#and I did my best to put those feelings down on the canvas

[anotherdescentintomadness]

TaeMin’s Just Me and You

Another piece for the birthday project over at @taemindiscord on Xitter

[syoddeye]

consequence / cupid

price x f!reader | 1.2k words series directory tags: alcohol, exes, a touch of angst. a/n: have a snack. next one's a meal. john price vs. art. ☕

it isn’t as if john hasn’t seen an arse cheek before. he’s a man. he’s military. he’s seen soap’s full moon upwards of fifty times in the last year.

but this cheek, barely beyond his arm’s reach, is connected to his barista. his friend, as she keeps inferring. it’s lovely and round, and those little lightning strikes peeking over the waistband of her jeans are a tease. it’s not even the whole expanse, only half, but oh, what a half. the heart-tipped arrow notched by the impish cupid tattoo begs for a kiss. a bite. he thanks christ for decorative pillows and his superiors for putting him through multiple rounds of resistance training.

a lesser man, he thinks, would break. say something crass or play his hand here. john simply hums appreciatively, as if observing a masterpiece in a museum.

(which it ought to be.)

“so you lost a bet.”

“yes.”

“the result of which was…this.”

“yep.”

“it’s cute.”

she pulls her jeans and underwear up and collapses back onto the couch dramatically. “cute is a word for it.”

“did it hurt?”

“no more than my thighs or stomach.”

john’s mouth dries despite the drink. although he initially planned to nurse it to prolong his stay, he considers downing the rest immediately. get out while his dignity is intact. before he does something careless.

cece clambers onto the back of the couch, putting on a show of stretching each of her legs. she bumps against his head, pausing to plant two paws on a shoulder to steady herself, then drags her tongue where his beard connects. sandpaper matting it aslant. deep, contented purring drowns out the dull roar of his blood. it diffuses some of the one-sided tension. some.

“wow. cee really likes you.” 

“feeling’s mutual.” john reaches blindly to find the cat’s withers for a scritch. he lets his attention wander in the silence that follows, roaming the room to see if anything’s different. so long as the cat’s using him as a saltlick, he doesn’t foresee himself venturing to her end of the couch.

“so. special forces.” 

“mhm.”

“the arms aren’t just for show, then.”

and where are we going with this? john shoos cece, leaning forward to peer at his host. he brushes over his wet, cemented sideburn and spares a brief glance at the lovable interloper, responding in a flat, unsure tone.

“my…arms. no.” he squints. “why do you ask?”

“how confident are you with a drill?”

“that’s it—yeah, right there, john.” 

john grits his teeth. sweaty from the unplanned exertion, his palms nearly slip at her praise. he shoots a mildly frustrated stare at the ceiling. it’s about time.

nearly an hour of dialogue and negotiation as to where her new shelves would best fit, the task’s finally at an end.

not that he’s genuinely annoyed. he could’ve guessed she was meticulous, no, a perfectionist. it’s a latent trait, he thinks as he attaches the shelves. one he’s watched how she pours the milk into those artsy lattes she serves. tongue poked out, brow furrowed, muttering self-flagellations—he just hasn’t been the focus of it. in her crosshairs. he spits the screws into his free palm and starts to fix the bracket to the wall.

“can’t thank you enough. i’ve had those sitting around since before the whole wrist thing, but i, uh, it’s still finicky.”

“not a problem.” 

she stoops to rifle through a stack of books and frames while he tests the anchors. ensures the mdf won’t collapse the moment she sets one of those thick artbooks on it.

“your tenancy agreement even allow these?”

“no,” she smirks. “but nothing patching plaster can’t hide.”

john chuckles, gaze catching on a shallow stack of canvas set against the wall. he shuffles backward to get out of her way as she slots books on the shelf, but he stares at the stretched fabric. a splotch of orange bleeding into the edge. before he can stop himself, he steps closer to card through them.

“what do we have here?” 

“oh, those–those are old–oh god, don’t laugh.”

laughing is the last thing on his mind. he finds himself staring at a portrait. it’s, well, shit, he doesn’t know the vocabulary. it’s…evocative and bright at the border, with oranges and golds gradually cooling into greens. at its center is a profile of a woman, with her hair tied up and face expressionless. pensive? she almost looks wary with the side eye. the style isn’t one he recognizes, not that he’s a mind for art to begin with. her skin consists of thick brushstrokes, a gradient of complementary shades from the same color family. he’s unsure if he should look at each individual stroke or the face as a whole. the uncertainty is an uncomfortable thing—he’s made a career out of knowing precisely where to focus. looking past the surface to decode the complex.

he does know one thing for certain: it’s good work. belongs in a museum.

“well, she’s pretty,” john murmurs as he stands the piece facing out. his eyes flick to her with a grin. “not as pretty as you, ‘course. who is she?”

a flurry of emotions passes over her face and ultimately settles as a nervous smile. “old classmate.”

he grabs the next canvas and flips it, expecting more of the same, but it’s decidedly not. this style he recalls, though not the name, just a name. warhol. it’s the same woman, painted identically nine times on the canvas. facing forward, a timid smile and big eyes. a rainbow of colors that’s snatched right out of his hand.

her mouth is a wavering line, struggling to stay still. something wants out.

john repeats himself. “who is she?”

“like i said. an old classmate.” she shoves the painting over the first and waves him away from the rest. “there was an unofficial tradition. students are paired and each term, you create a piece based on each other. i painted and…those are the results.”

there are three canvases left. quick math. if the program was full-time, she dropped out with maybe a single term left.

he wilts at her tone. it’s slightly sugary. practiced. it’s her customer service voice. “well, it’s getting late.”

it’s not. it’s barely dark outside.

“so i won’t keep you.”

please do, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. 

“thanks for coming over.”

on the way to the door, he brushes a thumb between cece’s ears, toeing his shoes on with a resigned sigh.

“this was nice.” she tells him at the door.

“it was.” until i ruined it.

“see you around.” probably not. 

the streetlight’s dead outside her place. he’ll report it in the morning before he heads to the café and after he perfects an apology.

~~~~

you shove the paintings in with the box. ben’s supposed to fetch his last box of odds and ends any day now. a sour taste bubbles in your throat, furious with yourself for not hiding it better. you’d become lazy in john’s absence, not tidying as well as you should have. though, in your defense, it’s not as if you have friends to invite over. no company to speak of or to keep.

now you’ve shoved your first shot at something out the door. in your head, you hear how stupid it sounds. show your arse, sure, but god forbid you share the whole story.

crawling into bed, you turn the argument around. 

you’re a washed-up artist and a boring barista with emotional baggage. john’s some secret agent soldier type. he’s not interested in the dramatics of failed relationships. he’s just…john. a man you shouldn’t’ve shown cupid to. a nice fella. your favorite regular. 

best leave it at that.

[annaloveshjp]

Warming a Cold Night

-18+!! hermione granger x fem!reader

-warnings: SMUT! public sex if you have anxiety, yelling at the start, oral sex ( reader recieving ), fucking outside on leaves, third person POV

-summary: hermione and y/n haven’t touched anyone in months, and who is better to relieve that than your best friend?

-a/n: first Hermione post!!! expect more in the future and leave requests! (fluff coming up soon, promise :) )

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

“See you later,” Y/N waved to Harry and Ron as she walked out of their shared tent and sat beside Hermione, who was leaning on the cold canvas.

Hermione gave a small smile in greeting, unfolding a blanket and covering the both of them. Y/N sighed in content as she curled into Hermione’s warmth.

It was November and the quartet had apparated into a forest filled with beautifully colored trees a few days ago, Hermione and Harry having found a spot a few miles from a small town.

The previous night, Y/N had taken the Invisibility Cloak and walked to a small shop, filling a sack with food (Hermione insisting she leave money). She had returned two hours later to a panicking Hermione, Harry trying to calm her down.

When Y/N walked into the tent, the sight of Hermione on the verge of tears had almost immediately vanished when they saw her. Hermione rushed out of her seat and enveloped Y/N in a hug so tight that she thought she might break her ribs.

“Hermione, gosh!” Y/N squeaked as Hermione crashed into her. Hermione gave a relieved laugh (it could’ve been a sob) as Y/N dropped the cloak and bag of food to the ground to wrap her arms around Hermione’s waist.

“W-what took you so long?” Hermione said breathlessly as she pulled away from Y/N, her eyes wide and slightly red. Y/N reached her cold hands up and held Hermione’s face.

“It’s a long walk, and I found an empty clothes shop,” Y/N nodded to the bag on the floor, almost bursting at the seams with food and what seemed to be gloves.

Ron barked a laugh. “Nice, Y/N!” He walked past Y/N, thumping her on the shoulder, picked up the bag and dumped it onto the main table, spilling out clothes and food.

Harry walked over and began examining the clothes, picking up three pairs of gloves. “Oh, sorry,” Y/N said, taking Hermione’s hand and leading her over to the table. “I could only fit three pairs, but I think they’ll fit you all well,”

Hermione looked at Y/N, shocked. “Y/N! You can’t expect us to take these and leave you with nothing when you did all that for us! Take mine, I insist,” she found the smallest pair and shoved them into Y/N’s hands.

“Oh, Hermione,” Y/N smiled. “It’s alright, really. I have my own gloves,” Y/N gestured to her bunk where a pair of fingerless gloves lay, unused for days.

“But, Y/N, your fingers will freeze off with those!” Hermione said. “Just take these, no returns,”

“She’s right, Y/N,” Harry said. “Your fingers will freeze off with those,”

“Finger-cicles,” Ron said.

Y/N sighed. She knew there was no changing Hermione’s mind. “Okay, thanks guys. Sorry I couldn’t get another pair,”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” Hermione snapped. “You did all this but say all these things like you’re not enough? You are! And it really bothers me that you think otherwise!”

Y/N glanced to Hermione’s neck, seeing the familiar golden chain dangling down to her chest. Y/N looked into her eyes and gently reached behind Hermione’s neck to unclasp the locket.

Once off, Y/N took the locket and clasped it around her own neck. “Better?” She asked Hermione.

“Yeah,” Hermione whispered. “But I still meant what I said. You are enough,”

Y/N had gone to bed that night, though with the locket around her neck, feeling much more wanted than before. The others had never shown even a sliver of dislike toward her, but for some reason, she felt she wasn’t good enough. Hermione’s words had spread a loving warmth through her whole body.

Now, as she leaned on Hermione outside of their tent, she didn’t feel as if she were putting an unwanted weight on her shoulder, but a comforting one.

Hermione’s warm hand found Y/N’s cold one, squeezing gently. Y/N’s stomach did a backflip at her gesture, the corners of her mouth involuntary tugging into a grin.

Y/N leaned over and kissed her on the shoulder, hoping Hermione would feel her love through her sweater. Hermione turned her head and had an odd look on her face; it resembled deep thought and love.

After a moment of looking into Y/N’s warm eyes, Hermione leaned forward and pressed her lips to Y/N’s slightly chapped ones.

Y/N closed her eyes and reached the hand that wasn’t holding Hermione’s to cup the side of her face, the latter reaching to hold the back of Y/N’s neck.

The blanket dropped off of them when Hermione deepened the kiss by moving herself onto Y/N’s lap, both her hands now on the back of Y/N’s neck. Y/N’s hands went to Hermione’s waist, keeping her steady.

After a minute, Hermione pulled away.

“Wait, Y/N,” she said, panting. “We shouldn’t do this. Not here,”

Y/N looked at her, tilting her head. “Why not? Afraid we’ll get caught?”

“I mean—“ Hermione stuttered. “Yes! And—“

Y/N cut her off by kissing her again, this time, with more passion. Her hands traveled down to Hermione’s thighs, gripping onto them tightly. Hermione let out a whimper.

“Hermione,” Y/N muttered against Hermione’s lips. “There’s no better place to do this, really. We can never get alone inside the tent, it’s only out here when we’re left alone.”

“I know, but—“ Hermione started before Y/N interrupted her.

“‘What if someone does find us?’ Has anyone ever found the tent, Hermione?” Y/N reasoned, leaning back and tucking hair behind the brunette’s ear.

Hermione sighed. “No,”

“That’s right,” Y/N cooed before taking her wand and casting a silencing charm on the tent opening. She turned to Hermione and began kissing her again, reaching her hands under her best-friend’s sweater.

Y/N’s cold hands gave Hermione chills. She started to roll her hips onto Y/N as they kissed, craving the friction.

Hermione gasped as Y/N’s hands traveled from her stomach to her breasts, squeezing them gently and feeling her nipples harden at the sudden chill.

Hermione’s hands raked through Y/N’s hair, tugging almost harshly, desperate for more. Y/N suddenly dropped her hands down to the waistband of the muggleborn’s pants, dipping beneath and into her underwear.

Hermione threw her head back as she let out a moan; her best-friend had started rubbing circles on her clit, her cold fingers only enhancing the pleasure. She bucked her hips towards Y/N’s core, the latter’s other hand gripping her hips, guiding her.

“That’s it, good girl,” Y/N mumbled against Hermione’s neck. She wasn’t leaving her any marks, she only wished to rest her lips there, leaving gentle kisses every now and then.

She then dipped her hand lower and pressed her middle and ring finger against Hermione’s entrance, earning a loud whimper from her.

Y/N sunk her fingers into Hermione, rapidly thrusting in and out. Hermione cried out many curse words of pleasure along with strangled moans, pushing her hips onto Y/N’s hand, riding it.

Y/N took her other hand and tilted Hermione’s head down to take her lips in her own, swallowing the brunette’s moans, her tongue pushing into her mouth, exploring every inch.

“Y/N, I’m almost there,” Hermione managed between whimpers. “Faster, please!” She was vigorously humping Y/N’s hand, close to her release.

Y/N leaned her mouth to Hermione’s ear and whispered, “come for me, darling,”

With an almost pornographic moan, Hermione reached her climax, releasing warm cum onto Y/N’s hand, warming it.

Y/N kissed Hermione as she pulled her hand from her trousers. She pulled away, bringing her hand up to show Hermione.

“Open,” Y/N instructed. Hermione obliged, opening her mouth. Y/N pressed her cum soaked fingers to Hermione’s tongue, the latter closing her lips around them, humming as she sucked on the delightful taste of herself.

Y/N removed her fingers, then patted the crunchy leaves beside her, inviting Hermione to sit again.

“Come on, we’ve talked about this,” said Hermione. She continued when Y/N raised a brow. “You can’t do all that for me and expect nothing in return!”

Y/N blinked. She suddenly remembered the other night when Hermione basically screamed at her telling her she was enough.

“Now,” Hermione said, grabbing the forgotten blanket and folding it into a square, setting it beside Y/N. “Sit on this,”

Y/N did as she was instructed. “So, my turn now?” She smirked.

“Mhm,” Hermione confirmed as she crawled up to Y/N, kissing her once again. Hermione’s hands quickly traveled to undo Y/N’s belt, tugging her pants down not long after.

Y/N shivered from the lack of clothing, an autumn breeze just passing by. Hermione, still kissing her, searched for her wand with her hand (thrown in the leaves earlier), and casted a temporary heating charm onto Y/N’s bare legs.

Y/N sighed into the kiss, relieved at the warmth. Hermione then traveled her hands to Y/N’s panties, sliding them off of her fellow Gryffindor.

Hermione broke apart from the kiss, but only to dip her head down and start kissing Y/N’s thighs, making her shiver.

Once finished leaving a few marks on Y/N’s thighs, Hermione traveled her mouth to attach her lips onto the younger girl’s clit.

Y/N gasped as Hermione licked a stripe up her soaked cunt, the former's hand shooting down to grip Hermione’s brown curls.

Hermione pushed Y/N’s thighs apart gently as she lapped at her cunt, sucking on her sensitive bud. Y/N’s hips continuously bucked forward, pushing Hermione’s face closer as she did so.

“Mm, fuck,” Y/N groaned when Hermione pushed her tongue inside her vagina, her nose rubbing against her clit. Hermione moaned whenever Y/N forced her head closer, vibrating onto Y/N’s pussy.

Hermione’s tongue moved faster and faster, Y/N getting closer and closer to her climax. She sucked on every part of Y/N that she could.

“I’m close— I’m cumming, Hermione!” Y/N cried out as she reached her climax, spilling her juices out into Hermione’s mouth. Y/N felt Hermione lick and swallow every drop.

Hermione gave one last kiss to Y/N’s puffy pussy before sitting up and reaching for the girl’s clothes, Y/N putting them back on immediately.

“Fuck, Hermione,” Y/N said as her best friend sat down next to her. “I didn’t know you were experienced with that,”

“I’m not, really,” Hermione went pink. “I just— watched some videos… and read books,”

Y/N giggled. “Works for me,”

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

The Wayne boys first father's day with Bruce Wayne

Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson, 8: Happy Father's Day!

Dick passes Bruce a father's day card he made. Bruce takes it surprised, he opens the card and finds a sweet message and a few slips of paper.

Dick: There father's day coupons! Yeah, one of them is for a free hug.

Bruce, unsure how to react: Oh God.

Alfred chuckles, takes the coupon and passes it to the young boy.

Alfred: He'll use this one early.

Dick Grayson nods and hugs his father. Bruce isn't sure how to react at first, but then hugs the young boy with a half-smile, half-not sure how to handle love like this since his parents died.

Bruce: Can I reuse these coupons?

Dick: Yeah.

Bruce: Best father's day ever then.

...

Jason Todd, 13 at the time.

Jason: Um, here you go.

Jason passes Bruce a father's day mug labeled 'World's Okayest Dad'.

Jason: Thanks for taking me in, you're better than my dad. There you go, I'm going to walk away now.

Jason hurriedly leaves the room.

Bruce: Why do they keep giving me good gifts?

Bruce slams his head on his desk. Alfred, who has been dusting a painting rolls his eyes. He walks over to the man and pats him on the back.

Alfred: Means you're doing a good job... 80 percent of the time.

Bruce: I'm doing that well! Oh God, I can't handle these emotions.

Alfred: I know, just let it out sir.

...

Tim Drake, 15 after losing both parents

Tim rushes into Bruce's office with two gift baskets he made.

Tim: I tried to buy like two gifts, but you've done so much for me... Especially at this time and I couldn't... I didn't feel right getting one or two small gifts. I made these instead. With lots of gifts... Because I love you so much.

Bruce, blinking: Oh goodie... Can you leave so I can survey what you got me?

Tim, wiping his eyes and smiles. He leaves quickly.

Bruce: After three kids, how do I struggle with accepting these gifts? Why do all of these look like he put a lot of thought into them too?

Alfred, sitting next to Bruce, drinking his tea.

Alfred: He did. I watched him spend weeks doing so.

Bruce: Weeks?! I love the gifts they've given me over th years, but what do I say other than thank you?

Alfred: Thank you is the proper response, but as emotionless as you can be, and trust me you can, they know you love them.

Bruce: Sometimes I doubt it, but I appreciate you saying that.

...

Damian Wayne, 10 years old

Damian enters his father's room with a gift in his hand.

Damian: Here is your father's day gift. I painted it myself and it's something you'd love.

Bruce takes the painted canvas and is shocked how well done it is.

Bruce: You painted this?!

Damian: Yes, I watched one of those Bob Ross videos where he teaches a colorblind man to paint. I know you love blacks and greys so there you go. Do you like it? If not, I can-

Bruce hugs the canvas.

Bruce: Nope, this is amazing. Thank you.

Damian: You think it's amazing?

Damian smiles, holding his head down.

Damian: Father, I care about you. Happy Father's day.

Damian sits on his father's bed and hugs him.

Damian: The others are here, but I wanted to give you my gift early because I'm your favorite, right?

Bruce: You're all my favorite.

Damian: I'm going to tell them you said I was. Enjoy the painting.

Damian runs off calling for his brothers. Bruce chuckles, looking at the painting.

Bruce: Oh right, I forgot!

Bruce gets out of bed, reaches under his bed and pulls out a wrapped present.

Bruce: Oh Alfred, father's gift!

Alfred: You got me one again? I'm just the butler.

Bruce: Nah, you're my dad when my own dad died. Here you go, it's a tea set this time. I got it custom made. I... Happy Father's day.

Bruce hands Alfred the gift and walks off. Alfred smiles and takes the gift back to his room.

[genericpuff]

I'm about to ask an embarrassing art question: what's your advice for beginner artists who struggle to draw a good circle?

You don't need to draw perfect circles! I can't even draw perfect circles! My circles are shit! Look at this garbage!

But! They do what they're supposed to do :)

(and if I really need a "perfect" circle for something, I just use rulers LMAO)

But! There's still a lot of value in learning how to draw circles ✨ confidently ✨ and with ✨ gusto ✨, so let's do an ACTIVITY >:D Please feel free to follow along! All you need is a sheet of paper and a pencil, or, if you're a digital artist, a fresh canvas and a round brush!

On your clean sheet, draw circles like how you normally would. Scribble them out, don't take your time with them, just do a 1-3 pass circle, you should only be spending like a second on each one. Start with small circles, and then gradually build up to some bigger ones.

While drawing those circles, did you notice it got harder to draw them the bigger they got? Maybe it felt like they were "outgrowing" your range of motion?

Start with a new page again. But THIS time, as you scribble out the circles from smallest to largest, focus on your elbow when you draw. Pretend there's a heavy jug of milk taped to your wrist that's preventing you from moving it. Oh no, what do you do now? Keep that wrist still and move your elbow instead. This will give you a MUCH larger range of motion that will allow you to fully utilize your drawing tool without your wrist restricting your movements, which is, as you might be discovering, very helpful when you're trying to draw bigger circles.

These are exercises we would do in our life drawing classes back in college, every single day, before proceeding with our actual model studies. It seems silly and boring, but it can really help you develop confidence with your technique which is ultimately all it comes down to - it's not about perfection, it's about decision-making, and building confidence in the lines you put down, even when they're not "exact". Imperfect lines and circles are often more expressive than if they were perfect, anyways! You just need to develop the confidence in creating them <3

Best of luck anon! (•̀ᴗ•́)و

[goldenstring6123]

Zayne & Rafayel: Married to...

Warning: Angst no comfort. Major character death. implied suicide. Drama. Self insert. AFAB!reader.

Author's note: I was supposed to upload another thing but my tumblr is having problems so i hope y'all could settle for this in the meantime...

Zayne:

It was a bittersweet sensation. Seeing you at the front of the stage, wearing the gown you always dreamed of wearing. It was the most beautiful gown he had ever seen, yet the soft, warm glow of the chandelier made you prettier than the dress.

He was reluctant to attend your wedding; after all, he, too, proposed to you back when you were together. He got on his knee as well and offered you the ring you kept eyeing when you went on that particular date. He placed it on your finger, and from that point on, he thought that you were his future.

His foolish thinking blinded him to other possibilities. He didn't know where it went wrong, but all he knew was that he lost you and that your kindness to end it on nice terms with him was a double-edged sword.

Perhaps a part of him wished you never got along once you canceled the engagement. Maybe it would've been easier for him to move on. Maybe...

He could've used your anger as an excuse to not see you ever again.

But the heavens wished otherwise.

Much to his dismay, he never truly had an excuse to turn down your wedding invitation. You wished the best for each other and bid farewell on that chilly morning; he dropped you off at your house, wanting to embrace you and wipe away your tears that never stopped streaming.

Zayne, despite being the collected and intuitive man that he is, waited for you to at least call him back. You never did. Only the universe knows how many times he wanted to call you and how many times he wrote you a message only to delete it. But after a few months, he never once thought that the first time you ever contacted him again was to send him a wedding invitation.

The world was too cruel.

He gifted you both some old champagne, one that was recommended to him by Yvonne; it was the very same champagne he would open for you had you managed to celebrate your first wedding anniversary with him.

The rest of the reception was bleak. He couldn't recall things quite clearly despite not touching a single glass of alcohol. Those few hours, he was left in a daze, teetering between joy and grief, with him congratulating you face to face being his respite. He was happy that you were happy in the embrace of your new husband, and although another chapter awaits your life, his had come to a standstill.

The passage of time felt faster than it did, yet when you, your husband, and your daughter visited him for your child's check-up, only then was he reminded of where he was. It had been years since you ended your relationship with Zayne, but he clung to the memory of you every day.

Nothing changed for him. You were happily married with a child, and he was still working in the hospital as the chief surgeon, the only difference being he's now focusing more on research. It was unfortunate that his feelings didn't change, too.

Maybe in the next life, he'll get to stand next to you in front of the altar.

Rafayel:

Before him stood a painting.

A painting of you on the beach holding hands with your current husband. Under the moonlight, the painting seemed dull, devoid of the color that he ever so loved putting. It was an ugly painting, barely able to capture the smile you made on that day. Your husband's face was blurred in the painting, seemingly almost finished. The brush strokes were gentle, blending into one another, yet as the layers of paint built up, the strokes were sharper, rigid, almost seemingly cold, and coated with anger.

And it was precisely because of that that he scrapped it. And as he did, he pulled another canvas. It was a gift for you, a remembrance of a new beginning in your life and the end for Rafayel. He wished that even if you never got together in the end, there would still be remnants of him in your home.

He gave you a different painting. It was still at the beach, yet rather than blue, the sky was colored orange and red, and your bodies and faces turned into silhouettes, yet embracing one another. He couldn't capture your husband's face. You were beautiful in his painting, immaculate even, yet he can't ever recall the expression your husband made simply because he was imagining himself in that position.

With enough alcohol, Rafayel mustered the courage and energy to make the best piece he could; he wanted to see you light up once he gave you the painting. He wanted your smile to be the last memory rather than your tears when you broke up.

"Congratulations," he remembered saying to you.

"Thank you, Raf."

Your voice played in his head over and over again like a broken record. The alcohol swirled everything in sight, and seemingly, the only thing he could make sense of was the harsh crashing of the waves outside his home.

The night was the darkest at that hour. He reeked of alcohol.

Rafayel dropped the empty whiskey bottle onto his floor, hearing it shatter loudly. He picked up the biggest shard and dug it onto the canvas before him. Once, twice, thrice; he slashed the image of your husband, yet your figure was never harmed. He wasn't angry, no. He was grieving.

He flung the canvas away, disregarding whatever it crashed into, and the moment he did, another canvas stood against the wall.

He stared at it for a minute and then looked at the sea once more.

He felt happy, like a sense of pressure lifted off of his heart. With slow steps and feet against the cold parquet floor, he walked to the outside of his home, through the neglected garden, and to the sandy shoreline.

Every splash and whisper of the waves soothed his mind. The blank sky became a canvas for his thoughts. I love you's, I'm sorry's, and thank you's mingling with one another, incoherent. The image of your smile warmed up his body against the growing tide that crept to his waist. A phantom of an embrace, numbing the sharp, cold breeze against his damp back.

He waited for you for more than 800 years.

He's grown tired. He still wanted to wait, but he deserves some rest.

Emptiness washed over Rafayel as he continued to walk farther from the sandy terrain.

Nobody heard his woes, not a single soul; the only thing he left behind was that big canvas that captured his unfulfilled wishes.

The image of you kissing him under the moonlight.

His smile and yours are as vivid as they can be.

He'll wait for you again in the next life, but until then—

he'll rest with the sea.

Author footnotes: No footnotes but poor Rafayel.

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

[noa-ciharu]

Alternatively: fyosig + 36

fyosig + "please don't leave me behind"

Post Meursault, angst, hurt/questionable comfort, religious symbolism, sort of brainwashed Sigma

- - - - - - - -

Last thing Fyodor expected is to be tracked down in the back of beyond, much less by Sigma.

Peculiar indeed. But warranted reason for alarm? Not so much, or at all if he's to be candid. After all Sigma did read all his memories, not too implausible to presume he put wits to good use and figured out his whereabouts on very own. Impressive Fyodor had to remark - if not served as an immaculate litmus test. Not necessarily of Sigma's capabilities and lengths he's willing to go, those are nothing groundbreaking. But of Sigma's irrefutably wheedled decision - spoke of all darkest hues he managed to smear on the once blank canvas.

Dozen seconds ticked by in suspensive silence. Sigma stared at him with those vacant yet fiery eyes, at sixes and sevens. Fyodor didn't rush him anyhow - best to give Sigma illusion of freedom, although judging by how spent he looked Fyodor assumed that by this point Sigma can see through all of his smokes and mirrors.

Accented inhale. Tone eerily flat. Simultaneously clash of emotions and none at all on features - "I know everything"

Of course he does. That came as no surprise; what did is that Sigma felt the need to remind him of that. Fyodor crossed legs, tipped head and offered a meak smile Sigma should know by now serves just to disarm. "So you do", affirmed Fyodor while staring right up into oddly unguarded eyes. "But you've surely didn't come all the way here to tell me just that" - surely there's an ax to grind, but judging by confusion flashing over Sigma's twisted face it's not too far fetched to assume he's knocked out for six.

So no, not even Sigma himself knew why he sought him out. Itch for him became hardwired - no matter how much Sigma fought the newly found impulse he needed him like oxygen to breathe. Akin to moth to the flame Sigma will always be draw to the one that burned the life he used to know to the very ground.

"I..."

Pause followed by couple stressed sighs. Lips twisted and quivered, chest heaving in dire struggle for breath, eyes snapped shut with force that had to sting - inner conflict was manifest. Much to his credit Fyodor kept expression impassive; best to neither insult via glaringly fake consideration nor unnerve via brutal honesty. Considering everything Sigma went through in his memories this level of lucidity was to be applauded instead.

Frowning Sigma clasped both sides of his head and groaned - "Ugh, my head feels like a mess", kneaded forehead and huffed, likely wishing to cast away his presence from mind - futile endeavor, by this point he was engraved in every fiber of Sigma's being. Like clockwork he admitted just that - "Ever since that cursed day I couldn't get you out of my mind"

Your curiosity had a price tag on it, Fyodor wished to wise off but kept poke behind teeth. No need to fan the flames, especially when Sigma was on the brink of cracking; nothing but an empty shelf of former self. Greed got the best of him. In accordance, his freedom was clipped away. Every sin calls for a punishment, just because he didn't take over Sigma's body didn't mean there aren't other ways in which he can consume a greedy soul whole.

Sigma took a step backwards; then wobbled forwards, subliminally drawn by him and him only. "Your presence has engulfed me", heavy breath, foggy eyes, skin unhealthily wan - perplexed like this Sigma painted rather drained picture. Child's play to forge into a perfect weapon, however Fyodor knew a prod too firm could topple fragile mind pass the point of return - if he's to take this one into his embrace he'd need to thread carefully for regular manipulation would no longer cut it. By this point it's not even a matter of whether Sigma would take his hand or not, just when he'd realize caving in is inevitable.

"Gosh, what have you done to me?!", snarling Sigma paced back and forth; rocked throbbing head between arms and tried to soothe himself; to no avail. "No matter how much I try", sharp inhale, Sigma threw head back and combed fingers through hair; likely pucked out few strands from stress alone. "I cannot stop viewing life from your twisted perspective"

Ah, there it is, symphony to his ears. "That's a given", snickered Fyodor, allowing ounce of sadism to seap onto surface; insulting to keep the mask of benevolence after Sigma drank in his every cruelty. Thence Fyodor let devilty touch smile, in contrast kept tone mellow - "After all you've never taken in that magnitude of information" so it's only natural I tainted your sense of identity to the point where you cannot distinguish your thoughts from mine.

For a split second Sigma looked at him like he's not even human - no, not a devil either but something divine that transcends life itself. Atypical sure considering he never elicited anything but fear or anger in that timid yet assertive gaze, but also not surprising. Sigma's life divided in before and after; this one in front of his eyes is the fool who let the devil in on that faithful day; as result lost himself. In spite of godlike ability God he's not, merely one bestowed with His mission of bringing harmony to the entropy. But for Sigma's entranced eyes Fyodor would gladly become one.

In an instant reverence evaporated, leaving nothing but spark in weary eyes that surely would be rekindled. "I know you're up to no good", Sigma hissed and glared, but jab lacked the bite; crystal clear he's desperately clinging to last threds of life he used to know. Biting inside of mouth Sigma rewarded him with another meak scowl, only spoke volumes of how torn he's inside. "I know you'll inevitably end up using me again", accusation yet it came off as more of a wail.

Smart man, that Fyodor had to give it to him; but again foreseeable considering Sigma knew him down to the wire now - quite the strange sensation Fyodor had to admit, however nothing to lose sleep over; upper ground is still and forever will be his to claim. Transitory he toyed with idea of deception; promising Sigma to never lead him on again. With a shrug opted out of it. "It'd be insulting to lie to you after everything", explained Fyodor inaptly lightly considering gravity of the topic. "After all you are the one who knows me the best", flashing a roguish smile he finally stood up and strode towards his unwilling worshiper.

Rather than flinching or showing disdain Sigma appeared strangely relieved for a heartbeat by their close proximity - as if subliminally craving his presence, tactile presence, after being exposed only to indoctrinating memories. "And in spite of all that...", thin voice, head bent low. Sigma squeezed eyes and heaved. "I wish I could hate you", went off the tangent. "But I'd be hating myself in process" - because separating 'you' and 'I' is no longer feasible.

For a second Fyodor weighted the idea of patting Sigma's shoulder and consoling; not even as a part of deception but merely to have him calm down. Much to Fyodor's surprise Sigma beat him up to it - curled arms around Fyodor's frame, shoved coat down shoulders, cried out and threw himself in his embrace.

Ah, so you do have it in you to take me off guard. Silent sobbing, light shaking; hard to tell if Sigma burst in tears but definitely was distraught. Despite being stunned Fyodor found himself smiling; knew right away this one is hopelessly trapped in his web of lies - ironically constructed of nothing but truth, but with mind distorted beyond remedy Sigma couldn't distinguish own projections from reality.

"I know it's pointless to demand sincerity from you", faint hush, Fyodor more felt his chest move than heard the words, nonetheless could tell exhaustion and anguish in tone. In turn he embraced back; hummed into crown of Sigma's head and combed fingers through hair, just to coax Sigma into revealing more.

"But can you promise me one thing?"

Even if I do, how could you ever trust a word of a liar? By this point Sigma should know better than anyone else to expect honestly from him, admitted so himself moments prior - yet like a fool still held onto hope. If there's one thing Fyodor found admirable, albeit sinfully foolish about humans it's how unbreakable their spirits are - surely entertaining, but far and in between were ones worth his while.

Rather than offering any response Fyodor just chuckled; kept on caressing the trembling frame, privately savoring warmth of another human being in his arms - in all sincerity forgot how touch void of malicious intent even feels. Closing eyes he pressed lips against Sigma's temple. After this I won't let you go even to very death itself.

"Whatever you do please don't leave me behind ever again"

[tvgirlzz]

Gwen Stacy x fem!reader

notes: did not proofread this but enjoy 😣 also the only story I’ve really written was an English assignment on a book so feel free to give critiques if you have any 😋👍

“Sit still, Gwen!” You laughed as she moved uncomfortably.

Gwen had snuck into your window and while you were trying to decide what you wanted to make your art project on. Your teacher said it ‘had to be something close to you and not a random thing you traced from the internet.’ It was unbelievable the amount of times someone in your class used a dog they never met before for their project. Being the amazing girlfriend you are, you decided to make your project on her.

Which brings you to now, watching Gwen squirm uncontrollably on your bed.

“How long is this gonna take Y/N? I don’t think I can feel my butt anymore.” She complained, shifting around.

“Not long, I swear! Only a few more minutes.” Your brush delicately strokes, the light watercolors slightly dripping down the canvas. Painting beautiful pastel colors such as blue for her eyes, yellow to match her blonde hair, and topping it off with a pink and purple background.

Making sure to miss no detail, you picked up a small tipped brush. Carefully painting the small dots of her freckles, to the small, visible veins on her hands.

“Are you done yet? Lemme see!” She stood up, picking at the canvas in front of you.

“No! Sit down!” You lightly pushed her back down, moving her hands so she could pose again.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise. You can see the finished product once my teacher grades it.”

Setting the brush down, your eyes scanned all over the canvas. Sighing, you bit your lip nervously. This was good, right? You knew your art teacher was a hard critic but very easy on the grading. So why were you nervous?

“What’s wrong, babe?” Gwen furrowed her eyebrows as she tried to read your facial expression. She stood up and walked behind you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and laying her head on top of yours.

“If it makes you feel any better, I love it.” She knew you didn’t want her to see it yet, but she couldn’t help it. Your art was one of her favorite things about you. How different and unique it was.

“You weren’t supposed to see it yet..” You whispered in a downhearted tone.

She kissed the top of your head and hugged her tighter. “I know, but I can’t help myself. Your art is so beautiful.” Gwen was trying to cheer you up since she knew how much pressure you put on yourself to make these projects perfect.

“And your muse is pretty hot, don’t you think?” She smirked and poked your cheek.

Letting out a chuckle, you let your lips curve into a small smile. “Yeah, she is. The prettiest muse ever.” You move your head to look up at her.

She smiled back at her and gave you a sweet peck on the lips. “Don’t worry about this, okay? You’re the best artist ever and probably better than everyone in your class. I’ve seen some of those works and damn- it’s awful.”

“Maybe we’ve seen different works because everyone in my class is advanced.”

She gasped. “You call Ned’s self portrait advanced?!”

“That’s different, he’s just really bad at art.” You stood up from your stool, let Gwen’s arm slide off of you. Picking up the canvas, you move it to your desk where it can hopefully dry. Then, you felt Gwen grab your waist as she turned you around to look at her.

“I love you, alright? And if you don’t get a good grade on this, just know that I still think you’re the best artist in the world.” She placed one hand on your hip and the other resting on your cheek, stroking it lovingly with her thumb.

“I love you too.” You replied in a soft tone. She smiled at you and leaned down to give you a kiss.

Pulling away, she moved her hand down into your pants pocket. “Now come on, I want to lay down together and binge a show. That’s why I came here.”

“Alright, you can pick.” You handed her your tv remote and crawled into your bed. She hopped in after you and laid her head down on your chest, letting you run your fingers through her hair.

As you and Gwen spent the rest of the night watching 90’s television shows, your art project slowly dried on your desk. Leaving bright, colorful watercolor marks as Gwen’s painted face stood still on the canvas.

She was really the prettiest muse you could ever have.

{ written by @loversrockxx please don’t steal 🙏🏽 }

[jarofstyles]

A little valentines blurbby miss jars? Fluff?

Sure thing :) this is full on fluff. I can do some smut too later if we are feeling it!

Check out our Patreon!

———

Harry was at a loss.

In all his other relationships it was simple, really. Valentine’s Day was going out to dinner, buying jewelry, getting expensive wine. It was heart shaped boxes of chocolate and roses. He had done enough of them that he had been pretty sure he that he had it down to the core until he had heard Y/N’s request.

“I'd really love to stay home, make some sweets with you, maybe try one of those painting videos and then drink some boxes of wine. We can make paintings for each other.”

Y/N was by far the most confusing woman he had dated, but the one he had loved the most the quickest. The most. Something about the simplicity of it almost felt like a trap- until he got a happy call from her asking if he would rather do oil or acrylic and that she was at the craft store with a few different size canvases in the cart.

So he showed up, baking supplies and boxed wine in tow to her flat, letting himself in. She had insisted on messy clothes because they were definitely going to get dirty, and she wanted a comfy night at home with no phones. That had been the big rule- notifications off, phones plugged in and put away. It was the opposite to any other date he had on the day. No dressing up, no photos, no extravagance.

To Harry? That had been one of the sweetest things. She had only wanted to spend the time with him. It reminded him about what he truly did think the meaning of the holiday had been before the commercial bits had been stuck into his brain. Spending time with the woman he loved, uninterrupted and doing things they’d both like.

He did still feel a little lost on what to give her, though. He was nervous she wouldn’t like the gifts he had chosen, though she had given him a large kiss for the flowers as soon as he had walked into the door that had nearly taken him off of his feet. She hasn’t left his side, choosing to allow herself to show the clingier side that he was relishing in. Y/N was an interesting creature, keeping Harry on his toes in the best of ways. This was just one of them.

His eyes focused on her as she stuck her tongue out in concentration, the easel holding her painting rocking a bit as she moved the brush over the canvas in short strokes. He found that she was far more interesting than the video, seeing her hair falling slightly in her face from the ponytail she had tied up high on her head and a dash of blue paint smudged on her cheek from the sky she was painting. His heart ached with how much love he held for her. This sort of love had been something he felt through his whole body, ebbing and flowing with the beats of his heart. Everything with her felt exciting.

“I can feel you staring.” She tried to be serious but he could see her lip quiver as she tried to hold back her smile. “Why aren’t you painting?” It wasn’t like he was hiding it but it was always something that had her wanting to smile. Mostly because it felt like a lot of the time he couldn’t help it.

“Cause I’ve got my own work of art right here.” He teased, watching as she set down the paper plate holding the paints she had mixed. “Can’t believe I got lucky enough t’have you all to myself.” The breathy tone of his voice showed how serious his awe was, making her turn to look at him.

It was true. Some days he did wonder how he ended up here. Y/N was unlike the people he had dated before. It wasn’t that they were all bad, that they weren’t good people. Most of them were. But they just didn’t make him feel as… full as she did. As excited. As childlike at times, getting excited over slice and bake cookies and holiday movies, over matching socks and museum exhibits. No one had allowed him to truly get down to the core of what he was supposed to feel in a relationship. She had become his best friend and more so easily it was like he didn’t even have to try.

They just fit.

Y/N paused the video, crawling into his lap. Her hands rested on the sides of his neck, eyes examining his face as her lips pouted a little bit before she began to speak. “Not fair that you’re so sweet to me. I’m trying to paint and then you go and make me want to kiss you.” And she did. Leaning in, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and exhaled through her nose as she felt his hands slip under her shirt to feel her warm back. It was something he always liked to do and she allowed it. “When you’re sweet and soft it makes me horny. And I want to finish these paintings so we can hang them up.” They didn’t quite live together yet but they spent enough time at each others places that it would always be seen. At least one of them.

“And we can.” He smiled, clasping her bare waist under her shirt. It was one that was far too big for her frame but it was cute anyways, the shorts underneath not visible from the length of it. “I do enjoy making you horny, though. I can take care of that when we’re done.” He raised a brow, showing the seriousness of the offer as she merely sighed.

“Fine. I’ll hold you to that. But this has been the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had and I want to enjoy all the activities.” Her ex hadn’t really been into the whole thing and the fact that Harry had let her choose anything she wanted to do and fully indulged in it had been enough for her to know that he was the one she wanted to be with. “I am very full from cookies but I want at least one cupcake before you get my pants off. Deal?”

“I’ll let you have 2 if it means we can take a shower together. You’re covered in paint and sugar, sweet girl.” He chuckled, thumbing some of the powdered sugar from her neck. How she always managed to wear her food, he had no idea- but he knew he would always find it endearing.

“Hm. Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Relatively Speaking, This Will Probably Be Fine (ch 10)

Fandom: Girl Genius Rating: T Summary: Everyone knows Agatha Sannikova can't be a Heterodyne, even if she did arrive mysteriously one night to live with Lady Teodora and Lord Saturnus. She's got those headaches, and she's not too bright - she's not even a Spark! She does get along quite well with Lord Saturnus, which is a bit odd, but she's had a very good affect on his health. Lady Teodora doesn't like the kind of, er, "life lessons" he's tried to teach her, but Agatha hasn't set anyone on fire or unleashed any terrifying monstrosities on the town.

...what do you mean, tempting fate?

[last chapter was incorrectly labeled as chapter 10, my bad]

<Last Chapter | Chapter One | Next Chapter > AO3 Link

It was the sort of spring day that promised a perfect summer: the air was thick with the scent of flowers and growing things, the sun shone down hard but the breeze was cool enough to soften it. Whether or not that promise would be fulfilled, at that moment, it was perfect.

Cafes and eateries all over Mechanicsburg had set tables and chairs out in the sunshine, often clogging up the roads to do it, and all were doing a bustling trade. Mechanicsburg took brunch very seriously, and tables were packed with friends and partners chattering over boar bacon and bottomless Mechanicsburg Slings (‘because that’s what you’ll end up in if you drink too many’).

There was only one table in the entire square that bore a single occupant. The table was scattered with several plates and pots of tea, indicating the occupant had been there for quite some time. Hanging from the chair was a canvas bag stuffed with books. The occupant herself was visible only as a cowlick of blonde hair poking out from behind a hardcover copy of The Heterodyne Boys and the See-Saw of Destiny and a pair of legs kicking absentmindedly back and forth under the table.

A shadow fell over her. Slowly, Agatha looked up.

And up.

And up.

Agatha wobbled in her seat, nearly tipping over, and still she could not clearly see the face of the monster looming over her. The creature took a few polite steps back.

He was huge, so big Agatha barely came up to his second knees. Bull’s horns curved from the sides of his head, and four eyes gazed down at Agatha in polite curiosity. A hat was balanced between his horns; he removed it and bowed slightly.

“I do beg your pardon,” he said, his voice a basso profundo rumble Agatha could feel as much as hear. “But you are Miss Agatha Sannikova?”

“Yes,” Agatha said. “That’s me.”

She tried hard not to sound wary, as it would be quite impolite. During her time in Mechanicsburg, Agatha had gotten used to seeing monsters walking around in the open, but it was hard not to be intimidated by the really strange ones. But Lord Saturnus talked so insistantly about how important that was—Mechanicsburg was a haven for monsters, and they should be treated like everyone else—so she did her best.

“I am Guildmaster Jorbelox, of the Guild of Monsters.” He put his hat back on his head and touched the thick chain that hung on his shoulders. The links were the shape of skulls, interspursed with round red gems. In the middle hung a large medallion, emblazoned with a clawed hand reaching up towards a crescent moon. Around the edges it said Guildmaster of Monsters.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Agatha set her book aside and held out her hand, politely.

Jorbelox stared at the hand for a moment, and then—hesitantly—reached out with two fingers (which still swamped Agatha’s hand) and shook it very carefully before releasing it again.

“I wished to inquire after the health of Lord Saturnus. I hear it is improving.”

“Yes!” Agatha said, beaming. “He’s talking again and everything!”

“How wonderful!” Jorbelox said. “Perhaps I shall attempt a visit.”

Agatha hid a grimace.

“Um...you might try a letter instead,” she said.

Jorbelox nodded, apparently unsurprised.

“And the Lady Teodora is also well, I trust?”

“She’s up at the hospital for a checkup. I get to wait here and read my books if I promise not to go anywhere.”

A waiter materialized by the table.

“Guildmaster Jorbelox, will you be joining us today?”

“I would not wish to further interrupt,” Jorbelox said, but he said it in that way people did when they wanted to say yes, but weren’t sure if you wanted them to say yes.

“I don’t mind. I’m pretty sick of this one, to be honest,” Agatha admitted, gesturing at the book on the table. “It’s not very good.”

Jorbelox chuckled.

“Then it would be a pleasure.”

He removed the colorful cushion from the chair and set the chair aside, placed the cushion on the ground, and sat down. Agatha discovered he actually had three sets of knees, which allowed him to fold his legs up quite neatly, leaving him only slightly too high up for the table.

The waiter disappeared momentarily, and returned with a fresh pot of tea.

“I’ve never heard of a guild for monsters before,” Agatha said, carefully pouring tea for both herself and Jorbelox. She tried not to be openly fascinated by how delicately he picked up the teacup with his claws.

“I believe we are the only one in existence,” Jorbelox said. “Mechanicsburg is quite unique in its treatment of the…shall we say, less normal inhabitants of Europa.”

“I meant I didn’t know there was one here,” Agatha admitted. “Do you have a guildhall?”

“Oh yes. If you look at the top of that building, the one with the red shutters, you can just see the capstone figure that sits on the guildhall roof.”

Agatha squinted and yes, she could just about see a winged statue holding a large bowl over its head in both hands.

“It must be a very impressive building,” she said. Jorbelox smiled.

“I like to think so.”

“But why are you all the way out here in the hospital district? All the other guilds are in the Court of Gears.”

Jorbelox hesitated, and covered it by taking a sip of his tea.

“The Court of Gears is where most of Mechanicsburg’s manufacturing is done, and most of the guilds are related to industry—the carpenters, the bricklayers, the merchants. We are not a profession—we simply are.”

“So what made you decide to put it near the hospital?”

“Ah, well. It is not so much that we built the guildhall near the hospital as the hospital was built near the guildhall. Do they not teach Mechanicsburg history in school?”

“They do, but it’s mostly the old stuff.”

“A pity,” Jorbelox mused. “Before Master William built the hospital, this was, er...Well, it wasn’t officially the monster district, but most of us lived here. You may notice some of the buildings have unusual proportions.”

“Oh, I wondered why that house had such skinny doorways!” Agatha exclaimed, brightly. Jorbelox smiled.

“The one three stories tall with only two floors? That would be Mr Amigara’s residence. You may have seen him around--very tall, very thin, rather…” He paused, searching for a word.

“Squiggly?” Agatha suggested, and Jorbelox smiled.

“Rather squiggly in the bones; yes, that’s him. Not much for conversation, I’ll grant you, but a marvelous chimney sweep. Very good at navigating tight spaces.”

“So why did they pick here to put the—”

“Agatha.”

Ms Teodora’s expression was placid, but the corners of her mouth and eyes were very tight, and her eyes were fixed on Jorbelox.

“Lady Teodora,” Jorbelox said, tipping his hat to her. His mouth had also gone tight. “Good day to you. I had just stopped to inquire after Lord Saturnus’ health, and Miss Sannikova was kind enough to invite me to sit with her.”

“How nice,” Teodora said, with a stiff smile. “Agatha, get your books. It’s time to go home.” Teodora drew out her coin purse.

“Oh, please,” Jorbelox said. “Do allow me.”

“No,” Teodora said, sharply. Then she smiled, almost painfully, and said in a very polite voice “Thank you, but that really won’t be necessary.”

“I see,” Jorbelox said. His voice was also very polite. He tipped his hat again. “Do give my best to Lord Saturnus.” In a more genuine voice, he said “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Sannikova.”

Agatha, very aware that something was going on that she couldn’t follow, smiled all the more cheerfully to balance out the strangeness.

“It was nice to meet you, too,” she said, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Maybe I can come see your guildhall someday.”

“I would be honored to give you the grand tour.”

“Agatha.” Teodora put a hand on Agatha’s shoulder and began to steer her away without another word.

Agatha, feeling contrary and not knowing why, looked back over her shoulder and waved.

“Goodbye!”

Teodora’s grip tightened on her shoulder, and she began to walk faster.

By some unspoken agreement, the argument waited until they were back inside the house, out of earshot of the nosier Mechanicsburg citizens.

“Agatha—”

“What was that all about?” Agatha demanded, fists on hips.

“You shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“I was just making polite conversation,” Agatha said. “I wanted to know about the guild. You were mean to him!”

“I was not mean.”

“Well you weren’t very polite.”

“Monsters are dangerous,” Teodora said.

“All people are potentially dangerous, that’s why you’re not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“All people aren’t twelve feet tall with claws.”

“We were in the middle of the square in broad daylight, it’s not like he could eat me.”

“Agatha.”

“You’re always saying it’s important to be kind to other people! He’s a citizen of Mechanicsburg, just like anybody else,” Agatha said stubbornly. “Lord Saturnus says most of them got chased away just for existing.”

Teodora sighed.

“I told you you shouldn’t listen to everything Saturnus Heterodyne tells you. You shouldn’t listen to anything he tells you.”

“Is that why you don’t like that guy? Because he’s friends with Lord Saturnus?”

“He’s a monster.”

“Guildmaster Jorbelox or Lord Saturnus?”

Teodora’s eyes narrowed and her lips pressed tightly together, but she did not answer. Agatha felt compelled to press on, even though she could already tell this was going to be one of those arguments where neither side would be willing to change. She’d had just as many with Teodora as Lord Saturnus.

They were all three very stubborn people.

“Lots of people in this town have done bad things,” Agatha said. “You only ever get like this about the ones that don’t look human.”

Teodora’s smile was wry to the point of bitterness.

“Because you don’t try to make friends with the human ones. Why do you think we go to the bakery on Bonemeal Road, when there’s one just a few streets away? Why do you think there are some places I let you go alone, but not others? There are many monsters in this town. I do my best to keep you from all of them.”

Agatha was quiet. She knew in her heart her grandmother was right, but it rankled her for reasons she could not explain.

“It only seems like I judge them all because so many of them have done terrible things. I would have been perfectly fine with you having tea with Doctor Hembelbrogg, but if you knew half of what I know about the Guildmaster—”

“They won’t hurt me! They never did bad stuff to the people they live with.”

“That is not my concern. My concern is they are violent, dangerous people who thought nothing of hurting others for glory and fun. I know well enough none of them could stop the Heterodynes, and I am willing to...forgive those who benefited from inaction. But the ones who joined in? I do not want you to associate with those kinds of people.”

“You let me associate with Lord Saturnus,” Agatha pointed out.

“Because Saturnus is blatantly evil. Unapologetically so. You can see him coming from miles away – and if he has one virtue, it is that he admits to what he is. He makes up no excuses; he does not try to convince anyone that what he did was not wrong.

“But most people will come up with excuses; they will lie to themselves and to you, and they can be very good at it. Good enough that they can convince others. Do you remember what I told you about hurting people who hurt you, and how easy it is to let that become an excuse?”

“Hurting people for fun is a universally immoral act,” Agatha said, irritably, confounded that she was having to make this argument to both of them. “No one and nothing in the world can convince me otherwise.”

Teodora stared at her, then rubbed her face with her hand.

“But you already have been,” she said, tiredly. “You think ‘but they don’t do it anymore’ excuses what they’ve done.”

“I don’t think it excuses it!” Agatha insisted. “And I don’t excuse it, I know they were wrong to do it, but I...I don’t…I don’t...”

Agatha struggled to put her feelings into words. Teodora was right, but in her heart, there was no judgement. She could find it in herself to condemn them.

“You don’t care,” Teodora finished for her, not unkindly.

“I do!” Agatha said. “It’s just...cognitive dissonance!”

Teodora looked startled, then amused.

“Yes,” she said. “There is a lot of that here. You may not have been born here, but you certainly...fit in quite well.”

This was said with some strange mixture of emotion, fond but sad.

“Is that...bad?”

The smile grew fonder and sadder, and Teodora reached out to cup her cheek.

“No, of course not,” Teodora said. “I meant you belong here. That is not a bad thing – I simply worry about the influence it has on you.”

Agatha wrapped her arms around Teodora’s waist and hugged her as tightly as she could. “You influence me, too,” she said. “I do listen to you. I just sometimes choose not to internalize your worldview without question.”

Teodora laughed, and it sounded genuine enough to dissuade any of Agatha’s lingering worries.

“That’s what I get for raising you to think for yourself,” Teodora said, with deep amusement, and kissed the top of Agatha’s head. Agatha stepped back and looked up at her, and was reassured that the amusement was in her eyes, too.

“If I promise not to be morally corrupted, can I go see the guildhouse?”

“Next weekend, perhaps. Tonight is a school night, and you have homework.”

Agatha flopped her head back and groaned as she slouched towards the stairs. Morality could be argued, but homework remained frustratingly irrefutable proof of objective reality.

[beababoobies]

Helloooo you asked for some Sally face requests and I have one 🤭

Can you write Larry x fem! Reader who struggles w anxiety like hurt comfort kinda thing 💗💗💗💗🫶 THANK UU

Hiya! Absolutely, I’d love to do that for you lovely! Enjoy :) and thank you for the request!

Calm Me Down, Work Me Up.

Larry Johnson X anxious fem!Reader,

(0.6k words)

You had been having the absolute worst day. Whether it was panicking about your math test with Ms.Packerton and convincing yourself you had flunked it, or the fact that you had gotten too nauseous looking at the mystery meat for lunch and been unable to eat, you had practically come to your breaking point.

Sitting in your boyfriends room, huddled up on the corner of his bed while he paints pretty strokes on a canvas, closing your eyes and trying to focus your attention on not falling victim to the current bout of over exhaustion and overstimulation that your brain was falling into, knees hugged tight to your chest as you took deep breaths.

You loved Larry dearly, you really, really did, but the way too loud hard metal music was tipping you over the edge. Normally, you’d bring your headphones or even be in the mood to head bang with him, but the time being? Before you could stop it, you started crying. Full on tears and sobs, falling harder into sobbing when you realized how embarrassingly loud you were crying when Lar turned off his music and came to sit next to you on his bed, looking at you with those confused brown puppy dog eyes.

“hey hey hey, baby, what’s wrong?” He cooed softly, watching you try to take a breath between the sniffles and sobs to actually explain yourself, wiping your cheeks on the back of your hand, watching the black of your eyeliner and mascara wipe off on your skin, sniffling and swallowing thickly as you finally got yourself to speak, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath, feeling him out his hand on your back softly, rubbing circles into your skin.

“I - I don’t know! I just, im so scared about my math test, and and, I don’t know, maybe my blood sugar is just too low right now? I don’t - I’ve been nauseous most of the day because of that stupid fucking mystery lunch meat, I just - I can’t.” You whine out, stopping to sob and whine a couple times, looking up at you with panda-black eyes from rubbing your makeup out all over your face.

“oh, babe, I’m sorry I didn’t notice. Do you want some water? Do you want to cry about it more? Or would you just like me to stop asking you questions when you don’t know what will help and I’ll just do my best?” He asks with a small smile, thick eyebrows pinched and droopy eyes looking into your face for answers, and you just offer up a weak nod, watching him get up to go get what you can only assume is a glass of water and some tissues, so you take the time to let out a few last dry sobs before he walks back into the room.

”here you are my love” he coos softly, handing you a glass of water and watching you bring it up to your shaky lips, taking small sips of it and swallowing softly, leaning in to kiss you on the forehead before taking the empty glass of water from your shaking hands, putting it back on the bedside table before gently placing you to face towards him, gently wiping off the remaining smudged makeup from around your eyes, whatever you hadn’t cried off.

“t-Thank you.” You hiccup out quietly, looking down at your hands, before being wrapped in a warm hug by your beloved boyfriend as he places gentle kisses to your hair, reassuring you as you start to come back to your senses and your own emotions, silently cradled in your boyfriends arms.

~

hope you enjoyed strawberry!! I love your user it’s super cute! <3 sorry it was a little short!

[beaulesbian]

some zolu valentines thoughts bc as always, they're on my mind, but today there's two ways i think about it -

one, that's almost in the typical romantic sense - the devotion and love beyond the heaven and hell, and the trust that speaks volumes in just one look they share, the promises and kisses and everything in between.

but there's also the second idea in my head, the one with more of the aroace aspect of zolu that i love so much.

if there would be a valentines or love day that they would celebrate, it'd be for the whole crew something special.

nami is the only one to keep some sort of semblance of a calendar to keep in mind what day it is, and she mentions it kinda quietly, thinking of vivi and how she misses her, but sanji hears it and immediately starts to put together a plan how to win over the hearts of those he likes. then luffy overhears when sanji mutters to himself about a dinner celebration. and because if luffy hears 'celebration', he hears a party, which means food and drinks and joy for the whole crew!

robin explains with a quiet laughter that such day has different meanings for different people, and how everyone celebrates it in their own way, and luffy would shrug at the romantic parts with 'oh, i guess thats nice for you, can i have some meat now?' but would be excited for the dinner the whole day.

zoro would pass by on his way from his training, saying 'ditto' and going to pour a drink and sit beside luffy, until something new needs their attention, like usop and franky shouting excitedly from the workshop over the sound of various experiments.

maybe without realizing, luffy's eyes wonder over to zoro most of that day.

luffy then spends the day with each of his crewmember, learning new things they've been working on and finding out how they've been doing lately, he knows they're watching him with a simple curiousity of 'why the sudden interest, captain?' but he pays it no mind, he just wants to know more about his crew, about his friends.

he listens to nami going on about her new pencils and papers for charting maps she picked up at the last harbor, and fishes for a while with chopper who needed a break from cleaning his medical supplies.

he admires usopp's painting on canvas, his new ideas and sketches for stuff luffy never heard about, and plays with franky's hair just because franky seems to have fun watching luffy being so excited about his changing hair designs.

he compliments brook's new song when he ends playing the melody on his violin - it was something new, something more mellow and soothing and sweet.

jimbei is at the helm, watching over the ship, and luffy can be really quiet around him when he needs it, they watch the sea and the clouds pass by overhead and by the time the sun starts to set, luffy's stomach grumbles, letting itself know.

luffy tries to spend more time around sanji, but he kicks him out of the kitchen after the fifth time he asks him to get some samples before the big dinner. he can wait, it shouldn't be long after.

so he leaves the galley and finds zoro watching him, knowing their eyes met over the deck of the ship throughout the whole day, full of love and calmness. there's that comfortable feeling in his chest, settling down and making him sleepy. he smiles at zoro and swing over to him, finally, and finds out it's the best time for a nap before they get called over for the special dinner.

zoro presses close to him, a warm embrace at the end of the day, keeping the chill away. he's finished with cleaning his swords for the day and they're put away close to his side, so luffy settles closer and adjusts his straw hat on his head.

there's no need for many words between them, luffy couldn't help but keep his eyes on zoro during the day, just because he loves him, and because robin and sanji did say the day is special for celebrating love. he smiles at his swordsman and knows that zoro feels the same.

[kekaki-cupcakes]

I dare you - Leo V x gn child of Nike/Reader

part one

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

It wasn’t his fault. Really, it wasn’t.

How would Leo have known that challenging a child of Nike would turn out badly for him?

It wasn’t his fault they’d been so cocky, crossing their arms across their chest and doing that thing where they stick their chin up in the air slightly and stare him down with a raised eyebrow. It was infuriating… It was also really hot, but that wasn’t the point.

They had that ‘I'm better than you and I know it’ look in their glimmering eyes, so of course Leo had to smirk back at them and say, ‘prove it’.

That was how he found himself trying to work out the difference between a gold tipped spear and a double bladed spear in the weapons shed. Honestly, he didn’t know nor did he want to know all the different ways he could gut someone, but it was either hide in the musty wooden shed or become one of those gutted people. Leo wasn’t exactly a combat fighter, but he had dug himself into this hole, and he had to do something about it.                                                                                                                                                                                                  

He doubted anyone else was awake, and if it was up to him he’d walk back across the dewy grass and hop back into his warm bed. But then he thought of the satisfied look they’d get on their face, and he grabbed the least scary looking spear off the rack and took a deep breath. 

Once he’d made it over to the arena, they were already standing there, wearing the basic orange Camp Half-Blood shirt paired with black tracksuits, and… adidas sneakers, Leo noticed with a chuckle. When they made eye contact, his hand grew sweaty and he nearly dropped the spear, only just managing to catch it and not make a fool of himself. Yet. 

Curse his stupid stubbornness and need to prove himself. 

“C’mon Valdez, you chickening out already?”

“Nuh uh,” he muttered, sticking his tongue out at the way too excited for someone who woke up before the sun did, child of Nike. “You’re the chicken.”

Not his best work, he had to admit. Leo’s breath formed a cloud in the cold air, and he bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling anxiety growing in his gut. There was no way he could get out of it now, so he just had to put up a good fight. And hope the small crowd already gathering would go away.

Jason gave him a pathetic looking thumbs up and Piper just took out her vintage camcorder, the one Shel had bought her a while ago, with a smirk. When he glared at her, she brushed one plait over her shoulder and mouthed back, ‘you’re fucked.’ 

The rest of the Nike cabin [which was only really the twins] had come over too, elbowing each other as they ran to get the highest seat in the stands. They didn’t seem to have any worrie about the outcome of the dual, which only made Leo more sure of how, in Pipers words, fucked he was. He was briefly distracted by his inevitable death when his opponent twirled their golden tipped spear, the weapon of Nike herself, around a few times. “Are you gonna keep staring, or you gonna fight me?”

Leo knew which one of those options he preferred, and with a gulp, he did the opposite. The spear was heavy in his hands and the canvas grip shifted around awkwardly. “Fight you, obviously. What else would I be here for?”

“I dunno, maybe my stunningly good looks?” They pushed up multiple coloured bracelets from where they sat around their wrists, and moved quickly into a fighting stance, the spear tilted in a way that made the tip gleam in the only just rising sun. 

He gulped, and tried to copy their stance. They had already pounced at him, a wicked grin on their lips as the sound of metal clanging together echoed through the arena. He winced and took a few steps back, adjusting his grip as he tried to hold his defense. “Ah shit.”

Dust was churned up in their wake, and he lost count of how many times they spun circles around him. They poked and prodded with their spear. His only option was to jab randomly with his own, blocking the attacks pitifully. 

He ran out of breath quickly. Someone called out something in the distance. A stitch formed in his side. His misused weapon went flying, and landed meters away when a particular twist of the gold tipped spear caught him off guard. 

Then there was a dull jab behind his leg and something hard slammed into him from behind with no warning. 

Electric volts of pain shot up his spine, and his breath decided to leave as quickly as his pride when he realized he was already on the sawdust-y ground. An ache was growing in the base of skull as he gasped for breath, his lungs being squeezed by invisible hands. He was prodded in the chest, and he half expected to see Will Solace frowning above him with a defibrillator in hand.

Instead his crossed eyes were met with a spear tip and a smirk. Leo groaned and threw his head back, which only made the pain worse. He raised a hand over his eyes to block them from the assault of the sun, “okay, okay, you won.”

His opponent, with their stupid cocky grin and an eyebrow piercing he’d never noticed before, bent down and put a hand flecked with scars around their ear. “Pardon me, what was that?”

He glared back at them as they stood above, holding their spear out lazily as the tip rested on his heaving chest, probably poking a hole in the orange shirt he wore on top of his white long sleeve. Apparently his spite only made it all the more funny, because he got another held tilt. “What made you think you could beat someone literally born of strength, speed, and victory, of all things?”

Then to his surprise, was offered a hand up. 

 “Uhm, thanks.” He blinked, and then took the offer, brushing sawdust and sand off himself. 

They nodded at him in return and retrieved his long lost spear, holding it under their arm as they made their way back over. Leo ignored the exaggerated cheers on his behalf coming from where his friends sat. 

“Why did you say you could fight?” He was asked, while they grabbed their water bottle. It had a few faded converse logo stickers on it. “You obviously can’t, why’d you challenge me?”

Their tone wasn’t even rude or overly confident, like it had been a moment before, and Leo realized they were genuinely curious. He shrugged, hands in his pockets as they carried the spears back over to the weapon shed.

He followed them, “you would too, wouldn’t you?”

They thought for a moment, a little crease between their eyebrows that he sort of wanted to smooth out. “I suppose I would, but that’s sort of my whole thing, isn’t it? Beating people, taking up every dare, following through with every idea or thought i’ve ever had, never backing down from a challenge because otherwise it’ll kill me… complaining about my OCD.”

Leo might be bad at social interactions, but even he could see the little admission slipped in the end there, and he figured it’d probably be kinder to not mention it. 

“It won’t actually kill you?” He tried not to let worry slip into his voice. “Will it?”

“Not physically… Not that I know of.” They opened the swinging wooden gate to the weapons shed, letting a stream of light into the dusty little room. They waved a hand absently, like that would explain what they were trying to say. “What I mean, is like, I'd never let it go. It’d just sit in the back of my head until I die, telling me that I should’ve done it, that I'll never live it down.”

“Must be exhausting.”

“When I was eight, Butch asked me to fill in for his shift cleaning the stables. I said no, because I wanted to make friendship bracelets with Drew instead.” They took a deep breath. “I didn’t go to sleep that night, because it was all I could think about. I snuck out that night to clean the stables, even though Butch had had to do it anyway, but..I just.. I had to do it. 

They pointed at their bicep, and Leo had to draw his eyes away from their muscles and back to the long jagged scars stretching from their elbow to where they disappeared to underneath the sleeve of the orange top. 

“The Harpy’s found me.”

Leo’s stomach dropped down to his scuffed shoes, his breath catching. He couldn’t imagine thoughts spiraling so much they’d get you injured. His voice sounded too hollow to convey his emotions when he spoke. “Oh…that, like, really sucks…. You can’t do anything about it?”

“Me, Holly, and Laurel all have medication now, but it only just takes the edge off it. Upside is, I don’t break pinky promises, I guess.” They didn’t look over at him, just stacked the spears up on the rack in the correct order, and then picked up a stray shield from the ground and popped it back onto the hooks jutting from the walls. 

Then their eyes widened, the white of them showing as if they only just realized how open they were being. “Anyway, uh, maybe don’t try challenging anyone else at a duel again.”                                                        They cleared their throat and moved to the door, grabbing the rusty lock off the little shelf. Part of it fell out of place and onto the ground with a small thud. 

The way the poor lock was being glared at, it could’ve killed someone. Leo picked it up gently, hoping not to lose any of the small parts. “Oh, I can just-”

“You don’t think I can use a screwdriver?” He was asked with narrowed eyes as he pulled a few tools out of his belt. Even his nimble fingers couldn’t fix something this old and broken.

Leo shrugged, holding his hands up in defense. “I didn’t think fixing things is your area of expertise, but if-”

“Okay, you’re on.”

He shook his head, not wanting to rope the child of Nike into a challenge that’d rot in their brain and force them to go through with it. “Wait! No that wasn’t a challenge, you don’t have to-”

They shook their head back at him just as quickly, folding their arms like that would seal the deal. The way they looked down at Leo made him want to agree with anything they said though, so maybe they did have some reasoning behind it. “Tomorrow, the forgery, I'm gonna beat you.”

“At what?” He scoffed, fiddling with the lock in his hands, and pulling one of the wires back into place. Then he pulled the screwdriver back out of his toolbelt and screwed the bolt back. “Building?”

“Exactly.”

“Well if you’re gonna make it a thing, you can’t host a competition like this in the forge, we’re going to bunker nine.” He said back, jutting his chin out as they moved him out of the way and shut the door behind them. 

He passed them the fixed lock, as they stuck their tongue out at him. “You’re on, Valdez.”

[cutegirlmayra]

Boom Sonamy, Lyric comes back trying to achieve immortality. He needs an exhange of life for a life so a live sacrifice but can't read the rest of the inscription. So he kidnaps Amy again to read the rest of the message otherwise he'll destroy the village and plans to sacrifice her. The gang come to save her and stop Lyric. You can add more to make it more dramatic if you want with a better ending than I can think of ^_^'

I do tend to always just add more, don’t I? XD I’m sorry for those who I’ve taken your idea and ran with my own thoughts on it, but I hope it’s been satisfactory nonetheless! Working a lot lately, so when I do have time to do the Tumblr Prompt Series (also posted on all my writing sites for viewing pleasure!) I usually do something fun but small. I’ll give it my best, Precious Anon!

Also, Lyric is a very… how do I put this… There’s not a whole hecka lot of information on him. I did some research to look back over the games he was in, and even then, it was pretty generic and bland, sorry Lyric fans!

However, sometimes, that’s actually good news. You know why? Shocking, I know! But it means the character is wide open for interpretation and expanding upon them. I won’t be doing that for this fic, necessarily, but I think characters with great potential are usually those that have little information but just enough to peak interest. It’s one of the reasons I felt Amy Rose was a character I could put more lore and backstory on, because although I did study her character, there wasn’t a whole lot on her. It made her a canvas that felt ‘half-full’, able to be influenced and expanded upon.

However, in recent times, Amy Rose and many other characters like her in different franchises (Not necessarily in personality or role, but just the same level of character-depth and lore, I guess?) have really been given love and more games are coming out with better writing quality than ever before! I’m so glad that so many ‘side characters’ are treated as main cast mates, and not just thrown into trope roles anymore.

That being said, you can’t escape the occasional ‘One-time’ appearances like Lyric being a ‘Pops up in maybe Two Games and never again’ villain. But it does leave room for us Fanfiction writers to make some interesting depth to further their small legacy! <3

That being said–TUMBLR PROMPT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, SHUT DOWN ON INBOX, lolol you were waiting for that, weren’t ya? >:3c

Hugs and blowing kisses, everyone. I’m definitely taking more time to heal from burnout and also work on Fanfiction Edits (Which are coming along nicely, I’m now back to Instincts, for those who are a fan of that one.), Original Stories (Sorry, probably won’t post them tho :( But books are important! lol), and of course, Tumblr Prompt Series so yall know I’m not dead xD

The tumblr inbox for prompt requests will remain down probably for a few more years. I know that upsets a lot of you, but if they ever do open again, I will be blocking ‘Anon’ because I think some people are posting more than the actual limit of how many they can submit. Due to this, I’m overwhelmed with hundreds (not joking, by the way.) of requests that I really don’t want to do? So we’ll be taking time to go back to stories I’ve wanted to write and solo-writing for my fanfictions/other works. I’ve gotta set up stronger boundaries! Haha XD

That being said, please enjoy this Sonic Boom (Feels ancient now) Prompt!

Prompt:

“Ultimate power… Although sounding like sweet nectar to one’s ambitious desires, tends to lead to a faulty conclusion…” A snaky whiplash from his claw-tail sent a impulse reflex through Amy’s spine, causing her to flinch and her ears to withdraw back again.

She was so mad, tied up to a pillar inside an ancient tomb, having been ambushed while excavating what looked like a madman’s attempt at immortal life.

Roughly translated, a doctor related to Eggman, known as Ivo Robotnik had first discovered this tomb and kept it a secret. He researched and found a successful way to immortalize someone… but he failed to interpret the last section of the stone slab’s text…

A life for a life… to give Shadow The Hedgehog, his ultimate creation, immortality–to live and breathe forever in the purpose of curing the world of its vital mistakes and sins–he accidentally let his granddaughter, Maria Robotnik, die in the process…

As she read the inscription, Ivo’s account tells that her life was being drained from her… and eventually, was converted in some miraculous way into what was necessary to mechanically engineer this ancient tomb’s purpose: Infinitely Sustained Life.

Shadow, overwhelmed by the loss of his friend, turned on Ivo Robotnik, and sealed the tomb to never let the tragedy that had befallen here happen again… until now.

‘Opps.’ Amy thought to herself, annoyed by Lyric carrying on with his wicked monologue about being the last of the ancients, having envied and coveted this technology, but had lost before he could even begin to understand it. ‘I’ve been following the late Ivo Robotnik’s work in hopes of finding the ancient world… I didn’t think I’d stumble upon this buttless snake again…’ She sighed quietly, blinking her eyes as though counting subconsciously the seconds before she was to be daringly rescued by her friends.

Again…

‘Why was it always me?’ She grumbled in her thoughts before the second whipping crack of his tail colliding with the ground near her snapped her out of her thoughts again.

“You remain awfully quiet… that’s offssssseting.” He hissed to her side, which made her lean as far right as she could muster, trying to get away from his anciently stanky breath.

“Upsetting,” She appeared to be clarifying, “That I have to have my peaceful afternoon so rudely interrupted by the echoes of a delusional reptilian, but I mean, at least I’m complaining internally.” She smirked up to him, showing she wasn’t trying to help him, she was just making a snarky comeback.

He shook his head, his lips swerving in their rage as he lifted himself up, completely over her cocky and irritating behavior.

“You will read the slab for me!” He smashed down his robotic arm by her, and she had to turn her head away from the dust and flying debris of shattered rock taking off from the impact.

“Like I’d die for you!” She badmouthed back, “Sonic and my friends will be here any minute. Seems you’ve become very fond of our combined butt-whooping, Lyric! I can’t fathom any other reason you’d keep wishing it upon you, unless it truly makes you feel like you even have a butt to whoop.”

“Silence!” He roared up, having the whole of the tomb shake from his vibrating, strong sound before Amy just scoffed.

“Finally, we see snake-eye to hedgehog-eye now.” She leaned back on the pillar she was tied to, taking a nice breath out. “Ah~ Now, to await the inevitable victory-WUOO!” She was yoinked practically up, snapping her restraints around her wasit but her arms still behind her back.

Lyric had taken hold of her head, as she kicked the air and tried to hit him while he held her uncomfortably high.

She could probably be alright, but she couldn’t use her Enerbeam… Nor her Piko-Piko Hammer while her arms were still tied-up, although her legs free.

She could feel the squeezing of his robotic claws digging into her cranium, and for the first time that day, she actually showed the tire and wear of having struggled against him for so long.

Not only did she dig her way carefully as she could in here, trying to preserve the ancient relics to study them later, but she had to fight Lyric, and now…

“If you will not comply…” He pulled her face towards his own, using his tail to grab her legs and keep them tightly clamped together, making sure her struggle just became ten-times harder…

Her eyes were twitching under the pressurized hold the claws had on her head… Looking up as she couldn’t help but show the strain.

“Then you’ll remember an old friend, I’m sure…” He attached a new mind-controller on her, as he let her go and she fell to all fours,... then looked up to show she was fully under his power.

“Perfect~” He chimed, laughing manically, “Now, read it to me!” He slashed his tail against the wall, turning for her to get up and walk towards the slab.

She knelt and held out her two hands to it, reading the rock…

“At last! My robotic empire! To erase the weak and insipid existence of all living organisms…” He slithered and opened his arms to the murals around the tomb. “To eternally strive for perfect power… the influence of which only the vast superiority of machines can dictate! Eggman was a fool to try and rival me… You and your friends were mere insects to my reign! Biting and taunting me, getting in my way to distract me from the ultimate purpose of my recreation!” He twisted the wrist joint of his robotic arm and held up his claw-like hand, admiring it. “Soon, even I shall become fully mechanized! With immortality, I can improve my own being once more! No longer half-complete, a mutated cyborg with still my fleshy prison! But… I shall shed this weakling flesh to become truly–the immortal mechanized god of this new world!” He struck an all-powerful and imposing pose, but an explosion of rocks and rumbling of the tomb’s unstabilized structure shook him out of his gloating aside to himself once more.

“Wh-what? OFFPH!” A red, shiny shoe smushed with great force against his face, crushing it as Sonic sped into the fight, and Shadow rushed to Amy’s side.

“Snap out of it!” He could tell by her faint breathing that she was already losing her life force, the stream of which was moving through the air into the large center dome-like structure above the tomb.

“No… not again..!” Shadow cried out, seeing as Lyric was able to actually combat Sonic, who had tried to pin him down but was flung off of him.

Lyric laughed again with the added strength of immortality slowly being converted into him by the strange process of the powerful stream of light waving through the air, coming out of the ball, to then attach to him like a leash.

“Soon, Sonic, all your friends will contribute to is merely delaying the eventual takeover of this planet..!” Lyric, slithering towards Sonic as he kept backing up, felt his body powering up. “Every muscle in you will eventually wither and die… while mine shall stay immaculate… and whether you continue to prevent me from my destined course of fate or not, sooner or later… You will die.” He lunged into Sonic’s face, who looked horrified at what he was saying. “While I’ll still yet have endless time left in me… to conquer, maim, and entirely transform this pathetic mossy rock into yet another perfect rendition of what I shall become… Immortality pristine, everlasting, and most importantly…” He rose himself up into the air, his tail whipping around underneath him. “A robotic masterpiece..!”

“Amy..!!!” Shadow gripped at her mindcontrolling device on her head, but it was wedged on tightly this time, “Darn it, woman!” He looked to the slab, she was almost done..!

He closed his eyes, realizing what he must do.

“Forgive me… Maria.” He covered Amy’s mouth so she couldn’t speak. “I will have to belay my promise to you… and save this pathetic excuse for a world… if only to bring your perfect idealisms to light… perhaps… another day.”

He lowered his head and read the last of the inscription, which took his immortality and-

The beam redirected.

“WHAT?!” Lyric landed back on the ground, looking at his robotic arms before turning to finally notice Shadow as he held Amy, giving her back her life force…

“NOOO!!!” Lyric began to move quickly towards him, but Sonic thomped him yet again to the ground.

He folded his arms, standing triumphantly over him, “Looks like your brilliant plan at eternal robotization backfired yet again, Lyric! Now, you’re just softly singing the poetic justice of what happens to those who try and metallically make their own butts to be kicked!” He kicked Lyric as he moved forward with a humorous cry of pain from it.

“Shadow?” Sonic then raced to his side, looking at Amy in his arms and having her transferred to his own.

Shadow… slowly shook his head.

Sonic, worried now, looked down at Amy. “Amy?”

She didn’t move… the light breeze from their entrance now sending the wind to move her three bangs.

“... Amy?” There was a long… hard pause…

The air was still, even Lyric pushed up off the ground, holding his push-up position, and looked to see with a swishing tail if immortality could still be his afterall.

Then… her eyes blinked…

“Miss Rose?” The little blonde human girl was bending down to speak to her, as she got up, rubbing her head.

“Wha-... H-huh?” She looked around what seemed like a white space. “Am I… dead?” She looked at the girl, gasping, “Maria Robotnik!?”

The little girl shyly giggled, gently covering her mouth, “Oh, I’m sorry for laughing, this isn’t the time nor place for that.” She then curtsied and offered her her hand, “You’re not dead. I’m giving you my life’s essence… the same essence… that was used to give Shadow his immortal life.”

“W-What?!” Amy scooted away, kicking her feet out from the girl’s hand. “That’s ludicrous! I don’t want eternal life!” She exclaimed, “I… I want to grow old with my friends, and have countless adventures… a family and eventually… make global peace and end world hunger.” She looked down, “Set up an all-women government and prove that we can organize a better democracy and-”

Maria just giggled again, “Many. Big. Dreams.” She gave each word a single note and pause, not necessarily for dramatic flavor or effect, but to show how much they meant to her.

“Many times have I wished for a better world. Bigger and bigger have my heartfelt prayers become. Dreams of an absolution… from misery and fire, to passion and compassion reigning evermore on the earth.” She gently offered her hand to Amy again.

“If you can’t accept an immortal life… then accept entirely your own life. All it’s happenings. Even the mistakes…”

Amy looked at her hand… realizing that without Maria, she would likely never be able to return to life at all…

“Is this… really the only way?” Amy held up her hand, but hesitated, looking sweetly at the girl. “I’m sure… W-We could ask Tails… We could find a way to bring you back!” She formed a fist, “We can reverse what this place has done to you!”

Maria just smiled like the angel she was. “... This is the only way…” She quietly stated, “Come, be at peace. Your friends are waiting for you.”

Amy dropped her head, her hand loosening from a determined fist to an open hand again, and looked at it. “... Dying sure does suck… doesn’t it?” She looked with teary eyes up to the kind, optimistic girl. Her heart wanted to help her, but she was sacrificing herself–yet again–for the greater good.

“Thank you… Maria.” She took her hand… as a white light engulfed them.

“No, Amy Rose. Thank you… for never giving up on the world we live in. In it’s present, so many seek to extend their lives, in fear that they will live to short or not greatly enough. The real life we should long for, is the one we’re currently on right now. With so much possibility, with so many endless adventures to take… When one begins to stop fearing the future, then can we really live and create it at last… the way-...”

“We want to.” Amy finished, as Maria’s voice faded and she opened her actual eyes.

Sonic and Shadow were over her… Shadow having lost his Immortality, but Amy not gaining it.

Instead, Amy had died and Maria used her life force to give it back to her.

Both mortal now, Amy looked from Sonic to Shadow, and held up a hand to grace his cheek, “She’s lovely.” She smiled kindly to him. “Maria was such a beautiful young girl.”

Shadow couldn’t hold it back, and cried.

He ducked his head as her hand came gently off and moved to Sonic’s chest, patting it lightly, “Boy, does that heart never cease to slow down?” She teased, as Sonic sighed in relief.

“Happy to have you back… Ames.” He gave her a fond expression, and she leaned her head into his embracing arms, resting in that soft gaze of sweetness he gave her.

“ARRGGGAHHH!!” Lyric arched his back, crying out in further outrage. “HOW!? You fools! I will return, I will bring a bigger robotic army, I’ll have you ruing the day you-!”

There’s was a large ‘KONK!’ sound as mechanical birds flew around his head while he circled a little in the air and then fell forward, revealing Tails with a large wrench held like a thrown baseball bat, Knuckles with his fists positioned as though they had just hit something as well, and Sticks with her boomerang and one hand on the ground to show she had just caught it.

“Man, to think. We’ve stumbled upon a literal ANCIENT secret governmental conspiracy! Whoo! Glad I’m only living in a time where we have to deal with our modern governmental conspiracies!” She spouted out, looking relieved for some odd reason.

“Oh, hey Bestie!” She waved enthusiastically to Amy, who lightly waved back at her, giggling as she came over.

Completely unaware…

Of what just happened here moments before.

“What were you up to?” She asked, innocently.

Shadow covered his face from the view of the others, as Sonic looked to him and then to Amy, and helped her to lean up more so she could be sitting comfortably as she twisted her torso to address the others, and mostly answer Sticks’s question.

“Changing fate.” She replied, smiling from ear to ear. “And hopefully…”

“Making all of ours a good one.”

[dissociationdude]

MEET THE ARTIST - 24TH EDITION

Hi everyone, my name is Milos, and I felt it was time for a new introduction. 

I’m a 24 year old neurodivergent nonbinary queer multimedia expressionist artist. 

Wow, a lot of labels I know! I just feel these are the most important ones for me.

I’m based in Ontario, Canada.

My work is a very personal part of me. I use art for therapeutic reasons most of the time, and the expressionism is a very important aspect of that. Most of the time I do not think of the final product of what I am making, just focus on what I’m feeling while I create and evoking those emotions with my art. I have a lot of work based on traumatic events, but the reason for these creations was never to evoke the feelings of being alone, unwanted, etcetera; they were created to make the viewers who deal with the same emotions to feel less alone in those things. It is for those who have survived trauma to know it’s hard to have that trauma and carry it, and there is safe spaces to put it down. My art is aiming to be a safe place to survivors who are struggling, to provide a place to weep, to provide a place to be seen. Many of my works are graphic, talking about the trauma I went through in ways others find grotesque. And to that I say: Why should I have to carry something so grotesque, alone? Why can’t I put it down somewhere, and put the appropriate context warnings? My work is not to promote the grotesque in a way that is profiting, but to show that this is what some people endure in life. I want to be allowed to show my darkest vulnerabilities with my art, because I shouldn’t have to feel shame for what others have done to me, and nobody else should hold onto shame caused by others harming them, in my eyes. My work is a conversation starter about how trauma manifests in people. I want it to be that way. Other times, my work is very bright, happy, storytelling. It depends on what I’m going for in the respect of the piece being about the trauma events, or the trauma recovery. I basically just make a lot of work based on different trauma. I tend to pull inspiration from musicians I like as well. Many people knew me for my Crywank album series, I did art for almost every song of every album they have made. 

I always want to evoke emotion with colour and narrative, and I do that with various tools. Digitally I work on an iPad Pro 4th gen 12.9 inch and an Apple Pencil that I bought used off a friend. I also have a Wacom bamboo tablet for my computer and when I use adobe products for university. I have a variety of magazines, books, paper, that I use for collage works. I often paint with acrylic paint on canvas for paintings, but sometimes wood boards as well. When I work in sketchbooks they’re usually max size 5x7inches for travel purposes, but my pencil case is huge and loaded with supplies. I always have a bag of words handy for collage poetry.

I am really not into talking about myself in regards to my personality, but I feel like I’m a very anxious but always trying their best kind of guy. I don't have other socials I'm sharing on because I have grown to hate social media. I don’t really do much for work aside from lawn care because my disabilities, but I am in university full time pursuing to be an art therapist, and I’m doing my best to adapt to living in a safe, non traumatizing environment. 

Thanks for enjoying my art in the process of me learning to love myself fully, and accept my trauma. 

Love to everyone,

Milos / Dissociationdude 

[randomimaginesideas]

My King (Loki X Oc) Chapter 1

Summary:

When Astrid doesn't fit in anywhere, and she get sentences to life on Earth she makes the best of it. When one day, a certain prince steps into her life and offers a way out of the dull Midgardian life.

Alternatively

What happens when Loki gets a right hand woman during his time on Earth?

Previous parts: Prologue

Disclaimer; This story can also be found on AO3 or Wattpad, if you prefer reading there.

A/N: How do we all feel about the new pic for the fic? I have discovered Canva, so I've been thinking of making these for the continues fics that I post on here. I'm really happy with the results. Anyway, thanks for the love the prologue has gotten from all of you.

Taglist: @lotrefcp

TW: Mind controlling, murder

It had been three years since Astrid had been banished from Asgard. She had landed in some country called France. Even though she had tried to tell the elderly couple she was fine, they had called a screaming truck. Later Astrid would learn the screaming truck was called an ambulance, and you also had a screaming truck called the police. The police had been called after the elderly couple had explained the strange circumstances they had found Astrid with. 

The police had taken Astrid to another dungeon. Great, trade one dungeon for the other. Except this time she wasn’t treated with a beheading. Or at least she thought they hadn’t. It had seemed more like they didn’t know what to do with her. Despite the language barrier the police had shown her some footage from her falling out of the sky, presumably from the elderly couple's farm. Astrid had tried to explain her situation again, and that she was fine, she just needed a place to live so she could live her life here. It was at that moment that Astrid wished she had been a higher born Asgardian, and had the ability to All-speak. 

Astrid had remained in the dungeon for two days after that, until one day a man showed up. He seemed different from the men who called themselves the police. She was brought again to the interrogation room, but this time the man put a device on the table. “So, if everything works correctly you should be able to understand me.” The man said, looking at Astrid’s face to see if there was some form of understatement.

“I do.” Astrid confirmed, looking at the device but happy that it was here. “My name is Agent Coulson. Now, let’s start at the beginning. Who are you and why are you here?” Agent Coulson sounded like he was ready to get to business if necessary but Astrid didn’t feel like getting into any trouble. She was supposed to live here the rest of her life, better to work along and get out of here in peace. 

“My name is Astrid Arnedottir. I’ve been banished from Asgard to live here for the rest of my remaining days, however long that will be.” Agent Coulson waited for the device to translate what she was saying, and looked her up and down. “People don’t get banished without reason, what is yours? You killed someone?” It was clear that Agent Coulson was here to assess the possible threat she could be. Astrid had to play this right if she wanted to get out of here.

“I’ve been framed,-”

“That is only what someone guilty would say.” Interrupted Agent Coulson who got an irritated look from Astrid in return. “I’ve been framed,” She started again, calmly. “The crown has always wanted a reason to kill me. They claimed I killed a man while I did not do it. The only witnesses were conveniently guards loyal to the very king who wanted to get rid of me. I’m a healer, I help people. I laid low so that the All-father had no reason to condemn me.” Astrid let out a cold laugh. “It seems he will just find a way if he has too.” 

Agent Coulson hummed as he studied Astrid. “I’m telling the truth.” Agent Coulson said nothing for a while. “Asgard, the All-father, those sound like the Norse myths to me. You speak Norwegian too. Normally I would have just said you are playing a prank on us, but the camera footage proves otherwise.”

“I will tell you everything I know, all I ask in return is that you get me a house and let me live in peace.” Astrid said, trying to bargain with her new captor. “First let me see what you have to say, and then we’ll negotiate.” Astrid nodded, knowing that was the best she would get. “Deal.”

And that was it. Astrid had spent three more days in the dungeon in France. They hadn’t really believed here until Astrid had shown some light magic. It had taken some days to collect the small amount of Aesir in the air, and afterwards she had felt dizzy. It was clear that her magic would be almost useless to her on Midgard.

Agent Coulson got permission to move Astrid to New York, a city in a country called the United States of America. She got a simple two bedroom apartment, and a language tutor. The first year had cameras in her apartment because they didn’t trust her. When Astrid had gotten to understand the English language she opened up a flower and herbal shop, also with camera’s installed courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D, the organization Agent Coulson was from. 

In year two the camera’s were removed slowly throughout the year, and she learned more and more about the history of Midgard, going to history classes near the university, or other subjects that interested her. When the last camera was removed Agent Coulson came for a personal visit, claiming that they would keep an eye on her but that so far she had looked to be safe. It was up to Astrid to prove that they were correct in removing the camera’s.

In year three Agent Coulson, and a man she didn’t recognize, stood in front of her apartment door when she returned from work. The man introduced himself as Nick Fury, and they had a job for her.

Some time ago they’d come into possession of something called the tesseract. It wasn’t something known to the citizens of Midgard, but they had been studying it for quite some time now. Nick Fury and Agent Coulson assumed that perhaps, being from Asgard, Astrid might know more of it. They only started talking about it now, feeling that they could trust her more. But one mistake and all restrictions would be back in place.

Well, it never hurts to take a look…

***

“Astrid, do you have any idea what it can be?” Dr. Erik Selvig asked her, as he walked up to her station. Astrid looked through her papers, which mostly just consisted of little drawings of flowers, or from Asgard.

Apparently the tesseract was the infamous Cube from Odin’s vault. Astrid didn’t know much about it, only stories but the description and power from the tesseract matched the one from the Cube. It was because of that knowledge that Astrid was still even working on the project. And SHIELD hadn’t told her to leave yet, so she wasn’t going to mention it. Besides, it paid much better than the flower shop.

The Cube held massive power, used to build ancient civilizations, but eventually it was said that it had been stolen or Odin had hidden it away. The stories were never clear on that. But she did know that perhaps the Cube was her chance to sneak back to Asgard, or any of the other nine realms where there was more Aesir magic in the air.

But as of a few hours ago the Cube, or as the midgardians called it, the tesseract had been acting up. Little spikes of energy which they couldn’t contain with their machines. It seemed that Dr. Selvig thought that Astrid might have a possible solution.

“I’m just a florist, Dr. Selvig. I have absolutely no clue.” Astrid admitted honestly as she looked at the energy readings on her screen. Some things were familiar to her, like the energy that flowed through the body. But it wasn’t anywhere near her expertise. But she did try and wasn’t that enough?

Dr. Selvig opened his mouth to reply when the door opened, and in walked Nick Fury. “Talk to me doctor.” He ordered, making his way towards the tesseract. “The tesseract is misbehaving.” Astrid filled in from behind her station. “Remind me Astrid, since when are you a doctor?” Astrid made a zip it motion by her mouth, making it clear she was in fact going to zip it.

Dr. Selvig handed Fury a tablet with the latest information on it. “Astrid is unfortunately correct. Not only is the tesseract suddenly active, she is misbehaving. Her energy is building up.” Dr. Selvig explained as calmly as he could, but it was clear to everybody in the room that he was starting to get worried.

“I assume you pulled the plug.” Fury commented as he handed Dr. Selvig the tablet back. Astrid rolled her eyes. She may be Asgardian, and slowly started to understand Midgardian technology, she knew that just ‘pulling the plug’ wasn’t an option. “She is an energy source.  We turn the power off and she turns it back on.” Yes, they had tried. Apparently the go to plan for machines not working was just pulling the plug, waiting for 30 seconds and then putting the plug back on, but they couldn’t even reach the 10 seconds before all machines had turned back on. 

“Her energy keeps building up, no matter what we try. If she reaches peak level,” Dr. Selvig said, trying to get Fury’s attention back on him, as the director had been looking at the tesseract who had just given a burst of energy. The whole room felt electric. “We’re prepared for this doctor.” Fury immediately says, turning to look at the other man. “Save all the energy into space.” 

Astrid was looking through her notes, trying to make sense of any of it, when she saw movement in the corner of her eye. Agent Barton was coming down from his little nest near the ceiling. She liked Agent Barton. He was dedicated to his work, but he had always been friendly to her. She had given him some flower advice on which flowers to give to a girl he had been seeing, he said.

Agent Barton made his way to Fury and Dr. Selvig, joining in on the conversation all the while Astrid kept observing from afar. The other scientist would be fine without her help, right? “Nobody tried to get through on this end.” Client stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “On this end?” Clearly the other two men wanted more explanation than that.

“Aside from just an energy source, this cube is also a doorway to outer space right?” Clint pointed out. Clearly he’d remembered his conversation with Astrid, who had talked about the stories from Asgard, and the other file she had. It was a story from a man called Captain America and his run in with the tesseract. “The doors can open from both sides.”

Just when Fury was about to respond the ground started to shake, all alarms from the machine’s started to go off. The air started to feel more electric than it already had. The room was cast in a blue glow as the tesseract started to grow brighter, and brighter. Astrid went to shield her eyes from the light when she saw that the tesseract started to explode, so she quickly hid behind her desk. The blue energy that came from the tesseract came together on the ceiling before shooting back downwards, blinding everybody once again.

Astrid had expected the place of impact to be in ruin, for the machine to be broken and the tesseract to be gone. Instead, the tesseract was still in its place, and in front of it was a man. The man was sitting on one knee, looking at the ground and catching his breaths. The agents in the room immediately pulled their guns and aimed. The agents carefully crept closer, mindful of any sudden movements the mysterious man would make.

Astrid’s eyes were fully locked onto the man, who was slowly looking up. This way she could see he had emerald green eyes, which stood out in contrast to his raven black hair. He wore armor made of green leather, which Astrid recognized as Asgardian armor. Astrid didn’t recognize the scepter the man was holding in his hand. It didn’t look like any weapon or ceremonial scepter they had on Asgard. The scepter was golden, a blue crystal on the top of it, resembling the light from the tesseract. 

“Sir, please put down the spear.” Fury said, surprising Astrid with the fact he was so polite. But perhaps it was better to be polite first before we start making demands of the strange man coming from the portal. The man in turn looked at the spear in his hands, having slowly risen from his knees, and smiled. Now that she was seeing the man fully, she realized she knew the man from somewhere, but it was too dark to fully see him. She needed to have a closer look. 

Then everything happened fast. Loki had released his first shot with the scepter in the direction of Agent Barton and Fury. Astrid hid behind her desk as bullets and magic flew over her head. In under a minute the man had killed almost every agent in the room. Only Astrid, Agent Barton, Fury, Dr. Selvig and an agent she knew was Agent Smith remained. 

The man was making his way towards Agent Barton who reached for his gun but the raven haired man blocked it. “You have a heart.” The man said before placing the tip of his scepter on Clint’s chest. From the blue crystal energy flowed into Barton’s body. From where she was standing Astrid couldn’t see Barton’s eyes turning blue, but she did see the way his body relaxed, and he placed his gun back into his holster. But that wasn’t what shocked her.

Astrid let out a small gasp when the realization hit her. Now that the man was standing closer, and after she had heard his voice she knew for certain. The raven haired man was none other than Prince Loki. His hair was longer than the last time she had seen him that fateful day in the throne room. His skin was paler too, and his eyes had lost their shine. But it was him.

Her little gasp had been enough to get Prince Loki’s attention to her. Astrid hesitated on what to do. She hated the royal family for what they had done to her, but her quarrel had always been more with the All-Father than with the princes. And she had been innocent, even if the All-father didn’t believe it. Astrid didn’t know why but for some reason Prince Loki deemed it necessary to attack the Midgardians. Astrid held no loyalty to them either, she only did what she needed to survive. And perhaps, Prince Loki could be the way for her to return home. And so with the prince’s eyes still on her, she slowly lowered herself onto her knees, bowing before him

Apparently it had been enough for Prince Loki, who looked past her at Fury, who seemed to be knocked out. He walked to Agent Smith who was about to attack the prince as well, but with the expertise of an Asgardian warrior Prince Loki blocked the attack, and repeated what he had done to Agent Barton.

While Prince Loki had been busy with Agent Smith, Fury had made his way towards the tesseract, and placed it inside a suitcase. It was clear that Fury had tried to walk away but Prince Loki had noticed him. “Please don’t. I still need that.” Fury halted, as he looked at the intruder. “This doesn’t have to get any messier.”

From where Astrid was kneeling she couldn’t see Loki smile, his back turned to her. But she could still see the slightly worried look on Fury’s face. The director’s eyes looked over Prince Loki’s shoulder to look at her, if only for a second. Had he hoped Astrid would aid him? SHIELD knew of Astrid's history with the Asgaridians, but it was still her home. More than Midgard would ever be. 

“Of course it does. I’ve come from too far for anything else.” The prince answered in return. “I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burned with glorious purpose.” While the Prince was speaking Dr. Selvig was slowly rising from behind the desk he had been hiding behind. “Loki, brother of Thor.” Astrid remembered Dr. Selvig told her he had met the Asgardian crown prince around a year earlier. Astrid had brushed it off, not wanting to be bothered with the crown family. Thor was just the All-father’s minion, everybody on Asgard knew it. A brute unfit to rule, preferring to spend his time on the battlefield or between the bedsheets. Since it had been of no use to her back then, Astrid hadn’t cared about it. Now she regretted not listening more.

Even the prince himself looked annoyed at the mention of his older brother. “We have no quarrel with your people.” Director Fury tried to reason, his gaze landing on Astrid. It was clear that she was supposed to be an example. See how generous we are, we even have one of you working for us. Prince Loki followed the director’s gaze briefly, before chuckling. “An ant has no quarrel with a boot.” 

“Are you planning to step on us?” Director was beginning to look more defensive, and agitated. Fury was beginning to see that they’re was no negotiating with the man in front of him. “I come with glad news, of a world made free.” Loki said, spreading his arms as he slowly walked towards Dr. Selvig. “Freed from what?” Loki laughed, an evil tone to it. “Freedom.”

“Freedom is life's greatest lie. Once you accept that in your heart,” Loki suddenly turned, his scepter pressed against Dr. Selvig chest just as it had with both Agents. “you will know peace.” Dr. Selvig’s body relaxed, his eyes now a hazy blue. The prince turned back around, his eyes taking in Astrid. She could feel him asses her if she was a threat. If she needed to be controlled as well. With his emerald eyes on her, Astrid looked back at the floor, trying to make herself seem compliant. 

“You say peace, I think you mean quite the opposite.” Director Fury pointed out, when Agent Barton step closer to the prince. “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop 100 feet of rock on us.” Agent Barton pointed out, his blue eyes going towards the ceiling where the remaining energy from the tesseract was gathering, growing restless. “He means to bury us.” It was the first thing Astrid had said since the prince appeared. Her thoughts out of her mouth before she had noticed it. “Like the pharaohs of Egypt. ” Director Fury said, looking pleased. As if the prospect of dying didn’t worry him. That he’d rather go down with them all than let the prince loose on Midgard. 

Dr. Selvig added his own input about how they had only around two minutes left before the situation became critical. The prince nodded, turning his attention towards Agent Barton. “Well then,” Those two words were enough for Agent Barton who immediately shot Director Fury in the chest. Astrid suspected it wasn’t enough to kill the director, as she could still see him move slightly, but it was enough to get him to release the suitcase.

While Agent Barton was moving towards the suitcase, the prince turned towards Astrid. She looked up at him, but her eyes were fixed on his chest so she wasn’t looking directly at him. “You, come with me.” An order. One that Astrid wasn’t going to refuse. She rose up, and started walking.

_______

Little facts about this chapter;

- Phil basically uses the SHIELD's version of G translate. Astrid speaks a mix of the scandinavian languages. - I had already written the whole translation conversation when I remembered All-speak, and I didn't want to re-write it since it makes Astrid struggeles all the more real, so that why I gave the ability to All-speak only to the royal family.