#it's kind of tense

[rosescries]

All right. Tell us about that Ghaster man. What did he do this time. Hahaha

What hasn't Gaster done?

But they each have distinct little relationships with Momma. Some are pretty similar, some are better than others. Some are pretty unhealthy.

Underfell and Swapfell Gasters kept Sans and Papyrus a secret from their wives too. That's why the three don't recognize each other during the first meeting, they had no clue the other existed in the first place. Gaster had intended to keep it that way, but things happen.

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID in ALT] I've made posts before about Talia/Dick co-parenting Damian moments (will never happen but let me dream) and this came to me in a vision. Took me ages to finish for some reason 😭 and then even longer to post

[abyssal-ilk]

no more romance. romance is canceled. tell me about your warden/hawke/inquisitor's best friend and any info you want to add about their dynamic 🖐

[inbabylontheywept]

Memories of Grandpa Hank

I'm eating a bag of mormon gorp that tastes like gasoline while watching the rain run down the mountain. The taste doesn't even bother me anymore - all homemade gorp tastes like this. It's just a natural consequence of everyone keeping their prepper shit in their garages. 

My dad's out in the clearing, wandering around with his GPS. He's got some pieces of wire out on top of it to try and make the effective antennae bigger, but it just makes it look like he's dowsing. Another mormon tradition. I ask him if he's close to find water yet, and he looks up at me, little rivers flowing off him, and says yeah - he can feel it. 

I'm sure he can. I settle under my tree and watch the droplets roll down the needles. Awaiting the final judgement of Judge GPS. 

A few minutes later, it provides: 

Turns out my dad forgot to record the location of the car this morning. The GPS remembers where we parked yesterday, but by luck my dad knows how to get from there to our car. Downside is that it's a nine mile walk just to get to yesterday's position, then another five miles to backtrack. That's fourteen miles total. 

I'm only thirteen. 

Think you can make it? my dad asks. And it's a kindness that he's worried, but it's not like there's an alternative. What else would I do, sit down in the murk and cross my fingers he finds me again? Ask him to carry me 14 miles? 

I'll be pretty jelly legged, I say. But yeah. I'll make it. 

Attaboy, he says. He fishes a bag of poptarts out and offers me one as - I think - a peace offering. A, sorry you're gonna have to walk 14 miles in the rain because I goofed kind of gift. 

I take a bite and, despite being individually wrapped, it still manages to taste like diesel fumes. We start hiking our incredibly long distance in terrible weather for foolish reasons, and I joke to my dad that the only way to make this day any more mormon would be by pushing handcarts. 

He laughs. Neither of us laugh again until 11 pm, when we stumble like drunkards into camp. My grandpa has stayed up late to make sure we weren’t lost, but he only stays up long enough to see us arrive. We try to eat a dinner of sweet potato stew, but after falling asleep in the middle twice, we agree to just go to bed. 

I sleep in well past nine and wake up to nobody in camp but my grandpa. My dad left with my sister to keep hunting around 5 am. I know that everyone assumes that their dad is invincible when they're 13, but I'm 28 now and part of me still thinks he's gonna live forever. That God made exactly one perpetual motion machine, and it raised me in the desert. 

---

Around noon my grandpa suggests hunting again. If it was my dad, I'd probably tune him out, but I like my grandpa's style of hunting. My dad hikes and hikes and hikes until the elk get tired and just let him shoot them. My grandpa finds the sleepiest, sunniest, coziest field and takes a nap there, figuring if the elk have any decent taste they'll come there at some point.

Man's got a knack for knowing what elk like - he's right more often than not. I think he might've been an elk in a previous life. 

I go with him, and much as I hate to admit it, the hike is good for me. I start off walking like a pirate on two peg legs, so stiff I might as well not have knees, but by the end of the mile and a half walk I'm almost normal. We make it to the edge of the clearing, and my grandpa finds a patch of grass taller and softer than the beds inside the trailer, and he curls up to sleep there. I look across the grass and I watch the comings and goings of critters through the field. Sometimes I use the scope to get a magnified view, but I never do so with my hand on the trigger. The thought of accidentally looking a person through that glass is something that sends a chill up my spine. 

Some deer wander through the glen, but it'd take a fool to mistake one of them for an elk. A few hours later, my grandpa wakes up and asks if I want to wander around a little. It's a lovely day. Rain comes in bursts in Arizona, and the day after is almost always clear as can be. And for a short while, all the desert browns turn green and lush. Hard mosses turn squishy and cacti swell up like fresh baked muffins and for a while you can get why people settled in these god forsaken wastes. 

So I go with him, and we walk on, me with my gun, him just taking in the forest. He looks so peaceful that I get a little jealous, but it's not until my grandpa stops and looks at me that I even notice it myself. Takes a mirror, sometimes, to know yourself.

Being near my grandpa is always a strange thing for me. He's quiet, and he doesn't talk much, and I don't ever get the feeling that he's particularly emotionally intelligent - but it's like he's interacting with a reality more raw and real than mine. Like I'm watching symbols on a screen and he's counting atoms. And sometimes, just being near him gives me access to that raw matter. Just something about how he is breaks the illusions of the world.

He looks at the gun like a foreign object, like he doesn't recognize it, then he looks at me. He speaks and he doesn't mince words. 

What would you do if an elk came across the path and you shot it right now? he asks. 

Well, I'd start cleaning it, I say, and he waves the words away like cobwebs in his face. 

But would you celebrate? he presses.

And I look at him, and I don't actually see any judgement staring back. He knows the answer, and he's at peace with it. He’s asking so I can see it too. He’s being a mirror so I can see my own face.

I think I might actually cry, I admit. And he nods along in agreement before reaching forward to take the gun off my shoulder. 

Lets just walk today, he says. No chance of killing anything. No worrying about that. 

Right, I say. 

He pops the chamber open and tosses me back my bullet. I catch it, and the relief I feel is palpable. 

Can I change my mind? I ask, and he shrugs.

Whenever you want. Hunt or don’t. It’s not the hunting that I’m worried about. It’s seeing you ignore your conscience.

And for a moment, I'm there in the real world with him, and my gloves are off, and reality is a metal cube in my hand: Sharp and cold and heavy.

Or maybe that’s just the bullet.

---

We make it back to camp a bit later than my dad. We get there and he’s waiting for us. If he's tired, he doesn't show it. 

How'd it go? he asks. My grandpa looks at me, and I don't know how to respond. I don't know how to explain it, and I am scared. 

Great, he replies. It's a shame Babs only has a doe tag. We saw a five-point out there. Close enough to hit with a football. 

No, my dad says. If his grin was a half inch wider, both ends of his mouth would meet in the back of his head and everything above his tongue would slide off.

Tell him Babs, grandpa says. And, not for the first time, and especially not the last, I try my hand at spinning a yarn. 

It's pretty good. But at 13, I still have a lot to learn.

[bisclavret]

and people say season 5 is bad

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

Sirius caused the longest hat stall in Hogwarts history when he was sorted, by the way

[bluerosefox]

Masks and Moonlit Night

-Crashes through DPxDC window and sticks a new AU sticky note down on everyones foreheads-

ANGER MANAGEMENT MASQUERADE BALL AU!

Jazz is forced by her parents to go to all Masquerade ball at Vlad's, whose using Jazz as both a way to keep Danny in line (as well as Jazz, basically Danny can't fight back or he'll hurt Jazz and Jazz can't fight back because he'll also hurt Danny who he has locked up at the moment) and to 'impress' the elites (As much as Vlad wants to use Danny for the party he knows the boy would do something to embarrass him in front of them, he at least knows Jazz will keep her manners in check) with how intelligent his goddaughter is.

During the ball, Jazz (in a stunning dress and mask, think like manhwa worthy outfit tbh if you want) meets Jason (who lost the Bats/Birds most recent 'Not it' game and was made to go with Tim to Vlad's party) and both hit it off when they meet in the garden, under moonlight, both wanting some fresh air.

Jazz wants to enjoy her time with Jason but worries about Danny and thus tries to leave and figure a way to help him without tipping Vlad off she was trying to save her brother. However she notices she's being watched by some ghosts Vlad employed and no doubt would report her should she even try. So she kinda uses Jason as way to keep them being unaware of her planning... or at least that was the case until she noticed another Team Phantom member sneaking into Vlad's place and knows its only a matter of time before her brother is freed.

Within the hour she gets a text from Danny who tells her, he's out and gonna fight Vlad for locking him up, that Dani is with him too so it'll be double beat down and that he'll come get her soon.

She is pulled away from the text when Jason asks what books she likes to read and now with the weight of her brother needing to be safe, or as safe as he could be, is lifted off her shoulder she answers.

Its magical, its wonderful, and for a moment Jazz is able to actually enjoy this party, ignoring the pained hits Vlad was no doubt receiving from what she can hear with her liminal enchanced hearing, because talking to Jason, or J as he introduced himself as, was very fun and wonderful and wow he was very handsome even with his mask and-

Jazz is startled out of her wondering thoughts when she could hear someone in the party scream, no doubt Danny, Dani, and Vlad's fight probably bleed into the main hall and she could see people starting to run out.

Jazz sits on the bench as Jason goes running in, no doubt curious as to what is happening and going to get his 'brother' Tim who he came to the party with out. Jazz takes off her mask and sits it down the bench and waits before Dani appears and says they should get going, Danny is keeping an angry Vlad busy and that she can take Jazz home.

By the time Jason comes back, with a researching on his phone Tim, all he finds of the charming woman he met at the dumb ball he got dragged to was her mask on the bench.

[canisalbus]

The way you draw bodies, especially the way you draw hands, is so genuine. It's so nice to look at because it looks so natural, graceful even. The body language and expressions of your characters say so much without them having to say anything at all, it's masterful work.

Thank you! Body language and believably expressive hand gestures are really high on my list of priorities and I put a lot of effort in trying to get them right. So it's really encouraging to hear people notice them!

[afurtivecake]

What if, unbeknownst to everyone around them, Tetsuji and Wymack are embroiled in a psychological battle of wits and nerve the likes of which would put Light/L (of Death Note fame) to shame? What if their negotiations over Kevin was less professional and rational, and more cutthroat and borderline threatening?

Think about it: why would Tetsuji let Kevin go just like that? Broken hand or not, Kevin is valuable property and Kevin has insider information about the Moriyamas. Even an outsider civilian like Kathy Ferdinand can point out that, surely, it would have made more sense for the Ravens to keep Kevin on board, career-ending injury or not.

WHAT IF. Tetsuji feared that Kevin had immediately told Wymack everything he knew about the Moriyamas and about him being Wymack's son and that Wymack might choose to go public with that information and cause a lot of problems. He might not have been sure what Wymack knew or what Wymack had solid proof of. (Maybe he went looking for the letter that contained the only evidence that he knew from Kayleigh who Kevin's father was and couldn't find it? Maybe he couldn't be sure if he had just lost it or if Kevin had somehow found it and handed it over to Wymack as proof when seeking shelter with him.) He has to walk a fine line between probing Wymack for what he knows and threatening him outright with Moriyama resources (which would definitely give him away).

And what if Wymack guessed that that's what Tetsuji was thinking and therefore chose to play it very carefully, not letting Tetsuji know just how much he knows, nor giving any indication about just how big of a fuss he's considering kicking up. What if he calmly and reasonably suggested to Tetsuji that Kevin doesn't to go back, nor does he want to talk about his time with Tetsuji and the Ravens - for now. He has a lot of concerns and questions to raise with Tetsuji about Kevin's physical and mental state, but perhaps they can all agree that those concerns are less important than Kevin's wellbeing at the moment. And that perhaps it would make sense for everyone if Wymack and his staff looked after Kevin for the time being?

What if that's how Wymack manages to get Tetsuji to hand over Kevin (and later, Jean) - basically blackmail.

It'd be so much fun if from Wymack's POV, AFTG is a high-stakes psychological/political drama involving the mafia, the ERC and the man he has an old grudge with.

[justaz]

semi-dark king merlin au, someone from ealdor tells king cenred about merlin and he is captured and held as a slave in essetir. since merlin despises captivity and servitude, he’d rather be dead and free than alive and in chains so he acts out and pisses people (especially the king) off so they’ll think him too much trouble and kill him. at first they stick to beatings until merlin manages to get his chains around a few necks and now has a body count so they kill him…..only he wakes back up a few hours later and king cenred is Intrigued and keeps him close. merlin keeps acting out but no matter how many times they kill him, he won’t stay dead. merlin has this moment after waking up perfectly fine after his twenty seventh death where he is hopeless and believes there to be no escape, not even thru death. a few other sorcerers in chains come and help him clean up and give him a lil peptalk, realizing him to be emrys, and then they revolt and take over the kingdom and crown merlin as king and now uther is like “wtf” bc his neighboring kingdom who was kinda sorta on his wavelength about sorcery, though uther did not approve of keeping them alive, is now a kingdom ruled by magic. he goes to war with them but with magic running free and fucking emrys on the throne, they don’t make a lot of headway. anyways merthur meet on the battlefield, enemies to lovers, you get it

[blog-by-kij]

I love the Inside Out films because in the first one, Joy—among other characteristics—is a huge arrogant, controlling, and self-centered ass and in the second one she’s a less arrogant, controlling, and self-centered ass BUT that’s the point! That’s great! They didn’t make her suddenly not any of those things in the second one, which is good because that would be a bizarre and bad character rewrite. What would she be if she’s not those things? She’s still those things but understands how to better use those characteristics to serve Riley the person, rather than her idea of what Riley should be. This is her whole entire job, and she does it well. Nothing wrong with being proud of a job well done.

BUT, when she doesn’t understand how the other emotions are necessary too, she ends up suppressing Sadness or attempting to curate Riley to make her happy, in a softer way than Anxiety did but still to the same effect—controlling and restricting Riley’s full experiences at the expense of Riley. She became not controlling of other emotions by the second film but turned out to still be a little bit controlling of Riley in that one. But by that time, she already had the experience of learning that she could be wrong and was therefore more open to the idea that she could be doing something wrong again. Joy will do literally anything to make Riley happy, and that includes—most importantly—growing as a character, reflecting on her actions, changing behaviors, and learning how the other emotions do in fact ultimately make Riley a happier and better person.

Another thing I like is that she wasn’t mad at Anxiety, she didn’t punish Anxiety or suppress her, because she learned from Sadness that all emotions have a valuable purpose for Riley and she didn’t ever need to be reminded of that. In real life, when does being mad at or punishing your anxiety or sadness or anything help? And then in the end, Anxiety drinks her tea on her special chair, suggesting that Joy and the others made a space where Anxiety could be close and a part of it all in a way that serves Riley best. They made a way to respect the function that Anxiety has without ignoring her or letting her have excessive control over Riley. Not exerting excessive control over Riley is a lesson that Joy learned alongside Anxiety, and perhaps couldn’t be learned from anyone other than Anxiety.

Joy has to be the one that the story is told through because she has to be the one to learn and grow—and by the end of both films, she is a much stronger character for it all, and Riley is too. This makes perfect sense, because when you think about it, your capacity for joy is strengthened when you understand and value the legitimate role that sadness and anxiety play in your life.

[pipwritesoccasionally]

"stay away from my husband!"

nanami x reader (of course)

in which nanami goes on a mission but doesn't come back for hours, leaving the reader to come to his aid.

gender neutral reader

wc: 1391

sorry if the special grade spirit/any of the cursed energy mechanics are wrong! i barely know how it works honestly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you knew that he couldn’t handle the special grade curse with only one other grade one sorcerer around. hell, you’d told him as such this morning, and even offered to ask yaga to go on the mission with him, but of course kento’d refused. 

“i can’t let you get hurt, (y/n),” he’d said, only causing you to cross your arms in anger. 

“and you think i could let you? absolutely not,” but he’d continued getting ready anyways. kento left like always, kissing you sweetly before closing the door behind him. you knew he was cautious, but after hearing that three second grade sorcerers had gone to shoko in critical condition, you felt justified in feeling worried. 

the afternoon crept past at an agonizing pace, leaving you unfocused and stressed. you’d tried to relax, but the silence only seemed to amplify the sound of your pounding heart. 

he’d said that the mission should only last two hours, three if the curse put up a really good fight, but it had been six hours now, and there was no sign of your husband. you know that he can handle himself, but if he’s with another grade one sorcerer, especially someone younger than him, you know that he would do anything to protect them. 

“fuck,” you mutter, jumping up and rushing to your weapons’ shelf to grab your cursed weapon of choice. the sword handle chills your hand, but you sheath it quickly and run out the door. 

as you run, you scramble through your memories to find the address kento had told you earlier– “for safety”-- and throw it into your gps. the route hasn’t even loaded before you throw your car in reverse and make your way down the narrow street. 

“if you’re dead when i get there kento…” you know that you’re talking to yourself, but due to the high stress situation, you can’t seem to care. 

thankfully, the address where kento was sent to intercept the curse is only fifteen minutes from your house, though that does little to calm your worries. after all, if it’s so close to home, what’s taking him so long? 

the car slides in to a spot along the street, and you throw the door open, barely locking it before running into the building. grunts echo from above, and you start taking the stairs two at a time. when you make it up the first two flights, the air gets heavy with cursed energy, and you feel both relief and worry compound. at least somone is still alive. 

creaking floors and eroded stone decorate the inside of the stairwell, so you infer that the building has been abandoned for a while. that means you don’t have to hold back against whatever curse is there. 

the sounds of fighting get louder as you go up, until you find yourself in an open floor plan, face to face with the special grade cursed spirit.

who was seconds away from killing your husband. 

kento was against the wall, ragged breathing perturbing your already worried thoughts. seeing him in this state threw any hesitations you had out the already-broken-in window.

“stay away from my husband,” you threaten, tension grating your deepened voice. your trusty sword had already met your hand, and your cursed energy radiated into it in droves. the cursed spirit turned its head toward you, and it was then that you were able to really gauge the threat it posed. 

the beast’s long body coiled around like a scorpion, extending into a craning horse’s head. what’s more, two sets of long, feathered wings lay dormant against its body, creating a monstrous medley of an organism. the different characteristics of the curse most likely were the reason that your husband had such a problem with it, but you had the advantage of seeing it in its entirety before even beginning the fight. 

however, you felt the energy shift in the room, and your movements became slow, sluggish even. 

‘this must be part of its technique,’ you think, but unfortunately for the curse, you’d been a sorcerer for too long. 

it also helped that you had been adopted as a grade one sorcerer immediately after killing a grade one cursed spirit on your very first mission. as a freshman in high school. 

you ran to the other side of the room, hoping to distract the curse from kento, and swung your sword towards its body. it made contact, but the wound closed almost immediately. 

‘it has reversed cursed technique too? no wonder its special grade,’ this made the task of eliminating it much harder. 

“darling, i told you not to come,” kento said, stabilizing himself against the wall. 

“that stubborness could have gotten you killed,” you reply, striking the curse again to no avail. kento joins the fight, the two of you working together seamlessly. 

“i’ve been trying to find its weakspot, and i don’t think it’s anywhere in the body,” he says, and you nod. 

“then it has to be in the wings, i’d assume. cut them off and it should disintigrate on its own. hopefully,” you say, running towards the curse, sliding under it and slicing all the way down. kento follows, immediately making his way towards the wings, slicing at one. your sword lodges into the beast’s body, getting stuck part of the way through, and you push it up further up into the curse’s body. it screeches, and kento takes that time to slice the other wing. the two of you had always been such great partners, not even having to relay your plan before the two of you begin to work in sync. your movements begin to speed up, letting you know that your endeavor had worked. however, the beast was disintigrating too slowly, allowing it to still attack. 

your sword had been dislodged from the curse and you found yourself behind it, watching everything happen in slow motion. it thrusted its head towards your husband, clearly meaning to get one last attack in, and while he would normally be able to evade quite easily, he’d been here for hours and his exhaustion was clear. 

‘Fuck no,’ you thought, pulling yourself together and running straight towards the curse. all of the cursed energy you possessed was in your sword, and you made an arc, slashing it right through the curse’s neck. its head came clean off, and you positioned your body towards your husband, pushing him out of the way to take the weight of the head onto your own body. 

a crack echoed in the room, probably from one of your ribs, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. the curse disintegrated, leaving you on the ground, eyes peering over at your husband. 

he groaned weakly, slowly pushing to a stand, and he walks over to you. 

“are you alright?” his eyebrows furrow in worry, and you shake your head, sitting up. 

“i should be asking you that. you fought that curse for hours and are still standing upright. we need to go visit shoko,” you say, wincing at the pain in your abdomen. kento comes over, kneeling next to you and putting a hand on your shoulder. you grab his hand, and he helps you stand up, the two of you leaning into each other. 

“what happened to the other sorcerer?” he’d been sent on this mission with another grade one sorcerer, who was no where to be found. 

“he got injured really badly, and i had him leave so i didn’t have to worry about protecting him too,” your heart warms at his care for your fellow sorcerers, but you can’t help but sigh. 

“this is why i came to get you. i love how protective you are, but you need another person here for fights like this,” a low hum fills the room as he agrees, and you lean your head on his shoulder. 

“can we go home? i think we can hold off on seeing shoko for a bit, i just need some rest,” your husband’s voice is scratchy as a symptom of his shallow breathing, and you want nothing more than to help him. the exhaustion washing over your body tells you that rest will do the both of you some good, so you nod, and start walking towards the door. 

“okay, let’s go home.”

[left-side-up]

Mars

One hour, thirty-seven minutes, and sixteen seconds left.

Martyn wipes the blood from his face, still panting heavily. He won. As the red haze fades from his mind, so does the ecstasy of victory.

He's the last one standing. It's over. So why is his clock still ticking?

For the first time since becoming red, he's... numb. His eyes land on Scott's body.

"Come on," he whispers, as if breaking the silence would wake his teammate, as if anything could wake Scott now. "Time to go home."

One hour, six minutes, and ten seconds left.

It takes Martyn a while to carry Scott's body back to the Coral Isles and begin digging. He furrows his brow as he pushes the shovel into the earth, hoping the minimal enchantments will save him some time. He has to get this done. Has to make up for what he did, even if it's just a small gesture like this.

(Has to keep his mind off of the memories that have been slipping into his head since he killed Impulse. Soulmates, spyglasses, snow. Things that were stolen from him long ago.)

He groans as the shovel hits stone, then pulls out his pickaxe. This is going to take longer than he'd hoped.

Thirty-eight minutes and thirty-two seconds left.

Martyn almost sheds a tear of relief when the grave is finally deep enough. Instead, he spends those precious seconds setting down the shovel and going to pick up Scott.

He's badly burned from the lava, and the stab wound has left his shirt covered in blood. He'd hate that Martyn is leaving him in such a filthy set of clothes, but he'd also hate the idea of Martyn swapping his shirt out for him. It probably doesn't matter all that much- he's going to be covered in dirt either way.

"Alright, Smajor," Martyn tells him. "Time to rest."

He lowers his teammate into the grave.

(A fellow soldier of Dogwarts. A canary. And now, his Mean Gill. Though he didn't know it when he began digging, he's done this before.)

Once Scott is settled, Martyn picks the shovel back up. His work isn't finished yet.

Eleven minutes and fifty-one seconds left.

At last, Scott is put to rest, and Martyn is free to lie down and breathe.

The ocean breeze pushes his hair out of his face. He's acutely aware of the dried blood and sweat on his skin, but he can't be bothered with it. He's not spending his last ten minutes alive taking a bath.

Besides, he knows the feeling won't go away no matter how hard he scrubs at the grime.

With nothing to keep him busy, the swarm of memories attacks him with renewed fervor. A lonely bastion. A group of towers. A castle, drained of its warmth. A resentful soulbound, a traitorous group of four, a unified army. Everything bleeds together and pulls him in every direction he's ever been in. Each path leads to one thing.

Guilt.

Guilt for leaving the one person who was supposed to be by his side until the end. For letting each and every one of his friends die before him. For failing to protect his king.

And now, for killing his only friend in the world.

He lets himself drown in it.

One minute and forty-seven seconds left.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

The grave doesn't respond. Graves don't tend to respond to apologies.

"I think I'm only capable of being truly loyal to one person. And he's found his way out of this hell, so... yeah."

The waves crash against the beach. The sand in the hourglass trickles down.

One minute and nineteen seconds left.

"I didn't know that I was going to betray you. If this happens again- if this cursed game keeps going, I need you to find better allies, yeah? Don't trust me. I don't want to backstab you again."

He opens his eyes to find the sky clear and blue for the first time in a while. It's been filled with smoke and ash for the past few days, but it seems to have finally cleared up.

Thirty-six seconds left.

Martyn grabs the banner from his belt. He didn't know what it meant when he made it. He just knew that it felt right.

Now, he stares at the red flag of Dogwarts again, and he misses someone.

"I hope you found your way out this game for good. Not because I don't miss you. I just... want you to be happy."

Twenty seconds left.

"I wish I'd had time to apologize to you too. I wish we'd met somewhere nicer."

Thirteen seconds left.

"But there's no point in wishing here, is there?"

Eight seconds left.

Martyn holds the banner to his chest. Looks at the grave beside him. Closes his eyes again.

Four seconds left.

"Goodbye, Scott. Bye, Ren."

Three.

Two.

One.

[major-alenko]

Trilogy Appreciation Week Day 2: Friendships

You've been there for me, too, Liara. No, I haven't. I wish I could have joined you back on Illium. You made up for it. Well, I suppose I did just write your name in the stars.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Master manipulator vs Master manipulator

 [First] Prev <–-> Next

[tea-cat-arts]

Wei Wuxian is 35ish. Fight me

And its not like wwx has to be mentally younger/ less mature than his peers for his situation to still be incredibly tragic. It's just less a "man out of time" brand of tragedy and more the kind of tragedy that comes from being away from your hometown for awhile (in wwx's case, away because he was in metaphysical jail) and then you come back and everything's changed and your favorite store closed and your childhood best friend has a baby you had no idea about