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rainbowfic2019-01-30 05:57 pm
dray) wrote in rainbowfic2019-01-30 05:57 pm
True Blue #23, Ignition Yellow #11, Daffodil #15
Name: Dray
Story:everwood
Colors: True Blue #23 "A friend is one who dislikes the same people you dislike" Ignition Yellow #11 "The most amazing things can come from some terrible nights" Daffodil #15 New Beginnings
Supplies and Styles: Frame; Brush (Proliferate); Stain "Success didn't spoil me, I've always been insufferable." - Fran Lebowitz; Feathers "The glitter-rock group Kiss gives their first public performance - at New York's Coventry Club." (I mean not literally, but the parallels made me laugh); Yarn (image here); Glue "The motivational message that you send through your public service, art, or support of the underdog is both unconventional and vibrant. It’s an unusual frequency that might turn off some traditional folks, but turns many others on."
Word Count: 1300
Rating: NC-17 for ritual sexy times
Warnings: Despite the super NSFW background of this story the writing is actually pretty tame.
Notes: Originally posted inrounds_of_kink.
Akadine really was starting to get old. She knew it because the late night breeze was cutting through her, even despite the heavy blanket wrapped around her (it itched) and the cup of spiced hot cocoa clutched, claw like, between her hands (it was so very spiked). She couldn't even take solace in the fact that she was sitting in time-out privy to some otherwise prime fucking action because Mica, in his big, gangling robes, was gesticulating and blocking the view.
She and Brandili shared a look, and then clinked mugs in defiance of their defeat. "S'why I don't dabble in magic," Akadine muttered, under her breath. Brandili covered a snort, but it wasn't enough.
"May we have some quiet, please?" the rites-specialist had turned half-towards them, voice a strained hiss, breaking his concentration on the ritual he'd been attempting to orchestrate all night. A few other couples waiting to try again if this latest attempt failed, some lodge aids, and the musical accoutrement faltered to silence for a moment. Everyone was tired; they'd been up all night and their hope had been pretty thoroughly squelched--along with other things, though Akadine hadn't enjoyed all the fun for the exact same reason that she shot a glare back at the man who was, at the center of all this, fucking it up completely.
"Ringing in the new year shouldn't be about burying your nose in a scroll and jacking it like you're gonna kill someone," Akadine heckled, "I don't care what that mouldy old piece of parchment says. They made it to have fun!" The trio who'd been Mica's current catalysts had stopped, taking an exhausted break as they considered the criticism. Even Akadine could see their nails were turning blue, their extremities (dangly and not) made pink more from cold than arousal. She resented Mica for blocking her view while the viewing was good, and she resented getting called up here to help participate when participating had been so wooden--in the way that was not fun.
"Akadine," her wife gently tugged at her blanket. "Try not to rile the man." Not that she was defending him; her tone surreptitiously supported the criticism. And to think, Brandili had almost convinced her not to accept the invitation to help crack the magic in the recently discovered ancient scroll. Akadine had argued that she didn't much care if this was one of those 'needs to be done exactly the right way at exactly the right time' rituals; she was more interested in showing and sharing with a few of the other couples who'd gotten an invite. Brandili had argued that the pair of them didn't need to take part in what she guessed was a fertility ritual. They already had two girls; any more and they'd be in some real trouble. But Akadine had put her foot down in her mulish way, and they'd packed their daughters off for the evening to be taken care of before riding up to the lodge where the rest of the town kept their magicians and other weirdos sequestered away.
And it had been fun, mostly, but Mica had been such a relentless meddler. Akadine still furiously resented the fact that he'd tried to tell her how to use her own face on her wife's nethers, in front of an audience no less. So now, when Mica raised his arms and dropped them in a huff, obviously frustrated and ready for a fight, Akadine surged off the bench. Brandili swooped in to grab her mug before she threw it on the ground, but she wasn't so fast with the blanket. "Come on, then," Akadine taunted, bare and shivering in the cold of the courtyard. "I could take you as naked as the day I was born, you overblown, beady-eyed, noisy little gutter-sputter!"
"Akadine!" Brandili plunked her mug on the bench with some authority, rose behind her wife, and scruffed her by the short hair at the back of her head. "Mica, don't test her. I'm sorry," she added for the benefit of everyone else. In the center of the ritual circle, their friends hastily scrambled off of the carefully laid cushions towards blankets and coats, the mood ruined. A few others were reacting with different shades of alarm and resignation to Akadine's outburst. Brandili was about to tell her wife to apologize, when Akadine half turned to her. She had a look that Brandili recognized instantly, and traced back to the fist tight in her hair. "Oh, you're incorrigible." She chastised. "It's always a fuck or a fight with you, isn't it?"
To be fair, the activities of the night had left them both deeply frustrated... and Akadine was the sort to take that frustration out one way or another. Brandili sighed. "Our apologies, Mica, but we'll have to try again next year. We'd better be getting home."
"No, wait," the scholar raised a hand--the other was clutched delicately around the truly ancient scroll. He pointed over the roof of the east wing of the lodge, where the faintest rays of deep, luscious pink were beginning to colour the clouds. "Everyone, wait. I misinterpreted th... this line--" He'd unrolled the scroll again, held it up under one of the lanterns set out to create a festive mood. "The last... the last night--The last of the night... Ah, ancestors, it's meant to be done at dawn, not at night!"
The booing and hissing he got was so universal that Mica quailed, but Akadine had quickly flipped her opinion. She'd turned to soundly kiss her wife, the heat of frustration boiling over into the gesture. "One more time," she said. She kicked up her blanket to fold over one arm, and took Brandili by the hand.
"You're too much," Brandili laughed. "Hey, Dorada, get us some music. I don't want to be listening to chanting when the sun comes up."
From there, it didn't take much. When magic flowed in Urdasvale it was not usually a subtle affair--another reason that those who used it did their work well out of the town. And Mica, though not well-liked personally, had a solid reputation for making magic happen. None of them saw the sun rise, officially; the courtyard was lit up fit to blind everyone, by the time that Brandili had polished Akadine's cold mess into a hot, scar-marked pink flush. It seemed fitting that the remnants of the ritual left little golden flecks of light, like snow, drifting down from the brightening sky over the courtyard and beyond. Akadine was overly pleased with the applause--whether or not it was genuine, or out of relief for having an official wrap to the evening. She could smell breakfast being prepared, and heard people filing out of the courtyard. She could even hear Mica quietly sobbing to himself somewhere nearby at the success, and though that put a brief stab of annoyance through her--how dare he make such a perfect moment about him, after all?--she felt an overwhelming sense of joy for the coming year. She didn't get magic, mostly, but this whole she-bang was going to do their little town some good. She could feel it.
"Bran'," she croaked. Her voice was mostly gone. "Help me up. I can't walk."
"I hope not; I'd hate to know I did my job badly." Brandili's hand clasped hers, but they remained together for a moment or two longer, half-covered in scratchy blanket. Brandili settled in close and gave her wife a kiss on the forehead. "Good work, girl." They'd go in for breakfast, warmth, their clothing, and a wash--though maybe not in that order. For now though, there was some smugness and some genuine, untainted joy to share together, and that was best done from close quarters.
Story:
everwoodColors: True Blue #23 "A friend is one who dislikes the same people you dislike" Ignition Yellow #11 "The most amazing things can come from some terrible nights" Daffodil #15 New Beginnings
Supplies and Styles: Frame; Brush (Proliferate); Stain "Success didn't spoil me, I've always been insufferable." - Fran Lebowitz; Feathers "The glitter-rock group Kiss gives their first public performance - at New York's Coventry Club." (I mean not literally, but the parallels made me laugh); Yarn (image here); Glue "The motivational message that you send through your public service, art, or support of the underdog is both unconventional and vibrant. It’s an unusual frequency that might turn off some traditional folks, but turns many others on."
Word Count: 1300
Rating: NC-17 for ritual sexy times
Warnings: Despite the super NSFW background of this story the writing is actually pretty tame.
Notes: Originally posted in
rounds_of_kink.Akadine really was starting to get old. She knew it because the late night breeze was cutting through her, even despite the heavy blanket wrapped around her (it itched) and the cup of spiced hot cocoa clutched, claw like, between her hands (it was so very spiked). She couldn't even take solace in the fact that she was sitting in time-out privy to some otherwise prime fucking action because Mica, in his big, gangling robes, was gesticulating and blocking the view.
She and Brandili shared a look, and then clinked mugs in defiance of their defeat. "S'why I don't dabble in magic," Akadine muttered, under her breath. Brandili covered a snort, but it wasn't enough.
"May we have some quiet, please?" the rites-specialist had turned half-towards them, voice a strained hiss, breaking his concentration on the ritual he'd been attempting to orchestrate all night. A few other couples waiting to try again if this latest attempt failed, some lodge aids, and the musical accoutrement faltered to silence for a moment. Everyone was tired; they'd been up all night and their hope had been pretty thoroughly squelched--along with other things, though Akadine hadn't enjoyed all the fun for the exact same reason that she shot a glare back at the man who was, at the center of all this, fucking it up completely.
"Ringing in the new year shouldn't be about burying your nose in a scroll and jacking it like you're gonna kill someone," Akadine heckled, "I don't care what that mouldy old piece of parchment says. They made it to have fun!" The trio who'd been Mica's current catalysts had stopped, taking an exhausted break as they considered the criticism. Even Akadine could see their nails were turning blue, their extremities (dangly and not) made pink more from cold than arousal. She resented Mica for blocking her view while the viewing was good, and she resented getting called up here to help participate when participating had been so wooden--in the way that was not fun.
"Akadine," her wife gently tugged at her blanket. "Try not to rile the man." Not that she was defending him; her tone surreptitiously supported the criticism. And to think, Brandili had almost convinced her not to accept the invitation to help crack the magic in the recently discovered ancient scroll. Akadine had argued that she didn't much care if this was one of those 'needs to be done exactly the right way at exactly the right time' rituals; she was more interested in showing and sharing with a few of the other couples who'd gotten an invite. Brandili had argued that the pair of them didn't need to take part in what she guessed was a fertility ritual. They already had two girls; any more and they'd be in some real trouble. But Akadine had put her foot down in her mulish way, and they'd packed their daughters off for the evening to be taken care of before riding up to the lodge where the rest of the town kept their magicians and other weirdos sequestered away.
And it had been fun, mostly, but Mica had been such a relentless meddler. Akadine still furiously resented the fact that he'd tried to tell her how to use her own face on her wife's nethers, in front of an audience no less. So now, when Mica raised his arms and dropped them in a huff, obviously frustrated and ready for a fight, Akadine surged off the bench. Brandili swooped in to grab her mug before she threw it on the ground, but she wasn't so fast with the blanket. "Come on, then," Akadine taunted, bare and shivering in the cold of the courtyard. "I could take you as naked as the day I was born, you overblown, beady-eyed, noisy little gutter-sputter!"
"Akadine!" Brandili plunked her mug on the bench with some authority, rose behind her wife, and scruffed her by the short hair at the back of her head. "Mica, don't test her. I'm sorry," she added for the benefit of everyone else. In the center of the ritual circle, their friends hastily scrambled off of the carefully laid cushions towards blankets and coats, the mood ruined. A few others were reacting with different shades of alarm and resignation to Akadine's outburst. Brandili was about to tell her wife to apologize, when Akadine half turned to her. She had a look that Brandili recognized instantly, and traced back to the fist tight in her hair. "Oh, you're incorrigible." She chastised. "It's always a fuck or a fight with you, isn't it?"
To be fair, the activities of the night had left them both deeply frustrated... and Akadine was the sort to take that frustration out one way or another. Brandili sighed. "Our apologies, Mica, but we'll have to try again next year. We'd better be getting home."
"No, wait," the scholar raised a hand--the other was clutched delicately around the truly ancient scroll. He pointed over the roof of the east wing of the lodge, where the faintest rays of deep, luscious pink were beginning to colour the clouds. "Everyone, wait. I misinterpreted th... this line--" He'd unrolled the scroll again, held it up under one of the lanterns set out to create a festive mood. "The last... the last night--The last of the night... Ah, ancestors, it's meant to be done at dawn, not at night!"
The booing and hissing he got was so universal that Mica quailed, but Akadine had quickly flipped her opinion. She'd turned to soundly kiss her wife, the heat of frustration boiling over into the gesture. "One more time," she said. She kicked up her blanket to fold over one arm, and took Brandili by the hand.
"You're too much," Brandili laughed. "Hey, Dorada, get us some music. I don't want to be listening to chanting when the sun comes up."
From there, it didn't take much. When magic flowed in Urdasvale it was not usually a subtle affair--another reason that those who used it did their work well out of the town. And Mica, though not well-liked personally, had a solid reputation for making magic happen. None of them saw the sun rise, officially; the courtyard was lit up fit to blind everyone, by the time that Brandili had polished Akadine's cold mess into a hot, scar-marked pink flush. It seemed fitting that the remnants of the ritual left little golden flecks of light, like snow, drifting down from the brightening sky over the courtyard and beyond. Akadine was overly pleased with the applause--whether or not it was genuine, or out of relief for having an official wrap to the evening. She could smell breakfast being prepared, and heard people filing out of the courtyard. She could even hear Mica quietly sobbing to himself somewhere nearby at the success, and though that put a brief stab of annoyance through her--how dare he make such a perfect moment about him, after all?--she felt an overwhelming sense of joy for the coming year. She didn't get magic, mostly, but this whole she-bang was going to do their little town some good. She could feel it.
"Bran'," she croaked. Her voice was mostly gone. "Help me up. I can't walk."
"I hope not; I'd hate to know I did my job badly." Brandili's hand clasped hers, but they remained together for a moment or two longer, half-covered in scratchy blanket. Brandili settled in close and gave her wife a kiss on the forehead. "Good work, girl." They'd go in for breakfast, warmth, their clothing, and a wash--though maybe not in that order. For now though, there was some smugness and some genuine, untainted joy to share together, and that was best done from close quarters.
no subject
I love these ladies. They really have a good thing going, they do.
no subject
Also amused that Mica is coming across as a sympathetic character; I hadn't done much with him so I hadn't got into his head. Someone to keep in mind for later!