#not that it really matches my feelings anymore

[galactic-magick]

I Love You, I'm Sorry: Viktor x Reader

Based off of this reply on my last Viktor fic:

@lillycore : Duddee, imagine after the final scene between Viktor and Jayce they just disappear (I refuse to believe they both died, I’m just going believe, until it’s confirmed, that they simply teleported somewhere else), leaving reader alone without a chance to confront Viktor and believing they both died. So now, reader is left to pick up the pieces of her closest friend and love of her life gone, while believing Viktor no longer loves her (he does though, he was just a little confused with everything, but he still loves her)

Words: 1.2k

Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the notes and kind words on my last Viktor fic, it truly means the world to me as a writer to see so many people touched by my writing. I hope you enjoy this equally devastating part 2.

They’re gone. They’re really gone.

No family, no friends, not a single loved one of yours survived this damn war. All this world has done is take, take, take.

You’re haunted by the last time you saw your beloved Viktor—completely unrecognizable. He had turned himself into a monster, disappearing with Jayce trying to save him. You didn’t even get to say goodbye, you didn’t even get to tell him you still love him.

Or ask if he still loved you.

You don’t know what would hurt less, believing he stopped loving you, or believing he did everything he did while loving you.

-

“Why can’t she hear me?” Viktor shouts into the void. He’s been calling your name for what feels like an eternity, his voice no longer carrying to your world.

Jayce puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have vessels to speak through anymore. She probably thinks we’re dead. Well, maybe we are…”

“No, no, this can’t be the end,” Viktor shakes his head vigorously. “I have to get back to her. She...she needs to know I love her. She needs to know I’m sorry.”

He falls to his knees amongst the stars, cursing himself for everything. How could he choose the hexcore over you? Why didn’t he seek you out when he survived the explosion? How did he let himself descend so far into madness that he forgot about your importance to him?

He’s now desperate for you to hear him, pleading the forces that bind his consciousness to this astral plane for another chance. He searches this dimension he’s come to know so well, looking for a loophole or tear in the fabric, but it’s no use. Everything has been closed—his supposed eternal consequence for his abuse of power.

Jayce saved him from himself, a feat he will forever be indebted to him for, but what is the point of redemption if he cannot live it out in his own flesh?

Would there have been a body left for him anyway? Would you still have loved him as the monstrosity he became?

Why must he still be cursed with the full vision of the universe? He sees you continue your life so clearly, but he can’t touch you, can’t speak to you. Your form shines the brightest light he’s ever seem in this dimension, an achievement that is not easily matched. He wonders if you can feel him reaching out to you, some sort of spiritual pull back to him. He will do anything to find a way to talk to you again.

-

You’ve been having dreams—dreams you can’t explain. Ever since Viktor’s disappearance, he’s tormented you day and night, constantly occupying your thoughts without mercy. You can hear his voice, but it sounds so far away you can never make out the words. You just wish it would all stop. You wish you could just erase him and all of the pain from your memory.

Sometimes you still feel a presence, the feeling you used to feel when he was in the same vicinity with you, admiring you from across a room. It’s a familiar warmth that used to wash you with peace, whereas now it makes your heart ache. You suppose it’s a normal symptom of grief, subconsciously denying that he’s really gone.

You start to go through his things he left at your house, beginning with his various textbooks and notebooks he would bring over for studying. Seeing his scribbles and handwriting again brings tears to your eyes, a single drop falling onto the paper as you read.

You blink a few times, seeing a couple of letters on the page start to glow. You must be seeing things, hallucinating from sleep deprivation. You close the journal and open it again, but the glowing letters are still there.

You grab a separate piece of paper and write down each glowing letter, finding fifteen total.

“I - L-O-V-E - Y-O-U - I-M - S-O-R-R-Y”

This isn’t happening. It can’t be.

-

“It’s working! She got my message!” Viktor exclaims.

“How...how are you doing that?” Jayce asks.

“Tiny rips in space—not big enough for either of us to escape through—but certainly big enough to briefly touch that reality,” Viktor pauses, still waiting for a response from you, but it doesn’t come.

-

You close the journal and sob, praying for an end to this misery. Your mind is playing tricks on you, deceiving you to a level you never thought possible. Must you be haunted by this forever? Must you endure the aftermath of this trauma?

You open it once again, the letters still glowing, but they start to fade right in front of your eyes. A new set of letters begin to glow, so you write those down as well.

“I-T-S - M-E - D-A-R-L-I-N-G”

And then another set of letters.

“P-L-E-A-S-E - T-A-L-K - T-O - M-E”

Maybe you’re not imagining.

You’ve heard of magicians who can converse with the dead, and the possibility of other dimensional planes and universes. Viktor himself had some theories about it, although he never pursued proving them. Could it really be possible that your beloved was speaking to you?

“Viktor?” you say out loud. “Are you...are you alive?”

“I - D-O-N-T - K-N-O-W”

The pencil drops from your hand again as your head falls to the table. His consciousness is somehow alive, clearly, but there’s no way he can explain to you where he is and how to get him out one letter at a time. You’re nowhere near his level of intellect—even if he explained how to rescue him like you’re five years old—you fear you still would mess something up.

“Viktor...I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me,” you sigh, daring to look at the words again. “You abandoned me, and now my life is a living hell because of the destruction you helped cause. I want nothing to do with your war and stupid glorious evolution. So if you’re not here to take me away from this life, please go away.”

The same original words start glowing again, brighter each time they sequence:

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

“Love doesn’t do what you did. Love doesn’t abandon its humanity for power.”

Please forgive me.

“I do forgive you for everything, Viktor. That’s exactly why I need to forget about you, because I will never stop loving you and hurting for it if I don’t.”

With blurry eyes, you close the journal and throw it into the fireplace, regretting it almost immediately. You grab a stick and pull it out, your tears falling onto the soot-stained cover.

“Please, just...find a way back to me.”

I will.

[dreamsteddie]

Companion piece to my Stobin childhood friends au post because try as I might to resist it, the Steddie brain rot will take over.

Robin and Steve are thick as thieves from that first day of preschool. Their matching friendship bracelets don't fit anymore and have found homes in their "secret friendship treasure chest" which is a shoe box covered in construction paper decorations that lives under Robin's bed so Steve's parents don't throw away any of his "trash" again. They've started a tradition of making a new one for each other at the start of every year so everyone remembers they're best friends, though.

Halfway through first grade (Robin got to start school a year early like the Buckleys hoped) things are going great for Robin. She gets to bring books home from the library and their teacher complimented her drawing of a robin and she helped Steve pass his spelling test last week, so as far as she's concerned this is the best year ever.

Right up until Eddie Munson transfers to their school.

At first, Robin doesn't know that Eddie will be her arch-nemesis. When he's introduced to the class, all she really thinks about him is that he looks a little funny but seems nice. He's got really big eyes and he's taller than most of the other kids with long, gangly limbs. His hair is shaved down to his head, but there are other boys in class who are the same. He gets placed at the table group to the left of them in the chair closest to Steve's.

She very quickly forgets about him as the day continues as normal. Robin thinks math block is boring, she'd much rather read her books or play with Steve at recess but her parents said knowing your shapes is important, so she pays extra special attention. That's why she doesn't catch the little wave Steve, ever the social butterfly, gives to the boy across the way or the way Eddie's eyes go even bigger and a soft blush steals across his cheeks.

What she does notice is when Eddie comes up to them in the last few precious minutes of recess slightly sweaty and out of breath holding a little white daisy.

"Hi! I'm Eddie, I'm new!" he says, shouting really, looking directly at Steve.

"Oh, hi Eddie! I'm Steve, this is my bestest friend, Robin." Steve replies.

"Like the bird?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah! They're orange."

"And I hate orange!" Robin buts in, not willing to be left out of the conversation

"Yeah, it's really sad. They should be blue, that's Robin's favorite color." Steve says, real disappointment creeping into his voice. "Who's that for?" he asks, pointing to the forgotten daisy.

"Oh! It's for you! I was out all recess looking for the best one in the field. They kind of match your shirt!' Eddie says proudly, referencing Steve's polo with the yellow body and white sleeves. It's one of his favorites.

"Really? That's so nice, thank you!" Steve exclaims as he takes the little flower into his hands.

Robin's mom says that sometimes when you want to be someone's friend, it's good to start by giving them something nice. Robin's mom says that she should try and make more friends, maybe some girls instead of just Steve, but when Robin tries to talk to the other girls in class, she gets nervous and clams up. She thinks she might be allergic to them. Plus, why would she need more friends when she has Steve, who is worth at least three normal friends.

Steve gets along with everyone, he lends people erasers and pencils and shares his blocks with the other kids when he's allowed to bring them out of his cubby, but no one is his best friend like Robin is.

No one has ever given Steve flowers before, though. That feels like an extra special kind of gift that someone would give if they wanted to be really good friends, and Robin doesn't want that. Steve is her best friend, he doesn't need another one.

"Steve, we gotta go get in line before all the other kids! We don't want to be last!" she blurts out, grabbing Steve by the hand and dragging him across the asphalt to where the teachers are getting ready to call everyone to get in line before Eddie can catch up.

Once they've got their places, she looks back at Steve behind her to see he's turned around. She peaks her head around him and sees him smiling wide at an equally smiley Eddie who's about 5 kids behind them, each of them waving happily at each other.

Oh yeah, Robin is going to have to keep an eye on him.

[helplessautomaton]

WC 876

addon to the last post abt yandere daisuke,, sorry gang i lowkey forgor. also, i dont think i can keep using ingame screenshots for the header so i might ditch that because i don't want to use outside sources. tbf i could just draw my own for that- anyways!

i straight up forgot about the please aspect and did not take advantage of that! mightve gotten cared away, apologies hehe, also this is my last post for today, sorry

~

its gonna start off slow with daisuke, he just wants praise from the people around him who know better! he just wants to know hes doing a good job so please tell him he is. as his obsession starts to grow hes unaware of his expression with his eyes. staring at you, expecting— wanting praise, just to give him that extra boost. as time progresses along with his attachment towards you, no matter what part you have in the crew, he tries to help you. his cheery smile making it hard to resist and say no. gently grabbing your hands while you two take a break, blabbering on about he managed to do and going off topic about whatever. all this while he has a golden smile directed at you, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners to match.

when you hang around swansea and daisuke, you semi-jokingly praise him to give him more of a boost. its sends him over the moon to know hes doing right by you! swansea makes little teasing comments when daisuke is out of ear. as he starts to get more conscious of his obsession with you, he acts on it more knowingly. trying to push the buttons he know works even when its starting wear off and you hesitantly go along with it.

he wants to share his happiness you give to him, he wants to see you happy. at this point you are his world and hes not willing to give that up to anyone. even if it makes him a little uncharacteristicly harsh to the other crew members. he doesnt risk what he doesnt have to, even if curly or anya warm up to you the same way he originally started out. thats not to say it tugs at daisuke and makes him annoyed, he knows its not irrational but for jimmy he is justified if he dares to try anything. i feel like he would over look or straight up not notice if swansea treat you very slightly better because lets be honest, hes probably getting that same deal as well. theres so much daisuke wants to do but due to the environment he cant, but him stealing a packet or two of sugar just for you can make up for it.

really at this point, daisuke is at your beck n call whether you want it or not, hes so attached he refuses to let go. hes still his usual self when hes only with you, optimistic and bright eyed. even if swansea is hitting him in the back of the head to make him focus. but during this point everyone is starting to notice daisuke's behavior and the frustration sets in. even if curly tries to redirect him back to speed, daisuke needs you. attempting to praise him just to get him to do his job wont exactly work if you have to speed off to your intended chores. jimmy's comments start to become more sharp as he glares at the both of you while all you can do is look away, really just not wanting this either.

after the crash, he uses his tears to just get something, mostly he wants reassurance to refresh his optimism. especially when he gets drunk on the mouthwash, he cant help it, hes still doing a good job despite it all, right? he tries his best to keep you content in anyway shape or form, even if it means hiding you away from everyone for a little while. afterall, what can he do anymore. so please, just let him make you smile for sometime before the situation breaks back through to reality.

//

"daisuke can you please keep on? youre doing a wonderful job we can go on a break soon." you try to charm your way through, swansea was getting more snappy at the both of you. daisuke's let his smile takeover, his eyes crinkling, nodding he continues under whatever swansea needs him to do. the tension in the room was clear, your jaw was tensed up, this had been the 6th day you had to do this. you worked beside anya not swansea, yet daisuke needed you or else youd be hearing complaints from 4 people of the crew out of 5. you werent even paying attention to the way either swansea or daisuke worked on whatever they were working on, yet daisuke called out to you. "alright i think we got it all done for now, swansea said im good to get on break now."

you sighed slightly and let daisuke lead the way, joking and telling you whatever crossed his mind. "i was doing a good job right?" his quiet voice snapped you back to where you were at, stopping just in time so you didnt accidentally knock over daisuke. "uhh,, yeah, it did look like you were, um, working hard! just keep doing what swansea wants you to do."

daisuke looks over to you, watching you carefully with his eyes before he breaks out into a usual smile and carries on with going into the lounge.

[puuuders]

Marigold - Terzomega - Part One of Tranquility

Ghost fanfiction

Fluff

~

A/N - As I mentioned before, I lost interest in angst. Now I wanna write fluff. And smut. Haha. Thanks @ofthemorningstars /pos

BUT this isn't really a whole fanfiction, it's just a collection of short stories basically. Little to no angst.

~

It is a beautiful summer day in Linköping, Sweden, one that Omega does not want to waste at mass. Luckily, after Sister's death and the Emeritus brother's resurrections, his time with his beloved Terzo is infinite.

2.5k words

Read on AO3

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Omega held his breath as he turned in bed, stretching out his arms. His tongue curled as he yawned like a cat, sitting up and looking down at the still sleeping figure beside him, his chest immediately rumbling into a purr. He would never get used to the sight. Some years ago, he would have felt indifferent to Terzo’s form beside him, having grown familiar with his presence in their shared bed. Perhaps he became ungrateful for his human partner back when Terzo first became Papa. The threat of his absence hadn’t crossed his mind, at least not the possibility of his absence any time soon. Until, it happened one day. Omega regretted not giving Terzo a kiss on his cheek every morning, whether he was awake or not, because there was nothing the ghoul wanted to do more now that he was able to again.

Omega leaned down, planting a soft kiss on Terzo’s cheek, taking a moment to gaze down at him lovingly. Now, that threat of his absence was almost entirely eradicated. As a side effect of the human’s resurrection, he lost the ability to age. He was forever 54 with an immune system of a demon like Omega himself. Sure, Terzo could develop typically deadly illnesses or simple common colds, but the ailments would be removed from his body within the week. This was proven when Terzo developed a nasty case of pneumonia a few days ago, leaving him bed ridden and Omega in anxious shambles. Until, suddenly, the very next morning, his lungs were thriving. No one was entirely sure if he or his brothers could possibly be killed anymore. A common theory around the ministry is that they were actually ghouls now, who were immortal, but remained in their human bodies due to the nature of the resurrection. They were simply souls possessing the bodies. But nothing could be proven.

“Time to get up, I see you smiling.” Omega spoke gently next to Terzo’s ear, who rolled over with a groan in an attempt to hide his smile after feeling Omega’s kiss. Omega chuckled, rubbing Terzo’s shoulder.

”Come on. You can go back to sleep after mass.”

”I don’t want to go to mass.” Terzo pouted like a child. Omega scoffed playfully, gliding his claws up and down Terzo’s arm in a soothing manner.

”Who will feed me his body and his blood if you are not at mass?” Omega asked, smiling as Terzo rolled around and finally opened his mismatched eyes. They gazed at each other momentarily before Terzo sighed, sitting up.

”Only because I do not want anyone else’s thumb in your mouth,” Terzo swung his legs off of the side of the bed, standing up to stretch. “Only my thumb goes in your mouth.”

”But you can put your thumb in many people’s mouths, hm?” Omega stood up, moving to the closet to fetch each of their clothes. He pulled out his own typical uniform, slinging it over his shoulder and picking out Terzo’s. Terzo had a bit more leeway with his attire, having multiple suits and dress shirts that he wore to mass. Omega picked out his personal favorite to see on his beloved Terzo: his pink button up and white vest with matching pants.

”It is my duty, ghoul,” Terzo took his clothes as they were handed to them, “I do not take any pleasure in any other than you.”

”I know, I know.” Omega pulled the back t-shirt over his head, quickly stuffing his arms into his jacket before Terzo could get distracted with lustful thoughts and comments about his ghoul’s body. Terzo removed his own shirt, accidentally nicking the scab forming around his neck.

”Ouch.” Terzo winced, moving his hand up to touch the thick scar. Omega whipped his head around to look at him, his heart dropping.

”What’s wrong? Terzo?” Omega quickly stepped over, fully dressed now, gently placing his larger hands overtop Terzo’s.

”I am okay, I just scratched it a bit.” Terzo pulled his hand away. The scar was still red, stitches still in his skin just in case Terzo was not actually immortal. It was Omega’s call to take such precautions, him having the authority as the head of the infirmary department to make such decisions. Even so, if he was not in a powerful position, Terzo would have had it done anyway just to soothe the ghoul’s unending paranoia.

Omega leaned in, closing his eyes as he pressed a warm kiss to the scar.

“Be careful, amore.” Omega stood by, watching as Terzo dressed himself to ensure his safety. Terzo found it silly that Omega was so worried about Terzo dressing himself, but he knew the concern came from a deep, genuine fear, so he would never point it out.

Mass went as boring and uninteresting as Terzo had expected it to be. Omega would smile behind his metal mask as Terzo would frequently shift positions up there sitting near the altar. He would cross his legs with his arms crossed, head tilted to the side to listen to Copia’s stuttering Satanic prayers. Then, he would shift, manspreading and hanging his head, eyes wide and nodding at nothing in particular. Finally, by the time it was Terzo’s turn to give the body and blood, Terzo had his head leaned back against the wall, asleep. Copia had to snap his fingers in front of his face to wake him, a quiet wave of giggles rumbling across the mass attendees.

As Terzo made his way across the room, Omega noticed how Terzo would pinch the crackers, placing them with a flick of his fingers on each person’s tongue. Terzo was not grossed out or upset about having to feed them, in fact he enjoyed the feeling of providing for the siblings and ghouls. Almost nurturing them, like a mother would her baby. But there was a clear difference in the way Terzo would feed the other siblings and ghouls and the way he would Omega. When Terzo approached Omega, Omega lifted his mask and held it delicately in his hands. Terzo placed the cracker on his thumb instead of pinched between his fingers. Omega opened his mouth, letting his tongue poke out, and Terzo would gently press the cracker on to his tongue. When Omega finished, instead of handing the shot glass to him, Terzo would gently lean Omega’s head back and slowly pour the wine into his mouth. The whole process made the large ghoul fidgety and flustered, but the shyness he felt was entirely worth that look of adoration written all over Terzo’s face. Similarly, the boredom and annoyance Terzo would feel having to sit so far away from Omega during mass was worth seeing the blush spread across his face when he finally got to feed him.

“You need to stop falling asleep in mass, tesoro.” Omega scolded, wrapping his fingers around Terzo’s smaller hand as they shuffled out of the room in the midst of the crowd. The people dispersed throughout the halls, most of which heading for the dining hall since it was now lunchtime. Terzo and Omega decided neither of them were hungry, so they opted to head outside in the ministry gardens to enjoy the heat of the thriving summer. Besides, with the major amount of changes Copia had installed on the ministry and their morals, they could always go somewhere else to eat if they grew hungry later on in the day.

“I do not actually sleep,” Terzo claimed as they walked across the path, the sweet scent of roses filling their noses, “I only do it to annoy Copia. And make people laugh. Mass is boring, someone has to make it worthwhile.”

”What would we do without you and your comedy?” Omega sighed, kissing Terzo on the top of his head. Terzo smiled.

”Whatever you did while I was gone.” Terzo looked up at Omega, feeling the grip on his hand tightened. The smile faded.

“I’m sorry, that was not funny.” Terzo murmured.

”No, amore, don’t be sorry.” Omega sat down on a stone bench, facing a rose bush. He placed his hands on Terzo’s waist, having him sit on his lap. Terzo gladly did so, wrapping his arms around Omega’s shoulders.

”There was no replacement for you and your… Your artful smartass-ary.” Omega chuckled dryly, rubbing Terzo’s back as he looked up at him.

“I don’t think I smiled once in those 6 years.”

”Isn’t it funny how much nicer it is without those decrepit old bastards around?” Terzo said lightheartedly, trying to help Omega’s clearly anxious mood. “Ah, and we all blamed my brother. I do not forgive him for that humiliating stunt with Metal Hammer, though. And Metal Hammer! Of all magazines! Metal Hammer. Sounds like Square Hammer. Embarrassing.”

Terzo sighed, playing with the back of Omega's hair as he continued.

“I know what you say, that if it were not for those old bastards, none of this would have happened. I believe you.”

”Copia was so scared of you especially when we were preparing your resurrection,” Omega chuckled, swallowing the lump in his throat that he did not want Terzo to notice, “he knew you’d have something to say about Metal Hammer.”

“It is humiliating!” Terzo exclaimed. “I should do the same to him.”

”I think you embarrassed him enough when you pantsed him at Sister’s ashes ritual,” Omega grinned. Terzo tossed his head back in a cackle.

“Hello Kitty underwear, he had!”

“He deserved it.” Omega chuckled. Terzo nodded, sliding off of Omega’s lap to sit on the bench. He leaned his head on the ghoul’s broad shoulder, closing his eyes contentedly as he felt Omega’s arm wrapped around him.

“I do not care what Copia did while I was gone,” Terzo spoke more solemnly this time, “I am just glad to have you back, mio amore.”

They sat silently for a moment, basking in the sweet air of each other's presence. With Omega's arm wrapped around him, Terzo reached over to the side of the bench, plucking out a plump marigold from its plant. He brought it over to them both, smelling it and humming.

“I love marigolds,” Terzo began, holding it up for Omega to smell it as well. “They always remind me of this festival, the lantern festival. They are quite popular in China. And Japan. Not here in Linköping, though, I have checked. Many times.”

Terzo twirled the flower around in his fingers.

“Marigolds? Or the lantern festival?” Omega asked.

“Both if they have any taste.” Terzo smiled. “No, I mean the festivals. They light hundreds of thousands- Omega ghoul, have you ever watched Tangled?” Terzo looked up at him questioningly. Omega pursed his lips with a smile, looking away, knowing he was about to offend his movie obsessed partner.

“No, I haven't.”

“We will watch it tonight!” Terzo exclaimed, tucking the marigold behind Omega's ear. Omega chuckled, allowing Terzo to adorn him with the brightly colored flower. “You will see how pretty it is. It is a good movie. I wish I could get married at the lantern festival.”

Omega began to stare off into space upon hearing Terzo's confession.

”What?” Alpha called in response to the urgent knock on his door. He was in the middle of fixing his hair, squeezing a handful of mousse into it. He would never admit it, but he had an intricate hair care routine. He stuffed his products in the cupboard under the bathroom sink as he ventured into the main part of his room, opening the door.

”I need your help with something.” Omega breathed out, fidgeting with his fingers.

Alpha raised a brow. He opened the door wider and allowed Omega in, shutting the door behind him.

“What is it? Oh, don’t even tell me. You want me to make you 500 candles again for a date with Terzo, don’t you?” Alpha rolled his eyes, but he was not seriously annoyed. Omega parted his lips to speak, blush spreading across his face, but nothing came out. Alpha’s expression softened.

”What?”

“Well… Kind of.” Omega shrugged. “Lanterns. Lots… Lots of lanterns. Terzo’s been telling me about this lantern festival he wanted to go to, but it’s not in Linköping. So I want to make it for him.”

”Never heard of it,” Alpha crossed his arms, noting Omega’s fast pace. “Why?”

“He’s been- Well, he’s just-“ Omega stuttered, his chest puffed out, “he just likes it and I wanna do it. Can you help?”

Alpha paused, studying Omega’s body language with the worst RBF Alpha had ever produced. His silence prompted Omega to continue his rambling.

“And I already know, it’s a fire hazard, but I talked to Copia and he said yes as long as the water ghouls are around. Plus, you can also let the lanterns float in the lake. And I will ask Dew and Ifirit to help but I know they are busy with the rituals, so-“

“What’s going on?” Alpha interrupted with a smirk, idly shifting his weight back and forth on each foot. “What’s this for, big guy?”

Omega held his breath for a moment, debating on whether he was going to lie or not. Finally, he decided there was no point and he exhaled, reaching in his pocket as he looked down. He pulled out a small jewelry box and opened it delicately. Alpha’s jaw dropped as his eyes landed on a beautiful ruby ring, glistening with pink and white moissanite that lined the metal band of the ring.

“Holy shit.” Alpha spat out. He raised his hands, looking up at Omega for permission to hold it. Omega nodded.

”Just… Careful.” Omega choked, his nerves apparent. Alpha carefully picked it out of the box, looking all around it.

“How fucking much did you pay for this?” Alpha laughed as he looked at it.

”Uh… Well, I bought it from Earth a week ago. He made it.” Omega watched sheepishly as Alpha examined it in awe before putting it back in the box.

“How much?” Alpha repeated. Omega bit his lip.

”Uh… 22 thousand krona.” Omega blushed deeply at the price. Alpha’s hair burst into flames at the tag.

”Jesus fuck!” Alpha exclaimed.

“I make a lot more now that I’m in the infirmary!” Omega defended. Alpha patted out the flame on his head, eyes still locked on Omega.

”He does not need a 22 thousand krona ring!” Alpha laughed. Omega blushed even more.

“He deserves it, though.” Omega murmured.

“He’s gonna fucking love it.” Alpha reassured. “Yes, I’ll help you with the lanterns. When?”

”Sunday. I still need some time to plan it. I'm gonna, uh… Propose that night. After the lanterns are lit.” Omega fidgeted with the ring on his finger anxiously.

“Okay,” Alpha. Followed as Omega moved to leave the room. “Knowing him, you'll be married the next day.”

Omega smiled, his temples beginning to hurt from grinning so much.

“Thank you.” Omega waved and shut the door, drawing in a deep breath as he began to walk down the hallway to join his future husband in their suite for the night.

[jaeyunluvbot]

sad beautiful tragic

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 angst, lovers to exes, joshua hong x reader, fiance!joshua x reader

word count 𝟅𝟈 4.2k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s your freshman year of college. You’d taken the risk and moved across the country to go to UCLA. It was your first exam season and you were sorely regretting this choice, wishing you had your family and friends to lean on.

The library is dead silent except for the occasional rustle of pages and the distant hum of the air conditioner. Your head hurts from staring at your statistics textbook for too long, the numbers blurring together like they’re mocking you. You press your palms into your forehead, trying to focus, but it’s useless.

You’re on the verge of packing up and leaving when a voice interrupts your spiral.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You glance up, your eyes landing on a boy holding a tray with two coffees. He’s tall, with a warm smile and a slightly oversized UCLA hoodie that makes him look impossibly soft.

You nod, gesturing to the seat across from you. “Go ahead.”

As he sits down, he slides one of the cups toward you. “You look like you need this more than I do.”

You blink, taken aback. “What—how did you know I needed caffeine?”

He chuckles, the sound light and easy. “You’ve been glaring at that textbook for like ten minutes.”

You laugh despite yourself, the tension in your chest loosening. “Fair point. Thanks... I guess I owe you one now.”

“Nah,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Think of it as my good deed for the day. I’m Joshua, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you reply, taking a cautious sip of the coffee. It’s just the way you like it—strong but not bitter. “This might actually save my grade.”

“Glad to be of service,” he says with a grin.

For the next hour, you pretend to study, but really, you’re watching him out of the corner of your eye. He’s quiet but not shy, the kind of person who makes you feel at ease without even trying. By the time you pack up your things to leave, you realize you don’t feel so alone anymore.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Life after college had been better than you'd ever imagined. When you moved to California for college, you’d never expected to find more than just a degree. Joshua had been the anchor in a world that felt so foreign—your solace when homesickness hit you hard. By the time graduation rolled around, the two of you were inseparable.

Your careers had fallen into place perfectly. You landed a job in New York, but when Joshua asked if you’d stay in California with him, you didn’t hesitate. You turned down the offer, found a great position in LA, and never looked back. Being close to him felt worth every sacrifice.

The proposal had been perfect in its simplicity. One quiet evening in your shared apartment, he’d set the table with your favorite takeout, candles flickering between cartons of food. You’d laughed when he nervously fumbled with the ring box but cried when he asked, “Will you marry me?” The answer had been a resounding yes.

At first, Joshua was just as excited as you were. He’d scroll through the boards with you, offering opinions on everything from table settings to wedding bands. “Simple and elegant,” he’d said, his voice laced with warmth as he picked out a gold band that matched yours. He’d even gotten himself a matching engagement ring, claiming he wanted everyone to know he was spoken for.

But then work started picking up for him.

It was little things at first—missing a cake tasting or zoning out during a discussion about the guest list. “Whatever you think is best, babe,” he’d say with a tired smile. At first, you brushed it off. He was busy, and you didn’t want to add to his stress.

Then, he missed your appointment with the wedding planner. It was supposed to be a big one, the meeting where you’d decide on the venue. You’d picked out three options together, but sitting across from the planner with an empty chair beside you made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

You called him after the meeting. He answered on the third ring, his voice apologetic but distant. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. The meeting at work ran over, and I couldn’t get away. Did you pick something?”

You paused, the lump in your throat growing. “Yeah. I went with the vineyard. It felt right.”

“That sounds perfect,” he said quickly, relief evident in his tone. “I trust your judgment.”

You tried to smile, but it felt forced.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time he missed the florist appointment a week later, it wasn’t a surprise. “Sorry, babe. Just go with whatever you like,” he said when you called him, his voice rushed. “I know you’ll make it beautiful.”

You hung up feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. It wasn’t just the missed appointments. It was the way he seemed to disengage completely, like the wedding was your project and not something you were supposed to be building together.

He still wore his ring, still kissed you goodnight and said, “Love you.” But his words felt like a habit, something automatic and unthinking. You told yourself he was just busy, that once the stress of work eased up, things would go back to the way they were.

But deep down, you couldn’t ignore the growing ache in your chest.

The phone feels heavy in your hand as you sit cross-legged on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen. Joshua isn’t home yet—another late night at the office, or so he says. You’ve been scrolling aimlessly through your wedding Pinterest board, but even the dreamy photos of lace gowns and candlelit venues can’t shake the dull ache in your chest.

When the call connects, your mom’s warm voice cuts through the silence. “Sweetheart, how’s my favorite daughter?”

You manage a smile, even though she can’t see it. “Hi, Mom. I’m... okay.”

“Just okay?” she asks, a hint of concern in her voice.

You hesitate, unsure how much to say. “It’s just... I don’t know. I think I’m feeling a little lonely.”

“Lonely? What about Joshua? You two are practically glued together.”

Your throat tightens at the mention of his name. “He’s been so busy with work lately. And I don’t know, Mom, it’s like... I can’t really talk to him about how I’m feeling. I don’t want to add to his stress.”

“Sweetheart, you can always talk to me,” she says gently.

“I know.” You pause, picking at a thread on the couch cushion. “It’s just hard sometimes. All my friends here are his friends, you know? I can’t exactly call them and say, ‘Hey, I think Joshua’s pulling away from me.’”

There’s a soft sigh on the other end of the line. “Oh, honey. I wish I were closer. Are you sure everything’s okay between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s... different. He’s not excited about the wedding anymore. He misses every appointment, and when I try to talk about it, he just says to do whatever I want. Like it doesn’t even matter to him.”

Your mom’s voice softens even more. “Sweetheart, planning a wedding is stressful for anyone, but it sounds like you’re taking on all the weight by yourself. That’s not fair.”

Tears sting your eyes as you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from falling. “I just miss you, Mom. I wish you were here.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll come see you next month, okay? We’ll spend some time together, just us girls. Sit tight until then.”

“Okay,” you murmur, even though next month feels like a lifetime away.

After you hang up, the apartment feels even quieter than before. You glance at the dining table, still set with the meal you’d made hours ago, untouched. The ache in your chest feels heavier now, pressing down until it’s hard to breathe.

You wonder, not for the first time, if this is what homesickness feels like—not just for a place, but for a version of your life that feels like it’s slipping away.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“You really need to decide on your groomsmen soon, Josh,” you say, your voice soft but edged with the faintest hint of impatience. “I can’t finalize the bridesmaids until I know how many you’re having.”

It’s late, and he’s seated at the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone while you try to bring up yet another wedding detail. His hair is tousled from work, and he looks tired, but you push forward. You’ve been asking him about this for weeks now.

He looks up briefly, his expression unreadable. “I know, Y/N. I’ll get to it, I promise.”

You pause, trying to keep your frustration in check. “It’s been two months, Josh. You haven’t even mentioned it to anyone yet.”

“I’ve just been busy,” he says with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I’ll figure it out soon. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” you say, forcing a smile. “But you really need to. It’s not just about the numbers—it’s about including people who are important to you.”

He nods distractedly, his eyes already back on his phone.

That night, as you lie awake in bed, you replay the conversation over and over. It’s such a small thing—picking groomsmen. It shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, but somehow, it does.

It’s not the first time he’s brushed off something wedding-related. It’s not the first time he’s promised to “get to it.” And it’s certainly not the first time you’ve felt like you’re the only one putting real effort into planning the day that’s supposed to celebrate both of you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time another week rolls around, you’re still waiting. Another week of him saying, “I’ve been thinking about it,” without any actual decisions. Another week of you wondering if this is what the rest of your life is going to look like—waiting for Joshua to care about something as much as you do.

When you ask him again, gently but firmly, his response is the same. “I’ll get to it.”

But he doesn’t.

And as you sit at the dining table that night, staring at your wedding planner and a half-empty glass of wine, it hits you like a punch to the gut: he’s not avoiding the groomsmen because he’s busy. He’s avoiding it because it doesn’t matter to him.

Because maybe you don’t matter to him—not the way you used to.

The thought sends a chill down your spine. You push the wedding planner aside, get up, and walk to the bathroom. His ring is still on the counter, where it’s been more and more lately. You stare at it, the dull ache in your chest flaring into something sharper.

“Oh,” you whisper to yourself, the word heavy with realization.

You leave the ring where it is and head to bed, the sheets cold and uninviting. For the first time, you don’t wait up for him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning feels heavy before it even starts. You wake up to an empty bed again, the sheets on his side rumpled but cold. You find him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and scrolling through emails on his phone, still wearing the same distracted expression you’ve come to know all too well.

“Hey,” you say softly as you pour yourself a cup. “We need to figure out the wedding party today. We’ve been putting it off too long.”

Joshua glances up, his brow furrowing. “I know. Let’s sit down after breakfast and go through it.”

You nod, hopeful for a moment. Maybe today will be different.

But before you can even finish your coffee, his phone buzzes on the counter. He picks it up, and you watch as his expression shifts from tired to tense.

“It’s my secretary,” he mutters, holding up a hand as he answers.

“Mr. Hong,” her voice is clear even from where you sit, “I’m so sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but the investors are furious about the delay. They’re demanding an emergency meeting.”

Joshua runs a hand through his hair, already moving toward the bedroom to grab his bag. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Thanks for letting me know.”

When he returns, he’s tucking his phone into his pocket and slipping on his shoes. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You look up at him, frustration and sadness bubbling beneath the surface. “We were supposed to figure out the wedding party today, Josh.”

“I know,” he says, his voice rushed. “We’ll do it tomorrow. I promise.”

You glance at the counter as he heads for the door, and your stomach sinks. His ring is still there, sitting carelessly next to the fruit bowl.

The door closes behind him, and the apartment falls into silence.

You sit there for a long time, staring at the spot where his ring rests. Then, slowly, you slip your own ring off your finger. The weight of it has felt heavier these past few weeks, more a reminder of what’s slipping away than what’s supposed to be.

You carry it to your bedroom and place it gently in the jewelry box on your dresser, nestled between a pair of earrings your mom gave you and an old bracelet from college. It doesn’t feel right, taking it off—but it doesn’t feel wrong, either.

That night, you go to bed alone again, the silence in the apartment pressing down on you. You wonder, as you lie there staring at the ceiling, how many more nights will feel like this.

And for the first time, you don’t cry. You’re too tired to cry anymore.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next evening, Joshua finally comes home. It’s later than usual, but you’re still awake, sitting on the couch with your wedding planner open in front of you. You’re not really reading it, though. Instead, you’ve been staring at the untouched coffee cup you poured for him hours ago, now cold.

“Hey,” he says softly as he steps inside, setting his bag by the door. He glances at you, and his brow furrows slightly. “You’re still up?”

“Yeah,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “We need to talk.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Okay. Let me just—”

“Now, Josh,” you interrupt, standing and closing the planner with a soft thud.

He blinks at the sharpness in your tone but joins you in the living room. You sit on the edge of the couch, hands clasped tightly together, while he sinks into the armchair across from you.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The tension in the room is palpable, stretching like a rubber band about to snap.

“Are you having an affair?” The words leave your mouth before you can second-guess them.

His eyes widen in shock, and his posture stiffens. “What? No! Y/N, how could you even think that?”

“Because you’ve been pulling away from me for months,” you say, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to keep it even. “You miss every appointment, you don’t care about the wedding, and you keep leaving your ring on the counter like it doesn’t mean anything to you.”

Joshua’s face falls, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I swear, it’s not that. Work has just been—”

“Don’t,” you say, cutting him off. “Don’t blame this on work. Be honest with me, Joshua. Do you even want this anymore?”

His silence is deafening.

“I—” he starts, then stops, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know.”

You feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs. “You don’t know?”

“We’re so young, Y/N,” he says finally, his voice quiet but firm. “I love you, I do, but... I don’t know if I’m ready for this. For marriage. For forever.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in like stones in your chest. “You don’t feel it anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up at you, guilt written all over his face. "I don’t know what I feel anymore."

The tears sting, but you refuse to let them fall. "I stayed here for you, Josh," you say, the words breaking free before you can stop them. "I left everything—my family, my friends, my life—just to be with you. And now you’re telling me you don’t even want this anymore?"

Joshua’s expression falters. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. His silence cuts deeper than any answer could.

“Then let’s break up,” you say firmly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

“Y/N, I—”

“No,” you say, standing up. "If you don’t want this, then we’re done. I can’t keep fighting for both of us."

He opens his mouth again to speak, but the words don’t come. He just nods, looking down at his hands.

“I’ll move out,” he says after a long pause.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” you reply, your voice hollow, as if you’re already a stranger to him.

That night, he sleeps on the couch, and you lie in bed alone, staring at the ceiling, feeling the space between you grow wider by the second. The silence in your apartment is suffocating, and for the first time since you moved to California, you feel truly and deeply alone.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning, Joshua leaves for work as usual. His footsteps fade down the hallway, and the door clicks shut behind him. The apartment feels cold without his presence, but the tension, the weight of everything that’s happened, keeps you from feeling anything else.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and begin packing your things. You leave behind the little things—the pictures, the mementos from your time together that once meant so much. The engagement ring stays on the counter where he left it the night before, untouched. You gather your essentials—clothes, toiletries, a few items that remind you of who you were before all of this. You’re doing this for you.

As you pack, the tears come, and you can’t hold them back. The weight of it all—the loneliness, the heartbreak, the way he’d stopped caring—finally crashes over you. You grab your phone and dial your mom’s number.

“Mom,” you choke out, barely able to speak through the sobs. "I—I can't... I can't do this anymore. I... I’m so lost."

You hear her soothing voice on the other end, muffled but full of warmth and concern. "Sweetheart, what happened? Where are you?"

“I—I'm in California, but I don’t want to be here anymore. I can’t do this alone. I... I left. I left him. I don't know what to do, mom."

Her voice softens, and you hear her take a deep breath. "Don't worry. You don't have to do it alone. I’ll book your tickets, I’ll get you home, okay?"

The relief that floods through you is overwhelming, but it doesn't stop the tears. Your mom insists on getting the earliest flight available, even going the extra mile to make sure you’re on the next plane out.

You hang up with her, still a mess, but knowing that, at least for now, you won’t be alone. You finish packing quickly, making sure to leave everything behind except what’s truly necessary. You wipe your eyes, trying to pull yourself together.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time you finish, it’s still a few hours before Joshua will come home. You take one last look around the apartment—the place that was once filled with shared moments, warmth, and love. It now feels like a shell of something that used to be, cold and unforgiving. You make sure your essentials are packed, then head out the door, locking it behind you.

When Joshua comes home later that evening, he expects to find you resting, taking the nap you often took after a long day at work. He quietly enters the apartment, shedding his coat and bag, and makes his way to your shared bedroom. He pauses at the doorway, frowning as he notices the emptiness of the room.

There’s no sound of you resting, no gentle hum of your music. The bed is neatly made. A sharp unease twists in his stomach.

He turns toward the dresser, his eyes catching something familiar—something that doesn’t belong there.

It’s the love letter he wrote you years ago, the one you’d always kept in your wallet. The edges are frayed now from years of being carried close to your heart. It’s placed on top of the dresser, in the spot where you used to keep it safe, along with the ring he’d given you.

He picks it up, his hands trembling slightly, and unfolds the letter. The words are still familiar, and yet, they now feel like they were written by someone else.

His eyes scan over the message, the sincerity in his writing that once made you feel loved, now leaving him cold. He puts the letter back down slowly, the full weight of the situation settling in.

Joshua’s gaze moves to the counter, where the engagement ring lies, cold and unclaimed. The reality of it all hits him like a brick wall. You’re gone.

The apartment feels like a vacuum now, empty and silent. His throat tightens, but no words come. All the things left unsaid, all the moments missed, hang heavily in the air around him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The plane ride feels like an eternity. You’re sitting by the window, watching the clouds drift by, but your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, doubts, and emotions that you can’t escape. It’s hard to breathe, to focus on anything other than the overwhelming emptiness that seems to have settled inside you.

Your phone buzzes constantly with messages, and you can’t help but check them. It’s Joshua.

Joshua: Where are you? Please, answer me. We need to talk.Joshua: Y/N, I’m sorry. Please come home. I can’t lose you.Joshua: I was wrong. I didn’t mean for it to end like this. Where are you?

Each message hits you like a punch to the stomach, but you know you can’t respond in the way he wants. You’ve made your decision, and no amount of begging can change the way you feel.

You almost find it funny, how little his words mean to you now that you had left.

You tap out a response, slow and deliberate, your hands trembling slightly as you type.

Y/N: I had to go. I’m sorry, Joshua. I wish you well. It's for the best.

You hit send and put the phone down, hoping he’ll respect your silence. The flight attendants come by, offering you a drink, but you don’t take it. You just keep your gaze fixed outside, the horizon blurring as you fight to keep it together.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time you land and step off the plane, you can feel the weight of everything pressing down on you. You’re exhausted, emotionally drained, but there’s one thing you’re certain of: you made the right choice.

Your mom is waiting for you at the airport, her face full of worry and warmth. As soon as she sees you, she pulls you into a tight hug, and you collapse against her, tears streaming down your face. She doesn’t ask any questions. She just holds you, murmuring soft reassurances as she strokes your hair.

“I’m here, sweetheart. You’re home now. I’m here,” she whispers, and somehow, it makes everything feel a little less heavy.

The drive back to the house is quiet, the only sound being the hum of the tires on the road. You try to collect yourself, but the emotions keep rushing back, overwhelming you in waves. You know you’ll have to explain everything, but for now, all you want is to be wrapped in the comfort of your mom’s arms.

Once you’re home, she takes you straight to the living room and sits you down on the couch, making you a cup of tea. “Tell me what happened,” she says gently, her voice soft but insistent. “I’m listening.”

You take a deep breath, recounting everything—from moving to California, to the engagement, the wedding planning, and the slow unraveling of everything. You tell her about how Joshua had been pulling away, about how you tried to wait for him, tried to understand. You tell her about the ring left on the counter, the distance, the fighting, and finally, the breakdown of your relationship.

Your voice cracks as you speak, and she pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you. “Oh, baby,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t easy. But you did the right thing. You deserve someone who’s all in, who’s going to love you fully, just like you deserve.”

You nod, wiping your eyes. You’re still so raw, but her words give you the strength to keep going.

As the night wears on, she handles everything for you. She cancels the wedding bookings—everything that had been set up for the wedding is erased. The vendors are contacted, the plans are halted, and you don’t have to worry about any of it. Your mom handles it all, taking the burden from your shoulders as you sit there, just trying to breathe.

When she finally gets off the phone with the last vendor, she sits next to you again, her hand resting on yours. “You’ll heal, sweetheart. And when you’re ready, we’ll figure it all out. But for now, just rest. You’re safe here.”

You close your eyes, resting your head on her shoulder, feeling the weight in your chest finally start to ease, if only a little. The pain is still there, but at least for tonight, you’re home.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

author's note 𝟅𝟈 lowkey wanna start a taylor swift songfic thing. i'm obsessed with this song so yk i had to write a fic based on it!

masterlist.

[papermonkeyism]

The wrist kitty looks so cozy in the bath robe sleeve.

[bree-paints]

My copium where they all survive and they are an iconic one eyed trio

Also some random sketches because 266-267 have been killing me emotionally thank you

[larapaulussen]

[celestialtrolls]

woag more floaties, including the ones that anon requested and i ended up too busy to do before orz thanks for waiting

[page of all my floaties]

edit. more:

for all my not-hemoloyal OR hemorebel besties

[coquelicoq]

raksura for the ask meme?

YAY

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most) moon was designed in a lab to appeal to me personally, so. it's about the trust issues!

scrunkly (my "baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped) the sky copper clutch!! traumatized children imprinting on a guy with baby fever is usually what i go to fanfic for so to have it right there in canon? incredible. i love all of frost's little tantrums and idk, just the way that she claims moon as her family in a way that has nothing to do with court politics? she's like, we're your clutch, obviously. and this is our court because it's your court, and all the other jabronis who live here are on thin ice. she's ready to throw down with moon's wife/the government at all hours of the day and she's like six years old. i love that moon has that energy in his life even though he personally is pretty confused and exhausted by it lol.

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave) it's hard out here for an ember stan because he is in so few scenes relative to the space he occupies in my psyche! i need 5000% more interactions between him and moon. him and stone. him and shade. him and river. him and the teachers. him and the clutches. him and jade and balm and chime. oh my god him and malachite? him and celadon? him and delin??

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week) niran. i'm always up for a "longsuffering ship captain resigns himself to another restless night of hearing gigantic shapeshifters with incredible stamina fuck nasty on the roof of his cabin" moment. technically i have never been in that exact situation, but i feel like i can relate.

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave) river who is CLASSIC poor little meow meow territory like yes his whole personality is being a grade A asshole and sure he tries to kill my blorbo a few times, but once you get to know him he's so sad and pathetic that i'm kind of like okay where can i sign up to defend him from the largely factual aspersions of his dozens of quite frankly justified haters? he'd hate that. the good shit 👌

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason) stone. every time he crankily says "why did i ever reproduce" upon finding himself entangled in yet another ridiculous clusterfuck thanks to one of his hundreds of idiot great-great-great-great-great grandchildren, an angel gets its wings. he's depressed and antisocial but he can't totally check out because he has to mediate relationship issues between his dumbass relatives. love that for him.

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell) malachite but specifically because malachite would not be scared of superhell. she'd skulk around being invisible, maybe fuck some shit up if she felt like it, and leave when she got bored. she probably makes it like. opal night's sister city or something. and nobody in the court is at all phased. yeah that's our reigning queen who recently got back from vacation in superhell. she does that. she says it's relaxing.

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: THE CITADEL (PART 2)

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Maj. Kaidan Alenko With: Councilor Donnel Udina, Councilor Tevos, Councilor Laiel Sparatus, Cmdr. Armando-Owen Bailey, and Kai Leng And a Special Guest Appearance by: The Illusive Man But sometimes the way a thing goes down does matter, Sophie. Later- when you have to live with yourself. Knowing that you acted with integrity- then it matters. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[comixandco]

my favourite part of season 5 is still the reveal that Gabriel and Tomoe thought Adrien and Kagami made the perfect pair and wanted them to be together because it completely flips their relationship

Kagami and Adrien sneaking around and finding the slightest gaps in their schedule and giving their bodyguards/parents the slip to spend time together and feeling so clever that they’ve gotten away with it their parents don’t suspect a thing

only to smashcut to Gabriel and Tomoe doing an evil pound it because their ship is canon

[icewindandboringhorror]

Misc. photos from the past year or so ~

[chiistarri]

need 2 isolate myself and unfriend everyone #asap

[gentlethorns]

you know what? i'm gonna say it. i miss being seventeen. not for the "glory days," bc they weren't, by a country mile lol. if i had glory days i'd say they were in 2020. but i miss the electricity, the constant undercurrent of euphoria and deep plunging black. i miss the fight i had. i was literally known for being scrappy. i was self-destructive and coping poorly, but goddamn if i didn't burn bright and long. it took me until my twenties to finally start to fizzle out. does the candle with its wax melted down to the base of its glass cage miss when the wick was lit?