#galaxiasus

[otomates]

74 for heraukyo

it's like seeing a ghost, and that feeling never really goes away. he just wishes he knew which one of them was the spectre, now, in this world he was never meant to return to. he'd expected their paths to diverge again : she'd go to shin's side, or guide ikki away from the curse that ailed him ... offer an escape from loneliness plaguing toma, or perhaps extend an understanding hand to kent. no matter the path she took, it never led her to him. never since he'd first lost her, not until now.

he reaches out to take the strand of hair that'd fallen into her face 'tween two fingers, gently moving it to the side, as if being too quick would spook her. or maybe himself. he's on the verge of tears again, but he always is, especially lately. she keeps chasing after him...

"it's like i'm walking in your shadow, being haunted by you," he murmurs, voice trembling. he wishes he could find his confidence, his voice. he'd always been shy, but he hadn't always been so ... sad. like he might crack into a million pieces if she touched him. "i told you to stay away from me..."

@galaxiasus / spotify starters, crimson faces

[wonderloste-archive]

☛ were you to pray to me ... what is it you would pray for? ☚

@galaxiasus › u know who tf.

[fckurselfie-a]

i remember ,  now .  i remember everything . // bookerbeth

ʚĭɞ ― re : inbox prompts. / @galaxiasus.

he remembers, but she wishes that she could forget. go back to a time when her mind wasn't overwhelmed, burdened by the vision of every single door open to her, every reality, possibility, failure that the two of them have walked through. she can't save him from the realization that breaks his heart, how his hand held in hers now trembles. it's everything she'd ever wanted, to have him there with her, by her side. a companion, a friend. maybe in another life, in another time, beyond her reach and his, even a father. but their reality, nor the millions of infinite possibilities presented to them, is not that kind.

"mr. dewitt—" booker. she falters, caught 'pon the steps of the dock that filters from lighthouse to lighthouse. she isn't his. the stars all cross, from reality to reality, mix up the hand of the shepard that takes which lamb's, but it doesn't really matter. he's always him, and she's always her, at their core. booker, elizabeth. the man, his debt, and the outlier of who he could've been beyond that. there's an apology on her tongue, but she doesn't spare it for him. she isn't the one who owes it. she can't argue whether he's better than comstock, what version of him is preferable. she can only argue for how much she misses him, when he isn't even gone.

not yet. but he will be. he always is. "i don't want..." but it doesn't matter what she wants. and she can't say she forgives him either. she doesn't. she shouldn't. and she won't. that doesn't stop it from hurting. she wishes ... she wishes she could tell him, that there was somewhere across the doors, where he made the right choice, where he had anna, where they were happy, together, but she can't. and he knows it. she can see it on his face. what does she say to that?

what could she say?

[londonfallen]

" hush! " their cries come as little more than harsh exhale in the way they bound forward, splashing mud and water 'like when they do. one leg hooks 'round @galaxiasus's waist the same moment one of their arms looped 'round his neck in quick restraint. they'd be strangling him, if they weren't careful—almost for the better, they think, if it would keep him quiet. the captain can feel him writhe, but it doesn't matter : they clasp one gloved hand over his mouth and raise their other to the sharpened gilded beak of their mask in a shushing motion, and their gaze does not linger 'pon him longer than it has to. their breath too, held taut. every action careful, silent, precise. their positioning lends well for shielding them both in shadow, where over past them a near swarm of blue-feathered bats pass overhead, every screech more ear-splitting than the last. a moment's silence passes, then two, before they finally let him go as harshly as they caught him, letting him fall 'pon the rocky shore with hardly so much an apology. when they speak again, it's muffled, and only meant to criticize. their hands, deftly, follow their voice in time. " salt save ye! you're going to right well get yourself slaughtered acting like that. "

[salface]

❛  where  do  you  go  when  you  space  out  like  that ?  ❜ - larry

A MEME LOST LONG, LONG, AGO . . .

( I WISH I KNEW . . . ) he restrains himself from comment sardonic, his silence unbroken, staring blankly at the toy he’s been fidgeting with for at least the better half hour. a solved rubix cube. it wasn’t solved before, it wasn’t this before; he recalls the cold metal and strange lock and the pieces scattered between their rooms — and he can’t even say anything about it, because no one else remembers. ( the cubes click in and out of place, repetitively. sal doesn’t make any permanent changes, not shuffling them for the purpose to solve it again. to be honest, he’s a little concerned what might happen if he does alter it too much ; if it changed their perception once, what’s stopping it from changing it again? ) it’s a miracle, frankly, that larry understood there was something attached to his episodes, as he’s come to call them: that he wasn’t himself.

“ it’s . . . weird. ” great start, truly. he’s halfway mumbling, unfocused and distant, but here. present. he’s very much aware of where he is and who’s with him, looming over his shoulder. they  — the ghosts  — have been painfully quiet, lately. it’s making him nervous, and he thinks it shows. “ it’s nowhere, really. like . . . literally, nowhere. ” a row forward, a row back. the cube clicks back into place again, and with each motion he seems more tense than the last. he can’t remember if they told him not to talk about it — whatever void they’re in, the other side; the afterlife, whatever. he can’t hear them, feel them; the space he is always pulled towards is empty, and his rising anxiety is left echoing in his ears instead. 

describing it is harder than he’d imagine it’d be. it was nearly suffocating the first time he was pulled there, but it’s almost comforting now, in some strange way. he doesn’t understand it. breathing a heavy sigh, he continues. “ it’s like this white room, mostly. kind of? there aren’t any walls or anything, most of the time. it’s just . . . empty. and there’s ghosts. ” that might be vague enough to avoid a lecture, maybe. if rose or mr. johnson have been listening, they haven’t made themselves known at all. the silence is deafening. “ not like ours. kinda. technically. not really. but they are ghosts, in a way. ” 

@galaxiasus

[zorkaya-moved]

(Trying to practice asking Alphinaud out for brunch in front of a mirror it would be a shame if her big sister walked in and saw this) - Fuyu

@galaxiasus

It’s been a while since Fuyumi been out, Zarina noticed. The older Elezen would sit on that same chair for a couple of hours, reading the book gifted to her by Matoya once they’ve departed from the meeting with the witch. Y’shtola’s teacher was such a fun and unique woman, it was a delight to meet her but even more of a delight to take one of her books from the library to expand her knowledge. The knowing eyes speaking how she must not tempt the abyss so much, but who would care about it if it will bear fruits? Not one who had bore witness to corruption within the holiest of places. Though, the book was already half-finished despite the hard and tricky word choices and codes hidden within to open a new door to new knowledge. A book without a book, Matoya was a tricky one. Long enough time passed since the little Au’Ra went away but did not come back. With that in mind, Sokolova would push herself up and walk to wander in the search of the light in the abyss. 

So many Scions have showed concerns over Juggernaut’s presence by the maiden of light, but Minfilia was always one to tell that no one should worry about it. Well, Minfilia was no more and her words were not there to bring the tides in the storm of doubt and concern. Especially those who treasured heroics so well. The cynicism of the silver-haired Elezen felt like poison corrupting one’s mind, but many would also notice the difference in approach when it came to the young Warrior of Light, there was a new sort of gentleness and carefulness in those golden eyes alongside her quieter step, more laid-back nature, guiding and protective attitude. 

Zarina did not expect to find Fuyumi where she was. The sound of her voice would bring the woman forth, but her steps would falter once she heard the name ‘Alphinaud’, wondering if the other was inside with her and that’s why she was so late. But... No, she did not sinse anyone else in the room. The aether her voidsent felt wasn’t anything but the one belonging to the tiny Au’Ra girl who seemed to be rehearsing a speech. To Alphinaud. Immediately, her lips morphed into a knowing smile as she would lean against the wall close to the entrance in the room of Fuyumi, wishing to hear more of this cute and adorable attempt to invite him to brunch. Has she been rehearsing countless times? The struggles and the tremble in her voice almost made Zarina chuckle. It was cute, an adorable showcase of a love blossoming in such a tender and young age. It made her feel older now, thinking bout it now. Perhaps, she must teach Fuyumi how to invite someone like Alphinaud to brunch. If she wished for it to be a romantic outing, then it must be sad straightforwardly. Twelve forgive the nerdy Alphinaud for possibly missing something to fragile and tender out of his respect for Fuyumi, the Warrior of Light. 

How cute. It would be wonderful if those two would get together. In unity, there is power. In love, there is strength. In bonds, there is salvation. For a lone wolf like herself, Zarina wished that one so dear to her heart would find happiness. She’ll secure it, she’ll protect this young girl as much as possible without coddling her too much. The world was a dark place; thus, Sokolova wished upon Twelve and Hydaelyn herself to give Fuyumi happiness and delight deserving of her hardships and struggles. 

As she heard enough, Zarina would walk to the entrance into the room. The door opened easily without even letting out a creak as she would lean against the doorframe with her arms crossed under her chest. The casual clothes signify her more relaxed nature, hair tied up just a bit on the back. 

“Like this, he will not notice your tender feelings for him, Fuyumi,” gently, Zarina tease the other with a knowing smile. How many men and women has she seduced and made fall for her? Too many. Perhaps, it’s why Thancred and she knew how the game works. Twelve forbid the other heard this cute practice, the Elezen would’ve been upset over missing such an important part! Plus, she doubted the other would be well-equipped in how to approach this topic from a more feminine perspective. Not that Zarina’s been in love herself, but there was still much that could be said and offered. Especially, if it considered her little sister. Or daughter. Or both. Both fit well enough with her. “’Tis a joyful occasion, a moment to build a stronger bond. Why so nervous before a mirror alone, Fuyumi? As adorable as you may sound now, why not ask him already? Or would you require assistance in such matter?” You know that your older sister is always here to help. 

[turnsorrow]

Her, reaching both hands out, placing them Alisaie's cheeks and giving them a gently squeeze. "We're both short..." - fuyu

&  RE  :     your days are numbered    /    @galaxiasus.

NEVER HAVE FUYUMI’S HANDS BEEN KNOCKED AWAY  so quickly, not even by the violent attacks of their mutual enemies. The glare that Alisaie fixes her with is so dark that it could readily kill, given the chance to do so.

“I will end you.”  She would have the last laugh, when the genes of elezen kicked in as she grew older. A full several feet should she tower over this girl, she’s sure.

[encgma]

[ TXT: ] hey there honey bunny [ TXT: ] sweetheart [ TXT: ] lovely tiny lady [ TXT: ] there is totally not a warm and ready dinner meal ready for ya in the oven when you get home from work [ TXT: ] and i totally didnt break into your house to make it while you were gone [ TXT: ] so completely ignore the money im about to send you for groceries that fit whats in the oven!! its just a totally random gift [ TXT: ] anyways have fun at work mwah

-larry

@galaxiasus

[ txt ]: you know i might change my venmo if you keep sending me money 😤

             it’s the immediate response eve sends, but if only he could see the way her face had absolutely lit up at the string of notifications from him.

[ txt ]: im also beginning to think that maybe i should just give you a key? [ txt ]: my neighbors won’t call the police, but...i’m a little worried you’re going to break my lock [ txt ]: also !!! now i...really want to come home 🥺 [ txt ]: i’ll just have to sprint when i get out so i can get home faster

             absolutely a terrible idea given her track record with stamina, but..she’s going to do it.

[ txt ]: i’ll stop by somewhere on the way home & pick something up for dessert !!! what do you want? [ txt ]: just say the word and i’ll find it !!!