engardeitsme

[engardeitsme]

Rabbits…

[engardeitsme]

they should invent a 2025 where good things happen

[engardeitsme]

@nepeta-cata

fairy wings nail art 🧚‍♂️ | aistehaas on ig

[engardeitsme]

heyoo i will get to the other asks soon!! i didn't forget!!

just having a bit of a hard time answering fic asks rn bc i get sad lol

[engardeitsme]

Heyyyyy BRB!!!🥹

[engardeitsme]

Did you see the Black Rabbits on the 3 Million players post!!! Vito and Moe chilling together while Teo adjusts Guilia's rabbit ear aaa they make me sick!! I love that the dev team loves them too

yeee i saw!! it's so cute!! i wanna chill with them weeeeeee

[engardeitsme]

your writing and stories are shit / that's just your stinky brain talking shut up

ppl only say that isn't true bc they're nice and polite / that's just your stinky brain talking shut up

also you're writing niche stuff so ppl are basically forced to be nice bc there's so little niche stuff to read / that's just your stinky brain talking shut up

which means your writing is actually shit and you should just stop / that's just your stinky brain talking shut uuup

[engardeitsme]

[engardeitsme]

[engardeitsme]

@soyafan birb!!!

[engardeitsme]

ⓘ This user needs a long break from everything.

[engardeitsme]

@nepeta-cata 💕

Small Independent Deer Does Its Errands

[engardeitsme]

While writing the next part to For the First Time Since I was Born; I Felt Peace, or Peace for short. I got two new ideas on Heimdall and none of them are nice on the soul.

A) What if Heimdall doesn't think like Odin says, not because he doesn't want to. But because he can't hear his own voice in his head due to all of the noise and stimulus he constantly feels. It's constant to the point where he doesn't even distinguish between his own thought process and other people's thought processes. I can imagine him sitting there trying to get lost in his own head; "What am I going to do with that traitor, he's somehow more annoying than Guppy, he is obnoxious, and he has a strange sense of humor - I want to fight him, he can't even pick up my sword off the ground" That part with the sword was what happened with Thrud, but because of the nature of his 'gift' he can't really think for himself because it always gets lost in between everyone else's. And, while he does try, it's clear it's extremely difficult for him.

B) He reads because he can't read the thoughts of the characters and that means he can finally experience the process of liking or enjoying people like how people normally do.

C) He is mean not because he wants to be but because it's the only way to ensure that others won't go near him and become unbearably loud. I think this specifically applies to Thrud too where he can't be near her because she tends to be really loud. In the same vein he can't be around people he cares about because he can read their thoughts towards themselves, and he doesn't really like that.

[engardeitsme]

[engardeitsme]

[engardeitsme]

[engardeitsme]

NEW CAIRO HEIMDALL YEARNING AU I REPEAT NEW CAIRO HEIMDALL LETS GOOOOOO ����📢📢📢💖💖💖

He longed for little in this world, he now longed to touch silence again, to taste her just as he has when that stranger crossed his path all those agenizing weeks ago.

favfavfaaav omg i love this so much!!!

your way with words like damn🤌🤌 always gets me.

Perhaps he would capture them, keep them stored away where can find them once he felt the need to hide away from all that noise.

..you pwomise??🥺👉👈 aksldls sorry (not rly)

“I have to say, strange taste even for you Heimdall,” eloquent yet devoid of penitence, Odin stood beside him, his eyes tracking the stranger

ISTG THIS OLD FUCKER- ALWAYS RUINING THINGSSS

i hate him.

For The First Time Since I Was Born; I felt Peace.

♡ | Word Count: 1380

♡ | Notes: Not Proof read, Not edited.

♡ | Tags: Supernatural AU, Yearning at first sight.

♡ | Part No: Two

♡| Warnings: Blood and Gore.

♡ | Summary: Heimdall, a diligent Odinson Family Member, hunts whoever his father tells him. However, due to the gift of foresight he got from his father, he has never known a day of peace since he was born, until he saw you at a gas-station store.

Tapping against the wood, Heimdall eyed a man drifting between books stacked next to him. Bragi seemed less than willing to look back, his thoughts humming with ego ‘If he stares long enough maybe he can grow a braincell or two,’ Heimdall huffed aware that Bragi knew he was reading his thoughts very well.

Ever since he saw crumbling cream walls bear deep brown wood and his mind was lost grappling towards the core of it all. He longed for little in this world, he now longed to touch silence again, to taste her just as he has when that stranger crossed his path all those agenizing weeks ago. Perhaps he would capture them, keep them stored away where can find them once he felt the need to hide away from all that noise.

“Heimdall, All-Father has a mission for you.” Thrúd’s voice was just as grating on him as it always has, “Ah Guppy,” he looks up at her, his back still facing her, “how lovely seeing you promoted to messenger girl.” Her brows furrowed, orange hair shaking slightly with her huff, “Still an ass” she whispered as she moved away taking away her parasitic thoughts, never far enough to go away, but far enough that it was barrable, she was always too loud. Placing his head on the palm of his hand, he watched her move away bickering to herself about whether she should kill him or wait until she was a full-fledged Valkyrie.

All-Father sat in his study, his hands outreached to a raven penitently. “Oh! Heimdall, it’s good you finally showed up,” light yet graceful, All-Father’s words echoed. Heimdall looked down studying each nook hidden in the earth. “I want you to deal with a vampire nest down in Michigan, better before those Winchesters otherwise they’ll get to an Yggdrasill key, and we don’t want that mess on our hands now do we?” The Watchmen replied quickly, “No All-Father, it will be delt with.” All-Father turned to face him finally, his lips curled upwards in a smile. “I know you will, you’re my best asset.”

Mission in mind, Heimdall stepped out large wooden doors, each intricate carving reminding him of silence’s embrace. He wished he could feel words drifting off from it, listen to every story it had to tell, maybe it could tell him if it knows where peace had run off to, where the moment trapped in the walls of the gas station will happen again. “It’s him again,” purple eyes drifted, a still face stared back at him, “talking to the All-Father again, lucky bastard,” despite words barging in on his moment, the stranger had never opened their mouth.

It was sunny in Michigan; every bird felt the need to announce its joy with it too. Heimdall walked down a narrow street full with crowds chugging on forward, his mind crawling onwards with them too, utterly keen on how individual lives went, ‘Maybe May will be wearing that dress today,’ ‘oh god my boss will kill me’ ‘Thou art in heaven’ ‘Aliens invaded Egypt.’ Despite Heimdall’s disinterest, people have always found a way to tear deep into his brain, eat at the soft flesh, and once done, run as far as they could leaving behind nothing but strange aftereffects throbbing in his skull. He was glad to see he had reached his destination. Turning down a corner, he followed cracked pavement wedged between graffitied walls, at the end, he saw a small backdoor leading to what once was a cheap café.

Broken memories laid on hardwood floors, blanketed by time. Passing them by, he took in dust with a pulled upper lip, monsters enjoyed living in filth beyond his own understanding. Focusing on the empty counter next to him, he saw greenish grey marble cracked with pressure. He moved. His hands clenching around the hilt of his machete. Swiftly, he passed through the empty doors, a small laugh leaving his lips. “You really think you can beat me?” to his question, four vampires made themselves known, “So yer Heimdall,” one of them spat, Heimdall’s eyes twitched at the sight, “oh I’m going to guttin’ you.” He was the first to go, his head joining the broken furniture on the floor in one swift movement. One moved to his left, he dodged, his body moving forward trampling One below him. Swinging his body, he decapitated his attacker too. Third tried to run away, stopped suddenly by metal going through his throat severing his spine from his head. “You aren’t even worth the effort.” Heimdall muttered as he removed Fourth’s head. Standing tall, The Watchman surveyed what was left, blade dangling lazily to his side, blood tying both together in an art piece of misery. He tilted his head to his side ever so slightly. “Stop right there!” Sam Winchester’s voice echoed, commanding, Heimdall didn’t reply, only eyed him slightly, ‘who is that’ Sam thought, “I don’t see why I’d tell you, I can’t even tell why he sees you two as a threat, you are honestly just a pair of pathetic twats,” The Watchman replied. In the second it took for Sam to process, crows had already began to circle Heimdall, before flying away leaving nothing behind.

Breaking apart, crows fluttered off. Behined them, Heimdall stood with furrowed brows. Cars passed by their engines roaring. He was in an empty street with no other person in sight. Through building up noise of a far of car, he heard a crow, it sat on a pole cawing towards a window, he looks. Inside a person hums a familiar broken tune, they move across now shielded by a wall, he didn’t need to see them to know it was them, he could feel it in the way they moved across their tiled floors, the very vibration left in their wake he felt to. ‘It's not my arms that will fail me, but this world takes more strength than it gave me.’ Heimdall had to root himself deep within the cement beneath him to keep him from moving up those steps, each time he heard them, he wondered if that’s what sailors spoke of, he wondered what kind of monster would they be to make his bones ache in their stillness when they aren’t near them, near that peace that ate at his heart every night he tried to shut his eyes. His left eye twitched. Heimdall wanted to know how their mind worked, how he could smell the wafting scent of fauna when mother nature was long slaughtered here.

“I have to say, strange taste even for you Heimdall,” eloquent yet devoid of penitence, Odin stood beside him, his eyes tracking the stranger as they mulled over what to do next with their day. “Is this really what you went behind my back for?” Purple eyes fell to the floor, “Now I am not mad, just disappointed in you,” Heimdall’s fists clenched trying to mirror his scrambling mind. “It’s not them All-Father…” He speaks plain. All-Father watches, slightly clicking his lips at Heimdall’s twitching eye, “Their mind… their imagination it calms the world around me, the noise, the lights, touch of this world, it’s not there anymore when their around-” in response, All-Father squared his shoulders slightly, the movement silencing The Watchman, “I didn’t know my gift was overwhelming to you, perhaps you don’t appreciate it, I can take it away if it will make you feel better,” Heimdall’s head snaps upwards, “No I appreciate your gifts to me All-Father,” he answers, “Well in that case they don’t mean anything to you, otherwise I would have to remove the powers I gave you, shame that would be, they made you my greatest asset.” “Of course, All-Father, they mean nothing.” Humming, All-Father stepped closer, bringing a hand to his Watchmen’s shoulder, he leaned in closer, “You better make that true Heimdall.” Once more, swarms of crows began to circle around him. Yet, despite his words, Heimdall’s eyes remained steady towards that window his body yearning to be near that blanket of peace they wrapped around him when he neared. It was ripped off of his body when he was completely enveloped by darkness, leaving behind a cold man chattering against cold winds hoping to find light again.