tinkerfire

@tinkerfire 
            You’re forgiven for your intrusive thoughts.. :shakes head:

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                       @crims0nblack,  well  about  that  …  :sweats:  i’m  still  on  discord!  i’m  raspbaby  so  add  me  and  i’ll  send  you  some  photos  of  the  senior  citizen

@tinkerfire 
            Forgive me malina life took me by storm BUT I was trying to find you all over discord. Did you leave dis? No wayyy my man is OLD OLD, I do miss him a lot pls send me pics of him <33

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                   @tianlesz,   “  oh,  is  it  that  obvious?  i’m  not  confused  exactly  ..  or  maybe  i  am.  maybe  you  can  help  answer  me  this:  how  can  someone  like  me  experience  burnout?  ”
            

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                    @khhaos,  calcifer  went  completely  rigid.  the  proximity  of  her,  her  scent,  the  audacity  of  her  kneeling  right  in  his  space  after  all  this  time  sent  a  violent  jolt  of  heat  straight  to  his  core.  his  eyes,  burning  like  trapped  embers  beneath  his  messy  bangs,  followed  her  every  movement  with  a  fierce  intensity.  he  didn’t  move  away,  but  he  also  didn’t  close  the  gap  either.  at  least  immediately.  he  just  leaned  back  slightly  in  his  chair,  his  jaw  tightly  clenched  as  she  wept,  as  she  begged. 
            
            when  diana  called  him  ‘ my  angel ’,  he  bit  out  in  a  low  raspy  growl.   “  don’t  call  me  that.  ”  he  leaned  forward  abruptly,  resting  his  elbows  on  his  knees  so  he  was  angled  directly  over  her.   “  you  also  don’t  get  to  just  walk  out,  leave  me  to  sputter  out  in  the  dark  alone  for  months,  and  then  slide  back  in  here  on  your  knees  calling  me  yours.  ”   he  reached  out.  his  fingers,  faintly  stained  with  the  black  ink  of  his  ruined  pen,  brushed  against  her  jawline,  his  thumb  pressing  just  under  her  chin  to  force  her  face  up  so  she  had  no  choice  but  to  look  directly  into  his  blazing,  resentful  eyes.
            
            “  you  think  you're  being  so  grand,  don't  you?  a  goddess   kneeling  on  my  dusty  floorboards.  you  think  a  few  tears  and  a  pretty  speech  are  going  to  make  me  just  turn  a  blind  eye  to  how  cold  this  place  got  without  you?  ”   calcifer’s  thumb  dragged  across  her  wet  cheek,  smearing  away  the  tear  with  a  repressed,  desperate  urge  to  hold  her.  his  knuckles  brushed  against  her  skin,  hot  enough  to  leave  a  flush.   “  you  also  certainly  don’t  get  to  just  drop  your  miserable  details  here  and  walk  away  twice,  diana.  so  tell  me  everything.  ”

* tears streaked down rosy cheeks, her lip quivering, “ you don't have to forgive me. you don't even have to want me here afterward.” she drew in a shaky breath. “just… please, let me have this one chance.” her hands slowly lifted from her lap, but she stopped herself before reaching for him, unwilling to presume she still had the right.
            
            “ my angel, please.”
            
            
            
            ／ sorry! had to send it separately because it was too long hehe <3

* diana flinched at the bite in his voice, her eyes immediately falling to the ruined pen and the black ink staining his notebook and for a moment, she couldn't bring herself to look at him, her throat tightened.
            
            she had imagined this moment so many times—imagined apologizing, imagined explaining, imagined somehow finding the right words to undo everything she had done but standing before him now, none of those words seemed enough.
            
            slowly, diana stepped forward, softly standing in between his legs and with all the grace within her, she sank to her knees. the gods would gasp at the sight, belittle her. she was a goddess brought to her knees by the man she loves. 
            
            the movement was almost painfully gentle, her hands trembling as they came together in her lap. she looked up at him through wet lashes, trying desperately to keep the tears from spilling over. “my angel,” she whispered. “ i don't have any other requests.”
            
            A shaky breath escaped her as she continued, “ ionly have one plea, please… let me speak.”
            
            diana lowered her head, shoulders trembling as a tear finally slipped down her cheek. “ i know i hurt you. i know that coming back here doesn't erase any of it, and i know i don't deserve for you to forgive me simply because i’m sorry.” her fingers twisted together anxiously. “ but i am sorry. cal, i am so sorry.” she looked up again, her expression stripped of every defense she might have once held onto.
            
            “i should have told you. i should have stayed. i should never have left you wondering where i was or whether i was ever coming back.” her rosy lips trembled, “ and i know saying that now doesn't fix what i did but please don't make me leave before I've had the chance to tell you everything.”

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                   @bloodshed,   “  don’t  get  too  excited.  ”   he  groaned  pathetically,  his  words  coming  out  muffled.  his  head  was  buried  in  between  his  folded  forearms,  the  cinnabar  tresses  spilling  over  his  slouched  posture  like  a  dying  fire.   “  i  don’t  know  who  could  have  done  this.  ”    except  he  did.  it  was  his  fault  for  being  lazy  and  eating  food  that  should  have  been  long  discarded  in  the  trash.  

[ He crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow with a dry, low chuckle. ] “ Miracles do happen — you actually agreed with me. So, who do I need to kill for making you look like a walking corpse ? ”

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                    @bloodshed,  he  sighed.   “  for  once,  i  have  to  agree  with  you.  i  look  / and /  feel  awful.  ”

/    what  a  cute  kitty ! 

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                       @blackcqt-  &  @bloodshed,   meow  meow  meowww!!! 

/      duh.  u  sure  act  like  one

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                         @skycaptain,   “ for  today  or  overall?  ”   there  was  an  underlying  teasing  tone  behind  the  question,  a  debatably  sorry  attempt  at  easing  away  the  frustration  that  has  begun  to  pollute  the  air,  as  evident  by  the  certain  plants  set  in  random  places  around  the  workshop;  their  once-healthy  green  leaves  now  drooped  down  into  a  sorry  sight.   “  i  can  spare  you  right  after  i  finish  these  tweaks.  ”   delicate  chinking  of  a  tiny  hex  wrench  pivoted  against  the  aluminum  struts  filled  up  the  silence,  as  did  the  other  echoing  sounds  of  his  tinkerings.  to  him,  it  resembled  the  rhythmic  pulsing  of  a  heartbeat,  something  he  can  never  have,  to  help  him  feel  alive. 
            
            calcifer  was  currently  on  his  knees,  which  he  ended  up  spending  majority  of  the  time  because  it  was  easier  to  observe  the  mechanics  in  motion  and  fine-tune.   “  this  is  only  the  skeleton  piece  so  it  doesn’t  have  to  be  fully  perfect.  it  will  be  restructured  again  to  fit  with  the  new  exterior  and  enhancements  that  will  make  any  movement  more  tolerable  to  manage.  of  course,  it  will  take  some  time  to  build  it.  ”   with  a  practiced  nudge,  he  tested  the  joint  of  the  contraption  and  was  rewarded  by  a  dull,  muffled  snapping  as  the  locking  pin  clicked  smoothly  into  its  home.  
            
            “  that  should  do.  ”  he  murmured,  his  hands  tracing  the  padded  lining  with  a  soft,  whispering  friction  to  ensure  no  edges  pinched.  he  paused,  rocking  back  on  his  heels  with  a  soft  rustle  of  his  trousers.  reaching  up,  he  slid  his  glasses  up  onto  his  forehead,  revealing  tired,  sharp-witted  eyes  that  crinkled  at  the  corners.   “  are  you  ready  to  take  this  [ prototype  brace ]  off  and  put  back  on  your  old  one?  ”

his hands remained folded over the head of his cane whenever they weren't needed, knuckles whitening every so often whenever the joint protested. to make matters worse, the whole arrangement carried an awkwardness he hadn't anticipated. having someone kneel before him. close enough that every adjustment required careful attention to his injured leg, felt oddly intimate. far more than any simple fitting had a right to.
            
            he found himself looking anywhere else. the scattered tools. the papers. the peculiar decorations around the workshop. anywhere except the person working.
            
            his ears warmed despite himself. ridiculous. he'd survived battles that should have killed him. he'd stitched his own wounds by lantern light and commanded a ship through storms that swallowed fleets whole. yet this...this somehow unsettled him more.
            
            " ... how many more fittings? " he finally asked, unable to hide the weariness in his voice. it wasn't the work itself. it was the knowledge that every adjustment meant another movement, another flare of pain, another reminder that the leg would never again behave as though it belonged to a healthy man. still, he remained where he was. because if the brace was going to be rebuilt, then it would be rebuilt properly. even if he had to endure a little longer.

the old brace was kept close as reference by the chair he was sat in. its condition speaking louder than he ever would. the leather had long since lost its original colour beneath years of oil, rain, and constant wear. the straps were mismatched from countless repairs, their stitching done by different hands over different years. one hinge bore the faint marks of being hammered back into shape, while another section had been reinforced with a plate that clearly hadn't belonged to the original design.
            
            it looked tired. much like the man wearing it. lucian ran his thumb absentmindedly along one of the worn straps before setting the brace aside.
            
            " still works. " there was a quiet certainty in those two words. " just ... not as well. " admitting even that much felt strangely personal. when the fitting resumed, he found himself growing increasingly aware of how exposed the process left him.
            
            his right leg had never been something he liked others fussing over. he'd spent years making certain he could manage it himself, refusing offers of assistance before they were ever voiced. now he had little choice but to sit still while someone else measured, adjusted, and checked the fit over and over. it was irritating. necessary, perhaps. still irritating.
            
            each time he was asked to shift his foot, lift his knee, or hold still for another adjustment, his jaw tightened a little more. not out of anger, but stubborn discomfort.