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laurorne · 7 months ago

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༊*·˚ CRAVING YOUR WARMTH | aegon ii targaryen x targaryen bastard sister!reader

summary: two dragons who seek to move closer for warmth during their grief must remain apart, as they can only hurt one another with their sharp teeth and barely contained flames. though they both share the intentions of a close relationship, they're unable, for reasons they cannot avoid.

content: targaryen incest, angst, allusion of self-mutilation/harm, bastardphobia in westeros, night after intimacy suggested, self-hatred, blood, wonky metaphors and personification, no beta we die like vizzy t, badly written angst, that damn necklace

word count: 1.5k

a/n: let me tell you that i struggle writing angst, but god do i love reading it. i'm like my own self entertaining paradoxical concept and it astounds me

A gentle hand smoothing over his back is what stirs him from the throes of sleep, nails skating along his marked skin softly enough to tickle. He shifts as the hand moves from the expanse of his back up to his hair, rubbing circles into the crown of his head. Twirling bits of hair between deft fingers as she presses a kiss to the slope of his shoulder.

He hums, limbs stretching out clumsily as he rolls onto his side, fingers weak as his hand dances along the goose-down duvet until it reaches her. Her, and her softness, and her warmth.

“Wife.” He’s barely awake, even with the exasperated sigh that comes from his older sister.

“We are not wed, Aegon.” A gentle reminder from soft lips, her eyes taking in his tired demeanour, the curve of his brow.

She brushes the strand of choppy hair from his face, thumb dragging along the apple of his cheek.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, lids finally fluttering open as he stares up at her with those watery eyes. The ones he knew made her weak to suggestion. He lets his hand creep up her calf –where he can still feel the divets of scars from their childhood running through the gardens– until it finds home on the hand she has in her lap, he threads his fingers with hers. The number of rings adorning her fingers was thanks to him: he and his obsession with keeping his older sister glamoured.

Imported Dornish rings that gleamed with the heat of the sun, Essosi ornate cloth and dresses that were far from the modesty of Court, hair pins adorned with pearls from the Summer Isles, and an intricate necklace crafted from the smelted metal of a Valyrian sword, inlaid with gemstones he had pulled from the Red Keeps vaults.

She was wearing it now, the stones gleaming under the sun that spotted through the lace curtains of her room. The engraved details scatter the few beams of light they catch like dew drops upon spider silk. The stones dangle between the valley her breasts create, the smallest of them twirls some intricate dance as she shifts. Like molten silver, it fits her without any of the stiffness metal should have.

“We should be.” He glances down at his hand intertwined with hers and watches her thumb rub over his —in the way she always has ever since childhood— it makes him all the more rueful.

He’s hopeful, far beyond it. His bones ache and his head throbs from a swelling hangover, and he feels his throat ache something terrible at its use. His eyes trail from their hands to her face, he wants anything aside from sorrow to be there.

It’s worse.

Her brows are furrowed as she stares down at him with pity, oh how he wishes it wasn’t pity.

“Oh, sweet boy.” She pulls her hand from his grasp and holds his face in her gentle hands with all the care he needs. “Some things, they just can’t be.”

His lip curls, a pathetic smile covering his visage as he cups the backs of her hands in his own. “But they could. Helaena would not care, she loathes our marriage. As do I. We could take Valyrian vows on Dragonstone. Just as our sister and uncle have. We could leave.”

“Aegon.” A wistful breath of his name, pained and twisted with grief of things that never were and never will.

“We don’t need to stay. Just you and I, riding atop Sunfyre. Across the Narrow Sea.” He moves onto his knees, staring into her wet doe-like eyes as he speaks. He doesn’t leave her an opportunity to doubt him. Doesn’t allow her to pull away as he keeps her hands on his jaw.

Her lips twitch and so do her fingers against his. “Aegon, don’t be foolish.”

“You mustn’t know what you mean to m-”

“Aegon, please.” She tries to pull away now, but he winds his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and presses forward. Wine-stained lips crushing against the curve of her nose, fluttering across her brow like the gentle wings of a cotton moth as it devours silks and linen allied— devourer of all things beautiful and plain.

He drags his lips to hers finally, soaking her up in a way only someone as depraved as he could. It’s like stretching out upon a rock after not feeling the son for years, like stripping yourself of shackles you’ve worn since birth. Her lips are chapped, a split in her lips from all the worrying she does to the poor thing scratches along his upper. He surges forward, pulling her so fully against him that it fills some empty part of him, like a puzzle piece that’s never been slotted into place. But oh —how it has— and how it always disappears just as quickly as it comes to him. He licks at her bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth and shudders out a breath as she reciprocates. Her lashes fluttering against his cheeks as they finally shut, as she cups his neck and presses her butterfly kisses onto him, licks into his mouth as she breathes hotly across his face in a way only Aegon can enjoy.

He nips at her tongue accidentally, overexcited and eager as he is. And that seems to bring her back from whatever hole he had dragged her into. But he persists, hand drifting down to the smooth metal of her necklace as he thumbs at a jewel. He tries to savour her presence even as her face scrunches and her fingers fist the hairs behind his ears. It nearly pains Aegon, with the way his head tilts away from her just slightly, Adams apple jumping against pale skin as he stares oh-so adoringly, heady breaths stinking of wine fanning her bruised lips.

“We could start a family in Essos. As many children as you want.” He desperately reaches for her again.

“Aegon.”

“A home in Braavos, on the beach. Where we could lo-”

A hiccuped sob that withers in her throat is what stops him, punches the wind from his lungs.

Her lips are pursed and her hands have loosed upon his hair and move to cup his ruddy cheeks. Nails pressing into the flesh of his face hazardously. His eyes are dark and his lips part as he stares up at her, he sees the tears edging along her waterline. That deep frown she has when she’s trying not to cry, whether it's about something he had done or when she’s ordered by their Grandsire to stop her hysterics.

“Aegon,” It’s a sullen whisper as she lets his face go entirely, fingers slipping down his chest before they land in her lap again. “I am not a trueborn daughter. I will never be. I am not right in the mind. I will birth lunatics and monsters and wailing death. You can’t love me.”

He doesn’t know what to say, for once he has no sharp-tongued quip or comment. He pushed her from a height, just when she had finally reached the top of her spire. He retracts, fingers loosening from the grip he had on her pale hair, and lets her fall back onto the plush of her bed as she stares up at him like he’s burnt her. Like he’s dragged a dagger across the soft of her flesh and told her he never loved her. She pushes herself away, curling in on herself as tears cut through the flush of her cheeks. A wobbly exhale, and another as he drags a hand through her hair.

Her fingers dance down her neck and across the skin of her arms where they find home on the pale scars marring the upper parts of her arms. He can see her fingertips quivering with the urge to dig. To pull at chords of muscle beneath her skin and scratch at her bones. She had told him about things she saw. Things that hunted at the edge of her vision and scattered when she went looking. Dreams that came to the waking world with her. A pale man with the stench of darkness seeping from his pores.

“I love yo-” He leans forward to comfort her.

“You don’t.”

“I know that I love you.”

“You know nothing, Aegon.” She pulls herself to the edge of the bed and drags herself to stand, the silk bedsheets slip away and her goosebumps raise upon her bruise-marred skin, she’s as bare as the day she was born. Her throat is too tight and her necklace feels heavy as she stumbles to the secret passage, she slips from the room unbidden and leaves a smudge of blood on the wooden grain of the bookcase as Aegon sits in her bed. Salty tears of his own roll down his face as he clenches and unclenches his fists.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #hotd x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen angst #bastard!reader

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 1 month ago

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Everything you do is perfect

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 15

Prompt: Ornament

Rated: T

Tags: Established relationship; Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Christmas; Steve Harrington has bad parents; Eddie Munson is a sweetheart; Making out

“Stevie. Hey, Stevie.”

Steve turns away from the giant clump of string lights he’s been trying to disentangle for the past ten minutes to find his boyfriend standing in front of their Christmas tree, sporting a shit-eating grin and what looks like a wig made of silver tinsel. He has pinned a tiny, red bauble to his sweater, just in the spot where his left nipple used to be.

“What d’you say?” Eddie says, doing a suggestive little wiggle of his hips and giving the bauble a flick with his finger. It jingles. “Think I should wear this to the Byers’ Christmas party?”

“Yeah, you could do that,” Steve says. “If you wanna sleep on the couch, that is.”

Eddie shrugs and settles back onto the floor, all in one jerky collapse of bony shoulders and gangly limbs. The tinsel wig sparkles as he pulls the box he was going through back into his lap. For a while, the only sound is that of the Christmas songs playing on the radio.

“You sure your folks won’t miss any of this?” Eddie asks, pulling more baubles out of the box and setting them down on the floor all around himself. Red and gold and silver, some adorned in sparkly white snowflakes and little winter scenes.

Steve shakes his head and goes back to tugging on his tangle of lights. “They haven’t been home for the holidays in forever. I think the last time we had a Christmas tree, I was like ten? I mean, they haven’t even noticed I’m gone, so they sure as hell won’t be missing a few dusty boxes from the attic.”

Eddie says nothing, and when Steve glances up, he’s still staring into the box of baubles. His mouth has twisted in displeasure, and it tugs on the gnarly scar on his jaw.

“Shit,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna ruin the mood.”

Eddie shakes his head so vehemently it makes the bauble-turned-nipple sway. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, big boy. They don't know what they're missing, right?”

Steve looks at him - the bright, toothy smile and the wild hair under the tinsel wig. The baubles scattered all around him twinkle in the lights of their tiny living room. The tree they've picked is a bit on the large side, but Eddie wanted it, and Steve has found he’s unable to say no to those large, pleading cow eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you're right.”

Eddie nods smugly, turning his attention back to his box. “Of course I am, I'm always- … oh, what's this?”

Paper rustles and baubles jingle as he crams his arms all the way into the box to pull something out from the very bottom. When Steve sees what it is, an unpleasant heat spreads under his shirt collar.

“Oh fuck, I had no idea that was in there,” he blurts. He reaches over, but the string lights are all tangled around his legs and before he can do anything, the room tilts out from under him. Eddie catches him with an arm around his waist and they go crashing to the floor in a graceless heap of limbs and tinsel.

“Did you make this?” Eddie asks, holding the small star up over their heads. It's made of salt dough, and all wonky and lopsided. Steve remembers being six years old and attempting to pry it out of the cookie cutter. “It's adorable.”

“Yeah, right,” Steve snorts, trying to snatch the ornament, but Eddie twists out of his reach. Steve shoves his hands under his sweater and starts tickling, and things sort of escalate from there. By the time they pause to catch their breath, Steve's shirt has ridden up to somewhere near his chest, his lips are sore from kissing, and the tree is slightly lopsided because they rolled into it.

“It really is cute, though,” Eddie says. His wig has slipped and there's a tiny hole in his sweater where the improvised nipple tore off. One of his hands is still cradling the little star between them, keeping it safe like a treasure. “Are there more?”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. There were, but I thought we'd thrown them all out.”

He recalls coming home from school, proudly presenting the ornaments to his mom. The way she smiled absentmindedly, putting them away on top of the fridge and going back to her phone call. She never put them up, neither that year nor the following one. They had some of his dad's business associates over, and the house needed to be perfect. Soon after that, they started going away for the winter holidays.

Eddie watches his face and frowns.

“You know what?” he then says, swatting at the baubles on the floor and sending them scattering into the corners. “Fuck this crap! We should make a whole batch of these little babies, decorate the entire tree with them. We can get started right now, I think we have all the ingredients.”

He rolls off Steve and jumps to his feet, already headed for the kitchen, but Steve catches him with a hand around his wrist and pulls him back to the floor.

“I dunno, Eddie. Whatever I'd end up making probably won't look much better than this, and I sort of want the tree to look perfect on our first Christmas together.”

Eddie chuckles.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he says. The tinsel wig tickles Steve’s cheek as he leans in for a firm kiss on the lips. “That's exactly the point. Whatever you make will be perfect to me.”

They spend the rest of the night making a mess of the kitchen, baubles and lights forgotten on the living room floor. Steve can't imagine anything better.

More holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

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enteroctopusdarkysilis · 4 months ago

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✨Kamino’s citadel challenge !✨

I am…very excited about this one. I’ve had this vision for a long time, and I’m so happy it’s ended up looking like that.

Now, there are a lot of things I’ll go into details along close ups under the cut; the only thing I’ll mention above is that I’m very grateful for TCW’s episode guides’ artworks, without which this would have been quite a hassle.

Okay ! Before diving into all the details and things, here is a view from above, to really display how big it is. Dimension-wise, the plank I built it on is around 110*70cm.

Now of course, the first detail which is noticeable is the floor, because, well, it’s everywhere.

This was probably the most challenging part of the build, because making a grid out of Lego is tough. Most of it is rows and rows of dark square, light lines, separated by 1*n tiles. It was the easiest way to get this pattern with as if it were just tiles; because this is one of the objectives I had here : most of this MOC is smooth, except for a few zones (usually voluntarily).

The fact I used this technic means that the floor in most place isn’t very stable, but it actually holds up pretty well because of some hidden connection points with the foundations underneath, which are mostly hidden under the cover blocks.

Here for instance, I’m using modified 1*2 bricks with a Technic hole : it hold the cover block, and it also attaches the floor to the foundation.

Of course, another problem I ran into were slopes. Much harder to get a smooth effect with the technic I’ve used, so it’s a bit wonky and unstable. Also, most them are not aligned properly, which is visible in the picture above (and some area have some really big misalignments because of a few problems I probably won’t bore anyone reading this with).

Now, since they’re also here, I can deal with the cover blocks. These were, among the details, the hardest to figure out, to get a good size while keeping some texture. Eventually I came up with this design, which, ironically enough, uses the same technic the floor uses, in a different orientation.

Another detail : the miradors :

This is one of the first elements I had in place, because I needed them to get a good sense of scale (and was made better by an existing concept art of a tower alone). Most of it does not have anything noteworthy, except for one illegal technic I used (can you spot it ?)

The pillar holding the roof of the mirador is using a technic I had in my toolbox for a long time, but had never had the occasion to use : if you take two 'brick' bricks and attach them perpendicularly on a snot brick, the small space separating the lines of 'bricks' align to let a 1*n tile in. It’s somewhat reliable (for an illegal technic) and an easy way to get octogonal shapes.

Now, before looking at the Citadel itself, let’s turn around for a minute.

This point of view obviously isn’t the intended one, but it’s still worth noting, if only for some composition.

Notice that the wall here is quite small (smaller than the miradors, even), and light gray; it’s in contrast with the towering dark gray wall on the other side, behind the citadel, which technically should give at least some impressions even to the people who never saw TCW.

Anyway, it’s also on this view that we can see most of my slope struggles, including the central one, which is the biggest I had to do.

And I can’t not mention the most important element :

What would be the challenge without a squad of clones to take it on ? These clones (4 privates and a sergent) are ready to fight ! Well. Kinda. I wish I could have actual cadets, but they are not part of the Lego universe (and the floor was enough of a fee, I can’t afford to get customs figures too). I wish I had the Dominos though. I have TBB Echo, and I plan to get my hands on Fives at some point, but they wouldn’t fit here, sadly, so instead I used some movie accurate clones (because all the others are used for a project I still haven’t posted..maybe later…)

Notably, I at some point tried to get the elevator to work - needless to say it was a disaster (it’s too close to the plate underneath to make something working).

Now, without further ado. The citadel.

I’m very proud of it. I got the proportions just right (I actually made some measurements to make sure of it), and there is just enough texture to not make it bland while leaving it as artificial. This alone took roughly 8-10h (which were all spent during an accidental all nighter, whoops), but it was worth it. It’s completely empty inside, and, in fact, the wall behind it isn’t full as well, anything behind the citadel is opened. The spikes are simple 1*3 angle plates illegally connected, and the walls’ small details were made with a bunch of modified 1*2 plates, there isn’t anything really special in it.

The only really complicated zone was the middle tower, because I had to put all the cannons while keeping it clean and smooth, and including the vertical lime lines. It was a fun challenge. And I included the 'flag' At the top, too, just a red transparent cone on a stick (there’s no need for more), which peeks above the gray wall (for composition and because of a lack of pieces).

Anyway, such a long project deserves one behind the scene photo :

Yes, my desk is messy (and include my mandatory tea cup).

On the left, you can see my remaining floor tiles, which have not been used yet; and just under the citadel, you might notice the foundations visible; it’s a checker of 2*2 tiles which gives my floor a good base to be fixed on. There are also some slopes which haven’t been placed yet (in front of the background miradors), and at this steps, there were no cover blocks or walls yet.

As far as my tools go, you might notice brick separators scattered all around my work environment (I never have enough of those), as well as a tablet in the bottom right hand corner (which i use to check and measure concept arts), and in the middle, the red triangle is an official (albeit old) Lego measurement tool which counts in stud, Lego bar holes and axe length.

Also visible, finally, is the bottom of the foundations, which are stacks of 1*2 bricks (each of the three floor layer is separated by a height of 3 bricks), which means that looking directly under it can lead to watching the dark basement of my build (which isn’t aesthetic…).

Anyway, if you read until here, thanks, I guess ? I still have a few TCW related stuff (a small one next week, some other in the foreseeable feature), so feel free to stick around and maybe leave a note, if you feel like it ? That’s it, bye !

#lego #lego moc #tcw #lego clone wars #kamino

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roseluxxx · 2 years ago

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Come on in.

- Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) X Reader

Warnings: 17+ content, sexual mentions, sexual actions, not explicit like full on but high key rubbing, language, british people

Word Count: 1k

Before Reading: Hypatia was a beautiful philosopher who was killed by men after she gained influence over a Roman ruler, You are dating alr in this and you come over to his place for the first time.

____________________________________________

“Aight, come on in; it’s messy but it’s sum’.”

The room was littered with colorful, sporadically placed punk rock posters with great philosophers and artists, including Van Gough and Hypatia, scattered throughout them. You followed Hobie in as he went straight for his bluetooth system, changing the music to one of his favorite songs.

*Wow. Never thought you'd know Hypatia, much less like her." Hobie nodded mindlessly as he scrolled through song after song, switching between an infinite amount of genres that had no correlation.

"Yeah, men are dicks. She was a brilliant mind; would've loved me you know.”

You laughed in agreement, plopping on his bed as you took in every painting on the ceiling and pattern filling the room.

“Damn, this place is amazing." Your comment was met by a laugh, almost a scoff as he tossed you his spotify playlist and told you to pick something, he didn't care.

"Amazing is an understatement. This place is art." He shoved his hands in his vest pocket and stalked to the bed, having half the mind to kick his shoes off before he made himself comfortable.

You observed the clashing colors and wonky furniture pieces that seemed not to go together until you looked at it from exactly that angle. They weren't meant to go perfectly hand in hand. Except that some of them did. Didn't look like a set but the textures and patterns matched beautifully.

Whipped out of your trance in an instant, you looked up to see Hobie snapped his fingers in-front of you, a bored look on his face.

"Hello? Anyone home? If ur tired just take a nap I don't mind, truly.”

You shook your head, grabbing his hand out of instinct and pulling him closer to you.

"I'm not tired but if you wanna lay down for a bit.. whatever."

He smirked, “Yeah it's never whatever with you but.. whatever."

He slid in next to you, laying on his back as you cuddled up on his chest, his hand finding your hair and playing with it loosely.

The windows placed on cornering walls had their blinds open just enough for the last rays of the golden sun to shine on the bed. Thankfully not in your face.

You finally spotted Hobie's guitar when you felt his hand slip under the hem of your shirt.

You looked up to a face still staring at the ceiling with an almost bored expression (but you caught the glimpses of a knowing smile peeking through).

Oh.

You guided your hand on top of his, pushing it that much further down your torso as you tried your best to steady your breathing.

Feeling his other hand pull a pillow to cover his lap from behind him, you urged his hand lower.

Faster.

A mumbled curse fell from his lips and he flipped himself over on top of you, facing you head on and removing his hands in favor of placing them right beside your head.

"Let's not play games now, yeah? I know what chu’ want," he looked at your lips distracted before he refocused himself, "and frankly I want the same. So let's not have a jest and be honest about it."

He sat up, grabbing your hand to let you follow suit as he let a few feet of distance separate you two.

"Just be honest with me darlin’.”

You took a deep breath. He was right. Just be honest.

" want you to fuc-"

Ok not that honest.

"I want you, Hobie."

He smiled, your face growing hotter by the second.

"Now that’s what I like to hear, yeah?"

He was on you in a moment. The soft fluttering kisses he laid across your face, starting at your forehead, made your heart pound. You extended your neck, closing your eyes as you let soft breaths fall when he crossed a particularly sensitive area.

He kissed down your collarbone, his hands falling to the hem of your shirt as he stopped instantly to look at you for any signs of hesitation. You nodded softly, a small smile leaving its mark as your shirt came swiftly off.

A moment passed as he just sat and admired you, his eyes roaming your body in an almost shy way. Like he's received a gift he's not used to getting but has never been so thankful to get it.

"Thank you," he whispered it like a prayer. Like a secret he's telling to just you.

"Hmm?"

He looked up, making eye contact at last as he repeated the phrase. You nodded telling him if he doesn't get on with it you'd never stop teasing him.

He does. Slowly. Sensually. Taking his time to explore every part before he reaches for your sweatpants and is met with a frantic halt and you sitting up on your elbow, an alarmed look blasted across your face.

"What? M’ going too fast? If you want you can take off my-"

"No, no- I mean yeah i'd love to- i mean, you know, if you'd want that but-“

Hobie takes your hand in his, a gentle expression staying on his face. “Nah, come on, get out of it. What’s up?”

You sighed avoiding eye contact as you allowed yourself to get to the point for once. Mumbling, you told him the issue, "it's just that i haven't shaved and i know we haven't talked about it but-“

Hobie stopped dead in his tracks, his face slowly lighting up with realization and.. laughter?

He evaporated in a contained outburst of chuckles as he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Baby, be honest with me, yeah? I swing around saving the world, almost dying a dozen times a day, and you think i'm gonna get scared off by a little hair on my girl?"

You let your shoulders relax, resuming breathing though you never noticed you had stopped.

You laugh softly, pushing your hair out of your face as your body physically relaxed.

“Yeah, I didn't think about that."

He tugged on your waistband and you helped him take your pants off, letting him kiss down your stomach and skip over to your inner thighs, moving down to your knee as his fingers traced patterns over your skin.

“Fuck you’re beautiful, you know that?”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Feel free to leave a comment or check out my latest Hobie fic here!

A/N: y’all’s comments are wild 😭

#hobie my beloved #hobie x reader #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man #hobie brown smut #spider man smut #spider punk #spider punk smut #across the spiderverse smut #roseluxworks #roselux spider verse

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merlucide · 4 months ago

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SEA’S SECRET 3⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Notes: .. sorry for how long this took 🫠 I started writing then I stopped, then I started, then I stopped, I started— also wrote the majority of this sleepy so sorry if it’s wonky😭🙏

pairings: merman!chigiri x mayor’s daughter!reader

wc: 1.9k

warnings: reader is fem, thalassophobia(?)

chpt: 1 2 3

You had been visiting the merman almost every day since the day you two met. Over the weeks, you’d grown to know him, and he’d grown to know you. You’d share stories about your lives—your hopes and dreams, the mundane tasks of both of your lives, and so on. Each encounter was a revelation, a dance of curiosity and laughter, deepening the bond that had formed between you.

Your regular meeting spot remained by the cliffs, but you always ventured a bit further down the beach, away from prying eyes and the bustle of town. The soft whispers of the waves greeted you as you made your way to the secluded cove. Today, you carried a wicker basket, its woven fibers tightly bound with a little blue ribbon tied on the side.

As you approached the meeting space, you scanned the shimmering sea for his signature raspberry hair. Just as you were about to settle onto the rocks, his head popped out of the water, and a grin spread across your face.

“You’re late,” Hyoma remarked, feigning indignation, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his playful demeanor.

You scoffed, a smile dancing on your lips. “Oh, am I? Ha, my sincerest apologies, my good sir.” You lifted the flap of the basket and pulled out a piece of fairly warm bread, presenting it like a prized treasure.“I hope this can excuse my tardiness,” you said warmly, placing the basket down and stepping into the cool water, your loose dress swirling around your legs.

Hyoma inched closer, propping himself up on the sandy shore, half in and half out of the water. He took the bread, inspecting it with an air of curiosity. “What is this? You eat it?” he asked, tapping the surface of the crusty loaf.

“Mhm! I made it myself—hope it’s still warm.” You boasted, pride swelling in your chest as you watched him take in the aroma of your creation.

He took a cautious bite, his sharp teeth sinking into the crisp yet soft dough. Instantly, his eyes widened, and his fins expanded in delight.

“Glad you like it,” you laughed, watching him eagerly take another bite, bits of bread clinging to his cheeks.

“Do oo havph moor?” Hyoma snaps his head to you, his slitted pupils widening and cheeks puffed out as he spoke. You couldn’t help but beam at the sight.

“Why, yes, I do! But don’t eat it too fast; it’ll upset your stomach if you gobble it down,” you replied, pulling out a second loaf from your basket.

As you stood there, watching him scarf down your bread, you studied the way his fins perked up after every bite, how his gills flared in and out with each breath. his dazzling tail swayed against the gentle waves, and his hair was perfectly messy. If you looked close enough you would see tiny shells tucked away in his braid.

“Thanks for the bread,” Hyoma said, rinsing his hands in the sea. “I don’t have anything to give you in return..”

“Ah, it’s no worries! I don’t need anything, really; I’m just glad you like my bread,” you replied, a warm smile lighting up your face.

“Tomorrow I’ll bring you something,” he promised, his gaze locking onto your e/c eyes, sincerity shimmering in the depths of his slitted pupils.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Alright then, thank you.”

Hyoma grinned, his demeanor brightening as he slid back into the sea. “Bring more bread.”

You chuckled and nodded, watching him disappear beneath the waves, the water rippling gently in his wake.

The next day, you were determined to make an even more delicious bread than before, it would be the perfect loaf of bread. As you kneaded the dough, your hands working rhythmically, you could almost picture his delighted expression when he tasted your creation again.

“Goodness, Miss L/N, you’re making more bread? The two loaves you made yesterday weren’t enough?” Aya remarked softly, a hint of mischief in her tone as she wiped her hands on a dishcloth.

“A-Ah well, I believe I’ve perfected my recipe and wanted to try again,” you replied, rolling the dough against your palms with care.

Aya smiled, her warmth radiating through the kitchen. “Your bread is just fine already, miss. Your husband will most definitely love the meals you’ll make.”

Ah, husband. The word echoed in your mind. “Haha… yes, I’d hope he would.” Even with Aya, you couldn’t escape the pressure of being wed. The expectations hung like a heavy cloud over your head.

Noticing the change in your mood, Aya softly bowed her head. “Ah, forgive me for mentioning that, Miss. You really mustn’t worry too much about that. You still have plenty of time before you are to find a husband,” she reassured you, hoping to ease your mind.

You have confided in Aya, how that isn’t what you want, and that you don’t even know what you want! She does her best to console you, but she doesn’t entirely understand. To Aya, it seemed like a luxury to have handsome, wealthy men lining up for your hand, but for you, it felt absolutely suffocating.

Hours passed, and finally, with a larger loaf nestled securely in your basket, you made your way back to the cliffs. As you sat down on one of the sun-warmed rocks, fiddling with the ribbon tied around the basket, you couldn’t help but notice he was a bit late this time. Normally, when you two met, he’d be waiting under the waves for you.

Just as you were beginning to worry, ripples formed closer to you, and there he was. Hyoma swam over, crawling up the beach just enough to stay halfway in the water. He held a brown sack in his hands, a soft expression on his face.

“Oh? What’s this?” you asked, gesturing to his bag with your eyes.

“I told you I was going to give you a gift in return for your bread—and you brought more, right?” he confirms, tone becoming more serious.

You tapped your basket’s side and murmured a soft ‘yes’ in response, earning a joyful flick of his fins.

“Now, I wasn’t sure what to give you… but I hope this will suffice,” Hyoma said, his voice tinged with nervousness. He pulled out a necklace from his sack, a string of pearls and smaller shells adorned with small starfish, and a sand dollar in the middle. It was so pretty, so dramatic, and so different. Out of all the gold and silver jewelry you had been given from your parents and suitors, this was the most beautiful of them all.

“Mermaids my age wear necklaces like these; I guess they’re pretty popular,” he said shyly, his gaze lowering. “So if it doesn’t meet your standards— I wasn’t sure what would be a good gift for your bread—”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, holding the necklace delicately, your fingers grazing over the divots of the sand dollar. “It’s absolutely beautiful- Goodness, Hyoma, this is gorgeous!”

He could feel his cheeks warming under your admiration. “I-I’m glad… I helped make it.”

You looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. “You made this?”

His fins opened wider, and he darted his eyes around nervously. “Well, I mean— yes, I guess. Not all of it; I just found the shells or whatever. My friend actually made the necklace.”

(He’s had this necklace for a while, just wasn’t sure if he should give it two you for not) don’t alter this !!

You beamed at him. “Thank you, I love it.” You smiled warmly, putting the necklace on.

“Now give me the bread,” he said, his expression shifting to serious.

You laughed, pulling the loaf from your basket handing it to him, which he eagerly accepted.

Hyoma’s fins perked up, “Oh- I’ve told you before I like to collect human things that have sunk—“ he said dumping his brown sack onto the shore, and a variety of trinkets spilled out.

“Can you tell me what they are?” Hyoma asked, his curiosity piqued as he eyed the assortment.

You focused on the items, examining the ordinary yet intriguing objects. “This is a pocket watch, or a clock. You can tell the time with it, but this one is broken from getting wet,” you explained, closing the lid of the watch with a soft laugh.

“I thought maybe it was part of a lady’s necklace or something,” Hyoma murmured, munching on his bread.

As you went over the other items, you pointed out coins, compasses, and various bits of metal, each with its own story and history.

“This is the last one,” he said, handing you a small metal cylinder covered in rust with tiny bumps along its surface. It took you a second to realize what it was—it was the inside of a music box, and it looked like it had seen better days.

You rinsed it off in the water, trying to free it from the sand stuck between the gears. “I don’t have a clue what that is, to be honest,” Hyoma stated, eyeing the metal contraption with intrigue.

After scratching off some rust and turning the crank, a rough but lovely tune played into the air.

Hyoma’s eyes expanded, and his fins flared as he stared at your hands in awe. You finished the tune and handed it to him, who took his turn first playing with it. The rusty-yet delicate notes echoed softly in the air, mixing with the gentle sound of waves lapping at the shore.

“I’m surprised it even works,” you smiled, watching Hyoma spin the shaft.

He played around with it, the sweet melody filling the space around you. You found yourself playing with the shells on your necklace, lost in the moment. The music floated in the air, weaving a spell of comfort and connection between you.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Hyoma gathered his belongings and shuffled back into the soft waves. You waved goodbye, promising to see him soon.

Hyoma swam away from the cliffs, diving deeper into the clear sea. His shimmering scales caught the last remnants of moonlight filtering through the water.

After some time, he finally made it back to where he called home. Surrounded by coral and sea life in every direction, Hyoma felt a sense of belonging, yet his heart tugged toward the surface. Most mermaids stayed in groups and traveled together, which made Hyoma a bit of an odd one out. He had a ‘group’ but was more independent, more curious of what was above the surface.

All mermaids are curious, no doubt, but most ignore their curiosity out of fear of being caught. No one knows about Hyoma’s trips to the surface, not his friends or family, and he intends to keep it that way. Well, intended.

As he entered his hidden cave surrounded by seaweed and clams, he dumped out his sack, placing his trinkets back with the others. But he didn’t expect to be met with two mermen floating in the entrance.

“You’ve been going to the surface this whole time?!” A blue-haired merman exclaimed, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Ooohoohooh~ You’re breaking the rules, y’know~,” The other friend giggled, his yellow eyes sparkling mischievously.

Well, the cats out the bag now.

pt 4 (not here yet!)

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @sharkissm @luvingshidou @kurona-theshark@soleilonthesun @duckydee-0 @someprettyname @thebestsetter @ih8tegeography @rinitoshisgirl @lobster3713 @thebestsetter

help I wasn’t sure how to end this 😭 sorry if this didn’t meet ur expectations dawgs 💔

Made Oct 5th 2024

#merlucide #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #chigiri #chigiri hyoma #bllk chigiri #chigiri x reader #blue lock chigiri #chigiri x you #merman au #mermaid au #bllk au #Fantasy au #royalty au #au #mermaid #x reader

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writeforfandoms · 4 months ago

Text

Logan and the Wolverine

Part of the Born for Greatness 'verse

This is just a mostly fun side story that features a lot more of Logan, as well as Logan and Liaison. Not part of the main plot.

Hee hee I am waiting to see how many of you screech over a certain detail.

Logan's been a loner for a long time, except for his kid. Has no intentions of expanding his pack. But sometimes things happen and he no longer has a say.

Warnings: Swearing, brief threat of violence, implied loss of parents/family, shifter dynamics.

Word count: 1.5k

The first time Logan caught the scent of another shifter in his territory, his upper lip curled in a silent snarl. He was not the most territorial shifter, not by far. But he valued his space, and he valued being respected.

So this? This set his hackles up.

But he wasn't a slave to his instincts, hadn't been for a long time. He was in a much better place now than he had been twenty years ago.

So he breathed in deep, squashing the urge to shift and follow the scent trail. Instead, he did his best to commit the scent to memory - the faint tang of shifter, the mildness of youth.

And then he continued on with his day. If he spotted this shifter, he'd pull them aside for a nice talk about etiquette.

(Which still made him laugh, a little. Him? Teaching others about etiquette? His kid really had changed him.)

The second time, a few days later, when he caught the scent near his trash bin, he heaved a sigh. Nope. Couldn't ignore that. Could be a dumb youngster trying to prank him… but it could also be a young shifter trying to find food.

Either way warranted a look.

He set off on two feet, letting his nose guide him. The scent didn't change, still young, still alone.

It wasn't until he crossed the boundary of his territory that he smelled more of this shifter. Criss crossing paths, layers of scent branching off in different directions… including through his territory away from the house.

The layers and complexity told him the shifter had been out here a while. The intensity told him he was getting close to wherever this shifter stayed.

He paused outside a clear den, small, a little wonky looking. Unpracticed.

Still only one scent.

“Aw, hell.” Logan heaved a sigh, putting his hands on his hips. His kid was gonna kill him.

–

“Logan?” You pushed open the front door, duffel bag in your free hand. “You're damn lucky I got a taxi.” The front door thumped shut behind you, and you took a moment to stretch out your shoulders and look around.

No sign of him. You frowned. This wasn't like him, not at all.

“Logan?” You raised your voice a little, moving further into the house, leaving your bag by the door for the moment. You'd move it later, no big deal.

You had one second of warning, one hissing growl, before you spotted the brownish blur. Instinct had you leaping onto the couch, and from there onto the side table. The brownish reddish blur hissed again and slowed enough that you could see properly.

A wolverine. But not your wolverine. This one was notably smaller, coloring more red than Logan's coat.

“Shit.” Logan followed the younger wolverine in, reaching down fearlessly to scruff the youngster. The youngster yowled, wiggling in his grip. “Cut that out.” Logan flicked the youngster on the nose.

“What the hell.” The table under you creaked as you shifted your weight, but you didn't take your gaze off of the young shifter.

“I can explain.” Logan pulled the shifter close to his body, shoulders a little hunched.

“You'd fucking better.” You breathed in slowly and eased down from the table. This time, you refused to flinch when the shifter growled at you.

“Cut that out.” Logan flicked the youngster's ear this time. “I told you, she's my kid. Gotta behave around her.”

Your eyebrows practically hit your hairline. “Logan?”

He blew out a slow breath, looking down at the shifter currently gently gnawing on his thumb. “Found her northwest of here, bit outside my territory,” he explained slowly, still not looking at you. “On her own.”

You nodded slowly. “How old is she?”

“Younger than you were.”

The words hit you like a brick to the chest. For a moment, you couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could only hear the echo of slamming doors and shouting.

You breathed in, the world settling back into place. This youngster needed Logan, much the same way you'd needed Logan. She needed support and a stable place to stay.

“What's her name?”

“Laura.”

You nodded slowly. “Laura,” you repeated. You looked at her, noted the color of her, the size. She was small, even compared to Logan. Young. “Well, Laura, looks like you're part of the family now.”

Laura growled quietly, ears flickering even as she refused to meet your gaze. You didn't blame her. At her age, and having been alone already, she probably felt her position in the pack was precarious. Not to mention you were human, which could muddle things further for her.

So you didn't push.

“You're still lucky I got a taxi.” You fixed a disapproving look on Logan instead.

He just grunted, shifting Laura in his arms. “Yeah, yeah. You hungry?”

“Not yet. Figured I'd see what you have and cook dinner for us.” You carefully didn't mention the bottle of vodka you'd brought with you, as a gift from John, who had apparently gotten it from a Russian comrade. Didn't seem like a good thing to mention with a kid in the house.

This trip was going to be very different from what you'd thought.

Logan nodded, looking a little relieved. “Good. Thanks.” He strolled off, Laura still securely held in his arms.

You didn't let yourself feel jealous for more than a moment. Or two.

It didn't really matter once they were out of sight, anyway.

Breathing out, you shook yourself and went to work on dinner for the three of you. It would be fine. No problem.

It would just be different.

You wrinkled your nose and huffed at yourself. You'd just adapt and deal with it. No big deal.

You did startle when a hand landed on your shoulder, half-turning to look at Logan.

“You're lucky I didn't shriek,” you said, lips quirked.

“Good thing,” he agreed. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you said with a little shrug, not knocking away his hand.

“I know you didn't expect this,” he said slowly.

“It's fine,” you reiterated, more forcefully this time. “Of course you couldn't leave a kid on her own.”

He paused, brows furrowed as you turned your attention back to the stove. But he didn't press the issue. He sighed softly, and you barely heard his footsteps retreating.

You hated yourself, just a little bit.

But you didn't call him back, either.

Dinner was unusually quiet. Laura took one look at the soup you'd made and sat back, scowling fiercely. Dark hair fell into her eyes, and she made no move to push it aside. Logan ate two bowls of soup in contrast, but he also stayed quiet, darting looks between you and Laura.

It was all you could do to eat quietly and not scold either of them.

Maybe after dinner you'd look for a hotel in the nearest town. Laura needed Logan more than you did, and you doubted your presence in the house would help her.

Damn. You'd been looking forward to a relaxing week with Logan.

Laura slithered out of her chair and skulked away, shooting you one last distrustful look over her shoulder.

Which left you and Logan.

“You alright?”

The gruff question forced you to look away from your bowl, and you smiled even if it felt thin. “Fine,” you lied through your teeth.

He grumbled, shaking his head. “Don't lie to me.”

You snorted, rising from your seat and taking both your bowl and Laura's untouched bowl. “It really doesn't matter,” you deflected. “I'll wash up and go.”

“Go?” The hint of panic in his voice made you pause. “Where?”

“Find a place in town to stay.”

“Why?” Logan stood abruptly, chair nearly toppling but for his deft hand.

“What she needs is stability,” you told him, more or less patiently. “Especially if she hasn't been here for long. She needs to feel secure, safe. A stranger coming in out of nowhere, unannounced, isn't going to help.”

Logan frowned, shifting his weight. “That doesn't mean you have to leave.”

You shrugged. “I'll come back tomorrow, see if she'll get used to me.” Your lips twitched in something that wanted to be a smile. “Not like I'm going anywhere long term.”

Logan worked his jaw back and forth, clearly hunting for an argument, and coming up empty. Finally, he sighed. “Stay tonight, at least,” he tried. “I've got the bed ready for you.”

The offer was tempting. This place had always been comforting to you, a now-secondary home.

If only you were confident you wouldn't wake up with an angry wolverine on your bed, or that you'd do more good than harm staying.

“I'll think about it,” was all you allowed, finally starting on the dishes, turning away from Logan. “Better go check on her, make sure she eats something.”

That was enough to get him moving, but not the way you expected. Arms encircled you from behind, tight enough to make you squeak in surprise.

“You're important too,” he muttered, low and gruff. “You matter to me.”

You blinked, brain effectively blue screening.

“Stay.” Logan squeezed you, just a little, just enough to push the last of your air out. “Stay.”

You wiggled enough that his grip loosened, and then turned to hug him back. Hard. “Okay,” you whispered, voice thick. “I'll stay.”

#born for greatness #shifter au #shifter verse #logan the wolverine shifter

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markhoffmans-certified-slut · 1 year ago

Note

hii, i was wondering if you could make a art x reader? i would prefer headcanons but anything is fine!! no rush btw <3

Art the Clown x f!reader

Word count: 1.5K

Notes: Okay, so I technically will be doing a “What it’s like to date Art the Clown” chapter, but this will sort of be in a similar format, if that makes sense. I hope that you enjoy this!! Sorry for the super long wait, I was digging through my asks and saw this one for the first time and I was like “I should do this” 😂

Also, there wasn’t any specification on if you wanted anything smutty as well, so I just kept this one fluffy!

<>~<>~<>

You met super unconventionally. It was dark out, you were walking home late, and you were wearing a sparkly dress and pretty heels. You were perfect bait for the clown. He assumed that you were leaving a club, a party, etc., but what he hadn’t expected was for you to be so aware of your surroundings. You had heard him, then you saw him, then you fucking bolted.

Art was so surprised to see the way you ran in the heels that he almost forgot to chase you.

Almost.

By time he had caught you, he thought you’d give up. Instead, he got whammed in the head by a loose brick you saw on the ground. His vision went blurry, but he watched you take the heels off quickly before running again. This time you seemed faster than before. For once, he gave up and looked at the sky through blurred vision and let you go.

A day went by, then a week, then a month, before he saw you again. A similar circumstance, but this time you were a bit more disorientated. You wore flats, had a wristlet-purse on, and jeans this time. You were grasping the wall for support, but you were alone. He watched you for a minute, slowly following behind the bushes across the street, remembering before when you had gotten away.

Did he hold a grudge? Sort of, but he wanted you. To kill? He was unsure. This was the very first time Art had ever seen a pretty girl walking alone and not immediately gotten the urge to stab until she was dead. He waited a minute, trying to decide what to do with his strange emotions, when he realized that the two of you were at the same spot where you had hit him over the head. Truth be told, the rest of that night was slightly blurry for him, and not just because his vision went wonky.

He was angry, but there was more inside of him than that. Curiosity, a dreaded sense of interest. Nobody had ever gotten away like you had. He wanted to know more about you. he needed to know more about you.

You were much more coherent the night before. Tonight you were wobbling on your feet. Part of you thought about going back, but you were already more than halfway home. By time you made it to the spot that you had hit that clown over the head, you were too far gone to turn back. Through your still drunken state, you continued to head in the direction of your apartment, holding onto the wall for support.

That’s when you heard a second set of footsteps right behind you splash in the water. By time you turned around, it was too late.

He held you in captivity with him for awhile. Occasionally bringing you back an eyeball or a dead mouse as a gift. Sort of like a cat. You would groan in disgust and scoot back against the wall while he sat cross-legged across from you and sent you a deranged smile while he waited for you to take his gift. When you eventually didn’t, Art would move on.

Slowly, you started to warm up to the strange clown. Never once did he hurt you. Only did he stand or sit there and watch you. It was creepy, sure, but you had a lot to be thankful for. Eventually Art let you out of the chains and showed you around his little workshop-makeshift sleeping area. Did he ever actually sleep? You weren’t sure.

Time went by fast with Art. Sooner than you thought, you started to actually like the clown. What came after that, you were certain your younger self would have been afraid of and disgusted by.

Months went by. Eventually you were free to wander the barred up building while he was out. Of course the door was locked from the outside, but truth be told, you were fine staying around here. He started to bring you actual food instead of just scraps he probably found in the dumpster.

And then, one day, he just left the door unlocked. A test, maybe? You were almost disgusted with yourself, but when the door creaked open when you tried it (mostly out of old habit), you hesitated. Then, you shut the door and went back to the bed you slept on and went to sleep. When Art came back, you could tell he was surprised.

After that, the rest was history.

The little gifts Art brought you back started to be less weird. Instead of body parts, dead mice, or metal scraps, he brought you back real food, a bracelet off a victim (shockingly without the arm attached), even a few books to pass the time.

One day, instead of a wave goodbye, you kissed him on the cheek. You swore you might have seen a hint of embarrassment in his eyes before he turned to leave.

Years went by quickly. One day Art returned you to your normal life, however he was quick to sneak into your apartment in the middle of the night and start resting with you. However, he trusted you. He allowed you to go back to work, to resume your life as it was before he kidnapped you. To see your friends again and go to bars, but this time the clown wouldn’t be the one stalking you to hurt you. He would follow you almost everywhere you went, watching, waiting for someone to try and hurt you so he could maim them.

The longer you were with him, the better his gifts continued to get, until one day he brought you back a shiny diamond ring and told you that you could start wearing it (this wasn’t a request).

Art understands that everybody can’t know who you belong to, but he wants to make sure everybody knows that you belong to someone.

He doesn’t care how hard this is to explain to your friends. If he sees you without the ring, he finds it and he puts it back on you.

There’s no reason to fight with him about anything. Art always gets his way in the end.

Surprisingly, Art really likes dogs and insists on you getting a puppy, even if you’re the one that will have to do all of the training. Art really wants a dog and he shows you which kind to get. However, if you bring home a different type of dog, he would accept that as well.

Sometimes when Art is sitting beside you, dressed in normal clothes without his clown makeup on, and he has his arm around you and the other resting on the dog, you feel almost normal.

You never end up actually getting married. The ring is symbolism enough to the both of you.

When he’s with you, Art slows down on the killing. Mostly because in order to cause midnight chaos, he has to be away from you. And sometimes all he really wants is to hold you while you’re sleeping.

He’s not entirely sure how you got to him the way you did, but he can’t say he complains. In a way, you hope that maybe Art will one day stop it all together. That he might end up being a normal husband-like-boyfriend-demon-being-thing.

At the end of the day, Art would choose you over murdering and you would choose him even if he continued with his old ways.

He loves horror movies and he will always make you watch them with him. If you ever get scared, he’ll make fun of you a little bit, but he will also keep you close and kiss your head. Art likes to watch bloody, gory horror movies, but his favorite is Nightmare on Elm Street.

He’s seen it over 75 times.

He falls asleep during regular movies.

Art is sort of like a guard dog. Every time that something goes bump in the night, even if he’s snoring louder than the devil, he bolts upright and insists on taking a look around. The dog usually goes with him. Because of this, new environments are harder for him to get used to.

He is like a bottomless pit. Art eats a lot of food.

Art is terrible at any form of game. He gets annoyed and swats his hand at the air and starts pouting when it gets too hard. Video game, board game, verbal game— it doesn’t matter. He sucks at all of them and 9 times out of 10 will refuse to play.

He teaches you sign language because he can’t/doesn’t speak. You think it’s funny how he overdoes everything he does when he mime’s it since he can’t talk.

He loves it when you play along with his miming. Sometimes he pretends that he’s stuck in a box and he likes it when you pretend like you can’t get to him.

Overall, Art is a shockingly supportive partner. When you’re having a bad day, he’ll ask if he needs to kill someone. He’s a great listener as well. He’ll sit there and hold you and rub your arm while you explain everything that happened. He’s more than willing to sit there for the whole night with you if it would truly help.

You’re stuck with him for the rest of your life. You can’t ever leave Art. He won’t let you.

#art the clown #terrifier #terrifier 2 #terrifier art the clown #art the clown x female reader #art the clown x female reader fluff #art the clown x reader #art the clown x reader fluff

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lostintransist · 3 months ago

Text

Liaison | 3 - Costco Is Not For The Weak

Check out the part 1 or part 2.

Wandering into the kitchen on a break, you let your thoughts drift back to the second week on the job. You couldn’t work on your own yet and Kate had to be off-site for a meeting, leaving you with nothing to do. She had left you a book of names and faces to memorize but that tedious task did not appeal. That day Gaz tapped you to go to Costco with him and Harold, the receptionist.

“Come on,” he cajoled, “We need someone who can lift heavy things.”

Gaz’s easy manners and quick smile helped you feel at ease, and you liked Harold. He reminded you of what you expected it to be like having a grandpa.

“Fine, but I will be buying things I need for the office too.”

Gaz leveraged himself up using the desk. He had said when he picked you up from the airport that he had taken some shrapnel to the thigh and Doc wouldn’t clear him until PT said he could run on it.

“What kind of things would you need for the office?” He offers you a hand up.

You decline with a shake of your head and uncurl yourself from the office chair.

“Well, a better office chair for one. But I will be taking a lot of phone calls and I need something to do while those are going on so I figured I could make cookies, breads, and the like. The kneading dough will be a good way to avoid yelling at senators.”

Gaz let out a bark of laughter, “Good luck with that.”

Harold drove them to Costco, navigating the streets like a veteran. He chatted away about his garden, the growing conditions, and the soil’s acidity. Soaking in his voice’s warm timbre, you learn more about plants than you did before the drive started. You and Harold both flash a membership card, much to his delight. You spend the remainder of the trip pointing out the differences from a US Costco as Harold and even Gaz had many questions.

Harold, upon hearing of your penchant for baking, bought a full set of bowls, spoons, and baking trays.

“My late wife loved to bake,” Harold stares down sadly at the bread tin in his hand. “She’s been gone seven years and it still feels like she will walk through the front door with a smile and an apology for being late.”

“How long were you married, Harold?” Gaz asks as he rearranges the cart for the third time.

“Forty-two years with my Sharron, I don’t know that ninety years would have been enough.” The longing in his voice moved you to tears.

Gaz, aghast and concerned loudly points out the fact you are crying.

“Why are you crying?”

“Oh just leave me alone Gaz, it’s the Costco prices getting to me. Costco is not for the weak.” You fan your eyes, attempting to dry out the tears. “Harold, what is your favorite thing your wife would bake?”

“Peach pie, dear are you sure you are okay?” He pulls you into a side hug.

“I’ll be okay. Something about how much you love your wife just caught me in a tender spot is all.” A watery laugh and a sniffle seem to reassure both men. You take the handkerchief that Harold offers and wipe at your nose. “I’ll return this once it is clean. Now we have a lot left to buy so let’s go.”

The trip took several hours between the slow walking speed of Gaz and Harold and the excessive list Harold had. The cabinets and fridge were kept full as many members of the team would roll in hungry off jobs and would often sleep in some of the side offices set up for that reason. You hadn’t seen any of them yet but were told they were locked from the inside and indicated if they were in use.

“We all work such wonky schedules that sometimes a nap is needed to get through the paperwork,” Gaz groused.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Hopefully, I won’t need to use it.”

The side eye Gaz sent you said you would be using it, and often. He turned out to be right.

Checkout went smoothly, if a bit long. When the total rang up on the screen the comma caused you to wince. Harold swiped the company credit card without a hint of concern. With how much money the company made on a single man job you shouldn’t have worried.

The drive back to the office had been a tight fit. Once the boot of the car had been filled Harold instructed you in his best grandpa voice to get buckled in and he would load things in for you to hold. He did the same to Gaz.

“That’s it, Harold, you can’t wait so long between trips,” he let out a heavy oof as a box of protein drinks is set on his lap.

“Mr. Gaz I am an old man and unless you can convince Mr. Shepard to let me have the items delivered I must wait until someone can come with me,” Harold chides him gently.

You let out a small snort. Gaz flicks your ear while Harold is making another run to the cart at the back of the car.

“I will bite you,” you snarl at him.

You and Gaz had clicked into a sibling relationship so quickly it could be called concerning. It probably came from how he would sit and bother you as you were trying to work between his physical therapy appointments. He had broken three pens, a stapler, and a staple puller. The last one still didn’t make sense to you. How does one break such a simple tool? One of the extra purchases included a collection of small baskets that you would fill with fidgets for Gaz and others to play with.

Harold shut the doors and returned the cart. When he settled into the driver’s seat you caught sight of the time.

“I can help get as much in as I can, but I have a meeting with Kate in about forty-five minutes. Anything you can’t put away before you leave I can handle after my meeting. Anything that is for me if you wouldn’t mind leaving it on the counter. I can clear out a cabinet for my baking supplies.”

“I can do that for you dear, Gaz and I can handle moving everything in, we have a flat trolley for trips like this,” Harold replied.

Part 2 | AO3 (Up to chapter 27 as of this post)

Masterlist

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zhalfirin-binds · 3 months ago

Text

Details of my bind of A princess of Mars

Since I kept making small mistakes. Starting with the wrong printing format, then forgetting to adjust the sewing so I could trim (I did not plan for margins quite as large as they are... ). The backing turned a bit wonky too. So I decided I'd try some new things on this book.

I wanted to use the interference colours I have with a different base coat. They come out best with a black or dark ground colouring. Before I used oak gall ink, because that was what I had (and I love to watch the magic happen when it turns from translucent blue to black), but iron, in whatever form, is the last thing you want in a book because it will rust and damage the paper over time.

So I did some testing with a few different inks to check for effect and smudging and eventually switched to a china ink.

The one I got has a really nice black with a slight gloss to it. That should have tipped me off, but I kept going and just painted the edge with the interference colour acrylic ink just to watch how it gathered in the lowest part (I did the front edge with the curve first) and took forever to dry. Trying to help that with a hair dryer only needed me up with a pattern of tiny ripples. When I opened the book I could see the paint had been too thick in some parts and flaked off a bit. I diluted and kept painting, with way better results, eventually, but it's still not completely even on the front edge (the picture here is the 3. or 4. result... I was just tired to keep going at that point). The top and bottom edge look fine though.

Covering the case was a bit of an adventure too for a few reasons. I wanted to avoid and gaps... but first I failed to accurately estimate the stretch of my different papers then I forgot to consider the overlap and figuring out which part should overlap which was a challenge. I went of the green layer that wraps all around the case as top layer so it could cover all pointy edge I had not covered yet. The pointy bits are always the most likely to take damage or get loose. So I had that taken care off. I still have a small spot on the backside that's not the layer it's supposed to be, but it blends in well enough with the other colours.

Another thing that I did not think of was, when I cut the onlays was how overlapping would impact the shape. the yellow was supposed to be a nice slanting hill in the foreground... well, I would have had to keep that in mind for the overlapping toplayer.

I also thought about titling the cover and even got as far as test titling with copper, gold, creme, red and brown (the line between creme and brown, that's red, I know it's turned invisible, bu it is there). None of the results made me overly happy though so I skipped it.

Last thing, but I'm not sure whether it's a mark of the construction or the hinge is too small, the backing not sufficient, is the opening angle of the covers. It opens alright, but when I push the cover a bit down it drags the text block along and it looks like there's too much tension on it to me. I'll have to see for my next binds if I can optimise that.

I liked the spread out design enough to make it a picture for my wall ^^

#bookbinding #a princess of mars #details #things to improve #china ink #coloured edges #paper onlays #layering

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eyelessfaces · 2 years ago

Text

better safe than sorry

poe dameron x reader

edit: this story has a prequel!

summary: tired of fighting with poe regarding his recklessness on missions, you chose to lose him by breaking up with him rather than by him dying thinking you'll be less hurt, only the weight of that decision keeps crushing you a bit more each day.

warnings: obvious mentions of a breakup, obvious angst, mentions of injuries, mentions of death

tags: f!reader, exes to lovers, feelings (lots of em), bb8 is a child of divorce, absolute idiots (that are still) in love, fluff

word count: 2.6k

I had so much fun writing this<3

better safe than sorry masterlist

masterlist | taglist | ao3

The suffocating feeling crept inside your chest every single time.

Every time you walked past him, lowering your head so you wouldn’t be tempted to make the moment linger, every time you scanned a room and your gaze caught him far away, every time you heard his voice, during the meetings, or involuntarily, when you heard his joyful laugh erupting from tables behind you in the cafeteria, it hurt every single time you were reminded of Poe Dameron.

And it was a shame, because he was probably the most popular man on base, so it hurt constantly.

Alright. Maybe it wasn’t only being reminded of him against your will that made it hurt, because you simply couldn’t not think of him anyways.

Even when you didn’t see him or didn’t hear of him, the little details of your everyday life constantly reminded you of him.

His scent was still clinging to his jacket he had given you, the jacket you wouldn’t dare to wear as if you didn’t feel worthy of it. The jacket you still kept and slept close to, inhaling its smell as you curled up in your bed.

His towel was also still in your refresher, and every time you saw it you made a mental note to give it back through Finn, but you could never bring yourself to actually do it.

It also happened that every time you talked to Finn your tongue was burning with the want to ask how Poe was doing, but you avoided the subject for your own good, even if it was a bit selfish. You knew that if you asked Finn to give him the towel he would ask you how you were holding up regarding your break up, and you knew that your facade would crumble.

You wondered if he suffered too. You wondered if the littlest detail reminded him of you, if the quickest glance in your direction made his heart ache the way yours did.

You secretly hoped it was the case.

Not that you wanted him to suffer, you just hoped he… still cared. You hoped he still cared about you the way you still cared about him.

And he did.

He had to battle with his own mind to stay focused on his job, because you were the only thing on his mind.

He could have replaced you. Quickly. Easily.

As soon as it spread around base that Poe Dameron was free, the ones that had been waiting endlessly for this moment finally took their chance.

He could have replaced you. He could have had plenty of opportunities. He could have gotten laid to try to forget about you for a few hours. He could have tried to make it more than just sex and try to fall in love with someone again to forget about you for good.

But he didn’t want to, because the wound was still wide open, still bleeding.

And what hurt the most with this wound was the fact that he thought the both of you were doing fine before you decided to break up with him.

Kriff, more than fine, he was planning on getting rid of the ring on the chain around his neck so it could go at your finger.

He didn't want to bandage this wound.

—

It's the afternoon and as you're making your way to the hangar to try to finally fix the wonky lever on your ship to avoid getting killed, your head turns at the sound of panicked and frantic beeps, and you spot BB-8 rolling towards your direction through the hallway you’re walking in.

He slaloms through and around the crowd of people in his way, and they’re just like you, staring down at him, surprised at how fast the little droid is; it's surprising that sparks aren't forming under him on the floor.

Once the droid is down at your feet he doesn't stop rolling, but now he's doing circles around you, still making a cacophony of erratic beeps.

You can't even figure out what he's trying to tell you considering how untamed he's being, and if he’s panicked, his behavior is starting to make you feel the same way.

"Calm down Beebs, what's going on?" you coo, going down at his level, one knee on the floor. He rolls over and stops in front of you, beeping more composedly this time.

You frown as he beeps, readjusting your position. "Poe's hurt?" the words make your heart jump as you pronounce them, and every thought drowns in your head.

The droid beeps again to confirm, and you give him a small nod, biting on your bottom lip before getting up on both your feet and hurrying to medbay, the droid heeling you.

You try to catch your breath once you finally arrive there, and as you can hear your heart beating in your chest in loud thuds, your heart actually sinks once you see Poe.

It doesn’t sink in despair or in profound worry, it sinks in disbelief.

It sinks in disbelief because besides a broken arm enveloped in a cloth held by his neck, Poe seems perfectly fine. His head turns to you as he’s sitting on the edge of the medbay bed, and he looks surprised that you're here. You can understand.

You sigh and throw your head back, cursing the droid for making you worry so much and embarrassing you.

You feel relieved that Poe is alright, but you also feel awful for the situation BB just put you in.

BB comes behind you and beeps joyfully, and Poe looks down at him and laughs. "Oh buddy you didn’t just do what I think you did, did you?"

The droid looks proud, his plan has worked.

You sigh again, tucking your hands in your pants back pockets. “He's a good actor. I truly thought you were dying.” you turn to BB, and point at him accusingly. “I can’t believe you just did that.” you hiss, and the droid keeps on beeping proudly.

"Why did you do that?" Poe asks, lowkey impressed, as his eyes follow the little droid rolling over to him. BB doesn't reply and just parks at the feet of his master.

You look around the room, not sure of what you should do now that you're here. You walk over and sit on the edge of the bed across from Poe.

"Are you okay though?" you ask, throwing your chin at your ex boyfriend's injured arm.

“Well life’s not exactly the same since we–”

“Oh– I was talking about your arm” you cut him off, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

No matter how hard you tried, this encounter would just be awkward huh?

"Oh yeah, just a rough landing.” he declares chuckling, looking down at his arm. “It's gonna take more than that to kill me." he mutters, his gaze darting to BB-8.

“This is exactly why I broke up with you, you know.” you throw accusingly, and he pinches his lips in a smile.

“Yet you still ran to me when you heard I got hurt” he can't hide the smirk on his face, he doesn't want to anyways.

You want to tell him that BB made it sound like he was dying so of course you wanted to be by his side, because you still care about him, but you decide to keep your mouth shut because whatever will come out of it will for sure make you want to dig your own grave.

So you chuckle and look down at your feet, and when you decide that you should probably go, he speaks again.

"You know you're kind of like his mother" he smiles softly, breaking the silence as he looks down at the droid at his feet.

You scoff, but your heart actually skips a beat. "Yeah so we're his divorced parents, right" you joke, though it’s half true, and it’s a miracle your voice doesn’t flinch because a small lump is slowly starting to form in your throat.

Poe grins timidly, and you look down at BB looking back and forth between you and Poe.

You want to speak again, but so does he, so you’re both blabbering out incoherent mumbles at the same time.

You both laugh, and he points at you with his valid hand.

“You first” he offers, cocking an eyebrow, wondering what you were saying.

“I was about to say I should probably go.” you nod, sinking your hands into your pants pockets.

“Oh”

“You?”

He bites down on his lip before talking. “I miss you. I was about to say I miss you.”

You close your eyes and sigh, and the lump in your throat only keeps on growing bigger. You shouldn't feel so sad, because you brought this upon yourself, but you can't help it.

“I know. I mean– me too.” you nod, looking up at him. He looks sorry, and you feel sorry. "I miss you too." you admit, and admitting it only makes it feel even more real.

He weakly smiles at you, and the atmosphere in this room becomes too much, and you feel the need to leave.

"Okay. I should get going. Be careful with that arm" you softly smile before walking out the room.

—

There’s a good chance you’re experiencing the frequency illusion – the phenomenon of learning the meaning of a word then hearing it everywhere, because the frequency at which you accidentally run into Poe after your encounter in medbay is quite embarrassing.

Awkward smiles are your only exchange, but the way he pinches his lips when he smiles at you makes you want to kiss them every single time.

Another downside of it is also that the more you see glimpses of him, the more you want to see him. Properly. It’s becoming a problem.

And the more you try to ignore it the more you’re reminded of the problem in question, and it’s a never ending circle.

Which is why you’re standing outside his quarters with his towel in hand, and while you’re still hesitating whether to do this or not, there’s part of you that tells you that this is absolutely stupid.

But there’s also that other part of you that craves the sight of him, the sound of his voice, his smell, his touch, the taste of his lips, and that part of you takes control and buzzes at his door.

It opens a few moments later, and BB-8 rolls behind him, beeping happily. You can’t help the small laugh that escapes your mouth, and Poe looks back at his droid, chuckling.

“It’s, uh– your towel.” you say, handing him it. He looks up at you then at it before taking it from your hand. “I’ve been meaning to give it back for a while but I kept forgetting”

“It’s just a towel, you could have kept it, you know.” he chuckles, throwing the cloth on his console.

“Yeah. It’s not just about the towel. I wanted to see you.” you admit, refraining your smile. You do a poor job at holding it back when a smug smile appears on his face.

“Oh yeah? You wanted to see me?” he asks smugly, leaning his forearm against the doorframe.

“Mmh” you nod, raising your eyebrows. He gestures for you to come in, and you kneel down to rub BB-8's head, making him roll on himself. “How’s your arm?” you ask looking up at Poe.

“Good. All healed up.” he nods, looking down at BB who leaves the room as if to give you some privacy.

"Good." you sigh, standing back up, placing yourself to stand in front of him. There's a strand of your hair that falls in front of your face, and he takes care of pushing it away, the tip of his fingers softly brushing against your forehead, his hand then resting at the juncture between your neck and your shoulder.

The gesture makes your breath catch in your throat, as if you're a teenager with a crush when you know Poe so well and you're accustomed to his soft gestures.

You guess the context is what makes it so special, so fragile.

You lightly clear your throat, doing your best to seem composed.

“I uh, it’s stupid. The reason I broke up with you is stupid. I got so scared the other day when I heard you got hurt and my only thought was ‘You’re stupid, all of this is so stupid, he’s gonna die thinking you don’t love him and thinking your principles matter more than him’.” you start, and he opens his mouth but you continue to speak before he can.

“This is not what happened because you weren’t really dying but that thought has been haunting me ever since. Away from you or not you’re gonna get hurt anyways and I’m gonna be in love with you anyways and I can’t change the way you are so if I had to choose, I’d rather be by your side.” you nod, chuckling nervously, your heart beating so fast you wonder if he can hear it.

He softly chews on his bottom lip, nodding.

“Okay.” he whispers, and he sighs before pulling you into his arms. A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as your forehead rests against his shoulder, and your arms wrap around him as he cups the back of your head. “It’s my fault too. I’m sorry. I’ll change, I promise” he whispers into your ear, and you look back at him, putting a hand to his face.

“I’m not asking you to change for me. I’m asking you to be a little more careful.”

He nods before leaning in and kissing you, and you can only deepen it.

It is probably the most healing kiss you’ve ever exchanged, and when you pull away you still remain close. Your nose brushes against his as you play with the curls behind his ears, and his eyes crinkle as he softly smiles at you before leaving some more light kisses at your lips.

He rests his forehead against yours before pulling away, and he comes back to reality at that moment, and you can see something looks wrong when he starts pacing around, his hands over his hips.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." he declares, looking back at you. "I signed up for a month-long mission." he can see the frustrated look in your eyes, and he almost feels guilty for leaving you so soon after you've been reunited.

“A month long?” you repeat, and he slowly nods, pinching his lips. "Poe Dameron you better come back al–"

"–Yes I promise you, I'll come back alive, and without a scratch" he cuts you off, chuckling. "I promise. No risky maneuvers." he assures, taking a step closer to you.

"Alright." you smile, bringing him closer to kiss him again.

You fall asleep clinging to each other, his back pressed flush against your chest and your arms tightly wrapped around him.

When you wake up the next morning, he's already long gone, his side of the bed so cold you could even doubt he has ever been there if you didn’t have the vague memory of him leaving a kiss on your forehead before he left his own quarters.

The month where he's gone feels like the longest month of your life, but the reward of it is that when he comes back he's exactly the way he was when he left, not a single scratch in sight.

He begs you to take a day off of work to spend time with him and catch up, and during that day he brings you to a pretty planet he discovered while on mission where he asks you to marry him, the ring around his chain finally finding its right place after so many years.

—

masterlist | taglist | ao3

prequel | better safe than sorry masterlist

star wars taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @beccabecs521 @welcometostayingawake

I had so much fun writing this please give me feedback :'))

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fluff #star wars #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #poe dameron angst

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little-emerald-snake · 10 months ago

Text

Cozy nights in - Sebastian Sallow X Ominis Gaunt X GN!MC

A fluffy lil thing I wrote on the spot because everything in my life is testing me and I needed some small comforts 💚

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, this is just an adorable fluff piece for our favorite trio so it’s pretty SFW

Sebastian chuckled from where he sat on the counter watching his best friends in the kitchen. Their third was currently tying a frilly blue apron onto a protesting, red cheeked Ominis. “Don't be silly! There must be another apron, at least switch with me…there’s no frills on yours. You’re doing this to make a mockery of me, aren’t you?”

They chuckled. “Maybe a little. But really I just need your help and Sebastian is absolute shit at baking.” They finished the ties on Ominis’ apron before handing him a flour sifter and arranging him in front of the freshly cleaned counter. “Alright now just layer a nice even dusting across the counter by turning that crank.”

Ominis grumbled but began turning the crank, moving his body to make sure he covered the appropriate area of the counter. “You do remember I’m BLIND right?”

They waved him off as he set the sifter aside and let them toss the dough down in front of him. “And you’re still more competent than Mr snores-a-lot. So hush.”

The third moved to Ominis’ side, grabbing the sifter and adding just a bit more flour while Sebastian half heartedly argued from where he sat leaned back against the cabinet. “Rude. At least I don’t hog the blankets like someone.”

Ominis scoffed and set about kneading the dough and integrating the flour so it didn’t stick to the surface. Once satisfied he took the rolling pin and began to roll, stopping and adding more flour as needed to prevent sticking. “Do you two ever stop bickering about each other? I swear to Merlin there can’t be a moment of peace in this cottage.”

The guilty parties chuckled while their third set about chopping ingredients for the ‘pizza’. Ominis rolled the dough into the best circle he could make and Sebastian ‘supervising’ as he drank from his afternoon mug of coffee, a habit one of them hated, but allowed anyway since Ominis was more than pleased to have afternoon tea with them.

They turned and beamed at the wonky circle of dough Ominis had rolled, pleased with its thickness. They carefully brought the pot of garlicky-smelling tomato sauce, spreading it liberally before setting the tray of toppings beside it and letting them all decorate their own portion with what they desired.

They’d passed the time it spent baking in the oven, tortured by the mouth watering scent and taking turns playing chess. Sebastian grumbled. “This is ridiculous, you both are far too good at this game. I give up. I’m going to go make a drink, would either of you care to join in?”

They both passed, content with the freshly made ice cold lemonade they’d prepared that morning in nearly the same fashion as the pizza fiasco.

They’d ended the night in front of the fire in a cozy dog pile, sipping the remnants of watered down lemonade, full of homemade pizza and listening to Sebastian, who had a gentle buzz, read his current adventure novel for them.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt fluff #sebastian Sallow fluff #hogwarts legacy fluff #fluff

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tacoma-narrows · 4 months ago

Text

Twenty (Three!) Years of Humanistic!

Abandoned Pools' first album, Humanistic was released 23 years ago today, on September 25th, 2001! For anyone who doesn't know, Abandoned Pools is my all time favorite band! I found them through Clone High in September of 2020 and immediately connected with a LOT of their songs, and in that time, Humanistic became my all time favorite album! A spot that it still retains to this day hehe.

So when I found out that the following year, almost a year to the day from when I started listening to Abandoned Pools, was Humanistic's 20th anniversary, I knew I wanted to make something big for that occasion! I ended up making a drawing based on each song in the album! This is similar to what I did for Owl City's album Cinematic later on, which I posted last year.

This is also sort of a look at proto Let's Get Back! in a way! I made this when LGB! was still just a duo act with PB and Shep, since Rye and Pumpernickel didn't join the lineup until I was about halfway through the project, and the band wasn't officially named Let's Get Back! until February of 2022 lol. The cover image here is based on the actual album cover for Humanistic, and I edited later to say "Covers by Let's Get Back!" to make it consistent with the rest of my LGB! art :3

Each piece in the series is below the cut along with the song they're connected to and some explanation about each one. Again, these pieces are three years old at this point, so some of the art is a bit wonky looking and some of these piece I'd do differently if I were to do them today, but most of them still hold up pretty well I think! :D

1: The Remedy

I based this one on the line “save your breath, your soul is hollow” and wanted to do something simplistic but still interesting! According to my friend who also likes the song, this is “exactly how that song feels” lol. It was fun working with silhouettes here, which is something I've done here and there in the time since.

2: Mercy Kiss

I decided to not actually draw them kissing bc the song says “I don’t need your mercy kiss” haha. Wanted to capture sort of a defiant attitude for this one. Posing is a little off here, and I've tweaked some minor things abt their design but overall one that I'm still pretty happy with :]

3: Start Over

I was SUPER happy with the posing on this one, I love the sense of motion it has. Basically, I wanted to express being stuck in a cycle and just wanting to go back to the way things were, which was something I was REALLY feeling at the time, but is still sort of applicable today.

4: Monster

Another one I REALLY like, with this one, I wanted to show that I can be a force to be reckoned with when standing up for myself. Or at least that’s how the song makes me feel. It’s a good rampage song too. This is another case where I really like how the pose came out. As you can also see, this is the only piece without PB since I wasn't sure how to incorporate him into this idea, but I’m sure he’s still involved somehow lol. Also this is the best song called Monster, I do not take criticism at this time.

5: Blood

Blood always feels like a sort of gloomy, spiral-y type song, so that’s what I went for. The line “we watch it burn, and we never learn, this can’t be what you’re waiting for” was really the focus for this one. A neat vibe with this one overall I think that I'm pretty happy with.

6: Suburban Muse

Suburban Muse makes me think of like, a fake sitcom town where things look normal, but things aren’t as great as they seem if you look a little closer. It even says “cue the canned applause” at one point. Also, those sort of, weird reality dreamscape neighborhood liminal space images like this where you can see where it's coming from but they just feel, off y'know

7: Sunny Day

This one is kinda weird because Sunny Day is kinda weird (though in like the best possible way, I love it). I couldn’t quite come up with a solid idea for both my OCs here, so I based them on two separate lines: “my head is inside a cloud” for PB, and “get off the bathroom floor” for Shep. In hindsight, I don't think the two separate lines approach really worked here since it feels more disjointed and not really representative of the full song, but I still like it well enough.

8: L.V.B.D.

This one was hard to come up with something for. I’ve never been super crazy abt L.V.B.D. since it feels, Very Hetero™ and I’m not about that. But it’s still sounds great and I’m definitely super glad it’s part of the album. Went for drawing Shep and PB here as little stuffed dolls, which is related to the acronym in the song’s title (which stands for Little Virgin Baby Doll) and I couldn’t think of anything better aha. I should draw plushies more often though

9: Ruin Your Life

Important: Shep and PB are only upset with upset with each other for the sake of this drawing, as I refuse to let anything bad happen between them for real. Anyways, the expressions were really fun in this one, and oh boy does this song feel very relatable over the last year or so.

10: Never

This one is very similar to Ruin Your Life for me, where it’s a sort of comforting during a dark time kind of way. Just crossing the days off hoping that things will get better soon, that’s what I went for here. The calendar is listed as 10/12 since this is the 10th song out of the 12 on the album, and the image is a reference to a previous drawing I had done of PB and Shep together :3

11: Seed

Personally, Seed is my least favorite song from the album as a whole, for similar reasons to L.V.B.D. but in a, more gross kinda way that conflicts with my ace side. The song still sounds great musically for sure. Even tho I’m not super crazy abt the song, I actually really like how this drawing came out, in fact it might be my favorite out of the whole batch, ironically enough lol. The boys are looking down into a hole from the line “there’s no more grace to fall from, there’s nowhere left to go but down” and I'm really happy with how the perspective turned out!

12: Fluorescein

Finally, Fluorescein is my favorite song of the entire album, and my favorite song in general! It’s so aggressive and loud, I love it. I decided to draw PB confronting a giant Shep bc the song makes me feel like I can take on a huge adversary and win >:] Although I do like what I chose to do here, I kinda wish I had come up with something better to represent my all time favorite song lol

So in conclusion, like I said, Humanistic is my all time favorite album and it means so much to me. Really all of AP’s work really means a lot to me, but Humanistic in particular. I found the band through watching Clone High and I am all the better for it. So thank you to Abandoned Pools for making something that I’ve gotten so much out of and I absolutely cannot wait for the sixth album coming at the end of next year!! :D

So I hope you guys liked this little trip down memory lane with me, and if you're also an enjoyer of Abandoned Pools, please let me know what you think of these and what your favorite AP songs are! I'd love to know! And if you don't listen to Abandoned Pools, I highly recommend their music if you can't tell lol. If you enjoy early 2000s alt rock sort of stuff, there's a solid chance you'll enjoy Abandoned Pools :3

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callsignfangs · 1 year ago

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141 + Fangs with the reader who has a paper star making addiction. (Platonic) /nf

You feed me so well pooks 😇

For context: Fangs is also a CoD oc sorta thingy of mine 😚 I’ll add theirs at the end for anyone who’s interested 💟💟

141 + Fangs & Paper star addicted reader <3

Price:

• Really doesn’t get it. He adores how often you gift them to him but has absolutely no clue what to do with them.

• Ended up repurposing one of his desk drawers to fill them with. Also generally always has some laying around.

• Is irrationally pissy whenever someone insults them. Think they’re weird? At least his partner loves him enough to spend their time making things for him instead of shitty storebought gifts every other month, Samantha.

Gaz:

• Is absolutely giddy about them.

• Learns to make them with you so you two can make a collection together 😇

• Came up with the idea of making them out of sugar paper and incorporating them into food as well, bc why not??

• Puts them literally everywhere. He has little tupperware boxes and mugs full of them placed all over his room.

Ghost:

• Secretly loves sitting and watching you make them. Seeing your fingers curl around the paper with each other fold, it’s just mesmerising to him.

• Can’t get the hang of it himself, though. Poor lad’s fumbling, catching his fingers on every other corner, his hands are just too big.

• Has at least one on him at all times. On a mission? Scattered across his vest pockets. Out running errands? One on the specially made keychain his house keys are on.

• Gets surprisingly upset if any of them get ripped/damaged. Still has a few on his floor because god knows this man has knocked over piles or containers of them, and/or used them as extra ammo during pillow fights.

Soap:

• Similar to Gaz, also very happy about them 😇

• Incorporates them into random things in his life. Definitely shaved a few stars into his mohawk. Maybe even got a star-related tattoo.

• Has them literally everywhere. Whenever he cleans up or redecorates his room, he’ll find at least a dozen just strewn about.

• Can’t exactly get the hang of tiny paper stars either, so whenever he makes them with you he gets big strips of paper so he can actually fold them.

• Always complains about how disarming explosives/tinkering with the tiny, intricate little bits in his snipers is somehow easier than folding those stupid bloody bits of paper.

• Angst warning ahead - Have you lot seen that tiktok video of the person who’s father hid rubber ducks around their house, and after he passed they found one in the console of their car? Yeah. That’s what you’re met with after MW3. You’re welcome 😇 (edit: found it on reddit instead of tt 😚)

Fangs:

• A little confused at first, but eventually catches up with it.

• Will get deeply upset if they lose one you’ve gifted them. Yeah, they have at least three hundred others, but it was a gift from you!!

• Like Soap, starts bringing them into projects. Impulsively starts a full art project based completely around them, and has to shamefully slink over and ask you to make them more 😇

• Sorta gets the hang of them. To say they’re a bit wonky is an understatement, but they’re trying their best, and they don’t really mind as long as they’re having fun (silently raged for at least half an hour over them).

• Paints a star on their favourite rifle. Price wasn’t very happy when they went on a night mission and he spotted a little painted star glowing in the dark, and they very reluctantly peeled of the paint and replaced it with a less noticeable colour.

Giggle donee 😇 My brains been kinda rotting over this lately and I have a Farah ask that I’m going a liiil feral over so yippee 🎉 (if ur seeing this i love u farah anon(s?) /p 😋)

Okok yaya but thanks pooks this dragged me out of my like writing hole very happy 💪

#call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw3 #cod fandom #cod mw2 #cod fic #tf 141 #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #oc #cod oc #yummy yum yum #fangs asks #fangs drabbles

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peiskos-and-apricity · 1 year ago

Text

Fated to Fall ~ Sindri x Reader [PT 6]

Tw: Canon Typical Violence

A/n: This chapter is poorly edited due to my current lack of a computer, so sorry if it's a little wonky! I just wanted to put this out for you guys since it's been so long. I might fix it in the future. Anyway, enjoy!

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The first few moments of your walk were held in complete silence. Not that you didn't feel like talking and, judging by the way he kept glancing at you, not for a lack of his wanting either. But more so out of a hard time to find anything to ask or say in the first place. So it was quiet as you walked through the Yggdrasil and stepped into the frozen wasteland of Midguard.

The cold immediately whipped against any exposed skin as you two trudged through the deep snow towards the cabin, a bitterness you don't think you'll ever grow to love. You quickly opened the door, shoving away the bit of snow that had piled even in your short time away. As you stepped in your eyes were immideatly drawn to the holes in the roof, the draft making them quite obvious. You sneered a little at your inability to escape the cold. You hoped Niðavellir would be warmer.

It was only a second after walking in that you realized you were alone. Turning around you saw Sindri waiting just outside the door, shivering in the freezing cold. Confusion passed your face for a moment before you spoke.

"You can come in. It's too cold to sit in the wind" you called. Even at the invitation he seemed unsure. Yet soon enough he got over his hesitation, be that because of cold or obligation at your invitation you didn't know. Either way he entered, his eyes immediately scanning the place. You turned to busy yourself with grabbing your things.

"Would you mind if I stoked a fire?" He asked, hands rubbing together in hopes to fight away the endless cold. You shook your head.

"Not at all" you allowed. Even if you two would be here a short time you felt that, given his mortality and your shared half of it, you would both probably need it.

You went collecting what you came for; starting with a corner so untouched it had collected dust. You were sure it would have collected webs as well, if the cold hadn't fought the insects away. In it was a variety of small items stored away once, never to be touched again. Old armor pieces and salvaged bits of broken arrows. But past them and the layers more of other rusted and useless pieces, you finally spotted what you were searching for. Pulling it away from the cluttered mess you had made while retrieving it, you opened the old box. Inside laid a greyed cloth that, once you dusted it off, revealed the white fur beneath. You stood with it in hand, the cloth still reaching the floor as you did.

It had been long since you had worn the fur, the surge of sealing magic felt beneath your finger tips. You took a deep breath before placing it over top your layer of worn clothing, making sure to face away from the dwarf to hide the slight shine it emitted once you did so. Immediately the inner seams glew a deep black, a slight sizzling hitting your skin through your clothes with a quiet grimace.

You turned from this always unpleasant experience to see the dwarf had the fire lit and had taken a seat beside it; his attention now engulfed with something near him. You figured it was nothing and went to grab some of your carving tools now that you were able to place your bag back over your shoulder.

"May I ask you something?" Sindri's voice spoke, gaining your attention quickly in the silence and causing you to glance at him again. But his eyes were still transfixed on whatever he had found, so you went back to your own task while you answered.

"You just did" you responded lightheartedly, the words almost natural in the way they slipped your tongue, like they had hundreds of times before. A silly joke, a stupid one really. But it reminded you of better times.

He, however, was thoroughly confused by it, his eyes glancing with his nose slightly scrunched. Luckily it seemed to click a moment later, though he struggled for a response anyway. You let out a half-hearted laugh, a little amused by his expressive features.

"Yes you may" you calmed his minor panic as you reached for an old bow, one clearly worn over years of no upkeep and lack of use. It wasn't the quality you would prefer but it would have to do. Hopefully it would hold better then the other.

"I was wondering how you had come to meet them?- Kratos and Atreus I mean. I didn't know they knew much of anyone else in these realms. Anyone close, anyway" he questioned. For a brief moment your body froze, the question bitter as it reached your ears. It was a short pause that you fixed the moment you noticed it, but a pause nonetheless. One you hoped he hadn't noticed.

"If you feel like saying, of course!" and it seems he did. That or he was impatient. You wished you could convince yourself it was the later of the two.

"We have history. They were close with someone I once knew" you finally spoke, your throat tightening slightly. You knew the answer wasn't what he was looking for.

"Oh..." Was all he could say. There was a question he held back on his tongue, you knew it. But you didn't dare to pull it from him. You preferred to move on.

"May I ask you a question?" You turned to him and his eyes finally caught yours.

"Of course" he answered. He seemed to have little to hide which made you a little more comfortable.

"What were you looking at?" You watched as his eyes widened slightly before he held up what he had picked up from the ground.

In his hand was a warped and strange piece of wood. It was slightly singed to a charcoal black on the left side of it, most of it's features left to ash while the other was cracked and splintered. It hardly held the detail it once had.

"This is...yours?" He asked. Your eyes focused on the small carved wood, a little bit confused as to why he even had it.

"Yes?" Your tone asked him his point and he looked perplexed himself.

"It was in the fire" he reiterated, as if you couldn't see the blackened side of it. You pulled your quiver over your shoulder once more before walking to where he was.

"I can see that" you answered as you began to pull small items from the floor, placing them in your bag. Mostly dried meats and the rare herb that grew in this now desolate land.

"Did you put it in the fire?" He asked, his tone strange in that it seemed shocked.

"Yes" You answered, your attention mostly on finding where in the freezing Hel Atreus had placed your extra set of arrows. That was until a nearly choked sound rang out, your eyes immediately snapping to him

"But the craftsmanship! How could you just throw it away?" He seemed almost offended and given the way he stared you might have even believed you had actually upset him...or perhaps you did believe so. Either way you chose to speak carefully.

"They are wood and it is cold. There's no reason to keep them. They'd just take up needed space" you tried to explain it the best you could, which is to say the way the Kratos always explained it. It had convinced you after all and you were sure he had much better things to be worrying about then some half-singed waste of time...

Right?

Unfortunate for you, it seemed he was anything but convinced. In fact, he might have even been more offended by your explanation.

"But the time this must have taken. It truly doesn't mean anything to you? You don't have any keepsakes?" He was growing increasingly frustrated with you and it was obvious. You didn't really know what you could say that would calm this strange stance he's decided to take, but you figured you might as well indulge him. The last thing you wanted to do was upset someone your brother would call a close friend. If nothing else you can at least say you tried.

"I have no issue making you a new one, if you are so bothered by it" you hoped that your offer would suffice. You didn't have much else to answer him with.

You watched as his indignation melted immediately and replaced itself with eye-widening surprise. He sputtered on his words, somehow baffled that you would offer exactly what he was complaining you ruined.

"Well you don't need to!" He finally managed a sentence.

"Unless you wish you" you mumbled afterword. Despite how quickly this change in demeanor came, or maybe even because of it's speed, you couldn't help the short laugh that left you at his nervous and flip-flopping behavior. On top of that, you managed to find your extra arrows. So you were feeling much better.

"I'd be happy to" your tone was light; amused even. He took your words with a wobbly and crooked smile before standing.

"Well..." He started, looking through the hole in the roof towards where the sun sat in the sky.

"We should really get moving" he suggested before hesitantly turning back. You gave a nod

"Probably" you agreed and he quickly began to walk towards the door. You went to follow, standing from beside the fire when a glint caught your eye. You quickly locked onto the objects, your face silently wincing at the sight.

On the table sat two rings. One made of metal; it's design crossing at the side with the front side flat and a hagalaz letter engraved on to it. The other was a ring made of an unknown wood with a metal streak held in the middle throughout the ring. Engraved on the inside was the word 'light'.

They taunted you as they laid there, the shine of the snow from the now open door turning them colder shades. Their intended purpose burned a sort of distain you never could quite place. Because even though their effect was everything you sought, it somehow felt so innately wrong whenever you had used them. As if they were not built for your hands, for your blood. Yet they were. They were finely crafted and tuned to you by beings you had never known and given to you by the mother you had always believed to want you safe-

"Are you coming?" Sindri's voice quickly caught your attention as your head swiveled to him, his head peaking in from the door.

"Yes, I-...feel like I've forgotten something" you answered, your voice as natural as it had been moments ago.

"Oh. Well whatever it is we can get it later. We're going to be late" he accepted your answer before waving for you to follow as he left once more. You gave another nod before, with the most reluctance, you took the rings into your satchel pocket and followed him into the Yggdrasil.

Another bout of silence ensued, though it felt much more peaceful than before. Or, at least, more comfortable now that the two of you weren't complete strangers. Soon enough you two were walking back out of the ethereal purple scenery and into the warmer but similarly silent place of Niðavellir.

Looking around you saw many buildings, the city sprawling for longer than you could guess. Despite that, and it being the middle of the day, there wasn't a sound to be heard.

"Welcome to Niðavellir!" He exclaimed as he gestured around what you would wager to be his former home. He began to walk and you decided it best to stay beside him. You continued to look around the seemingly abandoned place as you did.

"It's been a while" you spoke, Sindri turning to you with a curious glint.

"You've been here before?" His stare was expectant of an answer.

"Yes. Many winters ago" you answered plainly and to the point. You were somehow unsurprised to find him unsatisfied by it.

"I can assume you were looking to make something? Us dwarfs are known for our superior craftsmanship" He pried further but you were used to it after spending so long with Mimir. Though you supposed the situation was at least a little different, given that you felt a little more inclined to speak with the golden-plated dwarf than your father's confidant.

"My mother brought me. I was young then, Atreus' age I think. We had been looking for someone to make me a...a ring. It didn't work out though" you caught yourself a bit at the end, realizing your sudden slip of the tongue. Hel, the only reason his brother knew was by pure accident. How had you let yourself grow so comfortable?

"It must have been an important ring then, to come all this way" his tone made you uneasy as he spoke. It was a question in disguise, yet you knew you wouldn't be telling him any more than you already had.

"I don't remember it being so quiet" you quickly changed the topic as your eyes continued to look for any sign of life. He finally turned away from you, focusing back on the path.

"I would wager a guess that our companions have already made their way to the city. And, knowing Kratos, they didn't look for a quiet way in" you felt a bit of dread build within you at his words. You had hoped they hadn't attracted too much unwanted attention. Though at this point you probably should have expected it.

Soon the two of you stopped at a small workshop in a corner of the city. After which Sindri got to work setting up shop and you, having nothing better to do, took a seat.

The air was thick here, almost suffocating. Clouds of smoke billowed in a direction but that hardly caught your attention among the other wonders of the city. It had changed quite a lot since your younger years, though it had to be the silence that unnerved you the most.

You tried to distract yourself by sharpening and cleaning your axe while you waited but that only helped for a while. It wasn't long before you turned back to Sindri, your curiosity caught when you notice that he worked with strange magic. Despite not wanting to bother him too much, you figured he wouldn't mind a few questions. After all, you were sure he must too be unsettled by the silence here.

"What are you working on?" You asked with minor caution. His eyes flickered to you before turning back to his work, a green glow showing from the string he held.

"It's a project of mine. I've been looking into the structural sensitivity of sonic vibrations" he explained, placing the string down gently, as if he'd break it if he dropped it too suddenly. When he caught a glance of your utterly lost features, he gave a second shot at explaining it.

"I'm trying to find a way to use sonic vibrations to create a larger scale of destruction to certain sensitive materials" he reiterated and though it wasn't all that different from his initial explanation, you gave it your best shot at understanding him.

"Oh? So...a sound explosion?" his head tilted from side to side to imply that you were almost correct.

"A bit reductive, but sort of. More of an implosion if anything...Or at least that's the theory" he spoke before moving around his little shop, searching for something.

"You haven't tested it yet?" You asked, your intrigue now much more clear. The question seemed to gain his attention as he paused his movements to fully look at you once more.

"No. No I have. It's been rather...temperamental, to say the least. Working with new magic isn't exactly easy. I'm sure I have it down, but I'm not all that tempted to try it out again after the uh...last incident" he spoke with a more grave tone towards the end. You nod along, finding this to be quite interesting. At least more interesting than sitting in silence as you waited. In fact his words sprouted an idea in your head, one that would hopefully help you pass the time better than weapon maintenance.

"I can test it out, if you'd like" you inquired. The idea gave him pause as he seemed to maul it over a moment.

"Well, I had planned on doing it myself but...if you think you can handle it" he spoke skeptically which, you had to admit, was a bit amusing. It had been too long since you'd met someone who didn't know what you were. It was almost refreshing to have the expectations so low.

"I think I'll handle just fine" your small smile broke which seemed to wean away his previous hesitation. Confidence begets confidence after all.

"Your bow then" he outstretched his hand and you pulled the bow from your back and handed it to him. He began an attempt to take off the right string which you had to say was a little funny to watch. Even more so when you realized he very much wasn't going to ask for any help. But you bit your tongue well enough.

"Do you...need some help?" You spoke up gently, your voice stopping him for a moment.

What you hadn't expected was for him to look at you as if he'd seen some higher being descend upon him. Relief and thanks spread across his face as if you had asked to help him carry the weight on his shoulders. You were a little bewildered by it, the expression one you hadn't ever seen so blatantly on anyone before.

"Yes, yes, that would be great" he accepted with complete gratitude. So you placed you axe down and grabbed the bow. With only a bit of resistance you were able to hold it down for him and he didn't hesitate to take the string off, replacing it with the new one soon after. Once he did he stepped back and your grip loosened. A second passed before you gently picked it up once more, as if any sudden movement might irritate it. Turning it over in your hands showed that it seemed stable enough.

"Doesn't look too dangerous so far" you explained. He gave a cautious nod.

"Yes. However it might be smart for you to test it away from the workshop" he suggested and you quickly agreed. You stood before taking a good few steps away from the shop. When you felt you were a sufficient distance away you raised the bow carefully, as if to aim it, but didn't pull on the string. You instead gave one last look to Sindri who you noticed had ducked under his workbench. However his head quickly popped back up, clearly looking like he had forgotten something.

"Oh and uh- when you shoot! Just say the word, skjálfa!" he ducked back under the bench as you gave a nod.

Turning back to the bow with quite a bit of hesitance now, you brought your hand to the bow string. You watched the string hum with a bit of green light at your fingertips, the power of it evident. Knowing there was no avoiding the inevitable, and that an injury you might receive could be healed quick enough, you finally plucked the string and...

No explosion. Nothing more than a faint flicker of more green magic. You hummed in cautious delight before plucking an arrow from your quiver, swiftly pulling back the string as the glow reappeared. You aimed the arrow in a random direction before Sindri's voice called again.

"The gate! Aim for the gate! Where the green ore is!" He yelled to you, your aim quickly fixated on the target. When you were sure your aim was true you released.

"Skjálfa!" You yelled, watching as it quickly left your hand with a resonating thump of energy before flying into the metal. No familiar clink was heard as instead the metal compacted in on itself, crinkling like paper before falling with a small thud.

"It worked-!"

You didn't get to celebrate long, a skittering sound meeting your ears followed by a loud billow as you realized you must have disturbed a swarm of wretches. Only a glance showed a grim not far behind.

You quickly sprung into action as a group of the tiny creatures charged for you like overgrown bugs. You began to quickly step back as you pulled an arrow from your quiver just in time for one of them to jump at you, impaling itself on the arrow with only a bit of force on your part. That didn't seem to deter the other six as they then all came jumping at you in a thing reminiscent of skin crawling nightmares. You managed to dodge, shoot and stab without so much as a bite when-

"Look out!" Sindri yelled, your body dodging a disgusting green acid-like spit ball flown in your direction before you even really fully registered his words. Afterward your eyes flicked in his direction as he, to your surprise, was throwing an assortment of strange things at the grim that had just tried to boil you in bile. You were almost impressed, surprised to see the dwarf standing his own.

At least until he caught the attention of said grim who, unsurprising, begin to run at him.

"Ah!" You turned and sprinted towards him the moment he yelled and in doing so allowing a wretch to jump and latch on your arm. You hardly felt it as the grim lunged over the bench and at Sindri who had tried continuing an assault of whatever strange things he could pull from his endless bag from behind said bench. However the creature was only successful in knocking him to the ground as you pulled the grim near out of the air, wrapping your bow around its neck and pulling it. The creature yelled in anger and pained fury as you hopped onto it's back to tighten your grip. It clawed at you, ripping your pants a little, before-

Snap

There went your second bow, the creature escaping your grip and throwing you off of it. You hit the ground with a thump and just barely rolled out of the way of it's hands. You were thankful when a slight glance showed your ax now beside you. Without hesitation you reached for it.

You felt fury dare to grip at your throat again, that horrible feeling of thickened blood sinking in once more. However, unlike before when it had shown in glowing eyes that blurred your vision or in the golden flakes that surrounded the movement of your hands, it instead showed in the form of just pure burning. The fur held on you was anything but a comfort now, as it began to sear.

Knowing you didn't have much time before it would truly begin to burn, and driven fully by the panic of that thought, you swiftly grabbed the ax and moved to your feet. With the pumping of your adrenaline you let out a yell before lunging at the creature with as heavy a swing you could manage. You found relief when it's head hit the ground, it's body following shortly after.

Silence fell, a few deep breaths cooling the heat of your skin and the beating of your heart. A feeling so strange for such a common encounter. You hadn't had such a loose grip on it in so long, its signs usually showing only when your blood boiled over in messy golden ichor. But it seemed that over fimbulwinter your grip must have grown weaker. That or it somehow grew stronger in the inhospitable environment.

It wasn't long after you calmed that you registered the wretch that had yet to let go of your arm. You carefully unhooked it's jaw from you before throwing it onto the ground, a heavy stomp killing the pesky thing. You were confident by then that there were no more, though you glanced around just to be sure.

It was then that you met the wide-eyed state of Sindri, his elbows propping him up on the ground he had not stood from quite yet.

"Are you hurt?" You asked as you approached. He remained silent for a moment too long and you began to grow concerned, quickening your pace. Once you stood above him you looked him over, relived to see no bloody injuries.

"Sindri?" You called and, suddenly, the man sprung back to live. He blinked rapidly, adjusting himself into a seated position as he looked over his arms and legs, searching for an injury but thankfully seeing none.

"I'm fine- fine! I'm fine! It's...It's just been a while since I've been attacked like that!" He almost yelled through a nervous laugh, clearly shaken up by the ordeal.

"Well lucky you" you reached down, pulling the dwarf to his feet in an attempt the break his adrenaline. Unfortunately it did quite the opposite as he instead just stared at where you touched him on his arm with what you could only describe as poorly contained disgust.

"Oh, sorry. It slipped my mind" you apologized, pulling your hand very quickly back to your body.

"It's...fine" it was clearly not fine and he hid it poorly. Especially as he turned to the bag on his hip, digging around for a moment before pulling out some sort of cloth and wiping down the armor you had touched. You found the sight a little amusing, considering he had gone up to his shoulders digging through the bag, but you kept that thought to yourself. Instead you quickly went and retrieved the string of your now broken bow before placing it back on the bench with a simple nod from the dwarf. Silence returned for a few rather long moments after, an opportunity you took to get right back to cleaning your now grim covered blade. Then, right when you thought the silence might settle fully, he spoke again.

"Thank you" your eyes turned to him at the suddenly sincere tone in his voice. You questioned if he was joking, as most people who thanked you often were, but his seriousness didn't falter even in the way his eyes stared.

"For keeping that...thing off of me, I mean" You couldn't help the ever so slight smile that pulled at your lips or the slight swell of being acknowledged that grew in your chest.

"Well thank you for not letting me be melted by disgusting acidic mucus" you returned the thanks, his look twisting into one half amused and half horrified.

"Of course" he answered, his tone once again matching his face. You held back a snicker at it.

It was then that voices all too familiar began to echo in the near distance.

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#fated to fall #gn reader #gow #god of war #gow ragnarok #gowr #gow sindri #god of war sindri #gow sindri x reader #gow x reader #gow ragnarok x reader #gowr x reader #gow ragnarok sindri #sindri x reader #sindri

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