#i would do inktober but also I Might Die

[azurityarts]

how is it october

[blessyourhondahurley]

The Return of Bruno

A family Die Hard-athon in the Dean Cave has to be postponed.

Suptober prompt: Fine Wine Flufftober prompt: Movie Marathon Fictober prompt: "Check that again, are you sure?" Inktober prompt: Trip

(Read on AO3)

The popcorn was popped, there was plenty of beer and soda on ice, and all three of the Bunker's couches had been wedged into the Dean Cave. They had everything they needed for their Die Hard movie marathon.

Except Die Hard.

Dean had deemed it crucial that they go “old school” on this, so he'd called ahead to the last active video rental store in Kansas and put all five movies in the series on hold. Cas had volunteered to make the three-hour round trip to pick up the tapes. Dean, Sam, and Jack had stayed behind to set up their new ultra large screen TV, figure out how to hook up an ancient VCR to it, and then jigsaw the furniture in around it.

By the time Cas had returned with a big plastic VIDEO VANGUARD bag, everyone was ready to start the show.

Dean dumped out the bag and started sorting the tapes into order.

“Lessee here, Die Hard with a Vengeance, that's the middle one. Live Free or Die Hard, number four. Die Hard 2, uh-huh. A Good Day to Die Hard – the triumphant conclusion of the pentalogy. Which means this one is... Blind Date?!? Dude, what the hell, didn't you check the tapes before you left the store?”

He thrust the unwanted video in Cas's face and pitched his voice low and rough in a broad, sarcastic impression of the former angel. “'Hello mister video man, I am here to pick up my incredibly important special order. Oh, they're already in this bag? All five movies are in there? Can you check that again, are you sure?' You seriously didn't think to double check, Cas?”

Cas glared at him. Making an obvious effort to keep his tone civil, he replied “No, Dean, I did not stay to interrogate the clerk at the video store. You told me before I left that I needed to hurry because everyone was waiting for me. I took the bag I was handed and I drove straight back.” He accepted the tape that Dean was shoving towards him and peered at the front cover. “By the looks of it, this movie also stars Bruce Willis. Is it not an acceptable substitute?”

Dean gaped at him. “Acceptable substi–!! A chick flick?!? No way, man, we can't have a Die Hard marathon without Die Hard! Sam, back me up on this!”

Sam shook his head. “Dean's not wrong. We kind of need to have the first one to start things off right. And since there's no way we're watching that piece of crap instead, I'm gonna make this an early night and go read in my room.”

Jack piped up, “Couldn't we just str–” but Dean cut him off with a warning look.

“Hey! We're not streaming anything! When we run this marathon, all five films will be presented as John McClane would want them to be shown: in gritty low-fi! With tape noise, and tracking errors, and shitty sound!! And you!!” He whirled to face his brother, finger pointing between his eyes. “What do you think you're calling a piece of crap?! Blind Date is Bruce's first credited lead role! Maybe his movies haven't all aged like fine wine, but his early work still stands up! Everybody sit your asses down, we're watching this!!”

By now, they were all used to the way Dean could flip his opinion on a dime whenever someone dared to insult one of his many guilty pleasures, so this about-face didn't come as much of a surprise. Sam was not in the mood to indulge him on this one, though.

“Ehh, whatever,” he said dismissively. “If we're not doing the marathon tonight, I'm out. Tomorrow one of us can make the drive and swap the tape. 'Night, guys.”

Dean made a derisive sound at his brother's retreating back, then turned to their son with a hopeful grin. “Jack, you're still up for it, right?”

Jack was visibly hesitant to reply. “Umm, actually, if it's okay with you, I'd rather not. I don't like movies with a lot of kissing.”

Cas cleared his throat from the couch to Dean's left. “The description on the case suggests that this movie might be a little adult for Jack. Perhaps we can postpone family movie night altogether until the correct tape can be acquired.”

Jack seemed to take that as permission to leave, grabbing a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of soda on his way out the door.

“And then there were two,” Dean intoned with a sigh and a quirk of his mouth.

“Indeed,” Cas agreed with a smile. “The perfect number for a romantic comedy.” He patted the cushion next to him on the couch. “Join me?”

Dean popped the tape into the VCR and cuddled up to his boyfriend. As the anti-piracy ad played, a thought occurred to him. “Baby, did you pick up the wrong tape on purpose?”

“I swear I didn't, love. The video store truly did make an error. But I can't say I'm mad about it. Are you?”

“Nah,” Dean muttered, wrapping one hand around his boyfriend's and digging into his popcorn with the other.

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #3: Bulky

The entity scowled, tapping his (its? Their?) foot impatiently. “I told you, you get to bring one thing.”

Sara smiled brightly at him. “This is one thing. My garden.”

Ganymede looked down at her, his expression even more supercilious than usual. “Do you honestly think I’m going to allow an entire garden as one thing?”

Sara sat down on the tree stump. Part of her still couldn’t believe she’d lost the house, that all of this – the tree stump her father had cut down to prevent the wind from knocking it onto the house, the tire swing he’d put up for her, Mom’s rose trellises all around the house and the herb patch she’d had Sara weeding and tending from the age of 5, the screened-in porch, the attic bedroom – all would be gone in a matter of weeks. The bank would take it, and sell it to someone who would probably destroy everything her parents had built to make the place special and unique, and she would never see any of this ever again.

She’d thought Ganymede’s offer would allow her to take at least a part of her home with her, but he was balking.

“When you think about it, can we describe anything as just one thing?” she asked. “Everything we have is made of molecules, which are made of atoms, which are made of quarks. We’re all a multiplicity. We all have legions contained within us. So how is a garden not ‘one thing’ but, say, if I wanted to bring a bicycle, that would be ‘one thing’ even though it’s made of so many things?”

Ganymede’s expression went from deeply irritated to reluctantly amused, and he chuckled. “A nice argument, but no. Your garden’s too bulky. It can neither transport you, nor can it be carried around with you.”

“You never said there was a weight limit.”

“It’s not a weight limit. If you wanted to bring a car, you could. I don’t advise it, but you could.”

“Are any of the others bringing a car?” Sara asked.

Now Ganymede laughed. “Tsk, tsk. I told you I wouldn’t tell you anything about what the others are choosing.”

Ganymede – who appeared to be a tall, slender man with pale skin and curly green hair, like he was some kind of comic book character, and who claimed to be a very bored alien with godlike powers who was taking human form so that he could interact with Sara – had showed up at the café Sara waitressed at, three weeks ago, and was apparently very impressed with Sara’s ability to put up with entitled idiots and even get them to calm down and do what they were supposed to do. He’d ordered cherry pie and asked her if she’d ever wanted to travel into the past, and when Sara had pointed out that in the past, she would have had her rights severely curtailed because she was a woman, he’d asked, what if she could bring one thing from this time, one thing in her possession?

Sara’s master’s degree in the history of plant cultivation in Europe and how it impacted society had never done her a damn bit of good. It had resulted in crushing student loans that a job as a waitress couldn’t keep up with and still pay the mortgage her parents had left to her when they’d died in a car accident, and it hadn’t resulted in a good-paying job in academia like she’d expected when she started college. She was about to lose her parents’ home, the only place she’d ever considered home in her life. And before her boyfriend had dumped her last month, he’d turned most of their friends against her with lies and distortions.

Sara didn’t want to die, but she had lately been seriously reconsidering how badly she actually wanted to live.

So she’d agreed to Ganymede’s offer. Go back to the pre-Renaissance medieval era – or something very much like it – with one thing brought from the future. He’d explained that she wouldn’t actually be going to her own world’s past, so she couldn’t create a paradox by changing the future – she could freely do whatever she wanted without worrying about making her grandparents never born or something. He’d also told her that he was making the same offer to several other people, but that she wouldn’t necessarily get to meet them unless they happened to run into each other by chance in the past-world. And she had a month to get the thing she wanted to bring to the past.

Sara had spent the last three weeks digging up her garden and potting everything in ceramic pots, figuring ceramic wouldn’t be an issue in the past like plastic would be. Sadly, she’d had to abandon the apple trees, the peach tree and the grapevines – she couldn’t exactly dig out trees and pot them – but she’d gotten everything else. The potatoes had been a challenge – exposing potatoes to light while they were growing would make them inedible, so she’d had to dig them out on a cloudy night with no moon, more or less digging by feel instead of sight. Carrots, potatoes and onions had needed very large, deep pots. She’d wound her zucchini around a tomato cage in the large pot she’d put it in. The small fruit bushes – the blueberry bush, the raspberry bush – were already in pots. She had her peppers, her tomatoes, her tiny soybean bush, her arugula.

And now, after she’d done so much work to pot everything, Ganymede was telling her she couldn’t bring it?

“Look, if I had a caravan wagon and a horse, I could definitely carry all of this.”

“But you can’t bring a caravan wagon and a horse back with you.”

“No, but I could get one there.”

Ganymede chuckled. “You think I’m sending you with money? You get period-acceptable clothes, the ability to speak the language, immunity to all the local diseases, and the thing that you bring with you, and that’s it. If you appear in the middle of a field, or a town square, surrounded by potted plants, how are you going to bring them with you to whatever shelter you need to take?”

“They’re plants. If I have to leave them out in a field for a few days while I carry them all to wherever I end up going, nothing bad’s going to happen to them.”

“And what if you appear in the middle of the town square?”

“Then I prevail upon some good gentlemen to help me move them someplace safe.”

A deep sigh escaped Ganymede. “I’m almost tempted to let you. Just to let you find out first hand how much your plans are not likely to work. But no. An entire garden is too bulky, and I’m quite certain that most humans would define a garden as a collection of things, not one thing.”

“Come on! I did a lot of work to put all these plants into pots! Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Sadly, no.” Ganymede walked around the garden of pots, randomly touching most of the plants. “You did do quite a lot of work. I tell you what, I feel bad for you. Pick something else to bring and I’ll make sure all your plants get donated to people who like to grow things and are good at it.”

“And aren’t racists,” Sara insisted.

“It’s interesting that that matters to you; aren’t you part of the dominant ethnic group in this nation? Racism doesn’t affect you, generally speaking.”

It was true that Sara was white, and therefore, racism rarely directly affected her, but she had an answer for that. “Racist people in this country have been brainwashed into believing that climate change is a hoax, that gay and transgender people are some kind of terrible threat, and that it’s more important to make sure the government doesn’t tax rich people than to put any accountability on big corporations. Everything bad that we can’t get solved in this country and we can’t even begin to start solving it, because people won’t let us… it’s because rich people have figured out how to use racism to brainwash white people into voting against their own interests.”

“Oh, I understand.” Ganymede grinned broadly. “You’re a hippie, aren’t you?”

“Uh… not really? That was sort of my parents’ generation? I think of myself more as solarpunk. But if what you’re trying to get at is that I’m someone who cares about the environment and wants people to be happy and healthy and to care about each other, then yeah.”

“All right, very well. I’ll hand them over to people whose political beliefs generally track with yours, who are good with plants, and who have space to grow them. Now, pick something else.”

“A big sack that I can carry on my back, maybe 50 pounds, and I get to fill it with seeds and bulbs and anything else plant-related that I can fit in the sack.”

Ganymede raised his eyebrows. “You’re really dedicated to this bit, aren’t you?”

“I know how to use plants to change history. I don’t know how to change history with anything else – not in a way I might want to. I mean, I could bring a gun, but after I was out of ammo, what good would it do me? And also, I don’t like guns.”

“All right,” Ganymede said. “I’ll allow it. As long as you can carry the sack on your person, you can stuff as many seeds into it as you want.”

Sara smiled at him with her best customer service smile. “Thank you, I really appreciate that.”

“One more week,” he said, and vanished.

One more week and she’d leave all this behind. One more week and she wouldn’t have to worry about the foreclosure and impending eviction anymore, because she’d be in a whole other world.

[a-lonely-goldfish]

God Learns Ships

(No beta, we die like real men)

"Carlson!" The room was quite so perfectly quite before the literal embodiment of unstoppable power came in the room. Carlson never quit understood God. God had all control, power, and knowledge at the tips of his fingers yet he was a totally dumb ass. It kind of made sense how god was a totally dumb ass, for better content.

"Carlson are you even listening?" God winded once again computer in hand. Being snapped out of Carlson's inner dialog he looked up from his work, it was less work and more of tutoring humans until something interest happened. "what is it?"

"Not even a hello? Someone's moody have you been hanging out with Lucy? Anyways do you know what a ship is?"

"that was way to many questions, slow down". This was another thing he didn't quit understand about God at first. You would think God would command respect, be the type of person who could get what they want with a glance. But if anyone was picking it up by now god was not that at all. Who ever wrote the bible sucked at their job.

"first of all, i don't care. Secondly I haven't seeing that theirs no breaks from work in heaven. And I thought you remembered what a ship was, you were the one who made them to carry diseasea ."

"No no no, I'm pretty sure that's not what it means" God puzzled shoving the computer in Carlson's face. On the screen there was some type of sharing site. Some place where one can share content and ideas seeing at the top of the screen there was a user name and icon. The icon was of some green figure with a blob on top of it, oh wait that's Shrek with Danny Davito throwing in back on him.

"how did you get a computer?"

"I'm God"

Oh right

He looked at the computer again. There user seemed to of posted some ligature. It seemed like it was meant for simple intellect. At the end of the post there was art of two humans holding hands while looking into the sun.

The post didn't make much sense. At the top it read "I made some art of InkTober!!?!?? Uwu. I tried very hard :))) today's prompt was favorite ship and hand holding! So i did insufferable husband's! owo" Then there was the fan art of what was the "insufferable husband's". The name sounded like a comedy special on free form from some single women about her cats. Under the text its self was the art.

Carlson could now see why it was confusing. What's this site? What's InkTober? Is it a knew cult? Who are these insufferable husband's? Who wed them? What was a ship? Why was it called that? why do humans hold hands? whats an Uwu, actually its probably something cursed”

"any ways this human was talking about a ship, but not the disease kind. Just look at it"

"I have since you shoved it in my fac-"

"Okay Jesus I get it". And on que "yes Father?". "Can't you see were doing something here? why do you always have to come when somethings important". You would think after God saying Jesus so many times he would learn not to say it since it summoned "the biggest disappointment ever".God could do many things, but having parenting skills was not one. Poor Jesus. Carlson probably taught and supported him more then God did in the short time he knew him.

"Wait he might know something. Jesus do you know what this is?" Carlson gestured to the computer.

"the people? No I do not know them. Are you doing the thing again we're you make everyone I know try and murder me.

"No you fool I mean what a ship is. Like in this context." God became more agitated by the second

"oh I don't know how to read you disabled me from reading because you didn't want me to interact with people so i would become an outcast to society"

"ughhh you're so annoying" with a snap of Gods fingers Jesus could read again.

After scanning the post for a minute Jesus figured out the jigsaw puzzle. "I believe they mean ship as in relationship, and the husbands are the ship."

"and InkTober?" Carlson was amazed how he didn't realize that sooner, but ashamed of him self for being on the same brain cell as God.

"Oh it seems like a type of festive tradition"

"Carlson write that down, I want a holiday after me were people just draw me"

"its not like people do that already, by the way thanks Jesus" Carlson was probably the only one who dare thank Jesus in Gods presents.

"okay now scram, you're upsetting my vibe by just being here". Just like that, Jesus was gone.

"oh so god why were you looking that up?"

"oh well because apparently someone shipped us"

"wait what-". Then it happened. God pressed the back button to show smutty smutty fanart of Carlson and God on the same cursed sight. How and why where running through Carlson's head. Why him? Why can't the world spare him. He knew he needed to put his eyes in bleach ASAP.

Carlson tried to move his head in an attempt to not take in anything else, but it was to late. His brain already memorized everything in exact detail to haunt him for life. The art itself was him, Carlson was sinning in sin with sin. sin with more sin under sin. AND THEIR WAS GOD SINNING. 

Carlson was actually going to throw up.

“HOLY SHIT WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, JESUS”

 On que “You needed me Carlson-”

“LOOK AWAY BEFORE ITS TO LATE”

Hope you enjoyed, dont forget to subscribe to Gods Mad Lab of TIkToK

(also i believe this is the community's first fanfic as of may 21 2020)

[bloody-bee-tea]

Inktober for Writers 2019 Day 29

Injured - Life/Death

I really have a thing for Xicheng in a modern setting. It’s gonna be a problem. This is over 2.1k, so there’s a read more.

“Are you out to meet Xichen-ge?” Wei Wuxian asks and Jiang Cheng bristles with the familiarity that name implies.

“Yes,” he presses out and Wei Wuxian laughs, high and loud on the other end of the line.

“No need to be jealous, you know Lan Zhan is the only one for me,” he teases, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

Wei Wuxian knows him well enough to know that he’s doing it, even if he can’t see him.

“I’m not jealous,” he gives back, because one, he knows Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian only have eyes for each other and two, there isn’t even anything to be jealous about.

He and Lan Xichen are friends. That’s it.

“Sure, sure,” Wei Wuxian says, and Jiang Cheng wishes he could reach through the phone and strangle him.

“We’re friends,” Jiang Cheng stresses, and he might hate that word more than he admits, even to himself sometimes.

He should count himself lucky to be called Lan Xichen’s friend. Lan Xichen is the CEO of his families’ company and one of the most influential and important businessmen in their country.

There aren’t a lot of people who can say that they are Lan Xichen’s friends.

“Of course you are,” Wei Wuxian says on the other end of the line and Jiang Cheng can hear how much he doesn’t believe him.

“I have to go now,” Jiang Cheng ends the conversation rather rudely and simply hangs up on Wei Wuxian.

Immediately his text alerts start blowing up and he puts the phone away with a deep sigh. He only slightly perks up when he reaches the café he’s supposed to be meeting Lan Xichen at and finds him already waiting at their usual table.

Jiang Cheng tells his treacherous heart to quit beating so fast, no matter how often they meet here, it will never be a date.

Lan Xichen surely has better prospects in his life than Jiang Cheng.

Just friends is enough, he reminds himself. It’s hard to believe, even for himself, when Lan Xichen visibly brightens when he sees Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Cheng,” he greets him with more enthusiasm than a mere meeting between friends maybe warrants and Jiang Cheng drops into the chair opposite of Lan Xichen.

“Hi,” Jiang Cheng says and then scolds himself mentally when he tacks on a ‘Xichen-ge’ in the privacy of his head.

He is being ridiculous.

“Wei Wuxian?” Lan Xichen wants to know, because he knows Jiang Cheng well enough by now to identify a headache brought on by his brother.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng says with vehemence, making it clear that he does not want to talk about it.

He grimaces in apology right after, because there is really no reason to snap at Lan Xichen like this, but Lan Xichen waves him off.

“No need to apologize, I’m pretty sure I gave Wangji very similar headaches in the past.”

Jiang Cheng doubts that, actually, because not only is Lan Xichen the most gentle person he knows, he’s also nothing like Wei Wuxian.

No one can be as annoying as Wei Wuxian.

He conveys his disbelief with a raised eyebrow and Lan Xichen laughs.

Jiang Cheng feels himself warm up at that sound and he has to lower his gaze because looking at Lan Xichen while he laughs is almost too much.

“How is business?” Jiang Cheng asks once he deems it safe to look at Lan Xichen again, only to see his face contort in displeasure.

“Let’s not talk about it. Tell me about Jin Ling. I heard he got himself into trouble again?”

It’s enough to kickstart an entire rant from Jiang Cheng, because Jin Ling had indeed gotten into trouble again, and even though Jiang Cheng had to punish him for his own stupidity, he was also immensely pleased that Jin Ling had come to him in the first place.

Not that he would ever admit that.

“I told you again and again that the boy loves you,” Lan Xichen tells him when Jiang Cheng is done and Jiang Cheng can feel his cheeks go hot.

He wonders when Lan Xichen learned to read him so well.

“He likes me well enough, I guess,” Jiang Cheng admits, trying not to sound too bitter, because of course the boy adores Wei Wuxian and thinks he hung the sun and moon.

“He trusts you. He might see Wei Wuxian as a playmate,” Lan Xichen says with a teasing smile, “but he knows you’re the one to come to when there’s trouble and he needs help. That is so much more important.”

Jiang Cheng takes a minute to think that over and then nods. Maybe Lan Xichen is right.

“What’s his punishment?”

“Fairy stays with me for a week. Jin Ling seems to be unable to take care of himself, I doubt he can take care of the dog.”

“Fairy is with you?” Lan Xichen asks, and he sounds positively delighted.

“Yes. For now,” he amends, because he knows he’ll give her back to Jin Ling sooner or later.

The kid loves the dog too much for Jiang Cheng to truly separate them.

“And you didn’t bring her?”

“I wasn’t sure—,” Jiang Cheng trails off because he’s not used to the fact that the dog might be welcome.

Wei Wuxian screams every time he so much as catches a glimpse of her, Lan Wangji hates the dog because Wei Wuxian is afraid of it, and Nie Huaisang doesn’t care for dogs at all.

“Can we go for a walk with her? I like Wangji’s rabbits, but they are just so small and delicate,” Lan Xichen tells him, and he seems so eager, Jiang Cheng can hardly say no.

Not that he wants to.

“Sure, she’s due for her walk soon anyway.”

“Perfect,” Lan Xichen replies, and Jiang Cheng somehow expects him to clap his hands together like an excited kid.

They are already almost at Jiang Cheng’s apartment when Lan Xichen bumps their shoulder’s together.

“I really enjoy our time together,” Lan Xichen tells him, and Jiang Cheng’s heart misses a beat, or maybe five.

“I do, too,” he mumbles to the ground, since he’s pretty sure all of his most likely unwanted feelings are going to tumble right out of his mouth if he even so much as glances at Lan Xichen right now.

“Jiang Cheng, actually I meant to ask you something,” Lan Xichen starts, and Jiang Cheng can hear the uncertainty in his voice and it’s enough to bring his gaze back up.

It’s the only reason he sees the man with the gun behind Lan Xichen.

He doesn’t think; can’t think because Lan Xichen’s life depends on him not thinking as he pushes Lan Xichen to the side just as the gunshot rings out.

He has enough time to hope that Lan Xichen will be quick enough to run away before a pain so blinding erupts in his chest he almost immediately loses consciousness.

~*~*~

The first thing Jiang Cheng notices when he wakes up is the pain in his chest. He groans before he blindly grabs for his chest, trying to figure out just what the hell he did to be in this amount of pain.

“Please don’t,” a voice suddenly says and carefully grabs his hand, pulling it away from his chest.

“What?” Jiang Cheng groans out and finally makes the effort to pry his eyes open.

It’s harder than it should be.

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen says, and for a split second Jiang Cheng wonders if he is still asleep.

Why else would Lan Xichen sit by his bedside and look all disheveled and like he didn’t sleep in a few days.

“What happened?” he croaks and is shocked to see Lan Xichen’s eyes go teary even as he holds out a cup of water for Jiang Cheng to carefully sip from.

“Couldn’t you just have confessed your feelings like a normal person? Was this really necessary?”

Jiang Cheng has no clue what the hell Lan Xichen is even talking about when it all comes back to him in a rush. Their walk back to his home, Lan Xichen meaning to ask something and then the man with the gun.

“Are you—?” he means to ask but Lan Xichen immediately shakes his head.

“I’m fine, nothing happened to me,” he reassures him and Jiang Cheng melts back into the pillows.

“Did you get him?”

“We did,” Lan Xichen tells him and squeezes his hand. “Never do something like this again.”

“He was going to shoot you,” Jiang Cheng argues but goes silent when Lan Xichen bows his head and presses his forehead to Jiang Cheng’s hand still in his grasp.

“And instead he shot you,” Lan Xichen says and Jiang Cheng is startled when he hears the desperation in Lan Xichen’s voice.

When he looks back up his eyes are still wet.

“It’s been two weeks, Jiang Cheng. Two weeks, and for the first few days they couldn’t even tell me if you would live or die,” Lan Xichen says.

Jiang Cheng is speechless, because it doesn’t feel like two weeks to him. It also doesn’t feel like it was a life or death situation.

“Never do something like this again,” Lan Xichen says again and this time he presses his lips to Jiang Cheng’s hand. “I’m not ready to lose you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not ready to lose you either,” Jiang Cheng snaps back and then takes a shallow breath when his chest reminds him that he has just been shot. “You didn’t even see him. He could have killed you then and there.”

“He almost killed you,” Lan Xichen lowly gives back and Jiang Cheng can hardly stand to see him that sad or scared.

“Almost, okay? I’m not dead,” he reminds him.

“Let’s keep it that way, okay?” Lan Xichen asks and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at him.

“If you don’t make any more enemies. Who was he, anyway?”

“Su She. I fired him a few weeks back because he sold company secrets to Jin Guangshan and even though I didn’t get the police involved, I guess he has been holding a grudge ever since.”

“Well, I hope he gets what he deserves,” Jiang Cheng mutters and carefully prods at his chest with his free hand.

“Stop that,” Lan Xichen reprimands him and gently slaps his hand away. “It’s still healing.”

“Do things like this happen a lot to you?” Jiang Cheng wants to know, and he curses lowly when Lan Xichen’s face falls at that and he releases his hand.

“I’m sorry I put you into danger,” Lan Xichen tells him without meeting his eyes and gets up. “I’ll make sure it will never happen again.”

He turns around, no doubt to leave, and Jiang Cheng can’t let that happen. He still didn’t get to confess his feelings properly!

“Don’t leave,” Jiang Cheng calls after him and beckons him to come closer when he turns around.

Lan Xichen hesitates for the longest moment before he finally comes back to Jiang Cheng’s bedside.

“I never learned to express my feelings properly,” Jiang Cheng starts and gives an indignant yelp when Lan Xichen has the audacity to laugh at that. “What?”

“Except anger and irritation,” Lan Xichen tells him, but he is still smiling, and Jiang Cheng can’t even be mad at him.

“Except that, maybe,” he agrees and then takes a deep breath before he goes on. “But what I meant to say is that maybe this is all the confession you’ll get from me for now. I’ll work on actually saying it, eventually, but I—you know.”

He can’t quite bear to meet Lan Xichen’s eyes and so he’s startled when Lan Xichen leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I know. But I’m not quite at a loss for words, so. Jiang Cheng. I really, really like you. Would you please stop doing stupid shit until I get the chance to take you on at least one date?”

Jiang Cheng is too surprised to hear Lan Xichen swear to protest the implication that this was somehow his fault, so instead he just nods dumbly.

“I—you know—yeah. Same,” Jiang Cheng stammers out and he can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed when Lan Xichen laughs at that.

“Please never change,” he says once he calmed down and he cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek in his hand.

Jiang Cheng wonders if his sudden breathing problem is due to the gunshot wound or if maybe Lan Xichen just has that effect on him.

“I’ll try,” Jiang Cheng promises and Lan Xichen chuckles at that.

Jiang Cheng can’t wait to find out what his happiness tastes like.

[sorin-sunchild]

Inktober/Writetober 2020 part 3

Story continuing from part 2 here.  Prompts 13-18: Dune, Armor, Outpost, Rocket, Storm, Trap. The koi didn’t move for a few moments after Allister asked his question. Then it seemed to look down at it’s former human body in contemplation before swimming at Allister with such speed that the boy could not step aside.

His vision fogged over, blinded by the spirit. Then came the sensation of floating upwards and his body felt rigid and stiff. The sensation was not pleasant and for a few panicked moments he wondered if this had been the spirits plan. Maybe it had never cared about it’s body being found, or about the Cursed Spirit being dispelled. Maybe all it had wanted was Allister’s body. Trapped...trapped... But then the blindness cleared and he floating in the air above the bridge. It was daytime, but the quality of the light and atmosphere seemed strange, dreamlike. Allister sank softly to the bridge but didn’t truly feel like he was touching it, even when though he could see his feet standing on the wooden boards. Something tapped him softly on the shoulder and the child turned around with a startled jump. Like a rocket with a lit fuse, he found himself floating up again with the force of his jump and then settling back down like snowflake blown up by a gust. The child who had tapped him giggled and waited for him to come back. They gave him a large smile and Allister knew instinctively that this was the child he had found dead. The one whose spirit had taken the form of a koi fish. “My name was Dune. My family and I were travellers.” They told him. “It was the Rat which killed me, one day when I was walking. You must think I was very silly being all alone...” They looked to have been about half of Allister age, but even so, the boy shook his head. “No, it’s not silly. That’s what I was doing. I felt that there were spirits in these woods, so I came alone with no protections. I might also have run into the rat and if not for the dagger you led me to and your help, I would have...” “I didn’t lead you to a dagger. And besides, you would have been fine.” Dune replied. “What do you mean?” Allister knew he could sense and talk to spirits, but he’d never had a fight with one before.  “Because of your powers. It’s natural Armor against the touch of spirits, even those with the ability to touch humans. That’s probably what manifested a weapon for you too...wait, didn’t you know?” Dune laughed again. Allister didn’t find this funny. “You have no idea how strong you are, do you? I could feel your energy pushing itself through the radio. It allowed me to manifest and come to find you. Before that I was trapped in the space under the bridge. You might be the very last Outpost for defence against malevolent spirts and you didn’t even know!” They laughed again. Allister’s face felt hot with embarrassment. “I have been trying to learn about what I can do...” Dune stopped laughing. “I’m sorry, you’re right...I shouldn’t just assume you’d know everything. Um...I guess I wanted to thank you for stopping the rat getting me and to ask you to tell my people where I am? I didn’t die all that long ago, they should still be pitched up on the Oldham Farm abandoned fields. Do you know where that is?” “I do, and I will!” Allister was so concerned for this spirit, he’d forgotten his plan to be home for a certain time, as he’d told his mother in a carefully written letter left on the kitchen table.  Dune smiled and walked forward into Allister’s body. When the light cleared, Allister’s body was immediately drenched in rain and thrown over into the grass by powerful winds. Before he went anywhere, he needed to get out of this storm.

[shreddedleopard]

Inktober - Day 1: ‘A Captain’s Promise’

PROMPT - Ring

Okay so, here goes nothing. Inktober day one - a scene from AQR universe between Levi and Historia.

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Levi watched with amusement as Historia’s feet carried her slowly about his room. The neat bump at her abdomen seemed to have come out of nowhere, and it surprised him how quickly she’d begun to show - perhaps it had something to do with the smallness of her stature and frame. She carried it beautifully, though, and it made his heart swell with a pride he never thought himself capable of. “What is your fascination with my stuff?” He mumbled at her from his comfortable recline in his worn, red armchair. It wasn’t often Historia managed to sneak into his place for their secret evenings together - more often than not, it was easier for him to steal up to her quarters using 3DMG, or meet her at the Orphanage. But this night was different. “I can’t help it,” she threw back with a grin. “It still amazes me that I’m in The Captain Levi’s room, touching his personal belongings.” She turned back to where she was stood near his desk, picking up his stationary and examining it all one by one. “This is a lovely pen. Did you buy this yourself?” He rolled his eyes at the realisation that she was probably going to do this with every damn item in the entirety of his quarters. All he really wanted to do was pull her back on to his knee; wrap his arms around her like the stupid soft shit she’d made him. But he didn’t. He humoured her, because the smile on her face was a bit too beautiful to resist. “No. That one was a gift from Erwin. I ...” he fumbled for a moment, not really wanting to admit to her the story behind it, but also unable to deny the truth of it from her curiously wide, azure eyes. He sighed, resigning himself to his answer. “When I first came here, from the underground, my reading and writing wasn’t especially good. Don’t get me wrong - it was a lot fucking better than most of the poor bastards down there, but that’s not saying much. Never really bothered me; I was hardly writing love letters to titans before I disposed of them, was I?” His fingers reached to his throat to straighten his cravat, but then he realised it wasn’t there; he was in his casual shirt and pants after sharing a bath with her. His fingers curled awkwardly on the empty air as his hand lowered. “Then Erwin decided to make me Captain. It wasn’t a promotion I especially wanted, to be honest, but when he explained to me what it entailed, it made sense for me to take it to support him. The only fucker was, it involved a lot more paperwork than I’d been exposed to in the past. Almost made me back out of the whole thing altogether, to be honest.” He felt her gaze intensely; almost as though it were boring into his skin. 

“That would have been a huge loss for the Survey Corps.” He shifted uncomfortably with a small ‘tch.’ “What changed your mind?” He grimaced, hoping that she wouldn’t think of repeating this to anyone. Especially not the person it was regarding. “Honestly? Hange did. Stupid Shitty Glasses went on and on about how she could get me up to speed with my literacy skills in no time; I hadn’t even told the cheeky shit that’s why I wasn’t taking the promotion. But she fucking knew, of course; like she always does. Anyway, in the end, I agreed just to shut her up. And, quite clearly, she was true to her word. Although fuck me, is her handwriting atrocious. Good job she’s a half decent teacher. Anyway, Erwin gave me that as a gift when Hange told him I’d re-thought my decision. Four Eyes has a matching one. If I’d have known then just how much shitty paperwork there was involved, I’d have thrown it at his stupid thick head.” He met her eyes finally, and found her smile had spread right up into her cheeks, creating little dimples. “What?” She shook her head. “Just you. Commander Hange is a saint.” He spluttered, incredulous. “She’s a saint?” “Yes.”

Damn his Queen and Commander for becoming so pally lately. She turned back to his desk, and her fingers swept over the draw handles. His heart lurched uncomfortably as his mind shifted to the mahogany box containing the little squares of fabric emblazoned with the wings of freedom that resided in his bottom draw. It wasn’t the fact that he’d have minded her finding them; more the fact that their evening had been so sweet so far, and the idea of it turning to darker topics dismayed him. Thankfully, they settled on the top drawer instead. She pulled it open slowly, peering inside unashamedly. “You’re such a nosy shit, you know?” “Just checking there aren’t any secret love letters in here, now you’re adept at writing.” He cocked a brow at her. “You’ve seen the extent of my penmanship in that department.” He left the chair, moving to stand behind her, a palm coming to rest atop her protruding abdomen. “I’m better with actions.” She twisted to look at him, and shit, if those eyes couldn’t draw the right words from him then he knew absolutely no fucker could. He lifted a hand to her chin, tipping her lips up gently to meet his in a soft kiss. “Mm-hm,” Historia murmured against his mouth in agreement. He couldn’t help smiling a little into their kiss. No one made him smile like she did, stubborn brat that she was. She withdrew from him after a moment, her attention turning back to his drawer. “Hey - who said I was done?” He cocked a brow at her. “Me,” she fired back at him without looking, her hand reaching into his drawer. “Fair enough.” He rolled his eyes again. How could he argue with that? Her fingers reappeared, and wrapped around them was a medal on a bolo tie. The medal she’d placed around his neck after Shiganshina. “Huh ...” she whispered. “I’d almost forgotten ...” Levi frowned at the medal. “Feels like another lifetime, you giving me that.” He felt her lean into him, her head resting against his shoulder as she turned the item over in her hands. “I wished I could have been there. Fighting beside you all.” The thought made his heart constrict uncomfortably. “I’m glad you weren’t.” She turned back to him properly then, her face suddenly twisted with an emotion Levi was unsure of. She seemed to search his eyes. “The thought of you going back ... to something like that ... I ...” He knew what she was trying to say. He felt it too; the idea of them being apart - him having to leave her for a battle he may not return from. But no matter how much he felt what she did, he couldn’t reassure her. Couldn’t promise her that there wouldn’t be another battle like Shiganshina, or worse. And he most certainly couldn’t promise her he wouldn’t be there, fighting beside his comrades as always. “I know.” He curled his fingers around hers, pressing the medal to her palm. His eyes closed, and he inhaled, merely revelling in the feel of them being there, together. All three of them. He wondered how many of these moments they might all be allowed, in the future. Best not to ask himself those questions. Fuck; if things were different ... if they were in a different situation, a different time ... But they weren’t. He opened his eyes, and brought their clasped hands up between their faces. “Listen, Historia. I’m going to be honest with you here; I can’t offer you what most men could - I told you this from the start. No cozy home, no stable lifestyle, no reassurances, no fucking gold ring.” He grit his teeth between the words. “But if I could ...” No. No use talking like that. She lifted a pale, dainty hand to cup his cheek, and right there and then he hated himself. Hated himself for stealing the heart of this pure, young girl that he didn’t deserve. Robbing her of the life she should have, with a better man. “I don’t want all that, “ she whispered, thumb stroking his cheekbone. “I want you. This. Us.” He stared into her sweet face for a moment, before pulling her roughly into his embrace. Damnit. He didn’t deserve her, but he couldn’t help himself greedily clinging to her with every fibre of his being. When he stood back, he unwound the bolo from her grasp, and pulled the strings taut together until the loop was tiny. Small enough for a finger. He clutched at her left hand, lifting it to his face as though inspecting it. Left was the hand for your ring finger, right? He took a long, deep breath, wondering if he was actually going to make an idiot of himself and actually do this. Fuck it. He knelt down awkwardly before her, and his mind was suddenly cast back to the day she placed the medal around his neck. Back when they were nothing more than comrades; acquaintances; Captain and Queen. He refused to let his eyes part from hers, crowned by crinkled brows as she gaped at him. “What are you ...” “I can’t give you a ring or any of that shit, Historia. But what I can give you is my life.” His fingers pulled the loop of the bolo tie gently over her ring finger, and he adjusted it so that the little medal was facing upwards, Wings of Freedom glinting symbolically up at them. “Levi-“ “Let me finish,” he cut across her, willing the stupid fucking blush he could feel at his shirt collar to stay put and not rise to paint his features. “I promise you, and our child, that I will serve and protect you both until the day I die. No matter what, I will fight for you; anything you ask of me, I will give you - my blades belong to you.” It sounded a lot less cheesy in his head. He averted his eyes finally, waiting for her to laugh at him, or tell him to get a life. But neither of those things happened. Instead, Levi saw a wet, glistening globe smatter on the floor before him. He looked up to find her face streaked with tears. Rising swiftly, he pulled her to him again. She fit so snugly under his chin - it was as though she’d been crafted especially for him. The little ray of fucking sunshine to his gloomy cloud. And here he was robbing her jovial light again. He rubbed her back as he felt her breath hot and hurried against his neck. “Shit; sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I didn’t want to upset you. I ...” “No,” she pulled back to look at him, and there was that damn irresistible smile again. “These are happy tears.”

[alice-beaumont-ravenclaw]

Fashion Emergency

A/N #1: 900 words! So a short fic for today. It directly follows One Step Closer, so this fic, being short and mostly answering the “what about Alice’s outfit” question, is what I like to call Part 4.5 of my Celestial Ball series. (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4) 

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“Andre!” shouted Alice as she entered the Ravenclaw common room.

“Shhhh,” said Talbott, looking up from his book.

“Talbott, you know this isn’t the library, right? And you’re not Pince,” said Alice, staring at him.

“I know, but it’s not a reason for you to scream,” said Talbott, frowning. “Anyway, why do you need to see Andre?”

“Why are you so interested? Is it because we are... friends?” said Alice with a grin.

“Don’t make me regret that decision,” grumbled Talbot.

“Alright, alright. Sorry. Anyway, looking for Andre ’cause I just realized that I don’t have my outfit for the ball, and I want to know if he knows any good stores I can order from,” replied Alice.

“Why don’t you just go to Gladrags?” asked Talbott.

“After the stampede of girls that went there when Dumbledore announced the ball? They probably only have... rags left,” pointed out Alice.

“I see. Well, Andre’s not here. He’s on the Quidditch pitch, training,” said Talbott, nodding toward the window from which you could see the pitch.

“At this hour? Ravenclaw isn’t even playing this weekend. It’s Gryffindor vs Slytherin.”

“Well, you know him. Quidditch is his obsession.”

“True... Ugh, I guess I’d better go. Thanks for the intel, Talbott,” said Alice, waving at him as she left the common room.

Alice walked through the empty corridors, most students having retired to their common rooms. As she made her way toward the Quidditch pitch, she realized that by now, she was probably past curfew. Oh well, it’s not like she could get more detention than she already had. As she entered the pitch, she saw Andre on his broom. He was just floating in front of the goalposts, deep in thoughts.

“Oi! Andre!” shouted Alice, waving her arms above her head.

“Alice! What are you doing here? It’s past curfew,” shouted back Andre, as he flew down toward her.

“Says the guy who’s also out past curfew. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something,” said Alice, taking a step back when Andre dismounted his broom.

“What did you want to ask me?” he asked, taking his broom and making his way out of the pitch, followed by Alice.

“Well, I just realized that I still don’t have an outfit for the ball, and I wanted to know if you know of any place I could order it from. Also, do you know if Gladrags sells high heels?” asked Alice as they walked toward the castle.

“Ah... About your outfit,” said Andre, glancing toward Alice.

“What about my outfit?” said Alice, raising an eyebrow as she noticed Andre’s glance.

“You know how I told you you would owe me one if I did Rowan and Ben’s outfit?”

“Yes...” said Alice, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Well, I want to collect on that favour,” said Andre as they crossed the courtyard.

“Ok...” replied Alice, still looking at him.

“I want to design your outfit,” said Andre, stopping in the doorframe. “Careful, we have to make sure we’re not noticed by professors or prefects,” he added, looking around.

“Yeah, about that, you have technically already been noticed by a prefect,” said Alice, pointing to her badge.

Andre smirked, looking at her. “Oh, Alice, you don’t count. You have broken so many rules. You are the only prefect with detention for life.”

“Thanks, and it’s not for life, it’s until Dumbledore decides that I don’t need it anymore... which might be until I die...” said Alice, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, why do you want to design my outfit?” she added as they tried to discreetly make their way toward their common room.

“Because... I enjoyed doing it for Rowan and Ben, and you deserve a unique gown, not one bought at a store,” whispered Andre as he looked around a corner.

“Why?” asked Alice.

“You really love that word, don’t you? Because you are a good friend and the Curse-Breaker,” whispered Andre as he signalled her to keep moving.

Finally, they entered the common room, letting out a sigh of relief.

“By the way,” said Alice making her way toward the staircase that led to the dorms, “you didn’t answer my question about high heels at Gladrags.”

“Why do you need heels?”

“To practice dancing with them, per Diego’s recommendation,” explained Alice.

“You already have heels in your stuff,” replied Andre, following her up the first set of stairs.

“I don’t recall putting any heels in my trunk,” said Alice, turning toward Andre.

“I did. When I came over to your place to make sure you brought nice clothes to Hogwarts, and not that horrid purple grey tartan skirt,” said Andre, shuddering, as he stood at the bottom of the staircase leading to his dorm.

“Why?” asked Alice, raising an eyebrow.

“In case you went on a date. Well, goodnight! See you at the match tomorrow,” said Andre, running up the staircase.

Alice stood there, staring at the place Andre was a few seconds ago.

“Why would I go on a date?” mumbled Alice to herself, as she went up the stairs leading to her dorm. “It’s not like I have a boyfriend. Hell, I don’t even think anyone is even interested in me in that way. Unless... Does Andre knows something I don’t?”

She shook her head before continuing her way up the stairs.

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A/N #2: Oh, Alice. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. It’s based of the “Fav Ravenclaw” prompt from @yantarnii 2018 Inktober challenge. I do plan to write a story about Andre designing her outfit (dress, shoes, accessories, etc.), but since I notice that, based on my timeline and on the Quidditch match timeline I found, there would be a Quidditch match coming up, I decided this story would just be glimpse into Alice and Andre’s friendship. Feel free to leave a comment. 

[tuaparadis]

Man or A Monster (Day 4: Death)

The Umbrella Academy Inktober 2019.

— Summary: Every single one of them knew the academy was broken. They never really knew how much until Ben died. Vanya didn’t have to rub it in, and she certainly didn’t have to let everyone else in the world know about it either.

or

The Hargreeves reacting to Vanya’s portrayal of Ben and his death.

— Disclaimer: I love Vanya! I love all the Hargreeves. This is not a Vanya hate fic, so if you try to promote it as such, leave. This is just how I imagine the Hargreeves’ reactions would be.

— Other: Reblogs appreciated <3 Also, read this on AO3

___

The last thing Luther expected himself to do was to sit in the corner of his room —away from his mirror at all costs— and read Vanya’s book.

After his accident, he had never considered coming out of his bedroom unless it was to use the bathroom or eat. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything anymore. He was never going to be the same ever again, there was no possible way to go back.

Maybe if everyone had stayed, he wouldn’t have almost died.

But deep down, he could only blame himself. He wasn’t careful enough on that mission, the others made their choice when they left. The world needed Luther and he had failed everybody. Including his siblings.

He was hesitant about reading the book. For starters, the copy he had was dedicated to his father, but he wasn’t going outside to buy one for himself. He knew Reginald would never read it anyway. Having nothing better to do that day, that week, that month, Luther had started the book. He didn’t agree with a lot of things, but he knew he and Vanya had a very different childhood.

What he didn’t expect to see was everything in Ben’s chapter. He was entitled to his own opinion almost every time, and he never backed out. That’s what made him a leader, according to Reginald. And even though he didn’t want to let Vanya’s view affect him, it did.

She had no right to talk about it like that. She wasn’t there. She didn’t see what he saw. What they all saw. And she didn’t know Luther’s intentions when he gave Ben that order.

Luther knew he pushed Ben a lot, and he knew how much the horror scared him. Everything he ever said or did to him was for Ben’s own good. That was how he saw it. What he didn’t know, was that when he ordered Ben to let the horror out, he also sent him to his death. He didn’t know.

And Vanya didn’t know the guilt he felt. So, of course, she had to claim that it was partly Luther’s fault her brother died.

He was mad now. Mad at Vanya and mad at himself. Because what if it was true? What if it was his fault? What if it was his fault that the family fell apart soon after? Was it all because of him? Because he wasn’t good enough?

Maybe his body looked the way it did because it’s what he deserved for killing his brother.

___

Ever since Diego landed eyes on that book, he knew whatever was inside it was going to be totally inaccurate.

Buying it only proved him right and with every chapter, he had to take a break. The chapter about himself gave him more than one reason to stab whoever agreed on publishing the book.

But Ben’s chapter just confused him more than anything.

There were some parts he didn’t disagree with at least. Blaming the leader. But Diego always wanted to be the leader. Would he be want to be blamed for Ben’s death just because of that title as well? Nobody would.

But some other parts were just… too far. He wasn’t mad when he read the part, he was furious. He knew Vanya and Ben were close at some point, but her portrayal of what happened on that mission made it look like they were strangers. Maybe they were, maybe they lost touch.

Diego wasn’t personally that close with Ben.

He tried to teach him how to throw knives at some point, so he wouldn’t have to use his powers to fight, it just ended with a bleeding wound on the side of Diego’s face, which left him a cool scar in the end. And now every time he looked in the mirror, he always saw a little Ben hopelessly trying to throw his knife at the target.

But it didn’t matter anymore, because Ben was dead and every time he looked at the scar, those nice memories he once had were replaced with Ben being ripped to shreds right in front of him. And Vanya, well, wrote what she wrote about that.

She shouldn’t have.

It was going to be hard to forgive her if he ever had the intention to.

___

Blaming others was something Allison did almost all her life, and she had no right to judge Vanya of doing the exact same thing. But it still caught her off guard seeing someone else do it.

Allison cared about Vanya, she always had, even though she was never the one to include her in things. She didn’t take the role of the loving sister as she wanted, and she never really understood why not.

She was upset and angry about everything in that book. The chapter about her fiddled with her career for a while, but rumors were spread and sooner or later, things were sorted out.

But she couldn’t blame Vanya for how she saw things. She was always excluded from everything, and she lost both the people that cared for her. No wonder she snapped.

It was always Five or Ben who invited her over to play games in the limited amount of free time they had. Allison didn’t know how much things shifted between Ben and Vanya’s relationship after Five’s disappearance. She did now.

And it made her think about her relationship with Ben. She knew he looked up to her, and she had noticed he was shy to talk to her at times. They hadn’t spent as much time together as the Holy Trinity Vanya, Five and Ben had, but she still knew him.

He felt like the only voice of reason in the academy at times and she trusted him with things she couldn’t tell anyone else, not even Luther.

Vanya’s new point of view on Ben really took her by surprise, to say the least. Seeing someone —who was the closest to Ben, mind you— talk about him like that just didn’t click. It didn’t feel right.

Allison would try her hardest to leave it in the past, but it was going to be hard. Harder than anything she’s ever done up to that point. Dealing with the reality of things was never her strong suit.

___

Klaus didn’t have anything else to distract himself with whilst in rehab, and Ben’s nagging about checking Vanya’s book out had lasted longer than a week.

So he gave it a chance.

He himself had always been intrigued to read it, but he knew Vanya had opened a can of worms in that book that he didn’t want to be reminded of ever again. That did not stop him from picking it up, sitting on a chair —with a ghost Ben behind him— and starting to read.

He hadn’t expected anything different when he reached the chapter about himself. He hadn’t been the greatest sibling, he was never rude to Vanya or anything like that, he was just… in his own little world most of the time.

Klaus didn’t want to read Ben’s chapter. He could tell Ben didn’t want to either, but both of them ended up scanning the entire thing.

The Ben in that chapter was not the Ben Klaus knew.

Sure, maybe death changed him, which it most likely did. He didn’t really know Ben when they were younger, only the dead version. And if he had to describe Ben the way he knew him in three words, it was would be ‘loyal little asshole’, which was the opposite of how he was described in that sorry excuse of a book.

Not only that, but Vanya’s view on his death just awakened something in him. Something that made him break the silence in the room by angrily throwing it back in the bookcase, which only made some other books fall down and join Vanya’s on the ground.

He respected the hell out of Vanya, and he was even jealous of her. She didn’t have ghosts screaming in her ear, she didn’t have to get locked in a mausoleum every week, she didn’t have to go on missions and kill people so she could come back home safe, she didn’t have to watch her brother die.

No, none of that. She just had to stay home, play the violin, help around with chores every now and then, join Grace when she cooked and play chess with Pogo. But, she was excluded and ignored and Klaus honestly felt for her. Nobody gave a shit about him either, he was useless on missions, so if anything, he could identify with her on that.

She still had something to say about Ben’s death, despite not being there, which just really upset him.

___

Vanya’s book was the only thing Five had left that reminded him of home.

It was the only thing that reminded him of his humanity, of what his life used to be. The apocalypse hadn’t been easy. Time travel was a bitch.

For him, it might have just been months since he time traveled, but for everyone else, for his family, it had been fourteen years. That was longer than the number of years he’d been alive for.

He missed a lot of things, according to Vanya. Taking his sweet time while reading everyone’s chapters, he landed on his own. And it really made him think about how Vanya felt about his disappearance even before he started reading. She meant a lot to him, and he meant a lot to her.

She lost her best friend, and she was never going to see him again because Five was going to be stuck here, alone, forever for the rest of his life. He would never find a way to get back. He had nothing and no one, it was just him and some mannequin he decided to hold onto, simply because it had a human face. How pathetic.

But at least Vanya didn’t have to live like that. At least she still had Ben, right?

No. Ben had died.

Ben had died, and Vanya was alone. Which made Five feel even more guilty about not listening to Reginald when he said he wasn’t ready.

If he was there, he would have grown up, and he would have moved in with Vanya, and help her out through her depression and be the best friend and brother he promised to be. And maybe if he was there, Ben wouldn’t have died.

He could have used his spacial jump ability to help the rest of the team escape before it was too late. Maybe he could’ve fixed everything if he wasn’t foolish enough to rebel against their dad.

There was something that confused him in regards to the book, though.

When he had left, when he had died for everyone else, Vanya was in mourning. But, from what he could see in Ben’s chapter when he had died, Vanya reacted differently. Maybe it was a new way of coping, but she didn’t sound sad. She was angry.

Five wasn’t there to watch him die either, so he couldn’t understand what Vanya was saying in that last part, or, well, trying to say. He could tell she hadn’t found the right words for it. But he was sure, without a doubt, that it backfired.

He liked the book anyway, but maybe it had another use for him. Holding onto it to read it over and over again was not going to make him time travel back, but maybe, he had a chance to. And he needed a pen.

He just had to find the right equation.

__

If Ben could interact with the real world, he would have picked up the book and thrown it against the bookcase the exact same way Klaus did. Not out of anger, not really. He wasn’t angry at Vanya.

He was just shocked.

There was no other way he could describe it. Except maybe being hurt. Yeah, he was shocked and hurt. Really hurt.

He had always encouraged Vanya to speak up for herself whenever she could. Even though he didn’t know what it was like to be a shadow for everyone else back then, he tried to support her as much as he could. Both him and Five did.

Five.

Vanya and Five were best friends. Ben was also a really good friend to them, but it was always Vanya and Five, at least in his eyes. He never complained though. He got it, sometimes things are like that, it was fine.

When they lost Five, his only thought was his sister. So he tried to be there for her as much as he possibly could. But as the days went by, she grew more distant, and eventually, she pushed him away. He didn’t blame her for that. However, she had no excuse to make him the villain of the chapter, as well as the rest of his siblings.

He wasn’t the one who pushed her away first. He didn’t ignore her first. He didn’t ruin their friendship for the loss of someone else.

And she really didn’t have to blame someone other than Ben for dying.

Vanya wasn’t there to see what happened. He was honestly glad she didn’t have to watch him die, however that didn’t change the fact that his death was his own fault.

Maybe, if he had listened to Luther sooner, he would have survived. Maybe if he hadn’t hesitated, he would have had time to calm the horror down before it ripped him to shreds, before he traumatized his family, having to watch it happen.

Before there was nothing left of him to even bury.

So yeah, he was upset about that. About the entirety of the book, honestly, or at least of what he was able to read before Klaus snapped and made a scene. And even after all of that, he still felt guilty. He didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to her, to anyone. He just really wished he could talk to Vanya, to clear some things up.

But he was never going to because Ben was dead. He was dead and there was nothing anyone could do about it, not Klaus, not anyone.

He was going to feel this way for the rest of eternity and there was nothing more horrifying than that.

___

That moment plays in my head every day I wake up, despite how blurry it is. I remember our mom telling me that the specific mission was going to be dangerous. Of course, I got worried but knew that there wasn’t too much to worry about anyway. The Academy was strong, the enemies were ordinary.

Our mom suggested I learn a new piece on the violin instead of focusing on my other studies for that day, to which my father agreed. So I did.

Missions always took at least a few hours, but this time they hadn’t returned the time they usually did. This was a wakeup call for my father. I remember him putting on his monocle and leaving the mansion. I remember him starting the car as I watched him from the window.

I remember hearing the car an hour later from the distance. I remember backing away and watching my brothers and sister as they entered the house. That’s when I realized one of them was missing.

When I heard the news from our mom that Ben had died, I didn’t know if I was stuck in a nightmare or not. I remember freezing in place, and I remember how an invisible bullet went right through my chest, and I remember having the urge to throw up all over the floor.

I hadn’t felt more grossed out in my life up until that point. I knew how vulnerable Ben was, and how eager he was to please my brother Luther and my dad. I didn’t know it would cost him his life.

At the same time, I felt like I was hearing the news of a stranger.

Ben had changed a lot. When Five left, he tried to talk to me, to make sure I was okay. But then he gave up on me. I needed time to heal and he didn’t give me enough of it. Ben had left me in a time of need and the abandonment was too much for me to take.

I had nobody. I was alone, and nothing has changed about that.

That didn’t change the fact that I was shocked by his death. He was still my brother, whether I liked it or not.

Everyone knew Ben didn’t like to use his powers. He was ripped to shreds by them and the thought, the image of it even right now, as I’m writing this, makes me feel like someone is twisting my guts and making a knot out of them.

He never wanted to use his powers again, he had told me so. And now that he had to, he died. Maybe if my siblings had done more work, if they had protected him, if they had tried harder, Ben wouldn’t have had to unleash the horror. Maybe he wouldn’t have died.

But the truth was that Ben had already died for me, four years prior to that, when he decided he didn’t care about me anymore.

[quicksilverslover]

Fictober 2019

Day One

-- Not-So-Much-Of-An-Amusement Park --

Prompt: "It will be fun, trust me."

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Todoroki Shōto x Bakugou Katsuki

Word Count: 1,111

A/N: Hello, fellas! I decided to try and write for Fictober this year, let's see if I can keep it up! I will also try Inktober, but those I won't be posting because I'm shy :^)

Enjoy!

Warning: Language, because Bakugou

Read it on Ao3

X

Bakugou felt like a fucking idiot. He didn't want to come and he definitely was not having fun. 

It wasn't that he hated the amusement park. He hated it when going with his stupid, loud class (even though Bakugou himself wasn't a synonym of silence). And worst of all: fucking Deku was there. No comment. 

How did he agree to this again?

Oh, right.

Everyone was chatting about going all together to the amusement park this Saturday. Bakugou was as clear as the bluest sky when he said he wouldn't go. Everyone tried to convince him, but he was irreducible about it. He was not about to lose his Saturday with a bunch of extras. 

Kirishima and Kaminari, however, had the worst fucking weapon to use against him. Todoroki Shōto. The dual-haired asshole whom he had it bad for. 

Bakugou never intended for those to peanut-brained idiots to find out about his tiny, small, almost nonexistent crush on Todoroki. It was shameful, really.

They sneaked into his room while he was asleep, apparently because Kaminari had forgotten his notebook, and in case of a Berserker Bakugou, Kirishima had the right quirk to protect his friend.

And apparently, Bakugou was in the middle of a wet dream, mumbling "Shōto".

He did kill those two for breaking into his room, but sadly, they lived. They lived and teased him for it. Bakugou hated them to no end.

Thankfully, they did not spread the word - Katsuki would have to painfully kill everybody in this goddamn class then himself if his (tiny, small, almost nonexistent!) crush on Half n' Half reached his ears. And knowing 1-A, it probably would.

Bakugou's death threats ("forget about this or die!") did not prevent Kirishima and Kaminari from using Todoroki to their advantage when Bakugou was concerned.

Like they were doing now.

He took a glance to the other side of the common room, only to see Icyhot coming at him, and Shitty Hair plus Pikachu giggling behind the object of his teensy interest. He knew what they did. Motherfu-

"Bakugou, will you come with us at the amusement park?" Todoroki started, his tone was flat, but held a gentleness that nearly melted Bakugou's explosive heart. This was bullshit, Todoroki was talking to him like he did to everyone else. He replied just as gently.

"Fuck the fuck off, Half n' Half, I'm not going to waist time on that shitty hellhole!" The problem was not the amusement park. Bakugou was just not a people person. Yet Todoroki didn't seem ready to give up.

"Please." He gave the blond a small and absolutely damn endearing smile. "It will be fun, trust me." 

He wouldn't fall for that.

He wouldn't.

So yeah, he did fall for that. And it was not being fun. And Todoroki wasn't even looking at him. The fucker who had invited and convinced him to go was currently chatting with the shittiest nerd who ever walked on planet Earth (Deku) and Glasses, a few meters ahead of Shitty Hair, Pikachu and Bakugou himself. Icyhot seemed to be speaking too much for someone as quiet as him, what the fuck.

Fuck him. 

Kirishima’s voice startled Bakugou. “Dude, why haven’t you talked about this to Todoroki already?” He asked quite boldly, earning a stare. Bakugou did not dignify that with an answer, and Shitty Hair (wrongly) took that as for him to go on. “Well, you could have a chance today, who knows what might happen.” His sharp, happy and too bring grin was an indication that he knew something. 

“...”

“Yeah, bro, you should consider it, who knows!” Kaminari completed, unintelligently. 

“... You two should consider go die!”

x

It was only when the meeting was towards its end that Katsuki understood what Kirishima was saying - what this whole set up was about.

He was forcingly shoved into a cabin of the giant wheel (not without screaming several inappropriate words first, and startling civilians) side by side with Todoroki. Katsuki was so fucking reluctant to go. Bakugou only knew one thing right now:

Yes, the entire class knew about Bakugou’s stratospheric crush, and they had told Todoroki. Were they trying to tease him? So Todoroki would reject him right away? He was going to murder the fuck out of them.

Thing is, he didn’t know what he was going to do if that was the case. Rationally, he did know his classmates (Todoroki included) wouldn’t be cruel and play with his feelings like that. There was also the hypothesis of an attempt to help coming from them, and Todoroki not knowing how to turn Bakugou down without exposing him to his classmates but accepting the ride at the giant wheel. I mean, Candy Cane did look uncomfortable as hell. That could be also because he was a very private person and this fucking class new no boundaries when it came to personal matters.

Bakugou never dealt well with losses. He was likely getting out of this wheel willing to murder the first fucker he saw.

They were in the middle of the trajectory of the circunference, and Todoroki was now looking at him directly, yet shyly. “Bakugou.” He started. Katsuki frowned slightly. Here it comes. Whatever if Todoroki didn’t want him.

“The hell do you want?!” Shit. That was a lot less agressive than he intended.

“I have been... Having some emotions. Towards you.” Blunt and straightfoward, leaving no space for doubt. Fucking asshole. Wait.

Excuse me, what the fuck?

What was he supposed to respond to that?! How did that happen? When did Todoroki develop feelings for him?!

“Fuck I-” Now was definitely not the right moment to stutter! “What the fuck, Half n’ Half?!”

Todoroki raised an eyebrow. Bakugou thought he felt a tingle of desperation emanating from Icyhot’s body. “I.. I was told you had some feelings for me, as well. Am I making a mistake?”

Bakugou looked at Todoroki as if he had just said he commited a crime. God, how could Katsuki have wet dreams with this fucking idiot? This hot, strong, oblivious, gentle, powerful and beautiful idiot?

Grabbing him by the collar of his white shirt, Katsuki admitted low, as if confiding his feelings. “Fuck, Half n’ Half...” He added the bad word for usualness. “Tsc, you’re not mistaken.”

Todoroki was so bloody inexperienced at kissing. Yet, how was it so perfect? Maybe because, despite his lack of skill, Icyhot pressed his lips back to Bakugou’s, which only reassured his confession before.

He did like amusement parks. The problem was just... People. But honestly, if he got to kiss Todoroki fucking Shōto every time he went, it was not a problem at all.

x

Thanks for reading!

[ae0nx]

FRUITS BASKET EPISODE 25!!!

Wow. We finally made it to the end of the 1st season! And we’re still alive and maybe just a little bit dehydrated from all the tears that have been spilled (stay hydrated, guys). Phew. It’s been an experience.

I know I said I was gonna write a review/recap on some other points of the 2001 True Form Arc but honestly... I’m tired lol And I can forgive and even like a lot of what the 2001 anime did, but the last few minutes after the climax of the True Form arc piss me off the more I think about it so I’m just gonna leave that job for future me who might come home drunk from a party and suddenly decide to ramble about it. Like God intended. 

- (Ok, this is the last last 2001 comparison I’ll make... until my next one), but I do kinda like that 2001 took the initiative to put Kyo’s backstory with his mother together with Kyo’s backstory with Kazuma as a side by side comparison... But, I guess it kinda shifted the whole point of the True Form arc to be about that rather than it being centred on Kyo and Tohru. Still an interesting choice!

One of my favouriteeee flashback moments! It’s so gentle! And baby Kyo is so adorable!

Kyo fighting in the stereotypical shonen anime way of fighting is just everything I needed to confirm to me that he truly thinks he’s in a shonen. Thank you, anime.

Ugghhhhh. Everything about the concept and the act of the ‘Cat’s room/prison’ is just... ugh. It’s probably the most disgusted feeling I get from this anime. I’m not criticising the writing at all, it rises the stakes and gives the protagonist something terrible to fight against. It’s just the whole thought around a ‘so called’ family or clan creating something like this for someone who did nothing but be born just makes me feel a bit ill.

(Lol and clearly Kazuma shares my thoughts!)

But this scene portrays one of my favourite things about Kazuma. Kazuma is a character that writers could very easily portray as perfect and without fault as he is literally and figuratively the teacher and one of the few adult guiding lights of the story. But Takaya-sensei gave him not only opportunity for fault but also opportunity for growth. Not once but TWICE. I love love the fact that while he adopted Kyo mostly out of guilt and atonement for how he’d treated his grandfather, it later turned into a genuine love and want for Kyo’s happiness. 

And I LOVE the fact that he feels bad for taking off Kyo’s beads. But real talk? What he did was a total Dad move. And whether you see it as a good thing or a bad thing, sometimes parents are cruel and tough to be kind and helpful and when you link it to the typical behaviour of a dojo master - it’s definitely in character. I just really like that he at least had some reservations about his actions as it fleshes him out more as a character! It’s all great. I love him haha

Tohru calls Kazuma, ‘Master Kazuma’!! 🤗

See! Even Tohru agrees with me! Total Dad.

I... <3

*clutches heart*  ��Sunshine boy...

That slight Studio Ghibli hair poof... I cannttttt

She’s just so happy for them!

AND I’M SO HAPPY FOR THEM! 😭It’s just a really cool and nice moment. Like a reassuring, ‘yeah, we had this huge moment that’s gonna be a drastic shift in our relationship but we’re cool’ :) while heart-eyeing each other on the inside

But I appreciate that we had a few seconds of this - that I personally felt the manga was missing. Kyo hurt Tohru and we’re not gonna talk about it until later-later? This was a good fix to at least show that it’s a thought in his head. Obviously, it will be fleshed out later along with all the other stuff in Kyo’s big ‘Tohru angst’ bin later... can’t wait to deep dive into that in season 2 ahaaaa...

TOHRU OPENLY SWOONING OVER KYO. TOHRU. OPENLY. SWOONING. OVER. KYO. 

A year can’t prepare me for season 2. I’ll never be ready.

- I can’t ever get enough of the cat reows in the background of Kyo’s anger outbursts

Oh, look it’s my favourite crackship. 🥰

Yuki’s reaction to everything is really interesting... and quite honestly, I’m still working it out in my head from forgotten pages of the manga. Because yes, Yuki’s reaction to the true form is very much in line with all of the other zodiac’s reactions. But the fact that he links Kyo’s true form to his darker thoughts and less graceful and non-perfected parts of himself as things that he needs to never reveal is... intriguing. The more Yuki starts to accept all of his trauma and the sides he doesn’t like about himself, I do wonder if it will also have an effect on the way he sees Kyo outside of the zodiac curse. 

Also sidenote: I always had the impression that the only reason Yuki hates Kyo so much is because Kyo pretty much openly DETESTED Yuki from the first moment they met because of the stories Kyo was told about the cat and rat relationship... but... I clearly have a lot to refresh my memory about the manga during the break because it seems like there’s a lot more to it than just that?

- I love Hatsuharu and Yuki’s relationship! Another lovely crackship. Haru is just so shippable.

A gorgeous moment. I love Tohru’s simple ‘okay’. THE WORLD’S BEST FRIEND.

I love that the animation studio is just like ‘yeah this ship is still valid, keep the triangle alive’ 😂I kid, this was super cute! But, I think it’s very clear when you compare Kyo/Tohru interactions to Kyo/Yuki interactions that you get what the jig is. But I’m not here to judge, have fun with whatever ship you like - happy sailing!

🎵WHOOO ARE YOU?

🎵WHO-WHO? WHO-WHO? 

(Of course I know, I’m not that much of an amnesiac...) Him calling Yuki cute/pretty is the birth of a new ship for me and I didn’t think she would have the same colour hair as Yuki (kinda)!

tch... biiiiiiiiiiiiiitttch.... 👀....

Oh giiiiirrrlllllll....

*sigh* I’m just glad that I get a year to revitalise myself cos Season 2 is gonna be MESSY.

But I guess that’s it for now!

This was a hell of a ride, guys. I hope you enjoyed my silly ranting for the time being. I dunno, if I’ll do the same for season 2 cos life happens (I most likely will, let’s get real) but doing this actually made me appreciate Fruits Basket on a whole new level and not just something nostalgic from my teen years.

My posting on Fruits Basket will probably die down a bit during the break cos I’ll be too busy crying about the next few arcs in My Hero Academia Season 4 instead and captivated by ‘Radiant’ (a new shonen anime that I think more people should give a chance to!). Also, if anyone has any anime recommendations, let me know! I’m open to most things except gratuitous gore.

Also, I don’t know if you guys knew but I’m also an artist who is coming out with an inktober zine very soon... and if you’d like to support visit my patreon: patreon.com/graceofaeons  and all the details for my zine will be uploaded soon!

See youu, till I see youuu!

[kinda-nerdy]

Inktober Dragon Age Inquisition Prompt #1

Prompt #1: The Inquisitor

Also @the-solavellan-archive pre-relationship prompt 2

Solas POV of their First Meeting

Another corrupted spirit slashed at him and his heart was filled with despair. How had his plans come to this? How many spirits would have to die for his mistake? Despair or not, he couldn’t allow himself to be injured now. The woman, the Dalish, with his power in her hand, showed no signs of ever waking again.

His attempts to reclaim the power were for naught, as were his attempts to seal these rifts without the power. It was time to go before the human Seeker decided to kill him for his inability to do anything, as she had threatened.

Just as he made that decision, two more corrupted spirits targeted him. Cursing under his breath, he froze one, turning to the other just in time to see it seize as lightning traveled through it. At the same time he heard the Seeker’s battle-cry as she stormed into the battle. Quickly dispatching the stunned “demon” in front of him, and hoping against hope that the mage the Seeker had brought was the Dalish, he turned toward his other still-frozen opponent, just in time for Master Tethras to put a bolt through it, shattering it.

Looking around, slightly desperately, he quickly located the Dalish who bore the mark of his power. Grabbing her hand he pulled her to the rift, shouting, “Quickly, before more come through!” Holding his breath he crossed his fingers that this worked. If it didn’t, all hope was lost. But it did! The moment her hand was raised to the rift it connected, and as she wrenched her hand away from the rift and out of his grip, the rift closed.

She started at her hand for a moment, then looked up at him. “What did you do?” she asked him.

Hearing her voice and looking into her eyes for the first time he felt… he wasn’t sure what he felt. Her voice was melodious and lilting, but quiet and almost…unsure? Her eyes, which had remained closed while he had treated her, were a deep forest green. They took on an almost eerie glow in the light of the Breach. Her hair, which he had thought to be brown, was showing new color in the light of day, or what light could come through the obstruction of the Breach. The presumed brown hair was actually a dark auburn color.

It was only his centuries of experience that allowed him to keep his thoughts behind a calm facade as he answered, “I did nothing. The credit is yours.” He briefly wondered how she’d react to such a claim – would she gladly take all the credit, or…

“I closed that thing?” She asked incredulously. “How?”

Pleased that she’d both tentatively trusted his answer, and questioned how, a sign of an inquisitive mind, he replied, “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.” He allowed a little pride to seep into his tone at the end to make it seem like he hadn’t been mostly sure that it would work.

Before she could answer him, however, Seeker Cassandra butted in. “Meaning it could close the Breach itself.”

Stifling his unwarranted irritation, given that his conversation with the Dalish hadn’t been private, he replied, “Possibly.” Turning back to her he said, “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Her face passed quickly from terror to resignation to resolve, but before she could say anything in response Varric spoke.

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever,” he said. Solas pondered his irritation at such interruptions. He wouldn’t usually mind, but he seemed to crave her responses, her voice which seemed to capture him.

As Varric walked up to her to introduce himself, he heard her say under her breath (quietly enough that if he had been an average elf he wouldn’t have heard her), “Whose ass? ‘Cause yours isn’t all that far off the ground…”

He stifled a chuckle as Varric said, “Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and, occasionally, unwelcome tagalong,” he added, winking at Cassandra who scowled at him in response.

“Lovely to meet you, Varric,” the Dalish woman replied politely.

He had to refrain from rolling his eyes, thinking of all the meaningless chatter and complaining the child-of-the-stone was capable of and said, “You may reconsider that stance in time.”

“Awww,” Varric said, feigning hurt. “I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

“Absolutely not!” The seeker cut in. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Varric said, cutting Cassandra off. Brave man. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

The seeker made a very disgusted noise, but seemed to accept the argument.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” he said, turning his attention back to the Dalish. “I am pleased to see you still live.”

Varric scoffed. “He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’,” Varric asserted.

Solas looked away for a second, knowing that he’d done very little. When he looked back the Dalish was staring at him. “Thank you, for that,” she said simply, then added, “You seem to know quite a bit about it…?”

Before he could reply the Seeker interrupted again. Solas had to grit his teeth for a second to keep up his act of “humble apostate”.

“Like you, Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra said, unnecessarily in Solas’ opinion. His status as a mage should be fairly obvious.

“Technically, Seeker, all mages are now ‘apostates’,” he told her calmly. Turning back to the person he really wanted to be speaking to he said, “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I could with the Breach, for if it is not closed we are all doomed, regardless of origin.” He gave her a sad smile and ducked his head, adding, “And you should only thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.” Before Cassandra could interrupt, again, he turned to her and said, “You should know, the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen.  Your prisoner is a mage, yet I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.” At least in this Fadeless world, he added in thought.

“Understood,” Cassandra said. “We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

“Well Bianca’s excited!” Varric inserted.

Everyone had started moving toward the path forward, but at his comment the Dalish paused. “Bianca?”

“Yea!” Varric replied, caressing his crossbow. “Ain’t she beautiful? Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

“You… named your crossbow Bianca?” she asked, bemused.

“Of course. Speaking of names, I didn’t catch yours…?” Varric probed.

“Oh, it’s Rilla. Idrilla Sylvas,” she replied easily.

He gave her an interested look. Little rebel and freedom’s breath… he thought, I wonder how she got those names? Did she choose them, or were they gifted to her, I wonder? And every other Dalish he’d met had included an “of Clan ____” in their introduction. Combined with her skin-colored, barely visible Vallaslin, perhaps she wasn’t so Dalish as he’d thought.

[dolphin-bouillabaisse]

GO-ctober prompts, 12

Inktober except without the ink, and with drabbles instead.

Prompt #12 - Dragon

(previous | next | beginning)

(find it all on Ao3)

“Hold up. Hold up. What do you mean they're not real?”

“Not real. Never existed.”

“But there's bones! Bones and fragments and- there's a whole scientific field about them!” “Nah.” Crowley swirled his almost empty wineglass around. “S'all just a big joke.”

“Dinosaurs aren't real.” Anathema stared at the ceiling from her current position of 'slumped down on the sofa that was just as comfortable as it looked and surprisingly big enough to hold two very drunk people- ...entities? without them hanging all over each other'. She rather supposed it wasn't that big on usual days, when it was two different entities sitting on it.

“Dinosaurs aren't real.” Crowley echoed and refilled his glass and then hers, as she held it out for him.

“I'm too drunk for this, I think.” She said, even as the red was still pouring into her hand.

“Sober up then.”

“I can't just do that.”

“Sheesh, your kind is useless.”

“Well, forgive me for being made that way, apparently.” Despite her meager protests, she took a big gulp of wine. Having to come to terms with all the truths Crowley kept confronting her with needed proper alcoholic lubrication. “So, no dinosaurs.”

“Nope.”

“What about- oh, what about werewolves? And vampires?”

“Nah. All those scary things were just you humans trying to find a good story for the horrible things other humans did. Or animals, I guess.”

“So nothing from fantasy is really real, then?”

“That's a broad assumption.” Crowley leant back on the sofa, but Anathema's look was pleading enough for him to go on. “Most of it's not, no. But some stuff. Like...” He thought about it, but not long. “Like unicorns. Those were real, but only for a really short time.” “Get out. Unicorns? You're having a laugh.”

“Nah, unicorns were a thing. But there's nothing left over, those horns they kept finding weren't real ones.”

Anathema paused, and contemplated.

“Loch Ness Monster.”

“That, I'm not telling you.” He grinned in an unsettling kind of way, and Anathema was suddenly very much reminded that she was dining with the devil, so to speak. Or had been dining. They'd come back from the restaurant about two hours ago, but the wine had not stopped since. She didn't dare ask about it. “I make good money out of that conspiracy. Also, the Scots would have my head for it, one way or another.”

She hummed, understanding only a little bit and taking another sip. The room was starting to become slightly blurry.

“And dragons?”

“Oh, those were real. But the middle ages all but killed them off.” Crowley already refilled his glass again. “Might be some poor buggers hiding in caves somewhere in the tundra, or something, I dunno.”

“You're fucking kidding me.” Anathema sat up a bit, careful not to slosh any wine on her surroundings (one scolding from an angel was enough to teach her). “Dragons are real, but dinosaurs are not?”

“Yep.”

“Does that mean some of the dinosaur bones were actually dragons?”

“Could be. S'not like I really check up on them, y'know.” She sank down again, contemplating this new information, until a soft but stern voice behind them caught her attention.

“Don't listen to him, dear.” Aziraphale had wandered over from the middle of the shop, where he'd gotten lost in some books while trying to look up something Anathema had asked him about an hour ago. “Dragons are not real, and never were.”

“Oh.” She only muttered, as Crowley put his tongue out towards the angel.

“Oh come on, angel, let me have some fun with this.”

“So dragons aren't real.” Anathema repeated between them before they could dissolve into another bickering argument, as they often did. “Are dinosaurs, then?”

“Oh no, those are absolutely a joke.” Aziraphale patted her shoulder as he went past, a wineglass suddenly in his hand, stretched out for Crowley to fill before he went back to his armchair.

“How do you guys know all this? I mean, you-” the wineglass in her hand pointed to Aziraphale, and almost dripped on the carpet a little bit, “you know, obviously, angel and creation and-and all that, but-”

“Now I know you're really getting too drunk.” Crowley's voice was deeper than usual. “I already explained the demon and fallen angel thing to you.”

“Oh.” She mumbled into her glass. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. That was rude.”

“S'fine. Like I care.”

“So you both know- basically, you know everything?”

“Yes.” Crowley said.

“Absolutely not.” Aziraphale said. “We know a lot, yes, given the fact that we've been on Earth rather a long time now, but we weren't all involved in everything.”

“We were at the most important bits, though.” Crowley started counting off on one hand, but quickly gave up when he realised he would need far more fingers for that. “The whole Ark thing, and the Jesus thing, and most of the important kings and emperors, and the revolutions – how many were there, again? - and, and when they invented fireworks, and glass, and- basically a lot of inventions, and lots of political stuff, although that gets really boring and repetitive after a while, and-”

“Dear.” Aziraphale interrupted him, albeit with a smile. “You're rambling.”

Crowley also sloshed his wine in his direction, not caring at all that some of it did spill. “I'm drunk, angel.”

“That you are.”

“Did you know that humans can't sober up?”

“Of course I did. And you do, too. You just like to be contrary.”

Anathema was still working stuff through her head as they chatted on, which was slightly difficult given the level of inebriation she'd achieved, and the constant background noise of two immortal beings bickering around like 12-year-olds (she had more than enough experience with both of these groups by now). She came to another important question after a while, though, and decided not to wait for a pause that would never come to ask it.

“How does that feel?”

“How does what feel, exactly?”

“I'm afraid we've missed a little part of your question there, dear, in your head.”

“How does it feel- to be there when things like that happen? Like, standing around at court and watching people party and waiting for the revolution to start? Or seeing people get sick and knowing it's gonna be the plague and, I mean, everyone will die? Doesn't it feel horrible?”

“That's not how it works.” Crowley sighed and leant back some more, and Anathema could almost feel the weight on his shoulders from remembering. “We don't know what's gonna happen, just like you don't know how the future is gonna turn out. You don't know how it's gonna go until you get the news how it went.”

“Then how did you end up in all these important places? There's, I mean, a million – or more – what I mean is, the earth is a biiig place.” Anathema stretched her arms, as if trying to show just how big, and Crowley held her drifting wineglass aloft so it didn't stain his jeans. “How come you were at the right places and not in some... some other place on the other end of the world.”

“Well.” Aziraphale was answering her, but focussed far more on Crowley, who'd taken the wineglass out of her hands and pushed her arm back down a bit. “Some of it was work, you see. Upstairs does know what's going on, so to say, and they would send me there to help out. Simply put, of course.”

Crowley nodded before Anathema turned to him, an almost accusing look in her eye. “Then what's your excuse? I mean, Hell doesn't know, does it? Surely God is not telling the devil how things are gonna happen?”

“We have some pretty good spies and conspirators on our side, though.” Crowley shrugged. “Never really questioned it, to be honest. Would just get the memos of where to travel and who to tempt, and that's it. And then when he showed up” another shaking wineglass in Aziraphale's direction, another red drop on the carpet that disappeared immediately. “I usually knew I was right on track.”

He sunk back down, almost on Anathema's level now, and had another drink before mumbling on.

“'nd sometimes I'd just look him up to see what was going on, cause otherwise things'd get real boring after a while.”

Anathema took another round of thinking for that sentence, which Aziraphale had not actually heard, or at least pretended very well not to have heard, as he gave no reaction to it.

“That's actually really sweet.” she concluded before Crowley could hush her.

“What is sweet, dear?”

“Crowley following you around cause he got lonely.”

“Did he now?” Aziraphale's smile was beaming, and almost painful to stand, especially after about two and a half bottles of wine.

“Yeah, he just said-” “You are too drunk, book girl.”

“Am not! You just said it!”

“That is rather sweet, my love.”

Crowley groaned, and sunk even deeper. “Tell the whole blessed world, won'tcha?”

“Like a puppy.” The last bit of alcohol was settling into Anathema's brain. “I'm not a dog-”

“Cat, then. Very affectionate cat. They are, sometimes.” “I'm a ssssnake!”

Anathema stared at Crowley, too groggy to really understand. “Do those get affectionate?”

A sudden sound made her head turn, but she wasn't clear enough to recognise it as Aziraphale swallowing down a burst of laughter.

“Well, I'd say this one is.” He smiled over to Crowley, who was – was that a blush? Could demons blush? Anathema had more questions. She was luckily not drunk enough to ask them yet.

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #1: Fish

To say I wasn’t expecting an attack would be an understatement.

I was in my van, driving my oldest daughter to soccer practice.  (Why yes, I am a soccer mom.  I’m big enough to admit it.)  Natalie was supposed to be putting on her shin guards, but instead she was playing the Nintendo 3DS Arista had brought, on the grounds that technically it was her 3DS.  I believe Arista’s was out of battery, although it was the kind of detail I try not to pay too much attention to.  Arista, of course, had whined about this for ten minutes straight.  “It’s not fair!  I brought that 3DS!  You said you’d let me play!  Mommm, Natalie won’t let me play!”  And so on. This was partially, though not fully, drowned out by the sound of Theo singing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” loudly, enthusiastically, off-key and with half the words made up, for what may well have been the tenth time in a row.

“Mom!  Make Theo be quiet.  I can’t concentrate!”

“Just give me back the 3DS! You aren’t even supposed to be playing it!”

“—itsy bitsy spider, gob up the stop again, itsy bitsy spider went on the bo bo bot, so wong go the dwain and it quash the spider out—“

“That isn’t even how it goes, Theo.  It goes ‘Itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout—'“

“If you’re just gonna sing to Theo you can give me back the game.  Mommm, she isn’t even playing it and she won’t give it back!”

“I’m sing it, Natwee!  I’m sing it my way!”

“Yeah, well your way is wrong, cause you’re a baby.”

“ITSY BITSY NATWEE, CAN’T SING THE SPIDER SONG, CAUSE THEO IS SING IT LA DA DOO DOO LA LA—“

“Come on! Let me play!”

With all this going on, I had no hope of getting back enough of my own concentration to change lanes, so I had been stuck behind a car carrier lugging SUVs for the past ten minutes.  I hated being behind large trucks; they block my view of the rest of the road.  And here I was with nothing in the CD player but Gary’s smooth jazz, when plainly I needed death metal to drown this out.  I’d have given my pinky finger to be able to put on the radio, but radio and I did not get along.

As if to underscore this, a sudden burst of static cut through the horn solo.  I frowned, wondering if I’d gotten mixed up and this was the radio after all.

“Hey, cool!” Arista said, having apparently found something worthy of distracting her from her quest to recover the 3DS.  “My mood ring is red.  Mom, what’s it mean when your mood ring goes red?”

I went cold, and glanced at my own left hand on the steering wheel.  The stone in my ring, normally opal, had turned obsidian black.

I glanced back up to see the top SUV on the car carrier starting to slide.

“Aspída!” I shouted, having no time to do anything more complex than that.  Then I spun the wheel and swerved wildly onto the right shoulder, scraping the jersey wall, as the SUV slid off the carrier’s ramp and came careening down at us.

Distantly I was aware of my kids screaming, but all my attention was on surviving this. The SUV slammed into the shield I had just cast and bounced into traffic, making the car shudder. The small truck that had been behind me struck the SUV, sending it spinning across the road. Meanwhile I’d slammed hard on my brakes, coming to a full stop about twenty feet away from where the SUV ending up crashing into the jersey wall ahead of me. The small truck pulled over, in front of the SUV. The car carrier continued blithely on into the distance.

At least they hadn’t all fallen. That would have been a lot harder to deal with. I could have done it, but I would not have liked to explain it to the kids.

“Mom! Mom! What was that? What happened?” Natalie screamed.  Theo was crying hysterically, and Arista was gasping, hyperventilating.

I turned around in my seat. “Arista! Inhaler, now! Natalie, help her grab it!” I wanted to unbuckle, to go take Theo into my arms and calm him, to grab Arista’s inhaler and give it to her, but I didn’t dare. My ring was still black; Arista and Natalie’s rings were still both red.

The guy who’d been driving the small truck was coming toward me, walking along the shoulder, and he looked furious. Of course, from any reasonable human being’s perspective, I’d had nothing to do with the SUV that had fallen off the car carrier and smashed into his car, but with my ring black I didn’t dare assume he was a reasonable human being. I’d read enough about road rage incidents in the paper; I had to assume he had a gun.

I threw the car into reverse and drove backward as quickly as I dared, which was a lot slower than the cars zipping past me on the highway were going, but a lot faster than one dude walking on the shoulder. He began running toward me. “Katev̱odó̱no̱,” I whispered, shoved the gearshift into drive, and pulled out onto the highway, lurching from 0 to 60 in three seconds and slamming myself and my children back against our seats. The car behind me laid on the horn – I’d cut it off. “Sorry,” I said, more to myself than to the driver who obviously couldn’t hear me, but now I was back up to full highway speed, weaving in and out of traffic so that neither the guy I’d just cut off nor the driver of the small truck could catch up with me.

I pulled off the highway at the first exit that came up, watching as my ring dulled to a grayish opalescent color. We weren’t safe, but we weren’t in deadly danger either.

Arista’s breathing was normal again. Theo was still crying. “Mom, where are we going?” Natalie asked. “Don’t I have to get to practice?”

“You’re skipping practice today, Nally.” She used to call herself that. She couldn’t get the middle syllable of her own name, so she was Nally. Nowadays she usually rolls her eyes when I call her that, but this time, she didn’t. I could see her face in my rear view mirror; she was pale and shaken.

“Because we just had an accident?”

“We didn’t have an accident,” Arista said. “We almost had an accident.”

“Right,” I said. “We’re going home, and we’re going to eat ice cream and we’re going to relax.”

“Ice cream?” Theo asked, his sobs becoming weaker and less pronounced.

“Yep! Who wants an ice cream soda, who wants a milkshake and who wants a sundae?”

Kids are sometimes very easy to bribe. Though I suspected that Natalie was letting herself be bribed rather than challenging me. She knew something weird had just happened, but she didn’t want to ask me what, or perhaps didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Another old terror raised its head. What if she was like me? What if all of them were? What if they could use magic?

I shook my head to banish the thought. No one had found us. No one had sent either of them an invitation to school. Natalie was 12, Arista was 10… they were old enough that they could have gotten invitations by now. I’d gotten mine when I was 9, though my parents hadn’t been persuaded to send me to a boarding school until I was 13.

I’d wanted to go. I’d begged for it. I’d wanted to learn magic so, so badly.

I couldn’t even remember how that had felt, now.

 ***

When we got home, I put the girls in charge of getting the ice cream, the Coke, the sundae fixings, the milk and the blender out, and Theo in charge of washing his hands, going to the bathroom, changing his clothes and washing up. He’d been potty trained for nearly a year, but I’d nearly peed myself during the almost-accident; I could hardly hold it against a little boy that he’d wet his pants. Theo was obviously very embarrassed by it, though, so I didn’t acknowledge that he’d done so, just gave him the opportunity to wash himself up and change to save face.

I went straight downstairs to my fish tanks in the basement.

The filters didn’t hum. The tank lights weren’t on. The room smelled like ozone and smoke. At least one of the surge suppressors that ran my tank filters and lights was blackened. And every single fish in all four of my tanks was floating on top of their water, dead.

The opal on my ring was still dark grey.

In Homeric Greek – the language I cast spells in, though this wasn’t a spell – I said softly, “Brave heroes, I commend your souls to the Elysian Fields. The gods will honor you.” I didn’t actually think the ancient Greeks had believed fish would go to the Elysian Fields, but then, I also didn’t actually believe in the Elysian Fields, or the later Christian version, Heaven. If humans had souls – and they might, I’d seen Jason so many times I found it hard to believe that all of him could literally be gone, forever – then fish could as well, maybe. These fish hadn’t exactly volunteered to die to save my family, but they’d been feeder goldfish, destined for the belly of a pet predator or an agonizing, choking death due to high ammonia levels and lack of oxygen from the overcrowding in the feeder tanks. I’d given them a better, longer life than they could otherwise have hoped for.

Whatever had killed them, I hoped it had been fast. It looked like some kind of electrical short, maybe. A month ago one of those had taken out all the fish in tank four; I’d replaced the filter, and the surge protector, and the GFCI outlet the surge protector was plugged into, but when magic is targeting you, all of the sane and reasonable precautions you can take may end up coming to nothing. The fish had died because I’d bound them to my family and enchanted them to take on our bad luck. Most of the time, that meant fish died one by one over a period of months, as all of the normal bad luck that might occur to a family just failed to happen – my kids never got scraped knees, our cars never broke down, Gary made it through every round of layoffs at his company, none of us ever got sick.

When the fish started dying fairly rapidly last month, starting with the electrical short, the stone in my ring had been purple – not white opal, not the gray it was right now, not the black it had turned on the highway. I’d put more fish into service and it had faded to white. The fish had been doing reasonably well; I’d thought the danger was over.

But today all of them were dead. And I didn’t dare go out and get more; whatever malevolent spell had targeted me and my family would work a lot more effectively outside the shields I had around the house. Petco would ship me fancy fish, but not feeders. Which meant firstly that it would cost a lot more money to put more fish into service, secondly that I wouldn’t be able to leave the house again until tomorrow when the fish arrived (and what would I do about the girls going to school? They couldn’t leave either, and I couldn’t explain to them or to Gary why not.) And thirdly, that the girls, and Gary, would see the change, think I was taking Gary’s advice about getting nicer fish who could actually serve as pets, and they’d be horribly disappointed when the fish died.

Maybe I could have two layers of fish, I thought. Pet fish upstairs and feeders down here. Order neon tetras and a tank for overnight delivery, set them up, go out and buy more feeders as soon as I had the neons in service.

The thought flickered through my mind that I could buy feeder mice instead. Mammals are stronger and have more life force, and more resistance to malevolent magic. Feeder mice were in the same position as feeder goldfish – they were destined to die. I’d just be giving them a good life before it happened.

But my children would get attached to the mice. Would give them names. Would cry when they died.

I closed my eyes. I needed more power to protect the family than I had at the moment. I’d given up so much of it for my anonymity and my family’s safety, back before I’d even met Gary, when the only family I’d had to protect were my parents.

To get it back, to protect them now, I’d have to break some old compacts. But those old compacts weren’t working well enough anyway, obviously, if someone was targeting me.

“Moommm! We’re ready!” Arista yelled down the stairs.

“I’m coming,” I said, and headed up. I’d deal with the magic later. Right now, I’d promised my kids ice cream, to distract them from near-death and any weirdness they’d observed, and as both a magus and a mother, I’d learned to keep my promises.

***

This is a piece from a WIP “Not Even Past”, about a former child mage student who had to save the world with her group of friends, all of whom died except her. She left the world of magic behind and became a soccer mom. But now the world of magic is coming back for her.

[stylishanachronism]

Anyways speaking of Watcher Wednesday (and also I totally forgot yesterday was the first), I’m aiming to do something a little different this year for Inktober, namely rework some of my ridiculous sketches, one a day until I either find something worth working on, or hit 15 at which point I’m just going to roll a fucking die or something, and then turn whatever that ends up being into at least the beginnings of an actual painting. So uh, somebody might get fanart maybe?

Anyways we’ve got day one:

A weirdly proportioned Acantha (courtesy of @dreamerinsilico) sketch y’all have already seen. (I love her hair so much, I can’t even tell you, this would be a weird Baroque piece feat. a horror and probably too much background and then it would live in my UFO folder for months)

And day two:

An Adira (courtesy of @shimmer-like-agirl, behold I did find one!) sketch literally nobody has seen! (She has such an interesting face, holy shit, also the roundish blob is her lion but like.... I know fuck all about drawing lions, so it’d probably be like that horrifying taxidermy they removed from that one museum. Fun! But more horror, unintentionally this time.)

Anyways I’ll see y’all tomorrow with something... possibly not Pillars themed. It really depends on what I encounter first.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Inktober for Writers 2019 Day 20

Tread - Color

It’s about 1.6k, so watch out for the read more

“I’m going to take him with me,” Jiang Cheng says and even though Lan Xichen can’t see them, he can feel the tension in the air.

“No,” comes Wangji’s almost immediate answer, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Not that it ever stopped Jiang Cheng before.

Lan Xichen sighs. He wonders if they know how voices carry in the hanshi; at least Wangji should be aware that Lan Xichen can hear them as if they were having this discussion in his own room right before him. He should probably go out there to tell them to stop, but he can’t bring himself to move.

“He’s not going to stay here!” Jiang Cheng starts again, and Lan Xichen can almost feel the cold fury his brother emits.

“You’re not taking him to Lotus Pier,” Wangji declares and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“And why not? You have something against how I rebuild it?” he challenges but Wangji doesn’t answer that; can’t without lying, Lan Xichen knows that.

They both have nothing but respect for the rebuild Yunmeng Jiang Sect.

“You want to send him to Koi Tower? Or the Uncleam Realm, to stay with Nie Huaisang?” Jiang Cheng inquires further, and Lan Xichen feels sick just thinking about it.

He can barely stand to look at some places in the Cloud Recesses; to walk the halls where Jin Guangyao lived and schemed and deceived them all? Or to stay with his dead sworn brother’s brother, who is the reason Lan Xichen sometimes wakes up at night, gasping and shaking and crying with the memory of driving his sword into Jin Guangyao?

He’d rather die than go there.

Wangji seems to know it as well, because Jiang Cheng is only met with silence.

“That’s what I thought,” Jiang Cheng scoffs and now, Wei Wuxian chimes in for the first time.

“Jiang Cheng, I don’t think you’re the right person for this,” he starts, and while he sounds careful, his voice doesn’t waver. “You can be a lot, sometimes. It might be too much for him.”

There is nothing cold about Jiang Cheng’s anger, never has been, and Lan Xichen likes to imagine that he can feel it, warming him up where he has been previously cold.

“It’s not like Lan Wangji’s way is working,” Jiang Cheng spits out, clearly trying to control his temper, but failing. “He’s been treating Lan Xichen with kid gloves and what good did it do him, huh?” he demands to know.

Lan Xichen has to agree with him. Wangji has been careful around him in a way he never has been; almost to the point of being over-bearing in his very visible concern and Lan Xichen never before believed that to be possible.

“He just needs more time,” Wei Wuxian argues, and Lan Xichen can almost hear Jiang Cheng’s eyeroll.

“It’s been close to a year now, with little to no progress!”

Lan Xichen is always a little surprised to realize just how long it has been since the temple. He didn’t have a specific timeframe in mind for his seclusion, but he did hope to start feeling better. It’s been a year now and he still feels the same as the day he went into seclusion.

Maybe Jiang Cheng is right.

Lan Xichen gets up, unsteady on his feet from kneeling day after day, but he makes his way to the still arguing trio.

Lan Wangji immediately falls silent when he sees his brother, and even Wei Wuxian falls into a totally uncharacteristic silence. Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, meets his gaze unwaveringly.

“Are you ready to come?” he demands to know.

“Yes, I am.”

~*~*~

As much as time seemed to stand still in the hanshi, time flies at the Lotus Pier.

Lan Xichen can hardly believe almost a year has passed already, but given how much better he’s doing, he shouldn’t be too surprised.

Jiang Cheng had been right; not only the change of scenery helped Lan Xichen a lot, it was also Jiang Cheng’s presence and his uncensored personality.

It was like the breath of fresh air he needed, especially since Jiang Cheng was just as rough with him as he was with everyone else. He wasn’t walking on eggshells around him, didn’t try to shelter him from the world and it was truly what Lan Xichen had needed.

Currently he was watching Jiang Cheng train Jin Ling, words even more cutting than normally, but Lan Xichen has long since seen through Jiang Cheng. He knows it’s just to hide just how much he loves his nephew, mostly because Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how to express his love properly, and going by the way Jin Ling is practically glowing every time Jiang Cheng criticizes his posture, Jin Ling has worked it out as well.

When Jiang Cheng dismisses Jin Ling, the boy leaves quickly, but his steps seem lighter than they had before. He knows he did well and pleased his uncle.

“You truly are a horribly angry person,” Lan Xichen teasingly tells him when he towels of the sweat on his face, because everyone here at Lotus Pier knows that Jiang Cheng is anything but angry.

They love their Clan leader and they long since accepted that he can’t properly express his emotions, so they all take his anger and cutting remarks as the praise it usually is.

But the words have barely left Lan Xichen’s mouth when all the color drains from Jiang Cheng’s face before he goes bright red.

“And what the fuck is it to you,” he snaps, and this time, the anger is used to cover up his pain, Lan Xichen can tell. “Why the fuck don’t you just leave, if I’m that horrible to be around?”

Lan Xichen is taken aback by this reaction and he realizes that this might be a sore topic for Jiang Cheng; that this is something that needs to be tread carefully.

“I never said you’re horrible to be around,” Lan Xichen starts, but Jiang Cheng scoffs at that.

“No need to actually say it out loud. I know it anyway.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen tries, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t let him speak.

“I’m wondering why you’re still here anyway. You’re doing better. You can leave,” Jiang Cheng presses out, but he’s not meeting Lan Xichen’s eyes and he knows better by now than to take Jiang Cheng’s words at face-value.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

So that’s a no then.

“Jiang Cheng, I don’t know why you’d think I want to leave,” Lan Xichen says, because he thought he made it abundantly clear that he thoroughly enjoys his time at Lotus Pier.

“You said it yourself,” Jiang Cheng gives back, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m always angry and yelling at people. I knew that annoyance was the best I could hope for from you when I brought you here, but it was better than nothing.”

“I’m not annoyed,” Lan Xichen says with a frown, because why would he be?

Jiang Cheng accommodated so beautifully to have him here; took time out of his schedule, invited Lan Xichen for meals, never let him just hide away, pestered him into actually going out and rejoining life. Brightened his day with every hour he spends with Lan Xichen.

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng says with a scoff and starts to walk away from Lan Xichen.

“Don’t you know that everyone here loves you?” Lan Xichen calls after him and effectively halts Jiang Cheng’s steps.

“They tolerate and fear me,” he says. “As it should be,” he adds, but Lan Xichen can tell that he doesn’t mean it.

“They don’t. They know you’re concerned and care about their well-being. They know you would do anything in your power to protect them and they all love you for it.”

“And endure my bad temper in retunr,” Jiang Cheng says, and Lan Xichen realizes that this is the root of the problem.

Jiang Cheng knows his people love him, but he always expects them to also be annoyed with his temper. That one can’t exist with the other.

“They don’t endure it,” Lan Xichen says and walks up to him. “It’s a part of you and everyone accepts that.”

“Jin Ling,” Jiang Cheng says but Lan Xichen stops him right there.

“Loves you more than he can vocalize. I guess he got that from you.”

“He’s scared of me,” Jiang Cheng mutters and Lan Xichen sighs.

“He hasn’t been scared of you for years now. Decades maybe even. He knows you, he can look right through you.”

“And what about you?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and finally turns towards Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen doesn’t know if Jiang Cheng knows just how much naked hope he displays, but he decides now is not the time to tell him that.

“I saw through you a long time ago as well,” he tells him and then gives in to his impulse and pulls Jiang Cheng into a hug.

Jiang Cheng stays stiff for a few seconds, before he wraps his arms around Lan Xichen and holds on tightly.

Lan Xichen hates the force with which Jiang Cheng clings to him, because it makes him believe that Jiang Cheng hasn’t been hugged nearly enough in his life, but he can’t help but enjoy the close contact with him as well.

He has wanted to reach out for Jiang Cheng for a long time now.

“No matter what you do, I am not annoyed with you, I don’t tolerate you despite your bad temper, and I do not want to leave,” Lan Xichen mutters and Jiang Cheng leans a bit more of his weight on Lan Xichen.

“Then stay,” Jiang Cheng whispers, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable and Lan Xichen can’t help but press a kiss to his temple.

“Okay,” he agrees softly.