#( -flails- progress was made and while i'm stuck with canva

[agntwells]

Today's goals: coffee and kindness ... maybe two coffees, and then kindness.

. Liza Wells SHIELD Agent / Communications Specialist Bio | Rules

[ebelwrites]

Hi I'm a massive fan of your works and I adore your writing very much, may I ask for some Crink? Something post X-Event, perhaps, when Ink regrets starting it? That or, post X-Event, and Cross has the overwrite not Ink and is able to use it. Ink misses the Overwrite, and while Cross won't hand it over, he will create little things to make Ink smile?

*Flails and screams!* I love your work too! I hope you like this, though I think I deviated a bit from your prompt idea. Still, I hope you like it. It’s my first time writing Crink, though I love the pairing.

The bright yellow of the flowers stood out heavily in the monochrome world in which they grew. Ink knelt in the field to feel the petals, and also to block out the sight of the otherwise colourless world with the yellow. The black and white background tended to give him the chills when he stared at it for too long; he didn’t like places that didn’t have much colour in them. But there were plenty of yellow flowers for him to focus on and he’d long since figured out what to do in order to avoid a panic. Ink was intimately familiar with this place. This was the original state of the X-Tale, after all. A recreation of what it had once been, so very long ago. The hands taking charge of the AU had changed since that time long ago, though. In Ink’s, admittedly biased, opinion, it was a change for the better.

“Hey,”

The voice made Ink smile and he turned around to see Cross with his hands out and a shy smile on his face. Ink took his time standing up and walking over to Cross, intertwining their hands.

“So, this surprise of yours all ready?”

Cross seemed to be too excited for words, tugging at Ink’s hands to lead him away. Ink let Cross pull him through the flowers to wherever Cross was taking him. Some shapes that were not typical began to appear in his vision, revealing them to be a pair of chairs and a garden table. The garden furniture was of the same monochromatic colour scheme as the rest of the AU, with only some yellow decoration on them to make them stand out. It was what was on the table that got Ink excited, though. Two sets of paints with colours, actual colours, and a full set of brushes sat on the table. Around it sat white, paper lanterns, just waiting for some decoration.

Ink practically dragged the monochrome skeleton over to the table.

Brushes dipped first into the desired colour and then onto the canvas, the colourful line joining others similar to it in the growing picture. Ink washed off the now unneeded colour, pondering the current progress and what should be added. The brush tip slipped in between his teeth subconsciously as he thought. A glance across the table showed Cross focused intently on his own lantern, tongue poking out of his mouth as he swirled red spirals over the white surface.

Ink stared until he realised what he was doing, hurriedly ducking his head and dipping his paintbrush in the purple. A flourish finished off his lantern and he placed it alongside the other finished lanterns. A mischievous grin split his face as he thought of his next lantern and he hurried back to his seat, grabbing a new lantern and sipping his brush in the black paint. Cross was too preoccupied with his own creation to notice what he was doing.

“Hey, Cross!”

Cross’ eyes darted upward at the call and Ink presented his new creation with a cheeky grin.

“What do you think?”

“Real funny.” The sarcastic tone only made Ink burst into laughter, trying hard not to drop or shake his newly painted lantern. A stray streak would ruin the cowhide pattern, after all. Ink places it to dry, Cross next to him setting his own down. They each grabbed one of the two final lanterns and set down for the final painting. Ink wondered what he should paint, chewing idly at the brush as he thought. A flash of inspiration hit him and he went to start painting but paused with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” He looked up startled, not expecting Cross to speak.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just thought that this would have looked better if the lantern was black, that’s all.” Ink didn’t see much of what happened next, focused on his lantern rather than anything else, but, after a tiny bit of glitching, the paper of the lantern turned from white to black. He looked up quickly; Cross was very obviously keeping his left hand out of sight and nothing left to see. Cross wouldn’t meet his eyes. It took more time than Ink would like to admit for him to stop searching for the button that he knew had once been there but he soon turned away again. There was an odd type of wistfulness in his chest. He did his best to ignore it.

“Easy, easy,” The line of dried lanterns, each with a lit candle inside, slowly rose into the sky. Ink held one end, Cross the other. The two carefully lifted the line higher and higher into the sky, being careful to not tip it too much to one side. A burnt lantern shell to the side stood as testimony to what would happen if they rushed this.

“This looks good.” With an appropriate height reached, the two skeletons each tied off their own end to the support poles and clambered back to the ground. Lines upon lines of lanterns were strung up over the field, their colours dancing over the flowers. Ink and Cross met in the middle and stared up at their work.

“Only one final touch,” Cross commented. Ink was pulled to his side, his left hand intertwined with Cross’ right. Cross gave him a peck on the cheek. “Keep watching the sky.”

In an instant, the usual white sky was replaced with a dazzling starry sky. Clear and bright, a thousand twinkling stars glistened alongside the glow of the lanterns. The new darkness made the candlelight dance on the yellow petals below. But Ink only saw it for a split second before he was drawn to look for Cross’ left hand. Cross was keeping it hidden by his leg, just out of sight of Ink. Ink knew it was not his hand that Cross was hiding from him, not really. The wistfulness was back; not even the beautiful view could make it go away. Ink stared up intently at the lanterns, head leaning on Cross’ shoulder, as though if he stared long enough, they would fix everything.

“I miss it sometimes.” Ink felt Cross squeeze his hand. More telling than anything, Cross would not look him in the eyes. Gaze stuck firmly on the sky, it took a while for Cross to bring his other hand around to clasp Ink’s.

“I know you do.”

The lanterns shone onwards, without a care in the world.