling at all.
“Yes, I miss you Yang. But I knew one of us needed to be strong. I didn’t want our relationship to be the reason you failed an exam.”
“I think I did better on these exams than the winter ones, thanks to you.”
“You are welcome. But as much as I have suffered and have to continue to suffer for a few more weeks, I know I’m dealing better with this than you, Yang. I’ve been used to solitude and being on my own. But you are the complete opposite.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know, but I got you something anyway.” Blake stepped back, a mischievous smile forming.
“You got me something?”
“Well us. I got us something.” She led Yang to their bedroom. “I needed something to both cheer you up and keep you occupied for the next few weeks while I focus on my own exams.”
“Should I be scared?”
Blake laughed.
“I hope not.”
Yang noticed there was a blanket covered box in the corner of the room which Blake made a beeline for. But when she removed the blanket it became apparent it was not a box at all. A metal crate that was housing a small black and white puppy.  
“You didn’t!” Yang squealed, dropping to her knees and hastily unfastening the hooks to open the door.  The previously sleeping puppy was quick to wake at the excited voice of someone new. “What’s its name?”
It had the colouring of a border collie, all black but with a white chest and legs but it didnt have the long hair a collie normally wore. Its tail had about half an inch of white tuft at the end and was as thick as a foxes. 
“I haven’t given him one yet.” Blake dropped beside Yang as she scooped the small bundle into her lap. “I thought we could name him together.”
"He's not a pure bred is he?" 
"No." Blake supplied even though it was quite obviously a mutt. " but with the way you took me in after my apartment and all, I didn't think you minded taking in strays."
Yang smiled. Was that what Blake was, a stray?
“Well if you were trying to distract me from missing you, you may have gone a little overboard. I may never need to give you attention again.” Yang lifted the pup up to Blake. “Look at that little face!”
The puppy kicked its hanging legs and stretched to give Blake a kiss before Yang pulled him out of reach. 
“Hey! Watch yourself mister. Blake’s my girl.”
“You were saying, about never needing to give me attention again?” Blake teased. “Looks like I have another admirer.”
“Of course you do.” Yang rolled her eyes. “Anyone would be stupid not to fall in love with you.” 
She turned the puppy to face her and it stopped trying to give kisses but it did turn its head and try to nip at Yang’s fingers holding it. 
“Hey, that’s rude!” 
She placed it down and laughed as it chased her hands around the carpet. When Yang’s reflexes were too fast for him, he became annoyed and growled at her. 
“He’s a little monster I think.” Yang thought for a moment. “Monster? No that’s not any good.”
“What did you just say?” Blake voiced softly.
“Monster, but that’s not a good name.”
“No.” Blake placed a hand on Yang’s arm, “before that.”
The colour drained from Yang’s face as she realized what she’d let slip. They hadn’t said those words yet and Yang was waiting for a romantic time to tell her. She thought after finals, when she could take Blake on a proper date. But she couldn’t really take the words back now, and laughing them away as a joke would be a lie.  
Yang grabbed the puppy and placed him back in her lap, smiling down at the terror before searching Blake’s face for any clues to how she was feeling.  
“I said anyone would be stupid not to fall in love with you.” Blake ducked her head as her cheeks turned red. “And I may be a dunce in many regards, but falling in love with you was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”
“I love you too.” Blake said after some silent moments. 
“Well that’s a relief.” Yang joked, trying to relieve the tension.
Blake elbowed her. “Though why I do is still a mystery.” 
“What good is love without a little mystery?" Yang winked. "Speaking of, what are we going to name our little love child?” Yang asked as he curled up in her lap.
“Ew, don’t call him that.”
“Well then pick a name!” Yang laughed. “Or LC will stick.”
“Please no.”
“Well we could just name him by his last name for now until we decide. Xiao Long?”
“Why does he get your last name?” Blake asked as she reached to scratch the pup's ears. He lifted his head and nipped at her hand playfully. “You’ve already taught him the bad habit of nipping hands… he is definitely your son. Xiao Long it is.”
Yang chuckled. “I’ll unteach him. But how about Dragon?’
Blake pondered for a moment. 
“Drako means dragon in Latin.”
“Ooo, I like that.”  
“Drako Xiao Long it is.”
"His name can't be Small Dragon Dragon. So Drako Belladonna it will have to be."
"If you insist." 
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Day One - Ring
Decided to write every day for inktober. Here's day one, Ring, with an idea from @pie1313.
2,279 words. Good Omens. Ineffable husbands.
Keep an eye out for more over the next 31 days!
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Crowley was on his knees in the middle of the empty bookshop, staring at the gold ring on his pinky finger.
They had been enjoying a lovely evening in, drinking wine and snacking on the small collection of pastries Crowley had brought along with him, when things started to go wrong. Aziraphale had just poured himself his fourth glass of wine and had been holding the bottle up in an offer, but before Crowley could accept, the bottle crashed to the floor, Aziraphale’s glass quick to follow.
“Angel?” Crowley had asked, leaning forward in his seat.
“Crowley--.” Aziraphale’s voice was strained. “I’m--.”
“Aziraphale.” Crowley ignored the broken glass and the spreading puddle of wine on the floor and knelt in front of him, resting his hand on the angel’s arm.”What’s wrong?”
Instead of answering, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s wrist and pulled. Crowley watched in confusion as the angel slid a golden ring onto his pinky finger.
“Angel, what--?”
“Don’t come looking for me.” Aziraphale said, desperation clear in his voice.
Then, in a blinding blast of light, he was gone, leaving Crowley to stare at the golden ring on his pinky finger, alone and dazed.
As soon as Aziraphale had put the ring on his finger, he had an odd feeling, like a buzzing in the back of his head or a ringing in his ears. The skin under the ring blackened, letting off an alarming smell.
He hissed a breath and looked closer. The ring was much too holy for someone like him to bear wearing for too long, it was slowly burning through his flesh.
He was sure to lose a finger if he kept it on too long.
Crowley staggered up from his knees, a determined look on his face.
It just meant he had to find Aziraphale as soon as possible.
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It didn’t take a genius to figure out who would have taken Aziraphale. There were very few beings who could drag Aziraphale away from earth in such a dramatically bright fashion.
Crowley parked the Bentley out front of his and Aziraphale’s prefered entrance to both Heaven and Hell and stared at the front doors. His scowl deepened as he played with the ring, almost his entire pinky blackened and burnt from fiddling with it.
He took a deep breath and stepped out of the Bentley, readying himself for what he was about to do.
-----
The ring on his finger burned more the farther he got. Crowley took it as a sign that he was going in the right direction.
Very few angels had spotted him along the way, but before Crowley could do anything they ducked their heads and left the space. He smirked, glad his reputation had made its way upstairs.
The burning from the ring reached a nearly unbearable level. He pushed through the nearest set of double doors, swaggering in with the most confident smirk he could muster, knowing that flat out anger would get him nowhere with a group of Archangels.
Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel stood in a semi-circle around Aziraphale, who was tied down to the same chair Crowley had been sitting in for the ‘Trial’, with his head bowed to his chest, all looking at Crowley with varying levels of shock and confusion.
“Fancy meeting you lot here.” Crowley drawled, approaching the group casually.
Aziraphale raised his head at the sound of Crowley’s voice, but Crowley decidedly didn't look. He couldn't look. Not when he was trying so hard to keep calm.
“How did you get in here?” Gabriel sounded more confused than concerned.
“I mean, if holy water isn’t enough to do me in, you really think being here is going to do anything to me?” Crowley crossed his arms, fighting to keep himself looking nonchalant. “Nah, this is a walk in the park, really.”
“A walk in the park. Hm.” Gabriel tightened his lips, looking like he was offended Crowley even dared talk to him. “And why are you here?”
“Oh, yes, well. Glad you asked. I’m here for Aziraphale.” Crowley said. “We were having a wonderful evening until you interrupted us.”
“And you think you can just waltz in here and take him just like that?” Michael asked, taken aback.
“I’ve always been a bit of an optimist.” Crowley said in a mocking tone, wrinkling his nose at the archangel. “Now if you’ll excuse me--.”
Crowley took a step towards Aziraphale but was stopped when Uriel put their arm in front of him. They tilted their head, challenging him to try to continue.
“Oh, C’mon.” Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically, taking another step.
Uriel swung their fist towards Crowley’s gut and he squeezed his eyes shut behind his glasses, hoping he could brush off the pain and keep his cool, but the impact never came. Instead, the ring burned hotter and Uriel growled in frustration.
Crowley blinked his eyes open to find Uriel shaking their hand out. Crowley raised his brows, looking from their face to their fist.
Uriel tried again, and again Crowley felt nothing but the burn of the ring.
“What are you?” Uriel sneered.
“Too much for you to handle, apparently.” Crowley said, a smile pulling at his lips.
Uriel growled again, swinging back for another try, but Gabriel put his hand on their shoulder, holding them back. Crowley smiled and sidestepped the both of them to stand next to Aziraphale, tucking his burning hand behind his back.
He finally looked at Aziraphale. The rage and relief that rolled through him at the sight was almost enough to put him on his knees. He was glad his back was facing the archangels so they couldn’t see the look on his face.
Aziraphale had a black eye and a bloody nose, a shimmer of gold mixing in with the red blood of his corporeal body. There were various bruises on his face and neck, and his suit was wrinkled from being grabbed. The eye that wasn’t swollen half-closed was wide, staring up at him with shock before his brows lowered.
“I thought I told you not to come looking for me.” Aziraphale said.
“What, not even a ‘thank you’?” Crowley muttered, pulling one of the ropes around Aziraphale’s wrist until it fell away, keeping his injured hand tucked out of the angel’s sight.
Crowley turned around to face the other angels, letting Aziraphale undo his other wrist. They stared at him in confusion, unsure what to make of him.
“Now, if you’re quite finished…” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand in his undamaged one and pulled him out of the chair to stand next to him. “We were in the middle of dessert.”
Crowley led the way through the group and out the doors, pulling Aziraphale along behind him.
“Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale said in hushed tones as they walked down the hall. “Your hand--.”
“Don’t worry, angel, it’s fine.” Crowley lied. He could feel the skin of his finger charring with the proximity to Aziraphale. He didn’t want to know what it looked like.
“No it’s not.” Aziraphale pulled on Crowley’s other hand slowing him to a stop. “Take it off, it’s hurting you.”
“I’d rather not.” Crowley said, pulling on Aziraphale’s hand again. “Let’s keep moving.”
“But your hand--.”
“Is fine.”
“No it’s--”
“I’m pretty sure your ring is the only thing keeping me from spontaneously combusting. ” Crowley said, looking over his shoulder at his angel. “It can wait until we’re out of here.”
“Oh.” Aziraphale said. “Oh.”
Crowley picked up the pace, pulling Aziraphale towards the exit.
-----
As soon as they made it into the Bentley, Crowley held his hand out for Aziraphale. The angel took his wrist, gentle as ever, and pulled the ring off, careful of the burn.
The blackened skin had spread across most of Crowley’s left hand, up to his wrist. His middle, ring, and pinky fingers were all damaged, his pinky suffering the worst of it.
“Oh…” Aziraphale said, his voice breaking.
“What are you? A broken record?” Crowley smiled, trying to cheer him up. He couldn’t stand the look on the angels face.
He started to pull his hand away from Aziraphale to rest it in his lap, but the angel’s grip tightened. Crowley looked up, brows knitted as Aziraphale’s eyes started to well up with tears.
“Angel?”
“Please, forgive me.” Aziraphale whispered, his voice wavering. “I wasn’t thinking… I didn’t…”
Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but Aziraphale cut him off with quick words.
“Why didn’t I think? I only meant to-- Oh, why am I such an idiot? Of course it would burn you. Why wouldn’t it? It might be mine, but it's still holy-- I hurt you, I always hurt you, why can’t I just-- I only--.”
“--Angel--.”
“I only wanted to protect you.” Aziraphale said, his voice ragged.
“You did, angel! You did!” Crowley said, getting Aziraphale’s attention. “I’m here, aren’t I? How else would I have been able to face those bastards like that. Uriel could've done some serious damage.”
“But I hurt you!” Aziraphale argued.
“It’s worth it.” Crowley said. “You’re worth it.”
Aziraphale’s mouth snapped shut and he looked away, a frustrated blush on his cheeks.
“And after this, they’d be fools to try and take you away from me again.” Crowley mumbled, putting his good hand under the angel’s chin to turn his face back towards him.
Aziraphale closed his eyes, sighing.
“Now, I’m pretty sure there’s still half a box of pastries waiting for you back at the shop.” Crowley let go of Aziraphale’s chin and snapped his fingers, bringing the Bentley’s engine revving to life. “And I think I’m going to need a drink.”
-----
No amount of words would make the angel stop fussing over his wounds.
“Why won’t it heal?” Aziraphale muttered, snapping his fingers for the dozenth time.
“Holy burn.” Crowley said over the top of his wine glass, watching the way the liquid moved as he swirled it.
Crowley sat on the couch, one hand holding his glass of wine and the other in Aziraphale’s lap. The angel was bent over, inspecting the wound critically.
“Holy burn…” Aziraphale repeated.
“Happens every time.”
Aziraphale looked up from his scrutinizing, a concerned look on his face. The bruises were faded, and his black eye was nothing but a brush of colour.
“Don’t worry, It’ll heal up on its own with time.” Crowley gestured vaguely with his glass. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You’ve done this before...” Aziraphale mumbled, looking Crowley over before things seemed to click. He gasped softly. “The church.”
Crowley looked away, taking a sip of his drink.
Aziraphale sighed, snapping his fingers. A first aid kit appeared on the angel’s lap, spilling over with all sorts of medical debris. He pulled out some cream and started to apply it to the burn, only heistating a second at Crowley’s quiet hiss. He carefully worked his way over the wound.
“...How many times?” Aziraphale asked quietly.
“Hm?” Crowley hummed, pretending he didn’t know what the angel was asking.
“How many times have you hurt yourself to save me?”
Crowley took another sip of his wine. When he didn’t answer, Aziraphale’s movements slowed and he looked at Crowley with a horrified expression.
“...Not as many as you’re thinking, angel.” Crowley said, his voice soft. “But it’s like I said before, you’re worth it.”
Aziraphale closed his eyes, his jaw clenched as if he were trying to stop himself for saying anything. Crowley waited, ready to argue anything the angel was going to say about his perceived self-worth, but Aziraphale instead opened his eyes and continued tending to his wound.
Crowley watched the angel’s hands, the glint of the gold ring back on Aziraphale’s pinky finger catching his attention.
“It’s your halo, isn’t it?”
Aziraphale ignore him, his jaw clenching again as he started wrapping a loose layer of gauze around Crowley’s burn.
“It felt weird, you know. Not the burning. The, uh, it…” Crowley took a second to put his words together properly. “Before it started to hurt, it made me feel a little, I don’t know, dizzy? Tingly?”
Crowley could see the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth turn down into a frown.
“It was nice, but. Familiar. In a wrong way. Incompatible, I guess.” Crowley said, trying to stitch his words together. “Took me a moment to recognize the feeling, but once I did, I realized what you’d done. “
“I was trying to protect you.” Aziraphale said, looking at him again. “A stupid, brash decision, but I hoped… Well. It’s my halo, and I wanted to keep you safe, so I figured it would do. I was also sure that, in turn, you’d keep it safe… I didn’t think I’d need it where I was going, and I was hoping it would still be intact when I came back.”
“Where you were going...?” Crowley repeated. Then it clicked. “...You thought you were going to Fall.”
Aziraphale nodded.
“And you told me not to come looking for you?” Crowley hissed.
“I knew I’d find my way back to you eventually.” Aziraphale said tying the gauze up and resting his hand on Crowley’s wrist. “...I wasn’t sure how long they’d keep me down there, but I knew I’d come back to you.”
Aziraphale started to let go but Crowley took his hands in both of his own before the angel could pull away. He didn’t have any words but he needed to do something.
Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss onto his ring, pulling away before it could burn him and letting their joined hands rest between them.
“That’s never going to happen, angel.” Crowley said. “Not if I can help it.”
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alarawriting · 3 years
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Inktober 2020 #19 - Dizzy / Writeober 2020 #14 - Euphoria
There is a hole in the world.
You’ve known about it for years before you get to go. Oh, it certainly sounded interesting, but you were on a fixed income, and you weren’t well. Medicare pays all the doctor bills, but it doesn’t pay for the bus or the taxi to your appointments, and you were too tired all the time for adventures anyway.  An exciting vacation for you was a trip to Maryland or West Virginia to play slot machines at a casino. And you kept meaning to go, but the years slipped by, the way they do when you’re old, the unfair speeding up of the train as it approaches the final destination.
But your grandson – your youngest daughter’s boy, the one who loves science – won a trip as a prize in a science fair, with the caveat that he had to bring an adult, and his mother was going to be on a business trip then and his father was on deadline, so it had to be you. All expenses paid, a one day trip because no one likes to sleep over there and there’s no organized human settlements. Everything is camping rough. When you were a girl, the Girl Scouts didn’t teach camping the way the Boy Scouts did.  You won badges in sewing and making brownies and being a good friend, back in your day, and you learned something about camping but not nearly as much as your brother did, and it’s not like either of you ever had a chance to go out to the woods and live rough. So a one-day trip seems just right for you.
The flight is deeply irritating, like it always is. Your grandson gets singled out for special security, like a 14 year old boy accompanied by his grandmother is such a danger, and it’s so hard for you to take your shoes off and then put them back on without a bench to sit on to do it. At least they don’t question your oxygen tank the way they did on the last flight you took, when you went to Florida to see your childhood best friend and the security people acted like an oxygen tank was a potential bomb. In comparison, when you get to the Donut – the colloquial name for the gateway to the other world – there’s very little security, probably because no one can blow up a hole in the world. Blowing up the Donut would just temporarily set back humanity’s ability to control the gateway, it wouldn’t actually remove it, or stop travel for very long. And trips to the Donut aren’t nearly as crowded nowadays as they were when the thing was first built.
At the Donut, the security people ask you if you want to leave the oxygen tank behind. This is a really strange question. “I’m rather fond of breathing, actually,” you say, smiling, because your grandson is here so you really can’t say “What the fuck” like you want to.
The security guard who spoke smiles back at you. “I’m sure you do, ma’am,” she says. “Thing is, the other world has much higher oxygen concentration in the atmosphere. A lot of our visitors with oxygen tanks find that they don’t need them on the other side.”
You’d heard about that on one of your Internet mailing lists for the elderly, but frankly there is so much crap in there, you assumed this was nonsense too. Interesting to find out it’s true. But it doesn’t change anything right now. “Well, I don’t know if I’m going to need it or not, but if I find that I don’t, I can always pull my cannula out.”
“It’s a little difficult to pull a tank around over there. Not a lot of sidewalks.”
“We’re going to one of the touristy places,” your grandson Derek says, rolling his eyes. He’d wanted to go to one of the wild places over there, but you shot that down. Your joints, your muscles, and your oxygen tank are not up to traipsing through the wilderness.
“Well, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” The phrase could have been sarcastic or condescending, but the security guard still sounds friendly. “Enjoy your trip!”
The Donut is in the middle of an airplane hangar, or something that looks a lot like it anyway. It’s just amazing how empty the room where the Donut sits is. An airplane hangar should be full of airplanes, but you see yards and yards of empty concrete all around the Donut, which is more or less in the center of the hangar. It’s not actually donut-shaped, it’s an arch, but an arch with enough bend to it on the sides that it looks like about two-thirds of a donut. A plastic flap door covers the opening, semi-opaque PVC strips. It hides the hole in the world from casual view.
The queue is rather more loosey-goosey than you usually expect a queue to be. Small groups of people chat, children run around, and it doesn’t seem like there’s really any rhyme or reason to it, but you all have tickets, and your tickets have numbers, and you’re being called in numerical order. When it’s your turn, you request your destination from the Donut operator. The operator has a keypad attached to the Donut. She pushes some buttons. “Enjoy your trip!” she says, and gestures that they can go forward.
Derek pushes through the plastic flaps first, running even though you just shouted, “Derek! No running!” You follow, pulling your oxygen tank.
On the other side, there’s a concrete pad in a forest clearing. Most of the forest clearing is packed dirt, or weird bluish ground-cover vine in long strands with plump leaves. Around the edges of the clearing, there’s a couple of Port-a-Potties, a few food vending stands – including one labeled “McDonalds @ NovaStella”, NovaStella being one of several names the new world is going by depending on who you ask – and a tour guide in the center of the clearing.
“Hi, everybody!” she says. She has dark brown skin and straight black hair, long and unbraided, falling straight down her back, and she’s wearing beige cargo shorts and a beige button-down short sleeve shirt. It makes her look like a character from the Jumanji franchise, or Indiana Jones. “I’m Sahana, and I’ll be your guide to Nova Stella today…”
But you’re hardly paying attention, because you can breathe.
It’s been, what, twenty years? You’ve had COPD so long you can’t quite remember what it felt like to draw a breath and feel like it really fills you with oxygen. Even with your tank, you’ve always felt short of breath; your arms and legs burn when you do anything even moderately strenuous, like climbing stairs. And there’s always a heaviness, a feeling like there’s a steady pressure on your chest, never absent.
Until now.
You take a deep breath. You feel light. You feel dizzy. You feel full of energy, like you could run a mile the way you did in your 20s, like you could sling boxes full of papers around and move out of your house all by yourself. It’s amazing, and it buoys you up, makes you euphoric as you haven’t felt since you first fell in love with your now-long-dead husband.
Testing, you remove the cannula from your nose, and breathe deeply through your nose. It feels good. Even without the extra oxygen from your tank, your chest is light and full and the muscles in your limbs don’t ache. You still don’t think you could jump – oxygen doesn’t fix your elderly joints, the worn cartilage caps between your bones and the overstretched tendons like the elastics on 20-year-old pants, stiff and unelastic now – but you could walk for hours. You could maybe even run. You could swim. How long has it been since you felt like you could swim? You do water aerobics all the time, but you never put your head under the water anymore because you can’t fill your lungs full enough.
“Excuse me,” you say to Sahana the tour guide. “Is there anywhere I can leave this?” You gesture at your oxygen tank. “I don’t think I’ll be needing it.”
“We have an emergency cart where we carry things like that, in case you turn out to need it later,” Sahana says. She gestures at a very long, tall, narrow cart made in segments, so it can turn corners, with two really big men, a white man with sandy hair and a man with light brown skin whose race is impossible to determine, standing by it, wearing the same uniform Sahana is. “Lots of people put jackets in there, or their cameras, or laptops, and a good number of people in your position do in fact store their oxygen tank in the cart just in case.”
“Thank you so much, dear,” you say. The big white man, all customer service smiles, takes your oxygen tank and puts it on the cart, and you breathe. And you breathe. And you breathe.
As you, your grandson, and everyone else in the party begin the hike through the forest, on the narrow trails carved by the company, Sahana advises you all to stay on the path. “We haven’t been able to test all the plants to make sure they’re all safe for human beings,” she says. “There’s always the possibility of having an allergic reaction to a chemical humans have never encountered before.”
You know that’s true. You read up on it before coming here, and you knew about what causes allergies anyway – you’re not a doctor or a nurse but you worked in medical billing for twenty years, and you pick things up. But part of you longs to go off the trail, to carve your own path through the thick and alien woods. Pick flowers no human has seen before. Climb trees and vines. With the air of this world in your lungs, you feel like you could do anything.
This won’t be the last trip. You know, now, that if you have to spend your children’s entire inheritance to be here as often as you can, you’ll do it. If there’s a job you can find that will support you in making these trips, you’ll take it. You’ll do whatever it takes to be here, where your breathing is easy and the scent of the world fills you with excitement and euphoria, where you feel young and near-invincible again.
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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years
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Inktober for Writers 2019 Day 24
Dizzy - Strength
Warnings for child abuse and homophobic language. It's over 2.5, so there's a read more.
Jiang Cheng silently and swiftly makes his way to his chambers. He hopes to make it there before his mother realizes his dad let him leave, but of course he’s not that lucky.She intercepts him before he’s even half-way there and Jiang Cheng breaks out in cold sweat.Jiang Cheng tries to stand tall, to meet her with as much anger as she always meets him, but it’s hard. He’s terrified of her and what she’ll eventually do to him, and he wishes, selfishly, that Wei Wuxian was still there to take the brunt of her anger.He loves that his siblings are with the people they love; Jiang Yanli with Jin Zixuan, who really came around ever since that public confession on Phoenix Mountain, and Wei Wuxian with Lan Wangji, wandering the world and doing what they do best. He can’t blame them for getting out when they had the chance.But a little part of him, a very resentful part, if he’s being honest, hates them, too. They left him alone, left him behind, abandoned him with a father who rather talks about Wei Wuxian and his very many accomplishments than acknowledge his own son, and a mother whose hatred against Wei Wuxian, and to a lesser degree, Jiang Fengmian runs so deep she started hating her own son, too.There is not much left in Lotus Pier to bring him joy, but he does have his duties as Clan heir; he can’t just run away like his siblings did, as much as he wishes for that.He fears his mother would drag him back kicking and screaming anyway.“Did he already give up on you?” Madame Yu asks and her tone is scathing in a way Jiang Cheng has long since grown used to.It still cuts him.“There was nothing left to discuss,” he gives back with a polite bow, voice forcefully even.He’s reminded of the comment Wei Wuxian made once about dogs, about how they can smell fear and pounce on you when you show them even the slightest sliver of it.Madame Yu is not unlike a dog, in that regard. And Jiang Cheng is very afraid.
Jiang Cheng purposefully doesn’t mention that his father had talked more about Wei Wuxian and his latest letter than he had paid any attention to Jiang Cheng and the Sect matter they should have been discussing. His mother doesn’t need to know that.“Did you even learn a single thing today?” Madame Yu demands to know and Jiang Cheng nodds.“I did, mother,” Jiang Cheng replies, lying to her in hopes of her letting him off easy.She doesn’t need to know that Jiang Fengmian had barely glanced at Jiang Cheng during the hour they spend together.“You lying bastard,” she hisses at him, and Jiang Cheng’s heart drops to his knees as Zidian crackles around her wrist. “Do you think I don’t know what you did in there?” she asks with a court nod back to Jiang Fengmian’s study.“Mother,” Jiang Cheng tries but she silences him with a glare.“I know that you did nothing but talk about that servant child,” she spits out and Jiang Cheng wants to say something, wants to defend his brother in everything but blood, but the appearance of Zidian silences him very effectively.“Mom, please,” he still tries when she doesn’t immediately lash out at him. “Dad was just showing me his most recent letter. We did discuss Sect matters, I promise you.”And they did. For all of the two minutes it took Jiang Fangmian to tell Jiang Cheng that everything was well in the Sect and they didn’t need to go over anything today.It still counted.“How dare you,” she says through clenched teeth. “You are just as useless as your father. Choosing that bastard over your own family!”Jiang Cheng wants to protest, wants to tell her that Wei Wuxian
is
family, but the words get stuck in his throat when Madame Yu raises her hand, Zidian making a wide arc over her head.The pain doesn’t register for a few seconds, though the sound does. That alone is enough to leave Jiang Cheng stunned, but then the pain catches up with him.He gaspes, going to his knees and he feels dizzy, his vision swimming before it briefly goes black around the edges.The pain is worse than anything he has known before, spreading into every corner of his body and he can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes.Madame Yu raises Zidian again.“Don’t,” he gasps out, but Madame Yu only looks at him with a sneer before she brings the whip down again. Jiang Cheng knows that closing his eyes won’t do anything, will only make the impact worse since he can’t brace for it, but he can’t help it.The pain is already overwhelming. He knows he can’t stand another hit.Zidian zaps through the air, Jiang Cheng can hear it, and when the sound of an impact reaches Jiang Cheng he jerks in anticipation, but the pain doesn’t come.“You!” Madame Yu yells and Jiang Cheng slowly opens his eyes.Lan Xichen is standing in front of him, Zidian wrapped around his wrist, but it doesn’t seem like he even notices it.“How dare you interfere in our Sect’s business?” Madame Yu demands to know and yanks her hand back.Lan Xichen’s grip on Zidian doesn’t falter, and he doesn’t let go.Jiang Cheng pushes himself up on unsteady feet and grabs the back of Lan Xichen’s robes.“Don’t do this,” he whispers, because despite what Madame Yu thinks, he knows about Sect business.This will cause an incident between the Yunmeng Jiang Sect and the Gusu Lan Sect and Jiang Cheng can’t stand to be the reason for that, can’t bear if the relationship between their sects crumble to the point where he is no longer welcome in the Cloud Recesses.It has been his only refuge these past couple of months.Jiang Cheng doesn’t care how his father justified his many trips to the Cloud Recesses to his mother, but he had gladly taken any and all opportunity to go there. The Cloud Recesses, and more importantly Lan Xichen, had always welcomed him with open arms and if he can’t go there anymore, Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how he’ll find the strength to go on.“Jiang Cheng is a close personal friend and a trusted ally of our Sect and I will not allow you to treat him like this,” Lan Xichen says and Jiang Cheng has never heard him sound so cold.“‘A close personal friend’,” Madame Yu repeats and Jiang Cheng can see the disgust on her face. “Don’t tell me you’re a cut-sleeve like your brother.” She turns her glare on Jiang Cheng, who shrinks under it. “And don’t you think I will allow you to become just as wrong and warped as that bastard is.”It’s not like it’s a surprise; Jiang Cheng has always known that his mother would disapprove of his inclinations. It is just another thing he envies his brother for; Wei Wuxian doesn’t care for Madame Yu’s approval.“There is nothing you can allow or deny us,” Lan Xichen calmly tells her and finally drops Zidian. He held his grip on it all this time, and Jiang Cheng wonders just how strong Lan Xichen has to be to endure it that long. Zidian is a first-class spiritual tool. Its power is not something to be sneered at.Lan Xichen turns around, turns his back to Madame Yu in a clear show of dismissal, and Jiang Cheng admires how daring he is. Even though he wishes Lan Xichen wouldn’t see him in a situation like this.“I’m sorry,” he says, because it’s his weakness that forced Lan Xichen to step in, and Jiang Cheng never wanted Lan Xichen to think less of him.He should have known there was no use to wishing.“Are you okay?” Lan Xichen wants to know ad his voice is so full of concern, tears spring to Jiang Cheng’s eyes.“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng asks as he furiously scrubs his hand over his eyes.“Pathetic,” Madame Yu says behind Lan Xichen, and distantly wonders how Lan Wangji can say the same thing to all of them all the time, and yet it never cuts like Madame Yu’s words.“I’m here to see you,” Lan Xichen tells him with a small smile, as if Madame Yu wasn’t still fuming in the background and Jiang Cheng can barely meet his eyes.“You should get back to the Cloud Recesses,” Jiang Cheng mumbles because he should.If he leaves now, maybe they can somehow salvage this situation.“Yes, we should,” Lan Xichen agrees and Jiang Cheng stumbles over the ‘we’.“What?”“You’re coming with me,” Lan Xichen determinedly says and then seems to remember himself. “If you want to, of course.”“He doesn’t,” Madame Yu chimes in and Jiang Cheng instinctively ducks.He does want. He’s just not sure he can.“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen softly says. “Do you want to come with me?” Jiang Cheng thinks of Lan Xichen’s soft voice and gentle smiles, how he’s always there for Jiang Cheng, how he doesn’t mind his sometimes unpredictable moods. How the Cloud Recesses have been more of a home these past few months than Lotus Pier has been ever since his siblings left.“Yes,” he chokes out in a moment of weakness and tightens his grip on Lan Xichen’s robe. “Please don’t leave me here.”“I won’t,” Lan Xichen promises and pulls him into a hug, one arm securely around his waist.Jiang Cheng can’t see Madame Yu like that, and he presses himself tighter to Lan Xichen. He doesn’t want to let go.“It’s okay now,” Lan Xichen mutters and gently breaks the hug, though he keeps his arm around Jiang Cheng’s waist. “Let’s go. Do you need anything?”Jiang Cheng shakes his head. There’s nothing he he wants to take with him except Sandu and he’s carrying that with him.“Alright then,” Lan Xichen says and steers them away from Madame Yu.They have barely made a few steps when Jiang Cheng can hear Zidian whir through the air again. Lan Xichen turns, Shuoyue deflecting the hit without much problems and Jiang Cheng closes his eyes.He knew his mother wouldn’t just let him leave.He tries to get away from Lan Xichen, to draw the focus of her attack on himself, but Lan Xichen won’t let go of him.Jiang Cheng isn’t quite sure how Lan Xichen manages it, but after an intense stare down Madame Yu turns away from them.“Fine,” she scoffs. “Then take him. He’s not good for anything, anyway.”Jiang Cheng can feel these words like a physical hit, and his ears burn because Lan Xichen heard them, too.“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Lan Xichen calmly tells her, before he turns around and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s temple.It’s like he’s soothing Jiang Cheng’s very core with that.Lan Xichen finally drags them away from Lotus Pier, carries them on his sword and Jiang Cheng is thankful for it.He doesn’t know if he could have managed to stay on his own sword.When they touch down for the night, Lan Xichen turns worried eyes on Jiang Cheng.“How’s your back?” he asks, already reaching out to check for himself and Jiang Cheng takes a step back from him.As much as he wishes to go with Lan Xichen, he knows he has to turn back. He had all the flight to think about this, and it’s the only solution.Madame Yu will be furious, and she will try to rage war on the Cloud Recesses, just to make an example and Jiang Cheng can’t allow Lan Xichen to suffer for his kindness.“I have to go back,” he forces out and Lan Xichen frowns at him.“Do you want to?” he carefully asks and Jiang Cheng shakes his head. Of course he doesn’t want to. But he should.“Then don’t,” Lan Xichen imploringly says. “Come with me. We will protect you.”Jiang Cheng allows himself to imagine, just for a moment, how it would be. How Lan Xichen would look after him, protect him, assimilate him into the Gusu Lan Sect and its thousands of rules.Rules Jiang Cheng will all break, sooner or later, because he is too angry, too proud to be a good Sect member, too weak and mediocre to be a good cultivator. Madame Yu made sure he could never forget that.“The rules,” he haltingly starts but Lan Xichen immediately interrupts him.“Don’t worry about them.”“How can I not? I know them, Lan Xichen. I’m not a good fit for the sect.”“If Wei Wuxian can live in the Cloud Recesses then so can you.”“My brother--is with you?” Jiang Cheng asks and he hates how his voice shakes, how badly he wants to see him.“For a few weeks now,” Lan Xichen replies.“And Lan Qiren allows it?” Jiang Cheng weakly jokes.“He might not be the biggest fan of Wei Wuxian but even he knows better than to be against Wangji’s cultivation partner.”“Oh,” Jiang Cheng breathes out. He hadn’t known they were cultivation partners already.“He didn’t mention that in the letters he send to my father,” Jiang Cheng says. He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice but it’s almost choking him. He would have loved to receive a letter from him, too. Instead, Wei Wuxian only ever addressed them to their father.“He didn’t want to get you into trouble,” Lan Xichen gently tells him, and Jiang Cheng burns with the reminder that Lan Xichen had witnessed the whole ugly scene.“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Jiang Cheng mutters and pulls his robes tighter around him.He feels cold.“I’m just glad I was there in time,” Lan Xichen gives back and covers Jiang Cheng with his own cloak.Jiang Cheng knows he should give it back, but it’s warm and smells like Lan Xichen and so he desperately clutches to it.“I don’t know what to do now,” Jiang Cheng admits, because there’s no place to go for him now.Sure, Lan Xichen might allow him to stay in the Cloud Recesses for a while, but eventually he’ll want him to leave again. They all do, in the end. Maybe he can find refuge with his sister, for a while at least.“You’re going to come home with me,” Lan Xichen says, and his voice allows no argument. “And then you’re going to stay.”“But for how long?” “For as long as you want,” Lan Xichen says as he cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek in his hand. “You’ll always have a place with me.”Jiang Cheng thinks back to all the little moments that had occured between them in the past months, about Lan Xichen’s gentle touch and comfortable silences and meaningful looks. About how Lan Xichen hadn’t denied that he was like his brother.And maybe, maybe Jiang Cheng allows himself to hope. “Okay.”
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boundinshallows · 4 years
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Tommy/Alfie Inktober - Day 31
Summary: Day 31 - Ripe
Notes: This fic takes place late in my modern, always-a-girl!Tommy ‘verse. You don’t need to know anything about that to read this though. 
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Alfie leans against the doorframe, watching her flip through the contents of some file. It’s getting late, the sky all golden-pink and warming her pale, freckled skin. Tommi doesn’t notice him, just walks small circles next to her desk and shifts her weight from leg to leg.
While he’d had his reservations, there are perks to sharing an office space with her, particularly as she has a nose for trouble and a habit of not looking after herself. She cuts a stunning profile in a sleek black dress and those god-awful (but fucking sexy) shoes of hers, her hair a tangle of locks barely pinned back at this hour. He’d like to make a bigger mess of it, of her, but then he remembers the shoes and she doesn’t look after herself.
Carefully, he crosses her office to join her near the floor-to-ceiling windows. He winds himself around her, kissing her temple and inhaling the scent of her sweat and perfume. Other than baring her throat to him, there’s little to give him any indication that Tommi’s even picked up on his presence.
“S’late,” he says into her ear, nipping at her earlobe for good measure.
Tommi hums. “Very observant, Mr. Solomons.
“Ah, so you did notice. And yet you’re still here, yeah? And wearing those heels.”
She says nothing, and after several long moments, Alfie realizes that she’s not going to say anything to that.
Fuckin’ typical.
“Did you happen to get a notification on your mobile yesterday?” he asks, shifting tactics. “From the joint calendar?”
“Sounds familiar,” she answers, nose still shoved in the file. “Whatever it was, I snoozed it.”
Of course she fucking did. Tommi’s so used to getting her way at every turn that anything that might jeopardize said control gets swiftly denied, buried deep and unacknowledged. She’ll be the death of him on that count alone.
Sighing, Alfie takes out his mobile and pulls up the calendar in question. He slips it into her eyeline, blocking her view of the documents since she seems uninterested in directing her attention elsewhere.
The words DUE DATE—in all caps for Tommi’s benefit—are unmistakable.
“I know you’re doing all you bloody well can to ignore this,” he says, spreading his palm wide on her swollen belly. “But you have to accept that the baby might come before Thursday.”
Tommi finally looks at him, only to meet his gaze with a scowl.
“I’m not missing the Daniels meeting. I’ve spent far too much time to hand it over now.”
“I’m perfectly capable of negotiating, love. You may recall I was doing quite well before we started doing business together, yeah?”
“I’ll give birth in the fucking conference room if I have to.”
Alfie doesn’t doubt that, not in the slightest. He takes the folder from her hands and tosses it in the general direction of her desk. Before she protests too much, he pulls her along to the sofa in the corner and eases her down. She looks ready to murder him, and Alfie’s grateful that her handbag sits across the room.
Sitting on the other end, Alfie brings her feet to his lap and slips her shoes from her swollen feet. When he starts massaging her left arch, the response is immediate. The sigh and moan his hands elicit would put some of his better work between her thighs to shame. His pride might be a bit wounded if not for the fact that he’s managed to get her to relax for a moment; nothing matters so much as that just now.
“Nothing I say is going to keep you at home, is it?”
Tommi lifts her head up from the throw cushion. “You want me barefoot and pregnant at the flat, eh?”
Considering she wears eleven-centimeter heels and is twenty-four hours past her due date, yeah, he fucking does. Which, considering he’s let her run rough shod over everything since she pissed on that stick and decided to keep it, Alfie thinks isn’t such a big ask. And yet Tommi’s stubborn look tells him everything he needs to know. It’ll be compromise or nothing.
“Right then,” he sighs. “If I catch you here in those fuckin’ shoes tomorrow, I’ll be forced to take drastic measures. Flats only until the baby comes.”
Her head drops back to the cushion, and she smirks. “Yeah, we’ll see, won’t we?”
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End Note:
And that’s that, folks. This Inktober series is officially finished off. 31/31 prompts fulfilled! It only took about six extra months and a pandemic to make it happen.
My thanks to those of you who have stuck with me as this became a months-long endeavor and transformed into something I initially never intended it to be. I appreciate all the love this series of mostly unrelated, random-ass ficlets has received since October 2019. Every comment, like, and reblog has meant the world. I had a lot of fun trying out some ideas, inverting tropes, and creating things that will some day be proper standalone fics (I hope). 
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mevima · 4 years
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Ineffable Inktober: Day 24: St. James' Park
Ineffable Writing Inktober, NSFW Edition.
There were any number of curios and knick-knacks buried in Aziraphale's shop. It was the nature of the place, really; it was his home and his museum, where he kept safe the words and knowledge and objects of the past. So Crowley was only a bit surprised when one day, he opened a large, lumpy wrapping to discover a bundle of swords.
He looked them over carefully, curiously, and chose a simple broad blade with a heavy pommel. The leather wrapped around the hilt was old, but shockingly – miraculously – still intact. When Crowley presented it to Aziraphale in a wordless question, the angel took it with a soft exclamation and a fond smile.
"Arthur gave this to me himself, you know," he said thoughtfully, turning the sword in his hands. "Remember? I was wearing it when I met you in the woods. The Black Knight! Really, I should have known it was you."
Crowley leaned against a bookcase and tilted his head. "How'd you end up an actual Knight of the Round Table, anyway? Wasn't that sort of conspicuous for Heaven's taste?"
"Oh, yes." Aziraphale chuckled at the memory. "It was a temporary appointment. I'd been helping Arthur train with the sword for some time, you see, and his other knights were busy on the border. So he asked me to stop the trouble the Black Knight was stirring up. 'It'll be bad for everyone if the peasants rise up!' he said, and sent me out straightaway with a sword from his personal armory."
Crowley squinted, latching on to one particular part of that recounting. "You... taught King Arthur Pendragon to sword fight?"
"Goodness no, not entirely! That sort of training starts from childhood. But I did provide quite the suitable sparring partner, if I say so myself." Limited by the bookshop's tight space, Aziraphale still gave the broadsword a few experimental swings, looking perfectly at home and confident in its use.
Reminders of Aziraphale's power always got Crowley's blood stirring, and this was no exception. He licked his lips, eyes tracing Aziraphale's strong grip, his self-assured stance, and the hints of musculature under all those layers of clothing. "Let's have a demonstration, yeah? In the park? Show me if you've still got it after all these years."
Aziraphale scoffed. "As if a Principality could ever lose the knack of swordfighting!"
They brought a picnic along because Aziraphale insisted that if they were going to the park anyway, they may as well make a date of it and enjoy themselves thoroughly. The sword's scabbard had been wrapped up next to it with just as much care and preservation as the sword itself, and Aziraphale buckled it on with a sound of satisfaction.
It was a mild spring afternoon and St. James' Park was lovely, with enough people passing by to make it feel comfortable but not crowded. They hardly noticed the presence of the sword swinging inconspicuously at Aziraphale's side – thespians were a strange lot, after all, and they probably assumed it was fake.
Crowley impatiently tried to rush along the picnic setup while Aziraphale fussed, laying out the blanket just so, displaying the little sandwiches and the fancy cheeses and the nice-but-not-too-nice wine with deliberate precision. Crowley honestly couldn't tell if the damned angel was antagonizing him on purpose by dragging out the wait, or if he was truly enjoying the preparation.
Finally, everything was laid out to Aziraphale's exacting specifications. He sat back with a sigh and a light smile, and Crowley raised an eyebrow, saying, "We're just going to eat it, you know."
"Yes, but the presentation is part of the experience!" Aziraphale's smile brightened when he directed it at Crowley, and the demon folded, unable to deny him. "Now! Would you prefer to eat first, or – "
"Show me," Crowley interrupted, unconsciously leaning forward.
A twinkle in Aziraphale's eye hinted that he knew just what Crowley was after, but he sighed, as if put-upon. "Oh, all right, if you insist. I suppose it'll work up an appetite."
When Aziraphale stood, brushed off his trousers, and picked up the sword to buckle it back on his hip, Crowley was practically drooling in anticipation. He'd seen Aziraphale perform some feats of strength and ability before, but never for him, and certainly never because the angel had chosen to oblige a little whim. It was a heady feeling, one he wanted to cradle and encourage like a glowing ember.
Crowley could see the expertise in the stance Aziraphale took, as if only days had passed instead of centuries since he'd taken up the sword. The first few practice swings could have been considered clumsy by a connoisseur, but then Aziraphale took a deep breath, spun and thrust, and it was like he was dancing.
Both hands wrapped around the hilt, Aziraphale cut and thrust, swung and fell back in a mock parry. He fell into the old movements with utter focus, always in control, always balanced, stepping forward and back as he circled an invisible opponent. The sword glinted in the afternoon sunlight when Aziraphale raised it as if to defend his face from a blow, then lashed out in a vicious riposte.
Aziraphale's breath had barely quickened, effortless in his power and skill, but Crowley found his own chest heaving. Sweet Lord, to have that amount of focus on him. He could easily imagine Aziraphale, full of the rage and fire that Crowley knew he possessed, standing between Crowley and their enemies – or just as easily, confronting Crowley himself, forcing him to bow, submit, confess.
And oh, wasn't that dangerous territory.
Crowley clutched at his knees to keep his hands still. He hadn't blinked in several minutes, watching Aziraphale go through form after form, imagining just what that strength could do if Aziraphale turned it on him. He ran a forked tongue over sharpened teeth, found himself automatically calculating weaknesses in Aziraphale's movements and identifying very few. Not that he'd use any weakness he found; Aziraphale could do positively anything, and Crowley would melt underneath it like candy floss in the rain.
This had been a bad idea. Dates were one thing, something they'd begun to joke about and dance around in the wake of the Apocalypse, but they'd barely touched. Watching Aziraphale flow and glide and display the peak of his strength was allowing Crowley to want things that he had stuffed deep inside himself long ago.
Abruptly, Aziraphale knelt and buried the blade into the ground, his sudden stillness alarming for how quickly he'd been moving before. His breathing had sped and he was sweating a little, but he looked exhilarated instead of tired. He looked powerful, determined, a force to be reckoned with.
He looked beautiful.
Crowley heaved a great breath, the first he'd drawn in too long a time, and Aziraphale's eyes snapped to fix on him. Christ Almighty, that focus; Crowley felt the scrutiny pass over him quickly, the calculations that Aziraphale must have been making: friend or foe? Can I take him down? Should I take him down? It choked him, the air thick on Crowley's tongue.
As quickly as Aziraphale's attention had turned on him, it was gone, the angel blinking and shaking his head with a rueful grin. "I'm afraid I quite lost myself for a moment there. Oh, it has been far too long, I hope I didn't look the fool."
"You'd never look foolish," Crowley said helplessly.
"That's very kind of you, dear, but you needn't butter me up." Aziraphale busied himself with the food they'd brought, but Crowley only had attention for the quick little smile he sent Crowley's way, as if sharing a secret just for them.
Oh, he was fucked.
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smolgloves · 4 years
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G/t inktober day 6: Sweets
The night of Hallow's eve was coming to an end. The bean of the house had turned off his light to keep the trick or treaters from coming to his house. But the bowl of leftover candy sat on the counter, and those fun size chocolate bars had your name written all over them. 
You stood on top of the cabinets in the dark, to get a good vantage point of your surroundings. You had to make sure the coast was clear, as the last thing you wanted was to get caught by someone. But as the night went on, the quieter and quieter the house grew. Now was the time to strike!
Pulling out your grappling hook, you wedged it into the old wooden frame of the cabinet, after a few tugs on the rope, you deemed it was safe and descended down towards your destination. Once your feet hit the granite counter, you made a quick dash across the counter. You passed by the bottles of alcohol that towered above you and hopped across the dirty dishes piled up in the sink, then you finally reached your destination. 
The bowl was black, with white skeletons painted around the surface, a festive look for such a holiday. Most of the candy was gone, safe for the smaller ones that laid on the bottom, which meant you would have to climb into the bowl to retrieve your chocolate. 
Wasting no time, you pulled yourself up onto the ledge and tumble down to the other side, crashing into the candy corn. The smell of artificial sugar wafted into your nostrils, you've never been around so many sweets before, it was almost intoxicating. But you were on a mission, and you weren't going to stop until you got your chocolate. So you crawled through the candy littered around you and dug around the bowl. You started to worry that the bean had given away all the chocolate, until your hand brushed against a familiar rectangular shape. Using all your strength, you pulled the candy into view and read the label. Finally! The fun size chocolate bar! You eagerly shoved the small bar into your bag and started to crawl back over to the edge of the bowl, ready to climb out of it.
That's when the lights flickered on. You squeezed your eyes shut from the blinding light. The sound of footsteps made your heart skip a beat, the bean was here. You quickly laid yourself flat on the ground, and hoped that the candy would conceal you. A shadow cast over you, causing your body to freeze in place. But you felt yourself slide around as the bowl shifted upwards. 
Oh no, you were trapped! Your brain went into overdrive, desperately trying to think of a quick way to escape, but everything was interrupted when you felt something brush against your arm. You glanced over and saw a hand that had a skull with bulging eyes grabbing candy. The hand was so close to your face that you could practically feel the heat that radiated off of it. Without thinking, you gasped and pushed yourself away, kicking candy away in the process. 
"Huh?" The voice rumbled from above. 
Everything froze in place. Even you couldn't move a muscle as the dreadful feeling of being watched loomed over you. But your heart kept pounding in your chest, to the point where you thought you were going to have a heart attack! Somehow, you found the courage to move. You slowly craned your neck up, eyes trailing past his tattooed covered arms, above the white t-shirt that covered his chest, until your eyes finally landed on his face. You've seen the bean before but this time he looked way different.
His dark black hair was disheveled, his skin looked green and decayed. His blue eyes were smeared with something black, making the color pop out more as he stared down at you, and blood stained the corners of his mouth that gaped open. Terror latched onto you and refused to let go. You let out a scream so loud you could feel the man flinch, you scrambled back towards the end of the bowl, tripping over candy along the way. You tried to scurry up the bowl but the smooth surface caused you to slip back to the bottom. 
"Holy shit!" You heard the man yell out. He rushed over to the counter and placed the candy bowl down, causing your body to lurched forward. His hands withdrew from the dish, which would have made you feel a little better if he wasn't towering directly over you. "You're an actual tiny person! I knew I wasn't going crazy!"
What did he mean by that, did he always know you were here before? How would he have known you were here? Then you remembered the party he had a month ago. He and his buddies had been drinking, and you slipped into his office to get some paper clips. He stumbled in while you were on his desk, but you thought you slipped away before he saw you! 
"No, no no!" Reality set in, the likelihood of you escaping out of this was slim. You began fearing what he might do to you, would he kill you or torture you? You've heard that many humans like to go out on this very night and commit the worst kind of crimes, so you wouldn't be surprised if the zombified man would do the same. 
"Hey, don't freak out, small fry!" He reassured. "It's just makeup!" 
He grabbed a paper towel and ran it under the sink. He wiped it across his face and neck to reveal his tan skin, and the couple tattoos that were hidden behind his ear and neck. You could even see a scruff forming around his lips and chin once all the blood was wiped away. He lifted the dirty rag in your view. "See, you don't need to be scared." 
"I know it's just makeup!" You shouted as you shook your head violently. "That doesn't help make you look any less scary!" 
"Is there anything I can do to help you out?" 
"You have to let me go, and forget you ever saw me!" 
"Well, I can let you go, but, I don't think I have enough alcohol to forget about a little person." He chuckled and gestured over to the bottles that sat behind you. 
"Wait, you'll let me go?" You stared up at him in shock.
The man just shrugged. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"
"M...Most beans don't like it when they find my kind taking their stuff." You averted your eyes away from his gaze. "Even if it is just the stuff they wouldn't care about." 
"Well, just so you know, I'm not an asshole." He scoffed. "So you can have as much Halloween candy as you can carry!" 
"Do you mean that?" You gasped. 
He flashed you a smile. "Hell yeah, if you need food, help yourself. And don't be afraid to ask for something, I'll help you out." 
You couldn't believe what you were hearing! Was this some sort of trick? You tried to read him for any red flags but all you could find was sincerity. You let out a sigh of relief. "You have no idea how much that means to me." 
"So you gotta name, small fry? I'm Zacky by the way." 
You smiled. "It's Y/N." 
"Well, Y/N, Halloween isn't over yet, and I was just about to put on a horror movie tonight. Care to join me?" 
"What movie is it?" 
"Nightmare on Elm Street, it's a classic." 
"Don't think I've ever heard of that one." You admitted. 
"What? Now you gotta join me!" He insisted. "I'll bring more candy."
"Make it those fun size chocolate bars, and you got yourself a deal." You said. 
Zacky chuckled. "Alright, then it's settled." He strolled over to the pantry and pulled out a half full bag of chocolate bars. He returned back, ready to dump the bars into the bowl when he looked down at you. 
"Would you mind if I uh… moved you?" 
You couldn't help but tense up. You've never been picked up by a human before, just the very idea of it would make a borrower shutter! But for some reason, you felt like you could trust Zacky enough to do that. If he wanted to grab you, he would have already done it, besides it would be faster than you trying to climb out of the bowl yourself. 
"As long as you're quick about it." You told him. 
Zacky nodded and reached forward with his hand. Fingers brushed against your sides, and you would soon feel them lightly pinching your torso as you were lifted up from the bowl. You gripped onto his finger, focusing on the ink that rested on it rather than the feeling of dangling in the air. Before you knew it, your feet touched the smooth counter and the pressure from your torso was released. You didn't realize that you held your breath until Zacky pulled his hand away. 
"Not bad?" He asked. 
"Could have been worse." You shrugged.
"Good, cause I'm gonna have to do that again to bring you over to the theatre room." He shook the bag and tiny chocolate bars poured out into the bowl. Your eyes lit up, you could be stocked up on chocolate until Christmas if you could carry that much chocolate. 
Zacky glanced over at you. "Alright, I hope your ready, Y/N. This movie is pretty scary."
You crossed your arms. "I already had to deal with you, I'm sure I can handle a movie." 
Zacky chuckled. "Whatever you say, small fry." He reached out again but this time, he laid his hand out flat on the counter, waiting for you to get on. You crawled onto his hand and felt it rise again, this was certainly a better way to hold a borrower. You watched the world move around you in a blur. Never in your life did you think you would ever agree to watch a scary movie with a bean, but anything could happen on Hallow's eve. 
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siarven · 4 years
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INKTOBER DAY 06 - Husky
my other inktober art | about hope beyond
1300 words.
The frost has painted flowers on Alia‘s window when she wakes up, and they glow like molten gold in the bright sunlight. 
Despite how pretty they are, Alia can feel the restless energy in her bones, making her fingers twitch with a need to move, to run, to play. 
She knows that it‘s late enough. Maybe not for Morgan, but Morgan isn‘t Alia‘s only (person) friend. There’s also Phaedra, and she’s is a morning bird, too! 
At least that‘s what she said when Alia asked, a few weeks back. Alia is pretty sure that she was lying, though. After all, her window goes in the direction of Phaedra‘s house and sometimes when she wakes from her nightfrights when it’s dark outside, the light in Phaedra‘s window is still on and she‘s pacing, or sitting on her bed, huddled in her blankets. Sometimes, Alia blinks her light a few times until Phaedra finally looks over. She isn’t sure if that helps but she knows that it makes her feel less alone, so maybe it does the same for Phaedra? 
They‘ve never talked about it during the day.
The rest is below the cut, as is the tag list :3
☀☀☀
It‘s cold outside the bed, and Alia dresses quickly, in several layers of warm, cozy things. And a scarf. Morgan loves scarfs, and Alia loves them, too. It‘s something they have in common. 
Then she carefully opens her door, making sure that it doesn‘t creak, and makes her way downstairs (avoiding the Bad Steps). 
She drinks a glass of orange juice, puts some more dry food out for the cats (they‘re already complaining loudly but Morgan is the one who gives them wet food, and Morgan won‘t be up for another hour or two, so it‘s better than nothing). She also pours a tiny amount of watered down milk on a saucer for Mighty One. Morgan might be irritated by that but Alia’s done it enough times by now that she probably won’t even mention it. 
Then, finally, Alia unlocks the front door with her very own, shiny key, putting it in her pocket. The neighbours here are all very nice and she knows that nobody else locks their doors... but Morgan grew up in the city, and she‘s probably going to need a while until she stops doing it, if it ever happens.
☀☀☀
The husky greets her in front of Phaedra’s door, pushing against her leg, almost making her stumble. She laughs, kneeling next to him, and starts rubbing his belly when he flops over. His fur is thick and deep and so soft, so soft...
“Alia?”
She looks up. Phaedra looks down at her with amusement (but also a faint, underlying concern) written all over her face. Alia laughs.
“I‘ve made a new friend!”, she says. “His name is ... something cold? I think?” She concentrates, frowning. “Ice?... Frost.. hmm...”
“—Winter?”, Phaedra asks. Her voice is tiny, almost not there at all.
Alia‘s smile slips, and she nods. Can feel her heart thudding in her chest. Here it is; the day has come. She knows it‘ll be worth it. Still, now that the moment is here, she‘s daunted by the task in front of her.
Phaedra, for her part, just stops moving. Even the small motions, like breathing or blinking, ... stop.
“Winter?”, Phaedra repeats. Her voice is brittle as ice, and so quiet that the word almost doesn’t reach Alia. 
She suppresses the fluttering in her heart and smiles faintly at Phaedra. “Yeah. I‘ve seen him around before. He‘s a very good boy. Maybe even the best one.”
Winter rolls to the side and gets back up, wagging his tail so strongly that it moves his entire butt. Then he howls in both pain and triumph (Alia can feel it reverberate in her very soul, and it makes her want to cry and sing at the same time), running around Phaedra and Alia in circles. She can feel that he wants to get closer but that he’s also... afraid of it.
“Is he… a dog?”, Phaedra asks. She knows the truth already. Has known it from the moment Alia let her guess his name. 
Still, Alia nods, slowly pushing herself back up on her feet. She‘s only a bit shorter than Phaedra. It feels wrong, to be this tall. Very wrong. Not relevant. “He‘s a husky”, she says very softly, trying to suppress the tears that are suddenly welling up in her eyes. 
You have done very well, Rhisíl whispers at the back of her thoughts, voice creaking like leaves and bark and branches. Her nose tingles, but she holds the tears back nonetheless. 
“I had a husky named Winter when I was a child”, Phaedra says. Her voice is far away, both from Alia and from herself. Distanced. Almost lost, but not quite. 
Phaedra has gone to the past, to a place that hurts, but also a place that‘s filled with love and longing.
Sometimes Alia wishes that she had such a place, but now is not the time for thoughts like that. There are good moments there, true, but the other ones outweigh them one to ten. Easier to suppress. Especially now. 
“He‘s watched over you”, Alia hears herself say. Her voice sounds like hers, but also not. It‘s as far away as Phaedra, in a place she will never be able to reach. “He‘s always been with you.” He just needed a bit of love, to grow, to take shape again. 
A tear rolls down Phaedra‘s cheek and she blinks, once, twice. More tears come. She collapses to the ground, grasping her elbows with her hands, burying her face in her arms. Winter approaches carefully, starts licking her arm. Alia doesn‘t want to look at him, because she can feel the Change. They always change when she finally acknowledges their Truth. She doesn‘t know why. The world is far away, bright and beautiful, and her heart aches with love, but also with the sads. 
Winter‘s face looks just like it did before, but the rest of him doesn‘t. His fur is matted, dark and slick. He‘s trailing long, thin ribbons behind him. Two of his legs are dark and strange.  Bone sticks out here and there, and his soul glows brightly from within his ribcage. Some of the bones are black, but others aren’t. Their placement is strange, as if there are two different dimensions to him at the same time, one with the bones on the outside, one with them on the inside, and sometimes they mingle.
He‘s still beautiful, though, and his entire being glows with the eternal love he will forever hold for Phaedra.
Alia blinks away a tear and smiles sadly. 
“He just wants to let you know that he loves you very much”, she says. Phaedra looks at her, with lost eyes full of tears and pain, but when she smiles it‘s the most beautiful thing Alia‘s ever seen.
“Thank you”, she says. Her voice only cracks a little, near the end. Alia smiles and even if there are tears in the way, she knows that Phaedra doesn‘t mind. She sits down next to her, and Phaedra puts an arm around her shoulder.
A brave step, Rhisíl whispers. You‘ve done well, little one. Pain hurts, but sometimes the right pain can heal, too. 
Alia doesn‘t reply. She can feel him circling high above, high above the clouds. Winter dances around them, trailing shadows behind himself, and Alia knows she‘s done the right thing. 
She isn’t sure if it’ll change anything between herself and Phaedra, but even if it does… it was worth it.
☀☀☀
@writingwordsanddrawingpictures​ @kittensartswriting​ @afragilestrongsoul​ @ettawritesnstudies​
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I’m uploading yesterday’s art this late because there was an electrical issue at home yesterday. If we hadn’t caught it, the whole house could’ve burned down o_o so I drew my inktober art with a flashlight, because we put out all the electronics except for the fridge, and hoped that it would survive the night... (the emergency electrician couldn’t access the problem are because the company we get our electricity from has “safety measures” in place which he couldn’t get around. And they weren’t open because it was Sunday. Yaay.)
I’m mostly happy with how it turned out, even if there are a few things I would’ve preffered to end up differently XD
Hope you like him :3
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dapperappleton · 4 years
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Witch!reader x Marvin
Seeing as it’s October (imo September October and November are spoopy months) I thought I should do a witch reader! Also, instead of drawing stuff for inktober, I’m going to write! Probably not an original idea but whatever. And to preface this... I one hundred percent know I will not write every day. You can request stuff if you want and I’ll do that too.
Gender neutral (yes, witch is a gender neutral term!!)
Summary: Marvin is in love with you, a witch and finally works up the courage to ask you out. It’s short.
Warnings: one f-bomb
Marvin walked down the street at a quick pace, cloak braced against the chilled October wind. He was looking for your store. As a magician, he needed supplies to keep experimenting with. However, he has to actually go outside to get those supplies. He had known you for a long time, buying things from your store and often staying to chat awhile, partially to avoid the walk home and partially because he liked you. And not just friendly like, but he had loved you for some time now. Your beautiful hair, face, and fantastic sense of style all captivated him, but he truly loved your intellect and personality. Just thinking about his long conversations about magic, the stars, what you both had been doing, anything and everything, distracted his mind long enough to reach your store.
He opened the door to hear a few chimes jingle softly against it. You poked your head from behind a curtain and smiled widely. You walked over to him and pulled him into a tight hug.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” You said ecstatically. “So, what do you need today? I just got a new shipment of rattlesnake sheds and a few bags of agate and bloodstone if that interests you.”
“Actually, I just need some of those curse candles. You make them much better than me.” He smiled faintly, placing his mask on a side table.
“One curse candle coming up!”
You pulled a candle off the shelf, it was black with a bag of cayenne, black salt, pepper, and sage attached to it. As you handed it to him, your hands brushed together and he visibly shuddered.
“You ok Marvin? You look tense.” Your eyes crinkled slightly.
“Yeah... it’s nothing,” he seemed to be battling a mental war. “You know what, fuck it.”
He took a deep breath to try and stop the bright red creeping into his face. “Would you... maybe, it’s fine if you don’t, want to... want to... go out with me?”
You were startled, not expecting him to ask you out, at least not now. Stuttering quite a lot, you managed to squeeze out a yes in between your blubbering. He rushed to hug you, happy that he finally asked, happy that you had said yes, just happy. Let’s just say he never dreaded the walk to your store again.
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writeanapocalae · 4 years
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Inktober: Beaten
Warning for torture and abuse 
Stefano hit the back wall of his cell with a wet smack before sliding down it, trying and failing to breathe. Everything he sucked in was wet and it didn’t fill his struggling lungs with enough to keep him from getting too dizzy to see, to fight back, to do anything. Something in him was broken, but, then again, something had been broken in him for a long time. Now it was more physical and he didn’t know if it was from what the harbinger before him was doing or left over from what that man had done before.
The fight hadn’t been much, he was lithe and quick, but he was armed with a knife against the stranger who had an arsenal on his back. He could move and he was quick but there was little he could do against a shotgun against his unarmored flesh. A suit wasn’t made to keep him safe. And the man was just as enraged as he was, even though they were angry about different things.
They had patched him up only enough to stop the bleeding, to make it so that he didn’t die. He knew what that meant, they still needed him. He was still of some use. He couldn’t escape.
The harbinger socked him in the stomach, swinging his flamethrower like it was a croquet mallet. Didn’t feel much different to him. He sputtered and croaked, arm reaching up to wrap around the new damage to his chest, where most of his wounds already were. He felt like any more and he would throw up all of his insides, because they had to be nothing more than soup at this rate.
A figure, all in black, was standing in the doorway. They all wore black but this man was smaller than the rest. He wasn’t surprised to find Theodore there. This was all being done for his amusement, after all, and to teach him a lesson for his betrayal.
He could feel the heat of the fire that always followed the man, along with the heat of the desert. He could smell sand mixing in with his blood and, if he tried to look at Theodore for too long, his parody of an eye began to ache as if all of the shrapnel still stuck in it was fresh and twisting.
“Such a disappointment, Stefano,” Theodore purred, watching as he struggled to get himself to his feet.  “I gave you so much, gave you everything you ever asked for, and you thanked me with betrayal.”
There was blood in Stefano’s mouth, more than could be explained with his split lip. He felt weak and heavy and useless. He had no answer for his patron.
“You wanted an audience, I gave you the praise you desired. You needed materials, I gave you the citizens of this town. You desired power, I gave you abilities you could never have imagined. And all I asked for was one thing.”
One thing, a human life. He had taken many, in this place and in the other, but something about hers was different. She was but a child and yet, her terror filled him with so much more inspiration than anyone else’s. He wanted her, his muse, forever. The moment he first laid a hand on her he knew that he would never be able to give her to Theodore. And the man wanted her too.
The harbinger slid his over sized hand through his hair, gripping it firmly and hoisting Stefano up to his feet. He was too tired, too damaged, to even grab at the burned flesh, had to just dangle there, feel as strands ripped under his weight. He was pulled to his feet and firmly shoved against the wall. The lens of his eye was exposed and it reeled in his socket, trying to focus on something, anything, but too lost from delirium.
“I should destroy you,” Theodore growled, finally stepping into the room with him. To punctuate the sentence, the harbinger smacked his head against the stone wall, hard enough to rattle him. “I should make you suffer until your body gives in and then burn you away.” Another smack and Stefano could only see bright speckles dancing in his vision. “I was a fool to take you on as my artist, to recommend you to Mobius in the first place.” His head felt soft and squishy and he could hear a soft splatter as his scalp began to bleed. “And I am a fool still for giving you another chance.”
The hand on his jaw was hot and he whined as it held him firmed, directed his head towards his master. He couldn’t see him but he also couldn’t look away. It took off the pressure on his scalp, at least.
“You will kill Sebastian Castellanos,” Theodore said, though the name meant little to him. Perhaps, if he could think, he would notice that it was similar to the girl’s name. “And you will bring the girl to me. Or I will bring your nightmares to life.”
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GO-ctober Prompt, 14
Inktober except without the ink, and with drabbles instead.
Prompt #14 - Overgrown
(previous | next | beginning)
(find it all on Ao3)
(I know, I’m lagging behind two days :( things have been a bit stress)
Eden was a paradise – literally, of course. Lush and green, covered in everything the rest of Earth had yet to offer, fruit and nourishment at every corner. Adam and Eve had no fear of the animals, which gently went their own ways around the two humans, nor did they fear the guardians they rarely encountered – they shied from them, respected them, but there was no need yet for angels to introduce themselves with 'Do Not Be Afraid', as they would later learn.
But even in paradise, there were parts were they did not dare to tread too often. Places where the jungle grew thick, the floor unsteady, and where the sky was at times completely obscured by overgrowth, covering everything with a soft shade of dark green hues. Adam had gotten lost here for days on end, stumbled and fallen, and decided soon enough not to return unless absolutely necessary. Eve had never set foot in the place.
The snake Crawly considered it home.
He'd been sent up to stir up some trouble, originally, but for quite a while nothing had caught his eye that really needed to be troubled. So he'd set up shop in the branches of the most overgrown tree, enjoyed the midday suns and several long naps, and generally considered himself quite lucky to have escaped Hell for an unforeseen amount of time.
When Adam had stumbled past him, barely noticing the black scales between dark brown branches, he'd quietly cursed the fact that something to be troubled had finally shown up. But then again, Beelzebub had not exactly given him a time frame, and he was more than ready to stretch the truth if ever questioned. Besides, the strange, somewhat angel-shaped thing called a 'human' never showed up in his part of the woods again, and he almost forgot about it.
It took several more days for another intruder to show up in his own personal paradise of solitude.
This one was far more angel-shaped than Crawly liked to see, yet he could not look away. Yellow eyes followed him from a low branch as he trudged through the muddy grounds, slightly more agile than Adam had, but troubled nonetheless. His robe was covered in dirt, his wings carrying sticks and leaves from some uncomfortable brushes with the shrubbery all around. Quietly muttering to himself as he walked on, words Crawly couldn't make out.
He knew it was best for him to steer clear of any angel, and yet – curiosity had not yet killed the cat, but it might kill him soon enough, he felt, if he didn't get a closer look.
He slithered along the largest branches, matching the angel's speed slightly in front of him, staying unseen.
Or so he thought.
The angel stopped. So did Crawly. The angel turned around. Crawly could not.
Their eyes met as Crawly wrapped around the last branch, still swaying from his movement. He was surprised to see nothing but – was that admiration? In an angel's eyes?
His voice was equally filled with joy as he took a few steps towards the giant snake hanging from a branch that was barely holding up under its weight.
“My goodness! Look at you!” A smile spread across the angels face, and Crawly, for reasons he did not want to understand, felt his heart begin to race. “I've not seen any like you out in the garden! Are you all hiding in here?”
Another step forward, and with Crawly's eyes still fixed on his smile, the snake's tongue darted out and in, and oh, that was a very new kind of scent – he remembered what Heaven had smelled like, what most angels had smelled like, but there was something else in there, and his heart would not stop racing.
The angel stopped walking. His expression changed.
Crawly's heart fell. He recognised the look in his eyes now, the sudden realisation.
“You- you're not an animal.” His voice was wavering as he took the steps back, almost stumbling over a root, and a sword appeared in his hand, bathed in flames.
“Calm down, angel.” Snakes were not meant to speak, so it was quite some trouble, but nothing he couldn't manage.
“St-stay back! I do not wish to smite you!” Well, that was certainly a new tactic for a heavenly guardian.
“I'm not looking for a fffight.”
“Then what are you doing here?!”
“Me? You're the one who ssssssstarted walking around the placccce like you own it! I wasssss here firssst!”
“This is- you- we're in Eden! You're not supposed to be here! You certainly don't own the place yourself!”
If a snake could shrug, he would've. Unfortunately, he could only relegate it to a soft sway of his head, which did not exactly help in making him seem less threatening.
“I'm not doing anyttthhhing bad.” That was not a lie, at least. He'd not done anything at all yet, except for relax and enjoy his freedom.
“Were you sent to harm the humans? She told us to guard them.” Crawly was confused about an angel doing idle chitchat instead of smiting him on the spot. He was even more confused by being given such information freely. This was an interesting one.
“I will not harm them.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I promisssse.” The snake's head swayed up, rising half way up the branch, and something in the angel's face changed again. For a second, Crawly expected to be struck down by the sword still shaking in his hands. Then the angel sighed.
“Fine, alright. Stay here then, in this- this jungle. Adam and Eve don't come here anyway. But I'm not- if you get into trouble, you've never-”
“Never met you, angel.”
“Yes.” A pause, and then. “Thanks.”
Crawly felt a shiver down his very long spine. Now that was both pleasant and unpleasant.
“Well. I'll be going. Didn't mean to come past here anyway. Just... lost track of the paths, I suppose.”
“Ssssee you around, then.” He couldn't keep from smirking, another thing a snake was not exactly supposed to do.
~*~
The cottage's garden was a tiny, miniscule speck compared to Eden. It was paradise nonetheless. Vegetables and fruit filling the raised garden beds, flowers ranking along the stone walls, trees throwing soft shade over a small pond. It was immaculate, and Crowley took a lot of care to keep it that way.
Still, there were places were nature overtook nurture. A row of shrubbery turning into wild hedges, trees and bushes filling the way to the forest next to their house. Not a jungle, a far shot from it, but shaded and hidden and comfortably quiet.
Crowley considered it a home away from home. He'd gone out to deal with the chaos once or twice, and ended up enjoying it far too much to change any of it. Several afternoons had been spent napping on a blanket between the grass and greenery. The solitude had been comfortable, especially after a day running around with the Them, or another lengthy discussion with Anathema.
He was almost drifting off to sleep when he heard the soft crunching of fallen leaves. A scent got caught in his nose – so familiar, even between all the smells and senses of the woods, he'd recognise it in a second.
His eyes blinked open to Aziraphale's smile.
“Look at you. Are you hiding in here?”
“'M'not hiding. Jusst relaxing.”
“Alright.” Aziraphale sat down beside Crowley, stretched across the blanket. “I was looking for you.”
“Well, you found me.”
“Am I bothering you? Do you want to be alone?”
“Nah.” Crowley tugged at his sleeve, and Aziraphale quickly understood and laid down next to him, laying a hand on his chest. His heart was still racing, after all these years. “You're always welcome in my paradise.”
Aziraphale snickered. “You sure?”
“I promissse.”
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penthesilea1623 · 4 years
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I’m not going to do any Inktober for Writers prompts, I told myself. I’ve got to many other things to finish, and I’m certainly not going to see a prompt for “Ring” and write a 2500 word one shot that’s a continuation of a story I have yet to finish on AO3.
I am apparently a big fat liar.
So here it is, a one shot continuation of “In the Absence of Light” a modern au of a modern au about an evil Anabel Hawke, and an unreformed Sebastian Vael who’ve entered into a business like (with benefits) relationship in order to probably take over Thedas eventually. They are surprisingly fluffy in this one-shot however, titled, appropriately enough: Put a Ring on It She’d been nervous the whole evening, in spite of the fact that she knew how it would conclude; with the formal engagement of Lady Anabel Amell-Hawke, heir to the Viscount of Kirkwall, and Prince Sebastian Vael, ruler of Starkhaven.  
It was an event six months in the making, every move, every action, carefully planned, practically choreographed. Where they went, what they did, what they wore. What she wore; as usual men had an easier time of it. The dress she wore now, for instance was a pale pink confection of lace and tulle, kept from being too demure by dark blue velvet ribbons that formed the straps and criss-crossed the bodice. The choice had taken hours. Sebastian was wearing a dark suit and tie. Definitely easier. He only had to look respectable. She had to look demure but not meek, young but not too young, innocent but desirable, desirable but not sexy. Nothing too low (necklines), or too high (hemlines). No black (too stark) no white (too bridal), no red (too sexy). 
While by now they had been seen together in public on numerous occasions, other than some hand holding, one public hug and two public kisses (one on the cheek and one on the lips, all planned in advance with notice to favored reporters) there had been nothing further, though the papers and the internet were buzzing with excitement and breathless anticipation of their engagement.
Which was happening tonight. At some point during this dinner. Not that Sebastian had alluded to it in any way over the course of the evening.
They were in a private dining room in The Golden Stag, Kirkwall’s finest dining establishment. There was candlelight and flowers and a beautiful crystal chandelier illuminating the room with soft light. Their waiter had left them with coffee and dessert a quarter of an hour ago. 
She’d finished her dessert a good five minutes ago, and had ignored the coffee: she was nervous enough without adding caffeine to the mix. Sebastian was still sipping his, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
She tried not to fidget. Tried to wait patiently. Tried not to ask. She failed at all three.
“Aren’t you supposed to be proposing to me?” 
His smile couldn’t quite be called a smirk, but it was awfully close. Instead of answering, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box.  
She couldn’t help straightening in her chair and leaning forward, just a bit, to get a better look at it.
And then, to her surprise, he tossed it to her. 
She caught it instinctively, and started laughing. “Oh that’s romantic. The proposal every girl dreams of.”
His blue eyes were twinkling. “I proposed to you six months ago in Val Royeaux. I’m just ‘putting a ring on it’, as they say.’”
She gave an exasperated huff. “Putting a ring on it? Who on Thedas says that?”
He gave her an unrepentant grin. “Isn’t that how they put it in Ferelden?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Only in the back alleys of Denerim,” she informed him. “And since you’ve brought it up I don’t recall your original proposal dripping with hearts and flowers either.”
“It was memorable for other reasons, though.” There was heat in those blue eyes now.
Her heart raced just at the memory. “It was,” she admitted. Being together like that had been a rare occurrence since then. Rare, but just as memorable. Hopefully, the rare thing would change after tonight.
Sebastian stayed where he was, and didn’t say anything more.
She tried to ignore the vague disappointment she felt, telling herself not to be silly, theirs was a business arrangement. A business arrangement with mind-blowing sex and the eventual founding of a dynasty. Nothing more. But that was more than enough. And it came with what she was certain would be a fairly impressive piece of jewelry. She weighed the velvet box in the palm of her hand. Heavier than she thought. She’d been wondering for days now (months if she were honest) what sort of ring he’d pick out for her. Everyone knew his taste was exquisite, his knowledge of gems impressive, and of course the fact he was one of the wealthiest men in Thedas could only help with the choice.  
But still, for him to just sit there like that.  
She looked at him expectantly, but he simply smiled that deceptively serene smile that he’d mastered since his return to respectability.  
Was he expecting her to ask if she could open the box?
Like hell she was going to ask. 
She arched an eyebrow at him, giving him one last chance to say something. 
Still smiling he took a sip of his coffee. And didn’t say a thing.
With a scowl that she didn’t try to hide, she opened the box.
And temporarily forgot how to breathe. 
When she finally remembered how to, she spoke, surprised at how shaky her voice sounded. “That’s the Aeducan Pink.”
“I thought you might recognize it.”  Sebastian sounded entirely unconcerned. 
The Aeducan Pink. Fifty-six carats. Sold at auction three months ago, to an anonymous buyer for…
“Eighty-four million.” She said faintly.
It had set a record. A completely flawless vivid pink diamond. She’d read about it, seen pictures, but nothing had prepared her for the sight of it, the almost shocking pink color of it and the size. It looked unreal, like something you might find glued in a plastic tiara in a child’s princess dress-up chest. Or would have, if your grandfather had ever let you indulge in anything as mundane as dress-up. But that gem would never have sparkled the way this one did, the lights from the crystal chandelier above bouncing of the facets so brightly that she actually had to blink. 
Wow. She bit her lower lip to keep from saying it out loud. Wow. 
Sebastian rose from the table, laying his napkin beside his plate, and walked to her side. He took the box from her hand, removed the ring and slipped it onto her finger. The stone reached past her knuckle. The fit was a bit loose, and the weight of the rock made it slip to one side.  
Anabel stared at it without speaking.
“Anabel?” Sebastian prompted.
She didn’t raise her eyes. “Mmm?” She murmured. She seemed mesmerized.
The corner of Sebastian’s mouth twitched. “Do you like it?”
“I...I…” She stopped, but finally raised her eyes to his, giving him a sweet smile. “I think it’s possibly the most vulgar piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen.”  
Sebastian burst out laughing. He’d thought she’d see through his joke, but had also thought she’d be a bit more...gentle in her opinion. He should have known better.
She was looking at him expectantly. “Where’s the real ring?” she demanded but her eyes were dancing merrily now.
Still laughing, he pulled the ‘most vulgar piece of jewelry she’d ever seen’ off her finger, and placed it back in the box, before reaching into his other pocket, and pulling out a slightly smaller box. He opened it, holding it for her to see.
Her breath caught again, in a slightly different way than before. 
It was beautiful. Delicate somehow: not that the stone itself was small (though any stone would look small after the Aeducan Pink). Like other ring, the diamond was pink, though a less vivid pink, and it flanked by two much smaller white diamonds.
It was pretty. That seemed a strange word to use for such a gem, but that was what kept repeating in her mind. It was just the sort of ring that she would have picked out for herself, and she wondered that Sebastian had known that. 
To her alarm she found herself blinking back tears. “Much better.”  She said, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears. 
If he had he didn’t comment on them. “I’m glad you like it.”  
“8 carats?” she guessed.
“Almost.” She frowned and for just a moment he thought it was displeasure at the size, but then realized she was displeased that she’d guessed incorrectly.  “7.97 carats.” He told her and the smile was back.
“It’s beautiful. Tell me about it.” 
“7.97 carats, cushion cut, pure vivid pink but rare in that the skillfulness of the cut causes it to reflect an almost orange light. I was told that there was some debate about whether to classify it as a red diamond rather than pink because of that, but the pink classification prevailed. I thought the peachy tone would compliment your coloring.”
She’d expected him to choose carefully, but she’d thought he’d be picking for the impression it would make on Thedas, not on her. When she looked at him he was watching her carefully. “What’s its history? Who owned it before? Does it have a name?” The questions came out too quickly as she tried to ignore the emotions that realization had caused.
“It’s from Orzammar, from a recently discovered or rather rediscovered mine, a week below the surface.”
“From an Aeducan mine?” She asked. The best diamonds usually were.
“Yes,” He confirmed. “I’ve had some dealings with Bhelen Aeducan in the past. I phoned and he invited me to come and see his personal collection and was kind enough to let me have my choice.”
She gave a small snort. “For a hefty price, I’m sure. How much did…”
He cut her off. “I am not telling you how much your engagement ring cost me.”
“When did you go to Orzammar?” He hadn’t said anything about it.
“I made a slight detour during my trip to Jader last month.” 
Had he wanted to surprise her? And what did that mean? “Does it have a name? I’ve always liked the idea of naming stones. It makes them more unique.” She was starting to babble, never a good sign.
“It does.”
She looked at him expectantly.
“Anabel’s Blush.” He told her and smiled as her cheeks turned a pink almost identical to the rich pink of the diamond.
She put her hands to her cheeks to cool them, silently cursing her fair skin that showed every blush so readily. He’d gone all the way to Orzammar to find stone for her ring and named it after her. Anabel’s Blush. It pleased her more than it should. Stop it, she told herself, it probably has little to do with you. There was a reason to everything Sebastian did, it was one of the things she liked about him, and she suspected she knew the real reason for this. “The press will love that.” She said looking up at him with a smile that felt a bit forced. 
Something flickered in those blue eyes, and was gone before she could identify it. “Yes. It should prove quite the morsel during tomorrow’s press conference.”
“Yes.” She agreed. It would. The press and the royal watchers would eat it up, because Maker (and Sebastian apparently) knew she would blush all over again when he told the press the name of the stone. 
Anabel’s Blush. He’d chosen it and named it for her. 
“Sebastian?”  Her voice sounded small, uncertain somehow. She looked up at him, and from the puzzled look on his face she knew he had heard it too. The words came tumbling out before she could stop them. “I love it. Truly. It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. Thank you.” Shit. She shouldn’t have gushed like that. 
But when she looked at him he was giving her a smile that was different from any she’d received from him before, and she found her self returning it.
For a moment they just smiled at each other. Sebastian came to his senses before she did. 
“Well, then we’d best settle this matter.” He turned her chair slightly, so that it faced away from the table, and went down on one knee in front of her.
Or maybe he hadn’t.
Her eyes widened in surprise.There was no one else here. No one to see it. No one to impress. 
He’d gone down on one knee.
He took her hand in his. “Anabel Esme Amell-Hawke, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that for a moment she was worried he would hear it. 
“Yes.” She told him. Maker help her. 
She watched as he took the ring from the box and slid it on her finger.
It fit perfectly. And he was right: it did compliment her coloring. 
She slid forward so she was actually sitting on his knee, and kissed him. Softly, almost chastely at first, and then as he slid his arms around her she ran her tongue over his lips and the kiss became something else. When it ended they were both breathing heavily. 
She rested her forehead against his.“The reporters are waiting outside the restaurant?” she asked. 
“Yes,” he confirmed. 
“Once they get a picture of the ring, how soon until they descend on the Amell manse?” 
“Twenty minutes?” He suggested. He turned his head pressing his lips to the side of her neck. 
She bent her head to the side so he had easier access. “And perhaps another twenty after that before they start looking for you to leave? I’d be a poor hostess if I didn’t offer my escort coffee, or brandy.  Or something else?” 
He pulled his head back to find her giving him a look so hopeful that he couldn’t help laughing. “After accounting for travel that doesn’t give us much time,” he pointed out.
“Plenty of time if you don’t insist on a bed. Up against a wall or bent over a sofa would hardly take any time at all.” 
He didn’t answer, but after a brief pause set her on her feet and stood himself. 
She was already reapplying her lipstick. 
She handed him a tissue, and he wiped his mouth clean of the traces of pink, and then reached over and scooped up both jewelry boxes.
She smiled as he slipped them back into the pocket of his jacket. “I imagine the owner of that rock will be relieved to get it back.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think it belongs to someone else.? 
Eighty-four million. “What are you going to do with it?” She couldn’t help asking the question.
“Oh, I’ve a few thoughts. It would make a spectacular pendant.” 
She pictured it in her mind. “Yes. Yes it would.” And one could hardly blame her if she sounded a bit breathless. “Any thoughts as to who the recipient of this necklace might be?” 
He leaned down and kissed her again. “I thought I might give it to my wife on the occasion of the birth of our first child.” 
Wow. “I’m certain she would appreciate such a gift.” She said closing her clutch. She transferred it to her left hand, holding it so that the ring would be impossible to miss. 
He took her other hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm. “I don’t know. I hear she considers large stones vulgar.”
She pretended to consider the matter. “Perhaps you’ll be able to persuade her otherwise by the time this child makes an appearance.” 
“I’ll certainly make every effort to do so.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob, and smiled down at her. His eyes went briefly to the ring on her finger. “Are you ready?” 
I’m going to marry a prince. She took a deep breath and gave him a brilliant smile.“Yes,” she told him. “Yes, I am.”  
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tornadotori123 · 4 years
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Ring
Inktober : Prompt 1 is RING ~
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I can’t draw so I wrote a one-shot instead.
Kyo and Tohru from Fruits Basket. My babies <3</p>
The air was still, making the hot day even more sweltering. Kyo tapped his fingers against the wooden porch impatiently waiting for the time to pass. Sweat formed on his brow as he stared into the setting sun. Taking his dirty shirt, he wiped his forehead and sighed loudly.
“The one day she’s late. That ditz.” He huffed and stood up. He figured he could take another shower and be nice and clean for his and Tohru’s date. His pocket felt like it weighed twenty tons as he made his way upstairs. The velvet box felt weird as he turned it over and over in his palm. Multiple times today he questioned whether tonight was the night to ask Tohru. Over the past month he just couldn’t find the right time. They both had been rather busy with the move and settling in. On top that Tohru was homesick and had been calling Uo and Hanajima every night and Kyo didn’t have the heart to interrupt that. He gingerly set down the ring box underneath a clean pair of black jeans on the bathroom counter. The shower needed to be cold, he was sure of that. It was too humid and hot for a regular temperature shower.
As he ran shampoo through his hair, he heard the door open downstairs. His heart hammered in his chest. Please don’t come in here, he begged to the universe. Concentrating on getting the shampoo out of his hair, he skipped conditioner and scrubbed quickly with Tohru’s soap, he realized but too late. A soft knock at the bathroom made him jump out of skin.
“Kyo-kun, I need to get in there so please leave some hot water.” Tohru’s voice came through a crack in the bathroom door. She sounded tired.
“Lucky for you I didn’t use hot water.” Play it cool idiot, he told himself. Tohru’s giggle set his cold skin on fire. Her laugh made his world stop turning every time and he loved it. Then he realized in his haste he forgot to grab a towel. He hadn’t heard the door shut, “Tohru?”
“Mhm,” she answered. Kyo peeked out of the shower curtain. She was leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. Her dress laid at her feet and her brown hair stuck to her face from the sweat. Kyo felt his face heat up.
“C-could you please hand me a towel? I forgot to grab one.” He stuttered. Tohru opened her eyes and smiled at him.
“Of course, Kyo-kun.”
Did she not realize she was standing there in almost all her glory with him in there as well? They had seen glimpses of each other, they lived in the same house after all. They loved each other. But the way her black and white bra clung to her body and those panties had Kyo blushing like a mad man. Then he remembered the ring box. It was underneath his jeans but if she even moved them just a little, she would see it.
“Tohru, get in. I’ll get my towel.” Kyo wasn’t sure if that would help anything. Tohru hummed in agreement. Well that was easy. Kyo closed his eyes and stepped out of the shower, only assuming Tohru’s eyes were closed as well.
“You missed some soap Kyo-kun.” Tohru told him. That means, he opened his eyes and Tohru was staring and smiling at him. His Tohru was too shy for this. Right?
Kyo stumbled backwards slightly as Tohru reach and touched his chest.
“Maybe Kyo-kun could join me?” Kyo almost dropped to his knees right then. He couldn’t look at her in the eyes though. Her small hands outlining his biceps then across his chest.
“I’m dreaming.” Kyo mumbled to himself.
“No. You aren’t silly.” Tohru leaned against him and kissed his cheek. Kyo moved his head and brought his lips down to hers softly. His whole body felt like it was on fire. Anywhere she put her hands, his skin burned. He needed more. Sure, they had their make-out sessions and felt each other up occasionally. But something different was happening right now. He could hear Tohru’s breath hitch when he ran his lips over her collar bone and fumbled with her bra. Was she going to stop him? If she kept moaning like that he didn’t know if he could stop.
Tohru moved back against the bathroom sink pulling Kyo against her. As she kissed his neck, he suddenly remembered the ring underneath his jeans, which were precariously sliding closer to the edge of the sink. He grabbed her by the waist and picked her up. Swiftly he threw his jeans to the floor, careful that the box landed underneath them. He slowly placed her on the counter, taking in her soft creamy thighs.
“We have a dinner reservation Tohru,” Kyo breathed huskily against her ear.
“I’m not that hun—” her stomach growled just as she was protesting. Tohru pouted and Kyo took in her bottom lip with his mouth. His tongue slid over hers and they both groaned at the sensation shooting through their bodies. Kyo pulled away from Tohru’s mouth, even though he didn’t want to. He could see the fire that replaced her usual softness. They both wanted it. Kyo had to make the right steps first. He started talking himself down from cloud nine.
“Shower. Now.” Kyo demanded, running his hands along Tohru’s clothed breast. He felt her shudder underneath his hand. “You aren’t making this easy. We are already running late,” Kyo whispered in her ear.
“Okay Kyo-kun.” Tohru agreed quietly while running her hands over his shoulders. Kyo kissed the top of her forehead. “We have all the time in the world Tohru.” Kyo stepped back from her and held his hand out. He helped her down from the bathroom counter. “But not for this dinner reservation. We should’ve left thirty minutes ago.” Kyo winked at the blushing Tohru. He wrapped a towel around his waist and made sure to grab his clothes carefully. He heard Tohru slip into the shower and then she squealed.
“Its cold Kyo-kun!”
“I told you I didn’t use any hot water ditz.” He laughed and left the bathroom.
Dinner had gone off without a hitch. Except that Kyo was sweating bullets the whole time. Now the couple was walking back to their little home and he could hear his heart in his ears. Do it soon, he scolded himself. The stars were twinkling above them, and the moon was in the shape of a smile. Mocking him, he decided. Tohru was humming contently beside him and his anger subsided quickly.
“Tohru?” Kyo asked softly, grabbing her hand. Tohru stopped and looked at Kyo.
“Is something wrong Kyo-kun?” She asked turning around completely to face him. Her yellow sundress blew in the night wind. Those yellow ribbons she wore fluttered around her face. It was like a dream.  
“No nothing’s wrong. I-uhm…” Kyo didn’t know what to say. He could feel his face heating up. Tohru squeezed his hand and smiled sweetly at him.
“You can tell me Kyo-kun. I can wait all night if you need me to.”
Finally, he looked her in the eyes and grinned. She always knew the right things to say.
“I have something for you.” With his free hand he reached into his pocket. No turning back now, he told himself. Tohru’s eyes widening, frightened him at first. Then her tears started. He didn’t think he had done anything wrong but stopped getting down on his knee. “Tohru, are you alright? I’m sorry I shouldn’t have…” Kyo’s words started to jumble when he saw Tohru nodding her head vehemently.
“Oh, I’m sorry I interrupted.” She hiccuped and slid to her knees on the rocky road.
“Tohru Honda. I don’t know what was pulled up there to make us meet. But you really are the love of my life. The one person who loved me even though I was cursed. A monster. Please. Will you marry me? So, we can have all the time in the world together?” “O-of course Kyo-kun. Yes!” Tohru wrapped her arms around Kyo’s neck and cried into it.
“Tohru you’re supposed to let me put this on. Jeez woman.” Kyo laughed and wiped Tohru’s eyes. She shakily held her hand out to him. The ring slipped on easily. It shimmered in the falling moonlight.
“I love you Kyo-kun. We’ll be together forever.”
“I love you Tohru. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but thank the heavens because you are everything I’ve always wanted.” Kyo pulled Tohru close to his body and held her tightly.
“Kyo-kun isn’t allowed to cry. I just stopped,” Tohru whined and squeezed him tighter.
“You better not tell anyone I’m crying.” Kyo demanded and kissed her head. He did feel the tears slipping down his cheeks but only smiled wider.
He wished he could pause time. The woman he has loved for what feels like lifetimes will be his and only his forever. Their souls had probably have danced this dance before and he thanked the universe for twisting that red ribbon of fate between them. Their love was endless. Going on and on like the ring on his now fiancé’s tiny finger. The future was brighter the moment he laid eyes on her. Now he will never have to see another day without her beautiful smile. She was his favorite onigiri in the fruit basket. Kyo would always choose her and she would choose him even if no one else would.
“Now let’s get home Kyo-kun. We had something to finish.” Tohru grinned and kissed his lips quickly. She turned and started running for the house. Kyo laughed and started chasing after her. He easily gained on her. Grabbing her hand, the two ran up the mountain path, paving their way to eternal happiness. The moonlight was dancing in between their shadows and the summer breeze carried their laughter into the hills, up to the heavens, weaving in and out of the stars. The universe sighed happily, content with the pair of souls helping settle it just a little more in place.
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