#under the cool shades she looks like spades king | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

factual-fantasy · 4 months

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25 ASKS! WAHOO! :DD 🎉🎉🎉

Oooo what would DJMM be? A full sized birthday cake perhaps? XD

(Post in question)

:0 It was?? Thank you! :DD I'm glad you got some use out of it! <XD

(Post in question)

XDD She probably has, and no doubt she'll do it again!

@scally-wiggles716

:DD Thank you so much!! I'm glad you like the way I made him!! :}}} 💖💖💖

@badlyblurry

I mean.. sending me a drawing of your character that has nothing to do with any of my stuff? None of my characters are in it or anything? I don't see anything wrong with that..

But still, comments/asks are the easiest, safest and absolute best way to show your appreciation for my artwork. Genuinely, it is.

Oh its a horrible place. Its a kingdom ruled by a corrupt and evil king. The royal guard is corrupt and full of mostly evil snobs that abuse their power. There's plenty of food but none of it is given to the people.

Everyone is overworked, everyone is starving, there's murders in the streets. Its awful..

@khoiazo

@elegysonnet

<XD I've heard of Murder Drones but I never got around to watching it for a shallow reason. That reason being- now don't kill me!-... I don't like the art style 💔 specifically the way the characters look/are shaped. I know that's not a great reason to not watch something but its why I didn't want to watch it- 😭💔💔

Yes yes! Its the two golden kids. Although they aren't a reference to the missing children-

Its a bit hard to tell, but its supposed to be little Stanley and Stanford pines from Gravity falls! <XDD

(Also thank you!! :DD )

@shaziztrazh

All I can say is those smiles are creepy! Put some teeth in there and close that mouth! XDD

I actually have yet to draw him. I should do that sometime-

Just imagine the Spade King but much bigger and more.. grotesque..

(Post in question)

@couchwow

@beryl-shade

Oh yeah its very likely :00

@null-hydrangea (Post in question)

OOOO THAT'S REALLY MORBID AND ANGSTY-- But sadly no <XDD Its just an artificial separation anxiety of sorts.

@the-faketiccit0by

XD I'm glad! :}}

@syntaxgardenstudios

Woah, that sounds like a cool character! :D

Also thank you!! I'm glad you like my Octonauts stuff! :}} I'm sure I'll come back to it sometime XDD

@skeletormasterofevil (Post in question)

The buddy system is an A.I. programming that I created solely as a tool to make angst

The buddy system is a connected A.I. program that Glamrock Fredbear and Spring Bonnie both have. Its a program that tells the animatronics to always be in the same room. The further away from each other they go, the more distressed they become :(

@just-a-human-lad

:DD Thank you! And thank you for the littol frog guy! 💖🐸💖

I imagined the whole group is sitting around a camp fire and they're all talking a bit about where they came from and what their AUs were like. Jevil talks about how he and Seam were under rule of this horrible King. And how Seam was the court magician and he was the court Jester..

River makes a comment; "Oh.. You must just despise anything Jester related then, yes..?"

Jevil nods "Oh yeah, cant stand the stuff."

Then Grillby says, "..Then why do you still wear your jester hat?"

There was immediate tension between Seam and Jevil. But Jevil thought of something quick. "...You really wanna know why I don't take off my hat?"

Grillby: "uh.. yes..?"

Jevil creates all this suspense around it and then he goes. "Its becuase I'm bald under there, and you all would probably go blind from the reflection if I took my hat off." Cue giggling from Goner kid and a couple snickers from the group. The tension dissolves and the subject is changed. No one really thinks to bring up the hat thing again after that.. they all somewhat just accepted that as the answer.

Thank you!! :DD I love drawing them, so I'm glad you love how they look!! :}}}

If that worlds Seam is anything like mine, he wouldn't have been able to follow through with it.. Imprisoning him is one thing, executing him is just not something he has the guts to do..

And if their Spade King is anything like mine? As punishment for not obeying his orders, he would have just killed them both. :(

Hypothetically though.. if he DID kill Jevil.. and then later on saw my groups Jevil? I feel like he'd freak out. Thinking he's some kind of vengeful spirit or something. "I killed you, I saw you die- you've been dead for years- there's no way that you're really here-" He'd push him away out of fear and maybe even run away..

He probably did.. :( 💔

#my response #undertale #deltarune #fnaf security breach

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lil-creatorwritings · 5 years

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Day 1: Trust [Ray Appreciation Week]

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Pairing: Ray Blackwell x Anastacia Stryvard (OC) Word Count: 1003 words Warning: None, unless you’re allergic to fluff. D: Summary: The best kind of trust is the kind that eases your fears. A/N: Ray Appreciation Week has officially started! Let’s show our beloved King of Spades how much we love and appreciate him. I’ll also be using this prompt week to play around with my sunshine girl, so there’s that. Tagging @ikerev-appreciation !

---

It was a rare opportunity to arrange an outing if your lover was in the military. Of course, Anastacia had no problem with it--the bookshop and its influx of customers never failed to keep her preoccupied. So when Ray had asked her if she wanted to come to the beach with them for some needed fun and relaxation, her immediate response had been a squeal.

The morning sun wasn’t so bad. They had arrived early in hopes of getting back to headquarters by evening. Almost everyone had jumped in the ocean once everything had been set up, save for Sirius. She watched Fenrir and Luka play around, splashing some water at each other like little kids. Even their cheerful laughter was infectious as she smiled to herself.

“You should join them.”

She looked up at Ray as he took a seat beside her, who also had changed out of his uniform. “Maybe later.”

“Well, they still act childish, even in headquarters.” The exasperated tone on Sirius’ voice made her laugh. He sounded like a father exhausted of his children’s antics and mishaps. “No wonder they were eager to take the day off.”

“It’s been a while since everyone’s relaxed together.” The King replied, stretching his legs out in front of him. “It comes with the job. But keeping morale up is important too.”

“Anastacia!” Seth walked over to her, winking at her before heading to the waters. “You’re wasting that cute outfit of yours under the shade~”

“Seth!” She shouted at him, her cheeks turning red. Not that she wore anything too revealing underneath her wrap. It was just a modest two piece suit in a pretty shade of blue.

A comfortable silence settled between them under the parasol. The beach was nearly empty, save for them and a few other groups of townspeople that were a good distance away. It almost felt like they had the place to themselves.

Standing up, she approached the waters, walking along the shoreline. It felt cool and refreshing, the waves lapping by her feet. She bent down and started to collect seashells, small enough to fit in her palm.

“He’s right, you know.” Ray spoke up from behind her. “Don’t you want to go in the water?”

“Oh, I guess so..”

He tilted his head, catching the uncertainty in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, I’ve only gone to the beach once when I was a child, so I don’t really know how to swim.” Anastacia fiddled with the sand, a blush spreading on her cheeks from embarrassment. “...I’m scared I might drown.”

Was it a stupid idea to come with them even if she knew she couldn’t swim? She felt like an idiot for admitting it, but she couldn’t shake off the small worry every time she saw the seemingly endless depths. It was as if the ground would drag her down and swallow her up whole. The thought made her shudder.

“In that case, hold on to me.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “What?” “You trust me, right?” She nodded without a doubt. “So, hold on to me. I won’t let you drown.”

It seemed like a simple solution. The confident smile he wore gave her the courage to at least give it a try.

Anastacia removed her beach wrap, dumping the shells in it and left it on her spot underneath the parasol. leaving it on her spot. She took his hand in hers, following his lead as they walked further into the ocean. The waves played with her hair as she held onto his shoulders, focusing her attention on staying calm. Maybe she should have put her hair up before going in. She didn’t even notice that they were already floating on the water until he asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, making sure she wasn’t obstructing his face. “Are you sure you want to be doing this with me?”

He turned around so they were face to face, holding her close to him. “Why not? I want you to have some fun too.”

“I always have fun when I’m with everybody. Especially with you.”

“Then there’s no need to worry, is there?”

It wasn’t so bad, now that she had him to guide her. The coral reefs below were beautiful, their bright colors enhanced by the sunlight. The water’s clarity made it easy to watch the marine life swimming about, moving along their daily business. She could probably touch them if she dipped her hands in. Her body started to relax as he leaned back, acting like a floatie for her, letting the current rock them back and forth.

He fiddled with the ends of her hair as he watched her. The look of wonder and amazement on her face was a sight that Ray never got tired of.

Their small bubble was interrupted by Seth, wading over to where they were. “Oh Anastacia, that looks like fun! I want to have a ride too!”

“Me too!” Fenrir seconded, raising his hand high up. “Can I go after Seth?”

“Sorry, this is a one time ride exclusively for her.” He spoke up, resting his arms on her lower back.

The two feigned a pout as she laughed at their reactions. It wasn’t long before Sirius called them all back, having prepared their lunch. Ray just resumed his rhythmic kicking, slowly drifting them to the shore.

“Sirius will scold us if we don’t go any faster.”

“Mn, I don’t mind. Let me just hold you a bit longer.”

Anastacia couldn’t argue with his logic. She nuzzled into him, feeling safe against his warmth. “Thanks for putting up with my stupid fear.”

“Trust that I’ll always be there for you. Even if you think your fear is stupid.” He replied just as they reached the shoreline. The two of them walked over to where the others were settled down, fingers intertwined with each other’s.

“I know.” She smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. “I always have.”

#ikemen revolution #ray blackwell #anastacia stryvard #fluff #rayxappreciatioweek2019 #idk maybe i wanna go to the beach #despite the rainy weather lolol #so they will go in my stead!

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nish-s-random-writing · 6 years

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Growing Up

USUK! Cardverse Fic (1/?)

Summary: Alfred met Arthur in the orphanage. He was determined to make this new, older, grumpy kid his new friend, no matter how much he’s being pushed away. But somehwere, miles away, the king and queen have just been killed and the kingdom needs replacements.

ff.net link || Chapter 2>>

There was always a king, a queen, and a jack. A chain of three that bound the kingdom together.

In the Kingdom of Spades whose emblem glowed blue, in its castle with a million rooms, in its limestone towers and gold-lined walls, in its vast ballroom with crystal chandeliers, in its exquisite throne room which radiated wealth, in the chambers of the king and queen, in the royal blue silks of their bed, lay the bodies of the two, who now lay at rest.

Two old men, bound by the Spadian symbols blooming from entwined palms, were now watched over by the young jack as their bodies lay unmoving.

Yao, but a nineteen-year-old boy from the east, having served under the two old monarchs for scarcely three years, now felt overwhelmingly vulnerable. For so long, he’d looked too them for guidance and strength; they were his anchor. He’d felt so small under their gaze—gazes that were so proud and ever comforting. Now, they were gone, and a new king and queen would take their place.

Would they be kind? Wise and old? Would they be young, and innocent, to be brought up in spoiled wealth and empty palace halls?

Whoever they might be, Yao would watch over them. He would fulfill his duty as jack. He would not let something akin to this happen ever again.

“Clean the blood,” he said to the maids. “Take the arrows from their chests,” he said to the servants. “Open the gallows,” Then, with narrowed eyes said to the guards, “And execute the murderers.”

Ooo000oooO

When Alfred heard that a new kid would be moving into their orphanage, he expected somebody exactly like him and his friends. Well, they weren’t all alike. They were unique snowflakes, all of them, like Miss Amelia always said. But they were all around the age of six or seven, some shyer than others, some a bit louder. They were all friends and they all played together. They loved candy and running and joining Miss Amelia’s sing-a-longs on Thursday nights.

But the new kid, Arthur, he was… well, he was a stick in the mud.

Now, Alfred knew that sounded mean, and he would never say that out loud, but truly the new kid was exactly that.

Alfred was the first to see him. He’d gotten a good amount of candy from his seventh birthday just a day before so he saved a bar of chocolate as a gift for the new kid.

He crept down the stairs on the morning of July 6th, and peaked out the corner into the homely lobby.

Miss Amelia was conversing quite bubbly with a woman who was a bit shorter, whose hair reached her knees and eyes covered with glasses. By her legs stood a tall boy, perhaps nine years old, looking tired and grumpy and had the largest eyebrows Alfred had ever seen.

His hair was blond, like his own hair but lighter, and his eyes were green like the forest in the spring. Like gems gleaming quietly in the firelight.

Alfred decided he liked his eyes, and resolved to tell him so.

So when Miss Amelia waved goodbye to the other woman and led her to the door, Alfred bounded from his spot and met with the new kid, who now stood alone in the middle of the lobby.

He looked surprised at first, then questioning at the chocolate bar waved in his face. Then he scowled at Alfred. “What do you want?”

“Hi! My name’s Alfred. I heard you’re the new kid, right? Anyway, it was my birthday two days ago and I got a bunch of candy so-“

“I don’t care about your birthday. What do you want?”

“Oh,” Alfred blinked, taken aback. “I uh, well, I wanted to give you this chocolate bar!”

Arthur regarded him cautiously, a scowl still plastered on his face. Alfred shifted, but he would not be deterred. Maybe the new kid was just grumpy, is all.

“I don’t want your chocolate,” he finally said.

Alfred’s tiny heart must’ve broken. He was only trying to be nice! Why was this kid mean to him?

Miss Amelia came back, then said something about it being nice meeting Arthur.

Arthur? That must be the new kid’s name.

She took the older boy by the hand and led him around the corner, but not before telling Alfred to go upstairs and sleep for it wasn’t even breakfast time.

Alfred felt upset. But then, maybe it wasn’t the new kid’s- Arthur’s fault. Yeah, he must be upset too. Alfred would just have to make him happy. Miss Amelia said he was a hero; he could make anyone happy! And that was just what he was going to do.

Ooo000ooO

“Arthur! Arthur!” Alfred cried, speeding between crowded breakfast tables and sprinting past children to reach the kid with huge eyebrows who sat sulkily under an apple tree, all alone.

“Arthur!” Said Alfred, out of breath, holding up a chocolate bar in triumph. The new kid scowled up at him, but did not move.

“You again? I said I didn’t want your chocolate!”

“But why? Don’t you like chocolate? I saved it especially for you, and I was hoping we could be friends, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. And kids like you will never be my friend. Now sod off and leave me alone!”

When Arthur yelled, Alfred jumped back. Just a bit. He wasn’t afraid.

Arthur was practically growling now, but Alfred did not want to give up. The new kid was definitely not shy, so maybe he was just nervous? Sometimes kids get angry when they’re nervous. It happened a lot of the time, when aspiring parents came around looking for children to adopt.

Or maybe Arthur was just upset that he was now an orphan. Maybe his parents died or something. Alfred would be gentler this time, a bit more soft-spoken though he knew that wasn’t like him at all.

“Hey,” Said Alfred with a gentle smile. “I know this place might be weird and new to you, but it would be really good if you made some friends. We’re all really nice here and we get along together, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who wants to be friends with you. I promise, I’ll be really nice to you, Arthur! So what do you say?”

Alfred held out the chocolate bar again, hoping against all hope. “This chocolate bar’s the really good kind! You don’t have to take it, though. Just say so.” He smiled, but Arthur didn’t.

“I told you to sod off, brat!” Arthur huffed. He stood, taller than Alfred, and sneered down at him. “I don’t know you, and I don’t want to know you. But I know your kind and I’m not trusting you one bit. Now leave me alone!”

He stomped off, back into the mess hall, leaving Alfred close to tears with a lonely chocolate bar. Why was Arthur so mean?

Alfred didn’t believe that bullies existed, even though he’s heard of them. Maybe Arthur was a ’bully’ but just needed some love. That must be it. That had to be it. Alfred wouldn’t give up until he made a friend of Arthur. He would be sure of that!

Ooo000oooO

“Alright class! Open your workbooks to page fifteen and answer the questions!” Miss Amelia’s voice was a happy chirp. She bounced over the heads of cross-legged children sitting in the grassy garden, excitedly flipping through their books ready to answer questions about The Princess and the Pea, a legend old as time from the kingdom of Clubs.

“Psst, hey, Arthur,” Alfred called to the tall boy who sat close to him. Well, he sat close to Arthur in the first place, even though he was at the very back of the crowd and Alfred usually liked to sit at the very front.

“Arthur, Arthur!”

“What?” The other hissed. He had his pencil in an iron grip.

Alfred offered an apologetic smile. “Hey, do you know what, um, eks—excuse- no. Um, this word, ex-”

“Exquisite.” Arthur grumbled.

“Wow, you can pronounce that? What does it mean?”

“It means really fancy or really nice or something like that. Now, go back to your work or I’ll tell Miss Amelia.”

“Miss Amelia’s nice,” Alfred said with a thoughtful smile. Arthur didn’t yell at him this time! “Do you like her?” he asked.

“She’s too nice. But everyone likes her, I suppose.” Sighed the elder boy.

Alfred blinked, once again bewildered. “Suppose? What does that mean? Gee, Arthur you sure do know a lot of words! You’re really smart, you know.”

It may or may not have been a blush, but Arthur’s cheeks seemed to redden just a tad. His scowl, however, deepened somehow, yet his words did not match his expression. “T-thank you. It’s just a basic word! Nothing to fret over. And uh, that means ‘I guess’.” The words were strings tumbling out of his mouth. Flustered and timid, he went back to his workbook.

Hmm, maybe Alfred had somehow broken through this time. He smiled. It would only be a matter of time before he could truly call himself Arthur’s friend. “Hey, Arthur? What does, um, this mean? A-ack, a-quick, uh- aching-”

“Acquire!”

Ooo000oooO

“Wooh, thanks, Art! I would’ve totally failed that thing if it weren’t for you!”

“Shut up, Alfred. And why are you still following me?”

Alfred looked around and noticed that they were out of the orphan mob having lunch in the mess hall. They were outside, watching from a distance; Arthur with his tray of food making for the lone apple tree in the garden.

“Hey! Don’t you want to eat with the others?”

“I don’t like crowds.” Arthur answered simply. “Please, just go back to your friends.”

“Eh, they’ll be fine!” The younger boy waved his hand dismissively. “I want to hang out with you.”

Arthur looked a little less than pleased at his answer, but this time, he didn’t tell him to ‘sod off’.

Progress.

He took his seat under the shade, back to the trunk, and Alfred sat across from him. The breeze was cool and the grass was dry and the roses by the door smelled a million times closer. Alfred hummed pleasantly and began to bite into some bread.

“Yuck.”

“Wha?” Alfred’s head sprang up, filled with food and confusion.

“One bite and you’ve gotten sauce all over yourself! Dear Spades, don’t you have any manners?”

“Manners?” Alfred swallowed with a loud gulp.

Arthur’s frown twisted into an expression of disgust. “Ugh. Wipe that off! You look like a clown drowned in ketchup,” He stated, but the corners of his lips were tilting up, and Alfred knew that despite his reprimanding, he was getting enjoyment out of this.

“Heh, am I a funny clown?” Alfred pushed. “‘Cause then I can make you laugh!”

He smiled, then giggled, then laughed openly, and not a second later Arthur shook his head with what might’ve been a tiny, tiny smile gracing his lips.

“You’re a buffoon, Alfred.” Was all Arthur said before throwing a napkin at his face, the younger boy still laughing with gleeful abandon.

Ooo000oooO

Given three days with a sulky, older kid, Alfred liked to think that he’d begun to warm up to Arthur. He liked his accent, and he’d told him so. Arthur blushed and called him a ‘git’ but refused to explain what that word meant.

He didn’t push Alfred away when they went to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner under the apple tree together and he didn’t scowl at his incessant ramblings. He may have cracked a smile or two, and maybe even thanked him for getting him food.

But what left Alfred confused was how he seemed to enjoy belittling him an awful lot.

He called him a pathetic kid. He called him small, innocent, impatient, and irresponsible every chance he got. Alfred was the gullible kid; childish, and ‘utterly helpless’ on his own, whatever that meant.

But Alfred didn’t see what was wrong with that—he was a kid, after all. Kids were a lot of those things, and he thought, so should Arthur, but then Alfred found that Arthur was different like that. Maybe it was because he was older. Still, he was only nine years old! Then again, Alfred had never really spent any time with a nine year old, as most orphans had already left the orphanage by the time they turned eight years old.

Maybe that’s why Arthur was so stuffy. Maybe he just wanted to be adopted, like the rest of them. Maybe, but Alfred wouldn’t bring it up for now; it was still too risky, and he had yet to gain Arthur’s complete trust.

He would prove that he could be an awesome friend! Really, he would.

Again, after Miss Amelia’s lessons, they made their way through the noisy mess hall. Children laughed and snorted, and threw food all over their tables. Miss Amelia however sat listening to the radio with her small plate of food by the door.

Alfred strained his ears to hear. Sometimes, they’d have action-plays, or even some music! He enjoyed the radio during those times. Unfortunately he found today to be just another silly news broadcast. How boring.

“-ing and Queen of Spades, King Kurt and Queen Ram have…. in their bed…. died hand in han…. Jack Yao of Spa-…”

“Stupid static!” Said Miss Amelia, wrestling with the spindly wires on the metal box.

Alfred left her to follow Arthur.

“Hey, Arthur,” Alfred said, plopping down in front of him as they sat under the apple tree. “Who was that lady that brought you here? Was she someone you knew?”

Arthur hummed in thought, picking at the grass by his foot. He wasn’t a particularly cheery kid, either. “Her name was Miss Alice. She ran the orphanage I used to stay at.” He mumbled, voice low.

“You were from another orphanage?” Alfred’s eyes bugged out wide. “What happened?”

“Well…” Arthur hummed again, deep in thought. He was tossing the idea about in his head—Alfred could see it, in the jittering manner of his hands, his half-lidded eyes, his lips pulling into a thin line. Finally, the boy sighed, and his eyes darted back to meet Alfred’s.

“The place was going bankrupt,” Arthur stated. “As I heard, Miss Alice couldn’t keep all the kids, so she started looking for places to send them to. I was one of the last to go, and Miss Amelia said she could only take one kid because of how many you already have. I suppose Miss Alice was getting quite desperate, you know, to get all the children out before they begin to starve.”

“Oh, well that sucks,” Alfred remarked with a pout. Arthur let slip a small smirk and then Alfred was smiling too.

“Believe me,” said the elder. “This place is way better than that old misery shack.”

“Oh, is it because of me?” Alfred grinned with a wiggle-waggle of his eyebrows.

“Well,” Arthur tilted his head. “It certainly has something to do with the company.”

Alfred counted this as a victory. If Arthur didn’t yell, and he smiled quite bit, then it counted for something, right?

And then Alfred talked, well into the hour. Arthur would sometimes nod, sometimes stare into the grass like it held the most interesting little questions when in fact, Alfred had the questions. He asked and asked, and Arthur’s answers were scarce. But Alfred loved them. He loved his voice.

He didn’t mind the occasional snide remark, nor the commentary on his apparent ‘stupidity.’ When Arthur smiled, smirked or hummed, when he let out a single chuckle or looked at Alfred with a hint of amusement, he found Arthur to be very much worth it.

“Hey, come on,” Alfred finally said. “Miss Amelia will be roundin’ us up soon, you know. Let’s go.”

Then he stood, and held out his hand. Arthur stared.

It was at that moment Alfred realized he’d never actually touched Arthur before. Not even a single elbow rub. Now, he was offering his hand for Arthur to clutch. Would he even take it? He still seemed to dislike Alfred. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he’d gone too far. Maybe Arthur wouldn’t want to be friends for his sudden forwardness.

“Oh, alright you impatient twat,” Arthur said with a roll of his eyes.

Alfred might have smiled so wide that it hurt.

And then Arthur took his palm, fingers sliding over Alfred’s in a firm hold, then hauled himself up effortlessly despite the boy’s small stature.

“Well, then.” Arthur blinked. “You’re quite a strong lad for your- ah, ow!”

It was like a bat hitting Alfred’s palm with a firm slap, painful and sudden, and the two boys jolted back. Then a pinprick of needles began to work its way down Alfred’s arm, coating his fingers, his wrist, down to the crook of his elbow. He realized with some horror that the same thing was happening to Arthur.

Blue—blue vines so vibrant they seemed to glow on his skin. Spiky leaves and tiny roses bloomed over Alfred’s forearms, like a living tattoo swirling this way and that, all connected to a single blocked symbol right in the center of his palm—the Spade of his kingdom.

“Alfred! Arthur!” That was Miss Amelia; she was running to them, staring at their arms. She looked torn between whether she was to scream or cry; and then she sobbed, hands over her mouth. “You two… the king and queen.”

(a/n): BOOM 3,000 words of pure 3 am fire, baby! I already have chapter 2 in the works and boy oh boy is this gonna be a wild ride. I actually have an inkling of where this is going and a plot in my head--it’s a right miracle, my babies! I’m h y p e d for this!!!

#usuk #fanfiction #cardverse #aph england #aph ameirca #aph china #fanfic #nish #my writing #ukus #usukus

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hyperesthesias · 7 years

Text

Loki x Sigyn

Drabble: Secret Garden

Rating: G

Words: 2.750

Notes: based on @serafina-constantine‘s post. it got way longer than i intended it to. enjoy. ♥

She was beautiful, this much he knew -- though he knew not anything else about her: her name, from whence she came, why her hair was so long and how it seemed to glow in the morning’s light. He knew not how she came to tend to his mother’s garden, or how it seemed her very presence made the withering blooms spring to life again, as if there was something merely about her step that could breathe life into every little thing -- even the ice round his heart.

He could see her from the vast, arched window in what was now his office -- though it had not always been so. He presumed Odin had the archway made so he could see his own wife through the space, observing her wont of walk throughout the gardens, misting the flowers, pruning them with the help of a servant or two. But he could not dare to imagine such things for long, for fear of the shell that he carefully wound round himself to crack and reveal either his true face, or more frightening -- his true heart. Yet, from what he knew, what he understood, his mother’s gardens had not been touched in some long while, that the once vibrant verdant had withered into a coarse brown, that it seemed nearly none could revive its hopelessness. Or, perhaps, that was merely some inward thought of himself expressed through other means.

Nonetheless, he still knew not who she was -- though her countenance, the way her hair moved, the way she swayed as she glided from one rosebush to another, the breath of air she moved upon as she hummed quietly to herself, or the flowers, taking in every moment that passed her -- and nothing seemed to pass her, but everything seemed to be either absorbed by her, or emanating from her, he could not tell completely -- she seemed somewhat familiar. And every so often, while he looked on her in his predecessor’s form, she would catch his gaze if only for a glance, and bow with utmost respect, and an altogether most familiar simper. Though, he refused to be unsettled, and he refused to be denied knowledge of her -- this mysterious muse, and muses were tricky things, meant to be heeded.

But he knew better than to approach her in the old man’s form -- thus, one day, before she arrived, Loki transformed himself into the visage of a younger man, though not himself, neither anyone known in the palace: a new face, one he hoped she might enjoy, but above all, trust. He waited for her below the shade of two entwined trees, watching for her down the little brown path that wound through the gardens, plucking at the petals of a flower he’d picked, listening for the sounds of her footsteps to surprise her when she approached.

“It took me many months to revive that bush,” a voice startled him from beside him, and he drew a sharp breath to meet the eyes of the culprit, but they were backlit by the brightness of the day.

He stood, rising above the figure, until they came into view: the woman, with that same knowing grin spread across those pink lips. He couldn’t help but match it: “Surely, a blooming bush does not miss one rose,” he tossed the thing aside.

“Does a mother miss her children?” she raised her brow, and set her basket full of tools on the bench as she began to rummage through it.

What oddness! What splendid oddity, that he wanted nothing more than to know her in her entirety -- filled inside with a festering curiosity that he felt had no bounds. “Do you miss yours?” he asked, coyly.

She eyed him, finding him not altogether subtle, and she snipped the stem of the rose he’d plucked so another may grow in its place. “The flowers are my children -- precious gifts given me.”

“By whom?”

“The Queen, some few years ago,” she answered, a wistfulness clenching her throat -- she did not like to talk of the Queen Frigga often, if only because she missed her so. She had been as a mother to her of this Realm, having patience with her differences, teaching her to till earth and cultivate seeds, as one should till peace and cultivate hearts. “She took mercy upon me, and allowed me under her wing -- almost every day we would spend together, tending this earth, I know it as I would my own family.”

“And your family -- they are here?” he asked, knowing now that he had recognised her as the girl at his mother’s side, but not recalling her or anyone like her in the palace.

“To the earth they have returned,” she said, glancing at him for a moment as she paused: “And yours?”

He was taken aback by the question -- if only mildly. He should have expected it to be reciprocated, but found he had no answer prepared. Thus, surrounded by green and hues of summer, he thought only of his mother: “To the earth.”

She hummed, staying quiet for a moment, before she nodded: “Then I am sorry.”

It was the first time he’d heard such condolence. Others sent their grief to the King of Asgard, when he was disguised as her husband, but none had spoken peace to him as merely himself. Then again, as he looked down, seeing shoes not his own, hands not his own -- he supposed none still had as of yet. “As I am for you,” he returned, sincere, but finding a wall within his tone.

“Thank you,” she smiled, readying herself to leave for another part of the garden, making one more snip as she handed him a blossom: “This is for you, then -- to keep you company,” she took his hand and placed it gently in his palm.

It had been many, many hundreds of years since he’d been given a flower -- when he was a child, in fact, clouded with young innocence. He was captivated by it for a moment as he drew a breath, finding he was unsure what to say. But as he closed his fingers round it, to protect it, not to crush it, he looked up, finding she had already walked some distance away. “As beautiful as it is, my lady, I would much rather your company over that of an inanimate flower.”

But she only glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

Thus, day after day, he would wait for her at the bench under the tree -- though no more flowers did he pick on his own, instead, she would grant him a flower at the end of their excursion throughout the garden together, where often he would offer to help. He started by holding her basket, holding her tools, or handing her something she required -- she much didn’t trust a stranger to touch the Queen’s flowers, but she did not entirely want him away from her presence. It was rather the opposite: they spoke easily with each other, more honest within the walls of the garden than those of the palace, a freedom among the fresh air, that even Loki had taken the chance of telling her about his loneliness since his family had passed -- though he did not admit who that family was. And eventually, when they seemed to bare each others’ secrets with one another, did she allow him a spade -- he counted it as an honour.

She held no judgments against him, she did not ask why he wished to be there so often, she did not pry into him, neither criticise his admiration of the collection of flora -- as some others had when he was young. She merely accepted him. A foreign feeling, but one he had craved all his life, that he never wanted to part with her; he wished to remain in the confines of their garden forever, never to be seen by others, or to be bothered again. The throne made no difference any more, for its acceptance was not real, it was an illusion -- and while he still had not shown her his true form, he found he had never been so honest as when he was with her.

“Sigyn,” her named rolled off his tongue -- that he felt when he spoke it, he was speaking not her name, but a bewitchment, and he was placed under a spell.

She looked up at him, from her work of the soil, dusting her hands on the dress over her legs as she sat up, searching him as he paused. “Are you alright?” she asked, leaning a little closer to him. “What is it?”

The way she spoke -- she sounded much like his mother: the care of her words, the way they seemed to envelope him, he looked to her with a quieted heart, a rarity that he should find contentment. And how could he lie to something so pure? that would give him such peace and goodness? The one spark of innocence in all the Realms, that he had the honour of being in her presence -- how could he deceive her?

He sighed, sitting back on his legs as he set down his spade. “I have relished every moment in this garden,” he began, but did not continue.

She waited for some while for him to speak again, but he refused. A hesitant breath, and she wiped from his brow a smudge of dirt. “You speak as though you mean not to return.”

He looked to her, somewhat ashamedly. So clearly could she pierce his heart, he did not know how much longer he could keep up his ruse around her.

But his quietness said enough, and she nodded as she looked down at the row they’d made together -- seeds packed within it, that new life should spring from them. “If you must leave,” she let a shuddered breath -- everyone always left, “I bid you must not leave empty handed.” She cut a young sapling from a flowering bunch just in her reach, and tucked it behind his ear. “Plant it, watch it grow -- that you may not forget me.” Everyone always forgot.

He pressed her hand there, against his temple, against his cheek -- the one good thing that he had not unearthed, but that had come to him, willingly, and he found he could not stay. “I can never forget you.”

But she said nothing in return.

Some while passed before he saw her through the window again -- but every day, he would water her gift to him, her child, diligently, watching as its green limbs outstretched to the daylight and breathed with the cool air wafting through the palace halls. He noted some of her creations in the garden had grown withered again, drying up in the harsh light without a drop to soothe them; he watched them live, he watched them die -- as he would with many things in his exceptionally long life, he reasoned. There was no reason to be so sentimental over such frivolous things. But he knew it was not the flowers for which he felt his armour clad heart shudder -- it was the sweet humming that filled the air when she meandered about the grass, it was the way she would hop over fresh blossoms, so as not to crush them, it was they way she would speak to the plants that were ill, wishing them good health, caressing them with such softness.

It was her.

And he had let her go.

He worried over her absence, he worried over the plots she’d made that had just begun their lives -- the seeds they’d planted together. It was foolish, weak, and childish, he knew it -- or, he wished he did -- but he could not watch their young leaves suffer from brilliant green to the black of death. Thus, he agreed with himself, he would water them -- just this once. Give them some fighting chance until she returned, for she had to return, he had to believe such.

He escaped into the garden, ensuring no one saw him in his own true form -- gathered a pitcher of water, and stole to the back of the garden, where their saplings sighed with grief of their parched roots. He lent a finger to some of them, stroking their leaves tenderly, mimicking as she had done -- hoping that whatever goodness she had spawned in him would be enough to revive them as he drizzled the water atop the plot, whispering to them some reassurance.

“There we are,” he mused, ignoring the feeling of foolishness in him -- there were none around to see or hear him, only the saplings as they listened. “Your mother will return, I’m sure of it. She means not to abandon you, don’t think like that -- and if you must blame someone, blame me,” he misted them again as he swallowed. “I fear I may have hurt her irreparably. But she is strong, this much I know, and that she loves you, each of you.” He sighed and sat back, observing his work as the saplings remained ever quiet. He set down the pitcher beside him and dragged a hand down his face. “What am I doing,” he feared loneliness may have become his undoing after all.

But he was not alone -- Sigyn always haunted the garden, making her way through its greenery to the source of the foreign voice she’d heard at its back wall, when she came across a figure dressed in green. She smiled, leaning against a tree, watching as he spoke to the young ones, taking mercy on them, just as his mother had on her.

“You came back,” she breathed but did not move an inch.

He jumped to his feet and whirled around, finding Sigyn standing behind him. “I -- I’ven’t any idea of --”

“You’ve no need to lie,” she stopped him, a melancholy in her voice as she stepped through the grass to him. “I know who you are.”

“What?” he felt every ounce of colour drain from his face.

“I knew who you were, Prince,” then she stopped herself and made a small bow -- this time with more of a tease in her curtsy as she smiled. “Forgive me -- King.”

His blood ran cold, not from its usual iciness, but with fear of how he might contain the situation, if there should be any compromise or if any other malice might come from her. But he stopped, watching as she rose to smile at him, that knowing and a gladdened simper. She meant him no harm, she never did -- if she’d known all along. She knew who he was, she knew his name, his reputation, what he’d done, and still...she wished his company.

“How did you know?” he watched as she moved past him to retrieve the pitcher, and begin her duty again of watering her charges.

“How do you think I brought back this garden from its death?” she asked as she looked back at him, nudging with a gentle finger, a few flowers that had wilted over and onto the grass below them.

And with her touch, he watched as their colour returned to them, and the strength in their stalks brought their faces to the sky again -- and the death that once was had been chased away by the gift of life.

“You are not the only one blessed with magic,” she smiled, containing her happiness as she moved to the next section and the next. “I could sense your magic the moment I saw you -- much like your mother’s. I knew who you were, I let no strangers wander into this sacred place.”

He stood there, nearly entirely absent of words, unsure if he should be offended that he, the trickster, had been tricked, or grateful that he had been wrong. He settled somewhere in between -- coming beside her as he gently placed an arm about her to stroke his hand against her cheek; he could only admire her, for he had never seen such a creature, and he never wanted to let her go. “Then let me never be a stranger to it again.”

She allowed him to place his arm around her, resting there as she placed her hands against his breastplate. “How glad I am to hear you say so, my King.”

#logyn #loki x #sigyn x loki #sigyn #loki #marvel #drabble #ship: logyn #*

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