#goomii-writes

[goomiiworm]

"Memories With Him"

𖧁୧ : Fandom : Just Roll With It (Riptide)

𖧁୧ : Rating : Teen+

𖧁୧ : Category : Gen

𖧁୧ : Main Tags : Gillion Tidestrider-Centric, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Confort, Angst with a Happy Ending

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Gillion stays up late one night and reflects on his memories of Finn. Feelings bubble over, he talks with Jay, and he lets his feeling out in a (mostly) harmless way.

[I think Gil and Jay’s friendship is underrated and wanted to do something about it.]

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"Gillion sat, uncomfortably, on the wooden floor of the sleeping quarters. The splintered wood poked into his knees, but he didn’t want to risk moving. It’s a miracle he was able to move from his barrel without waking anyone. He lost count on the number of times the creaky floorboards have given him away before. He rested his head on top of his arms as they laid on the rim of the porcelain tub. It felt impossible for him to move his eyes away from the body that laid motionless inside the tub, his grandfather, Finn. It seemed wrong for the man Gil remembered being so expressive and jolly to now be so expressionless. It was hard for Gillion to convince himself this was the same man he knew so long ago. His eyes burned as he tried to fight back the tears he knew were coming."

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[goomiiworm]

"Canvas" [Abandoned]

𖧁୧ : Fandom : Welcome Home

𖧁୧ : Genre : Angst (?)

𖧁୧ : Status : Abandoned

𖧁୧ : Word Count : 228

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Sometimes, if you listen carefully, you can hear the sounds of the beyond slipping through.

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Wally’s humming echoed through Home as he dipped his brush into the white paint. The sound of the bristles scratching across the stitched canvas accompanied his song as he spun the brush along the painting. He tilted his head side to side as he kicked his feet, occasionally hitting against the wooden legs of the stool he was sitting on.

Wally squinted his eyes as he carefully moved the brush along a layer of dried paint. Home never turned the lights on that morning, leaving the room with only the small slivers of light creeping into the room from under the doorway and behind the curtains. When Wally asked Home, Home gave a quick creak from down the hall and said nothing else. Wally followed the sound into the living room, where his easel was already set up for him. Wally trusted Home, so if Home wanted him to paint, he would paint.

Finally, with a few final touches, Wally dropped his brush into a small cup of muddy, paint filled water that sat on the small table beside him. A few other brushes of different sizes also soaked in the murky water.

Wally stopped humming as he rose from his stool in front of his canvas and took a few steps back. His shoes tapped along Home’s dark, wooden floor and echoed through the dark, hollow hallways.

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Found this in my google docs; I started it forever ago, took a break, and forgot where I was going with it. I still like it tho so... eh.