EXCUSE ME IM IF YOU NEED ME I’LL BE OVER HERE CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP OVER FELLOW TRAVELERS
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used to daydream about fairytale reconciliations after pretty much every platonic or romantic fallout i ever had, but sometimes it’s healthier to just accept that someone will never own up bc they don’t think you’re worth the trouble. anyone who truly cares would move mountains just to make sure that they communicate w you if they truly want to rectify the situation. but sometimes it’s their ego getting in the way, sometimes they have a narrative of you in their head they’re determined not to break, and sometimes they just don’t care enough about you to even consider it. they don’t have respect for the friendship or relationship in its posthumous state bc it was nothing to them, or at the very least it doesn’t eclipse their pride or their desire to appear correct in a situation or just outright the need to be done w the situation rather than be a good person. still guilty of this but i’ve been getting better at just nipping the delusion in the bud and just being okay w accepting that someone truly does not care. until they prove they do that is the assumption i go w every time. and it is saving me a lot of heartache
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too many of you guys think nico is the loser and not lewis for letting the divorce go on for so long. like they're both losers about each other. emotionally constipated idiots who can't talk about their toxic homoerotic friendship that imploded on itself like 8 years ago and are now making it everyone else's problem. yeah nico's on television or in beer gardens talking about lewis all the time but like every other month some reporter is like "lewis, what's your favorite moment in your career?" and lewis no hesitation is like "oh man, karting, y'know? everything was simpler then" and then spends another six months skirting around nico's name. like this whole thing they're doing in the media isn't some kinda extended foreplay for them. they're both still pressing on the bruise to make sure it's still there!!! every few months, they're literally just asking on public television, does it still hurt for you like it does for me? and like clockwork, someone will release new information about them or one of them will say something about each other (in my heart, he's still my best friend/yes... and teammate) and the answer will remain the same, yes, of course, always.
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some players in game said that i’m a “retired veteran” after i explained how i got back into sky. i thought it was funny that i have two moth season godparents or whatever the community refers to them lol
and another doodle of my former skids
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what the fuck the novel was his dream and his dream was the novel and he used it to escape his life except he never bothered to dream himself into a happy ending. except the novel was just her desperate, half-conscious attempts to save him, to keep him alive for just one more day so he could read the next chapter she wrote. except it wasn’t ever just a novel at all because it was the millennia-long attempt of one person to finally meet the being that so desperately wanted a person with no history and no past to have a perfect future, a happy ending.
except that novel! was never actually the point! it was just the vehicle some version of themselves all used to get everyone to the start of the story that actually mattered, the story that wasn’t pre-ordained, the story where characters became companions and the reader became the protagonist and the dream of a happy ending for all of them was possible. all of them were there - the reader, the writer, the protagonist… but the reader was just the reader, the writer was a plagiarist, and the protagonist was only at the start of his journey. this story, the real story, the story that hadn’t been written yet, was about how when the world fell to ruin, the only person with the instruction manual on how to survive decided to sacrifice himself over, and over, and over, and… and they made it. they got to their happy ending. but before they did, they learned about the dream. his escape that became a reality. and he didn’t know, he didn’t understand what it was, and so he stepped back, and watched them walk away. because it was the story written for him that caused this much damage, and he had to atone.
but the people who he saved, who he walked with to the end, who turned from characters on his screen to friends and companions who fought beside him, cried when he was gone, screamed at him when he came back, laughed with him, loved him, lived through hell with him, survived because of him… they knew that the story that defined him was not the story that saved him, that he escaped to when it was all too much, but his own story, the story he forged himself. and so dozens of them chose to dive back into hell just to forcefully turn his attempt at an ending, a sentence that ended in a period, into a promise of more to come, a clause that ended in a comma.
and then? the plagiarist who was never a plagiarist at all, but the author who saved him, she sat down and wrote his story. the one he made by their side. they compiled their memories - the memories of the author and the protagonist and heroes and villains and gods and angels and demons and dragons and prophets - into a new novel. and they sent that novel out to the stars to be told, a literal shout into the void to tell him that he was LOVED. that he deserved HAPPINESS. that it was okay for him to REST. that they were waiting for him to come HOME. and they hoped that this story would reach him just as the first had. that he would find it, and he would read it, and it would be the thing that saved him, that kept him alive, and that eventually brought him back to them.
he had promised, after all, to be the first reader of her next novel.
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