mardrommal-archive reblogged
mardrommal-archive reblogged
Yeah hey guess what here is where a lot a LOT of my muse still will be happening. Including some art scribbles and rping.
IT STILL AIN’T DONE OR OPEN BUT… here ya go my peeps
Hey hey all you sleepers... if you are there and can see this.
i think i will be moving blogs after all by the end of the day
mardrommal-archive reblogged
Need to make a promo
OR SHOULD I JUST... PUT EVERYONE IN ONE BLOG? omg do I have to make a multimuse blog?
mardrommal-archive reblogged
The two types of fantasy writers
1. Feverishly calculating the body mass of your dragon species, spent 5 hours last night researching the origins of steel, losing sleep over horseshoes, 20 tabs open, should a cockatrice be warm-blooded?, will die if they don’t immediately figure out when honeybees were first domesticated
2.
OC fanfiction
[ So I have a mini fanfiction I wrote between me and my friend's OC from out Monster of the Week campaign and this is the only place I can put it so HERE ]
Acker placed the glass down and looked at it for thr first time since he has been here. His head felt a little foggy, but it adjusted itself quickly with familiarity. Yes. Of course he is here. He was making a joke over at Charles, that's right, the both of them at the bar like usual to get some alone time. Acker smiled to himself when he looked Charles' way, listening to his soft laugh.
He enjoys the sound.
He enjoys the smile.
Two things he drank in, much like the beer in his glass, but savored.
Acker gulped quietly when he felt his friend lean against him, hearing Charles' soft voice in a purr as he spoke. What it was that he heard or what Charles said, he didn't know. He just knows that he's smiling and he liked what he heard. The both of them enjoyed each other, the air between them familiar yet something felt added. The warmth wasn't ignored, and Charles' touch felt like an embrace to his senses.
They were looking at each other.
Charles held Acker's hand. He leaned close again, Acker tilting his head to listen. Again... he didn't hear, but he knows he agreed. The glass lowered on the bar table.
Acker's keys were placed down on the counter as Charles pressed himself against him, towering him. Whether it was the fog, or the fact that his friend had him trapped against the counter, Acker was feeling a delightful heat at his face. They kissed. It felt natural even if there wasn't taste, but it was immediate in bringing home that they both wanted to for awhile. He knew it. Charles knew it. God it was about time. It was about damn time. With every kiss it was another wave of heat and he felt himself tugging at fabric.
It felt eager. He didn't mean to be. Though, all Acker felt were his kisses on his neck and lips again, Charles not minding. He even smiled against him. Acker felt lighter, taking one step back and found his head resting against his pillow. Charles smiled down at him. Acker grinning.
"Come here."
Acker didn't feel an inch of embarrassment with how immediate he listened and leaned closer to meet his lips, Charles pressing him down against the bed again. There came that fog. Normally, he thinks, he'd wonder if this was... was this too fast? Does Charles want it this fast? Did he....
Acker felt a shock coming over him, making a pleased sound when he felt chills shoot through him. Fabric was tugged and pulled off of him and he felt Charles' lips over him. He couldn't think, only knew it is happening, running his fingers through blond hair as he closed his eyes.
Black.
It stopped.
Acker opened his eyes, everything still with the morning light peeking through his blinds. He felt his senses coming back, like a reminder on how everything was supposed to feel. Instead of whatever sweetness he thought he tasted, it was a sourness that lingered on his tongue. His right arm felt numb.
Acker sighed, grumbled, then ran his hand over his face and closed his eyes. There was still a Phantom of what he dreamed of, then after a few moment he was back to feeling nothing but the bed and lack of company.
Good morning.
mardrommal-archive reblogged
Source: instagram.com
Here is the nightmare boy, posted from Twitter originally but ey
[ *wiggles over here y'all wussup I'm in the quiet place and feeling a vibe* ]
mardrommal-archive reblogged
No one:
Me when it’s foggy out: In my restless dreams I see that town. Silent Hill.
wereallbarredfromheaven
Charles had looked up in seeing someone enter, being greeted with a tired smile he had probably given to others. The blond hunter raised up his glass slightly before he went back to his business in enjoying is 2nd stout…
A moment passes.
The newcomer hasn’t moved. Why? Was he looking for someone?
He takes another sip, despite feeling an itch on the shieldknot on his right hand.
The bartender greeted Fenrir politely.
At the greeting, Fenrir shakes himself out of his own head. A hand passes over golden eyes, wiping away tears that hadn’t quite managed to fall. Shirt sleeves to his elbow reveal the winding ink depicting his brother, under dressed considering the weather, but he’s born of ice and snow and holds the heat of the great wolf, the chill outside the doors hardly touching him.
The god wolf moves, taking a seat at the bar and smiling to the tender, order placed, cutting his gaze to the other further down the bar as discretely as he can. He’s not of home, Fenrir would be able to tell, but he’s been close, touched someone who was, something. The tilted angle of his head, even though he’s not looking directly at the blond, is decidedly wolf like.
Charles managed to get a peek at the design of the snake on the man's arm but didn't want to stare. By a fault, Charles would want to mind his own business, otherwise he would be curious and ask questions about the tattoo he saw. The design seemed familiar to him, after all. But instead he continued to drink quietly, blue eyes looking to his phone.
From where Fenrir sat, he could still see the shield knot plane as day, some peeking of ink seen underneath the sleeve of his leather jacket. Bold and black. After a moment, Charles started to shift. He started to feel those eyes for a moment and it got the hunter on edge, feeling an old and familiar cold at his ankle.
Should he try? Charles wasn't the best at using magic. But, his nervousness and unrest was getting hard to ignore. He glanced at the eyes once. Just once. And it was only once before he he looked away and took a calm drink. He started to rub his tattoo, slowly tracing the knot that was endless, taking a deep breath and sighing quietly.
While subtle... Fenrir may be able to smell it or sense it. It would be hard not to catch but it would be like a soft brush at the nose then passing by.
Balder was a baby once and that messes with me
A Bit Of Home
Charles was in the job again, or the last bit of it anyway, dealing with the tail end of getting information of a poltergeist near a local church here in Halifax. The Agency has been easy on him and he doesnt mind it. It has given him time to take in the place with the smell of waters filling up his nose, the area making him feel a little nostalgic.
It had brought him to the comforts of a brewery, the hunter sitting down at the bar and enjoying the taps that they have while trying a creamy stout. While he felt eyes of the dead passing by here and there, his long stay here has so far had him slowly get use to it. Unnerved but.. use to it. He was mostly taken off gaurd with how many ghosts there are.
Of course, a brewery isn’t technically a safe haven away from monsters, either…
wereallbarredfromheaven
He’s running out of hope in truth, is beginning to think he’s never going to find his brother. Fenrir has trailed the whole world, looking for him. Walked and ran the entire coast line of Northern Europe, America, nearly the entirety of Canada… He knows Jor is alive, he can feel him, heart beating against his own the same way it’s been ever since the day his brother was first conceived, bound before he was even born. He knows he’s alive, he just can’t find him and it’s fraying his ragged temper like the ropes they used on him in the beginning.
Sensitive nose catches scent of beer, the faint whisper of memories pulling him forward. Of sneaking through the markets and hiding under the tables, all three passing it back and forth until father found them and hand to carry a drunken Hela back home, the boys giggling into each others shoulders as they staggered after.
Fenrir slips through the door, a tired sort of smile for the man he sees first, stopping when the scent of magic hits him. Not just any, the magic of home, of his mother’s magic, of ice and snow and feared power to all but them, so comforting in that moment he feels the faint burn in his eyes for places he lost along with people.
Charles had looked up in seeing someone enter, being greeted with a tired smile he had probably given to others. The blond hunter raised up his glass slightly before he went back to his business in enjoying is 2nd stout...
A moment passes.
The newcomer hasn't moved. Why? Was he looking for someone?
He takes another sip, despite feeling an itch on the shieldknot on his right hand.
The bartender greeted Fenrir politely.
mardrommal-archive reblogged
wereallbarredfromheaven-archive
[ reverse Groom or Clean for Balder and Nil . 3 . ]
@mardrommalbalder & nilgroom my muse
Nil forgets sometimes, that instincts and cues don’t transfer over to humes. That what’s natural to him gets lost in translation when presented to humans. They don’t understand circling, just think he wont stay still so he tries not to do it so often, though really, the people he wants to do it to are few and far between.
He can’t help it sometimes though, not when his guard is down the way it only ever is around Balder. Not when his ears are relaxed against his head, black fur pressing gently against each other and white hair. When his posture finally, finally loses its tension and he relaxes.
Nil circles, upon the balls of his feet as Balder talks to him, quiet questions about his whereabouts recently, not prying, just curious, sweet. A full lap around him, two, slow steps as to not make him dizzy, smiling with too large teeth as the blond turns his head to keep him in his sights. Another half one, one ear upright at a sound off to the side, flattening again when it’s not important. Just to the side of him when he sees it, misplaced hair, reaching without thought to correct it, to groom him. It’s easy then, to hook his chin on Balder’s shoulder, to nuzzle quickly, back and forth, claiming.
The lagomorph can’t blush, not the way humans do, because he’s furred, skin soft like suede and the blood isn’t visible under it but the twitch of his ears makes it faintly obvious that he’s vaguely embarrassed as he pulls back.
A Bit Of Home
Charles was in the job again, or the last bit of it anyway, dealing with the tail end of getting information of a poltergeist near a local church here in Halifax. The Agency has been easy on him and he doesnt mind it. It has given him time to take in the place with the smell of waters filling up his nose, the area making him feel a little nostalgic.
It had brought him to the comforts of a brewery, the hunter sitting down at the bar and enjoying the taps that they have while trying a creamy stout. While he felt eyes of the dead passing by here and there, his long stay here has so far had him slowly get use to it. Unnerved but.. use to it. He was mostly taken off gaurd with how many ghosts there are.
Of course, a brewery isn't technically a safe haven away from monsters, either...