#I hate how it looks like you can't just update images anymore

[bottledupcomic]

Team Wild Berry Cheer would like to battle.

In Gen 2 style!

[apolloscastellan]

Never quite buried | loss of my life chapter 4

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig x FemaleTennisPlayer!reader

Summary: Your life had always been divided in two: before you met Tashi and after you met Tashi. The second you had laid eyes on her for the first time you knew you had been changed. You were soulmates, meant for each other Nothing could ever tear you two apart, or so you had thought. You could've pinpointed the junior U.S. Open as the night that changed everything. Now you have to juggle your hate-love relationship with tennis with your love-love relationship with Tashi and the two guys who you can't seem to stay away from. Tennis, after all, was only one of the most fucked up relationships of your life.

Warnings: challengers spoiler, challengers content warnings, super minor character death, terrible mother figure, use of y/n, polyamory.

Word count: 6.5K

A/N: Please let me know what you think bc my motivation is severely lacking rn, i feel like i'm writing into the void

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Tashi remembers perfectly the day your retirement from singles hit the news. It was all everyone could talk about. First, it was the statement on your social media. A well thought out paragraph about your struggles with continuing to enjoy tennis the way you used to and deciding to take a new route, it ended with a promise for more and better news soon. Then it was the teasing posts from Adidas, the “she is not done just yet” and the “love conquers all”. It all came to a peak with the release of the pictures of you and Patrick. Both of you wearing matching Adidas apparel, practicing in the private court you had in your backyard. The chemistry between the two of you was obvious to everyone who saw them. There was a glint in your eyes that no one had seen since you went pro. She knew the smile you were giving Patrick all too well, it used to be reserved for her. 

Her and Art, who had just very recently reconnected, sat on his couch for hours watching the tennis channel, waiting for updates. The relief they felt when it was announced that you were not quitting because you were fatally injured, as everyone had originally thought, was short lived. Neither of them spoke as the commentators showed the images of you and Patrick. Practicing, giggling, getting closer, him giving you that teasing smirk they both knew, you throwing your head back laughing, him beaming at you when you weren’t even looking, both of you focused on the ball, kissing… They both thought about turning off the TV, hitting some balls to work out how they were feeling, but then you were introduced into the set, a vibrant smile as you walked in, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt too big to be yours. The Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy logo only confirmed the obvious. You shook hands with everyone, sitting on the sofa they had reserved for you.

“Y/n Y/l/n, thank you for being here” the older man said, over the clapping of the crowd.

“Thanks for having me!”

“What a day it’s been for all of us, tennis fans. You’ve had us on the edge of our seats! First we mourned, now we’re celebrating… Please tell us why did you do this to us?”

“I am so sorry! I am, I really am” you laughed as the man teased you, God how they missed that laugh. “I have a flair for the dramatic, I must admit, and I am, in a way, saying goodbye to my career as I know it. It’s the start of a new chapter, and it’s really exciting, but it is also a goodbye and it felt right to give it its proper moment. I didn’t realize so many people were going to be so upset about it.”

“Why the switch? Why decide to give up singles completely?”

“I wasn’t enjoying it anymore, it was painful and I had started dreading every second of it. Fortunately, I am in a position where I can decide I don’t want to keep doing something that is bringing me down, so I took advantage of it. I didn’t want my stubbornness to completely ruin my love for tennis. I thought I could step back, maybe take up teaching and try to find that passion again. I was going to quit regardless, so this playing doubles thing happened at just the right time.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about that! You’ve decided to become a full time mixed doubles player with Patrick Zweig, who is a challengers player, somewhere in the two-hundreds. You are currently ranked number one in the world, how does this happen?”

“I think rankings and numbers can be misleading sometimes. Sometimes a player is not playing their best because of external reasons, or simply because they are not meant to be where they are. I think me and Patrick are meant to play together, I really do. And if you can’t trust anything else, trust this: I am really competitive and I hate losing, I would not put myself in a situation like this if I really thought we couldn’t win.”

“From what I’ve heard Zweig and you are committed to each other both on and off the court. You’ve never been open about your private life in the media, and he is the first boyfriend you’ve ever made public, what’s different about him?”

They couldn’t take their eyes off you as you let a bashful smile spread on your face.

“I mean…  Everything. I am pretty possessive of my privacy and we still don’t plan to share everything we do, but the truth is that I have never been open about any boyfriends because I have not had any serious relationships since I went pro. Patrick and I will be playing and training together so I thought it was bound to come out, so to me, I'd rather have that happen on my terms. And I do think Patrick is very different to all relationships I’ve had before, in the best way possible”

Art swallowed, refusing to look at Tashi when she turned to watch him. He didn’t deserve to be jealous. He knew that, if he had treated you right, you would still be together. That knowledge didn’t change how he felt.

“How does that happen? How does one manage to make the Y/n Y/l/n fall in love with them?”

“Well, me and Patrick met each other a while ago, at the U.S Junior Open, actually. He won it, I got second, we hit it off instantly. But it was one of those situations where it’s never the right time, you know? We kept missing each other, we were in relationships with other people, and we ended up drifting apart when I went pro. And then, funnily enough, we bumped into each other at an Adidas party about a year ago, and the rest is history.”

Art couldn’t bring himself to be angry when the TV shut off. He turned to look at Tashi who stood there with the remote in her hand, not looking at him. 

“I’ll see you in ten in the court. We need to work on your serve.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, grateful for the excuse to take his feelings out on the ball. To think about anything that wasn’t your smile as you talked about Patrick. He didn’t say it out loud, but he knew Tashi felt the same way, the sudden urge to train had not come out of nowhere. 

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

You look down, shaking your head as Patrick crashes his racquet repeatedly against the floor. The umpire’s voice ominously announcing the score. You raise your face back up when Patrick gets given a penalty. Art walks nonchalantly back to the bench, you can feel Tashi’s smug grin beside you. You make eye contact with your husband and shake your head, he rubs his face with both hands, then nods. As much as you both don’t really care to win this tournament, he knows you’ll be angry if he just lets it go, gets angry and in his head and lets Art have it on conduct alone. So he sits back and waits, ready to be better, to prove himself to you once again, like every time he steps on the court.

Earlier that week. New Rochelle, New York. August 18, 2019:

Tashi is working, writing stats on her computer when she sees Patrick walking towards her from the corner of her eye. She rolls her eyes as he stops behind her, pointing at her screen before he speaks:

“He’s not bad, I played him at a few of these things when I did singles.”

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be practicing to not humiliate your wife before she carries you through the U.S. Open?”

“I just finished, thanks for caring.”

“Wonderful” she says, not a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Hey, come have a cigarette with me, I have to talk to you.”

“Yeah I don’t smoke, and I’m not talking to you.”

“Neither do I. It was just an excuse.”

She looks back at him, unimpressed, but he doesn’t let up. He stands there, staring at her until she gives in, closing her computer and standing up. Patrick is not sure what he is doing. He probably shouldn’t be doing anything at all, if he’s honest with himself. But he has dug a hole too deep to jump out of now, so he is going to follow through. He is doing this for you, he reminds himself, no matter how angry you’ll be with him at first, he is doing this for you. They find an empty alley and look back at each other, Tashi waits for him to speak, he takes his time collecting his thoughts before he does.

“I’m gonna propose something to you and it’s going to make you angry. It’s going to make you very angry,” he can’t help the smirk growing on his face, her expression doesn’t let up. “I want you to be our coach next season.”

“What?”

“Our coach is retiring, we need someone else. I want you to be our coach from next season on.”

“Does she know you’re offering me this position?”

“No, not yet. But she will, and she’ll agree with me.”

“You know that’s bullshit. Plus, why would I want to coach you guys? I already have a highly successful athlete under my wing.”

“Yeah, but even if he wins the Open and completes his career grand slam, Art’s still gonna retire as someone who was really, really good. That’s what you guys will have done together. But imagine if you could get your hands on us. Imagine if you could make us great. You’d go down in history. We have a couple more seasons. We still have a couple more good seasons and I need you to bring it out of us. What do you think?”

He doesn’t expect Tashi to slap him, turning his face completely, although he really should have. He mumbles a curse under his breath.

“How fucking dare you?” she sounds angry, too angry for his stupid proposition. “You want me to give you my best piece of advice? To coach you? Ok, quit.”

Patrick can’t even begin to think of a response, the murderous gaze Tashi gives him fixes him to the spot.

“Quit right now, right fucking now, quit.”

“What are you talking about?” he is too shocked to be offended.

“You’re dragging her down. She should’ve gone down in history as the best ever player. She would have broken records. She should have been good enough to beat the men, and she is what? Going around playing mixed doubles with you? It’s pathetic. Quit, and maybe she’ll have a chance at being an ounce of what she should’ve been.”

“You’re fucking joking”

And now Patrick is angry too. Because he is tired. He is so tired of the endless comments and judgment. He is tired of being blamed for ruining you and your career as if it hadn’t been your decision. As if it hadn’t been your idea. As if he was capable of ever doing that to you. As if he hadn’t begged for you to think it over a million times before you took a step that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. As if he hadn’t been the sole reason the world of tennis hadn’t lost you completely. As if he didn’t try harder than he had ever tried to be enough for you and make sure you never resented him or regretted being with him in any way. The thing that makes him the most angry, though, is that it’s Tashi. And how dare Tashi, the woman who had abandoned you and ruined your love for tennis in the first place, blame him for something she had pushed you to do. Something that was nobody’s fault but hers.

“You must be fucking delusional if you think for just one second that I would ever, ever, ask her to give up on her career for me. You know whose idea it was to play mixed doubles only? Y/n’s. She thought of it, she asked me to do it, she orchestrated every single little detail. And you wanna know why she did it? Because she hated tennis. She was going to quit. She couldn’t stand the thing she loved the most anymore. And you wanna know what made her start to hate tennis, even though her love for it never wavered before, not even with her borderline abusive mum who only loved her for her talent in it? You, Tashi. You did. You ruined tennis for her. So get the fuck off that high horse you continue to ride everywhere, because if there’s one person here to blame for ruining her career, it’s the one I’m looking at.”

He is out of breath when he finishes speaking, and he doesn't know what to do. He has so much shit he wants to throw at her, so much resentment for all that she had put you, and him, through. But he can’t say anything else, the second Tashi’s expression falls, even if it is only for a moment, he can feel his heart shatter inside his chest. No matter how much he hates Tashi, how much he resents her, he loves her. He loves her so much it hurts deep inside his chest, like an ache that is so present he had almost forgotten it existed. But looking at her right now, he feels it, pulsating all through him, and he knows, with a certainty he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge before, that he will never not feel this way about her.

“You don’t know what you’re saying” her voice is stern, but Patrick knows her too well to believe her tone.

“You hate me” it’s not a question. “And you hate her too. Me, for having her. Her for having the career you deserved. And it’s driving you crazy, because as much as you hate us both, you also love us. And as much as you love Art, you hate him too.”

“Excuse me?”

“You hate him because he is just Art, that’s all he can ever be. He will never be me, and he will never be her. And as much as you love him, just Art will never be enough for you.”

“I don’t know what gives you the right to speak about my marriage…”

“The same thing that gives you the right to speak about mine. Does Art know about Atlanta?” he cuts her off.

The pure, unfiltered shock on her face lets him know he has caught her off guard. She did not expect him to know about it. She collects herself quickly, but she doesn’t say anything.

“You keep saying you came here because Art needed matches, but I think you came for something else.”

“You think I came here for you?”

“And for her” he says nodding. “I’ve been signed up for this tournament for months, there’s no way you didn’t see my name in the participants list.”

“You think I came here, to throw it all away for you?”

“Maybe you just wanted to see us…”

“I don’t need to see you to know that you look like shit, and she should get as far away from you as soon as possible.”

She starts to walk away, decisively.

“I’m going to beat him,” he says, it stops her in her tracks, she turns her face to look at him. “If we both make it to the final I’m going to beat him.”

“Even if you did, it wouldn’t change anything.”

“It would break him, you know it would.”

She shakes her head and starts to walk away, too exasperated to come up with another hurtful retort about his failed career. She jogs after her, catching up with her pace almost effortlessly. He grabs her arm, makes her stop walking. He pulls up a piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans.

“My number, in case you change your mind about the coaching… Or about seeing us again.”

“I won’t.”

He nods, shrugs his shoulders. Then, he watches her put the note in her pocket. He smiles.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

Patrick hasn’t looked away from you even once. You know even though you are looking into your lap. You are hyper aware of every single person around you. Most accurately, you are hyper aware of the woman next to you and the two men playing against each other. You play with your ring as you feel Tashi tell Art to focus. When you finally meet Patrick’s eyes he doesn’t smile. He raises his left hand and kisses the ring on his finger without breaking eye contact as the umpire announces the start of the next set. He crosses paths with Art as he makes his way to the other side of the net but he doesn’t move his eyes from you until he is getting ready to serve. You know then, with absolute certainty, that he is doing this for you.

Atlanta Open, Atlanta. July 18, 2011:

Even though Patrick and you both know why you are sitting in the stands during practice time instead of walking around the venue, or actually practicing, you are still shocked when you see Tashi and Art walk into the court. Your hand reaches for Patrick, holding on to his thigh as if on a rollercoaster that is suddenly going down. You both try to look composed and careless, but you don’t know if you are doing a good job. Art and Tashi do the same, pretending they can’t see you, even though you are the only other ones there and you stick out like a sore thumb. Patrick and you talk to each other, although neither of you would be able to recall anything said during your conversation, and share the fries you had bought before walking over. You pretend you just casually stumbled to sit there for a snack, that you hadn’t checked the schedule to figure out what time and what court Art Donaldson had for pre-match practice. Art hits the ball like he hasn’t been able to hit it in a while, grunting as his racket made contact with it. Tashi looks at you for a second, then back at Art. She nods, satisfied. You want to run away, want to erase that satisfied smirk from her face and your memory. But you stay glued to your seat, hand in your boyfriend’s thigh, heart pounding, and you take the way they ignore you like a punishment.

New Rochelle, New York. August 23, 2019:

The wind is relentless, the trees hitting against the window making repetitive thwack noises that remind Patrick of the sound of the ball hitting the racket. You have been answering emails and making calls to finish preparing things for tomorrow, the U.S. Open, and whatever lies in store for you both after that. Patrick knows that you’ve been messaging potential coaches and though the guilt pit on his stomach keeps growing, he can’t bring himself to say anything to you. He hopes you haven’t set in stone anything, because he is still delusionally confident that Tashi will accept his offer. He knows he should help, whatever you are doing affects him too, but he is too nervous to do anything productive so he just lays around, throwing a ball against the ceiling, or the wall, or whatever he can find. After the third time the ball slips from his hand too early or too late and hits you, you stand up and point to the door.

“Leave, right now” he makes no attempt to move. “Patrick, I mean it. I’m working and I know that you are nervous but you’re stressing me out so go down to the sauna, or get a drink or something that’s not going to make me ask you for a divorce or have to spend the rest of the night finding a place to hide your body.”

Patrick smiles as he stands up. He picks one of the keys from your bedside table and walks over to you, kissing your head before making his way to the door.

“I love you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, love you too. Leave now, please.”

He giggles all the way down the elevator. He doesn’t feel like drinking, which means he doesn’t feel like making a fool of himself tomorrow for getting drunk the night before a match, especially not in front of Art and Tashi. So he walks around until he finds the sauna, maybe that will help him calm down. But as he gets naked and opens the door he can’t believe his bad luck. Although there is a white towel covering his face, there is no denying the naked man sitting right in front of him is Art Donaldson. Patrick doesn’t think there’s a world where he wouldn’t recognize him, no matter how much he’s changed from that scrawny blonde boy he once knew like the back of his hand. He thinks about turning around, walking out, pretending he never saw him, and finding something else to do for the night. But there’s no way Art hasn’t heard the door opening, and Patrick has never been one to run from conflict, not really. So he steps forward, lets his mind get a little bit caught up in the past, sue him he hasn’t seen this guy in years, and opens his mouth:

“Can you do me a favor? Can you not like, demolish me tomorrow?” He says it with the inflection of a pick up line, and before he can even finish his sentence Art is pulling the towel away from his face and looking at him like he already knew that it was him standing at the door, even before he said anything.

They are both smiling as Patrick pulls the sauna door closed and walks toward Art. He is acting far more comfortably than he feels, but if he stops to think about what is actually happening he might start shaking and poop his pants, which would be a terrible thing seeing as he isn’t wearing any. He gets way too close to him, and raises one of his legs on the bench, dick fully on display. Art makes a valiant attempt pretending he doesn’t look down.

“Hey, congrats on being a Phil Tire’s Town Challenger finalist.”

“Yeah, you too” Art says, looking forward to not have to look at Patrick, who is smiling far too wide for the situation they are in and the past that they have.

“Hopefully the wind dies down by tomorrow and we can have a fair fight” Patrick lets himself pretend this is normal, like they are two competitors getting ready for the final, maybe even pals catching up after not having seen each other in a while.

Art doesn’t let him have a second of the little fantasy he’s made up in his head, though. He slides down the bench, getting as far away from him as he can without looking like he is actually running away.

“C’mon, can we talk?” Patrick says, and his voice sounds pitiful even to his own ears.

“Can you put your dick away” Art’s voice is stern, but he looks him in the eye for the first time since he walked in, so he counts it as a win.

“This is a sauna,” Patrick scoffs, putting up a fight so Art won’t notice he’d do anything he told him to. “Look, we've been here for a week and we haven’t said two words to each other. It's just… it’s silly, man. It’s dramatic. I mean, really, why are you so angry with me?”

He sits down, obeying Art and covering his dick. Art is finally looking at him, really looking at him. It has the same effect it did back when they were kids, Art looking at him makes him feel brave. He can’t stop himself from rambling on.

“Look, I don’t buy that it’s because of Tashi, I don’t think it’s because of what happened to her. And I hope it’s not about Y/n, because you have no right… So, I think, maybe, you’re just really disturbed by the fact that they could’ve been into someone like me. Both of them”

“Tashi liked you when we were teenagers.”

“Sure, but I just got married to the girl you said was the love of your life.”

“I ended things with her.”

“And you regret it every single day of your life,” Patrick knew, because it was the same way you and him felt about him and Tashi, “and you know that Tashi does too.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We both know that if Tashi had been a little more brave back then, she would’ve never taken either of our numbers. If she had been a little bit more honest with herself, she would’ve swept Y/n away and neither of us would’ve had a chance with either of them.”

“That still happened when they were teenagers. When we were teenagers.”

“Huh” Patrick looks thoughtful. “When they were teenagers…”

Atlanta Open, Atlanta. July 18, 2011:

You slip out of your room in a t-shirt that is definitely not yours and the first shorts you stumble across on your way to the door. You can’t sleep and Patrick’s soft snores, which you often find endearing, are getting on your nerves. He doesn’t stir, even as you close the door softly behind you. You don’t know what you are doing, or where you’re going. You take the stairs down, needing to move your body for a little bit. You walk outside, feeling like no matter how hard you breathe in there’s not enough air in your lungs. You lay your weight against the brick wall of the hotel. You get your breathing under control after a couple minutes of staring at the sky trying to look for constellations you don’t know the name of anyways. When you turn around, to go back inside the hotel, you realize that right next to where you were standing there’s a window to the hotel’s bar. There, sitting down, nursing a glass that you can only assume contains something strong, already staring at you, is Tashi Duncan. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you let your feet guide you inside. Then, instead of going up the stairs like you should, you take a right turn and walk right into the bar. Tashi finds you immediately, having been looking at the door. You don’t understand what you’re doing, but before you can think about it you are sitting right in front of her. You haven’t looked at her this up close in years. You search, but you can’t find many differences. She looks exactly like the girl you knew with her hair a little shorter. You wonder if it’s the same on the inside, if the million secrets you knew about her still hold true. If you could still tell which of her smiles were fake, or when she was about to cry but was trying to hold it down.

“I heard you gave up,” she whispers after a minute of staring into each other’s eyes.

“I quit singles, I didn’t give up,” but you can tell she doesn’t really believe you, so you scan her, trying to find something else to talk about. Your eyes lock on the ring in her finger. “That’s a gorgeous ring.”

Your fingers find your own ring instinctively. You don’t know if you’re trying to make sure it’s still there, or if you are trying to ask your dad for strength. Her gaze lowers, first to your ring, then to her own.

“It’s his grandmother’s.”

You nod, you know what that means. Art had always talked about wanting to propose to his future wife with his grandmother’s ring. Back when he fantasized with you about it, it was your hand that ring ended up on. He always talked about taking you to the residency so you could meet his grandmother, completely sure she would love you and give you her blessing immediately. You think of your own sentimental family ring, unsure you would ever be able to trust anyone enough to carry it, no matter how much you loved them.

“How is she?” you ask, more out of politeness than anything else, you never got to meet her, after all.

“She died. Stroke”

You grimace, knowing the feeling of losing the one person who truly believes in you too well.  You look around, trying desperately to find something to say, you will your brain to remember the million icebreakers and conversation starters you had been forced to memorize for the awfully boring networking parties your mum used to throw for you. You come up with nothing, so you look back at her and lean over the table and she imitates you. Your faces inches away from each other. You feel drunk even though you haven’t had a single sip of alcohol all day. You don’t question it, Tashi always made you feel like you were going crazy and a little bit drunk. It must be that what pushes you to say what comes out of your mouth next:

“I miss you.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she leans further over the table, getting impossible close to your face without touching it. Then, when you are completely sure she is going to tell you to go fuck yourself and leave her alone, her hand makes her way to the back of your neck pushing you towards her until your eyes meet. There might be a million things that have changed since the last time you did this, but kissing Tashi Duncan feels exactly the same as the first time you did it. It feels like coming home.

New Rochelle, New York. August 23, 2019:

“You’re right” Art says finally, leaning his back against the wall. “I do find it disturbing.”

“There’s no need, man. Lots of girls were into me, but only one of them wanted to marry me. I’ve always thought that was not what I was for, so I don’t know how I did it.”

“Yeah, neither do I.”

Patrick feels his entire skin burn with the way Art looks him up and down. He curses in his head the years they’ve spent apart and the secretive, mature person Art has become, he can’t read him like he could. He can’t tell if he is teasing, or trying to humiliate him. He can’t tell if he’s angry, or just as desperately sad as he is.

Atlanta Open, Atlanta. July 18, 2011:

You don’t know how but you and Tashi have stumbled onto a hotel room that you don’t recognize. It’s much bigger and fancier than yours so you assume it’s hers. You want to ask where Art is, if he is about to walk in on the two of you making out on his bed, but the way she is kissing you makes you forget about everything. You roll onto the bed, hands on either side of her face as hers roam your body freely. It’s too much and not enough simultaneously and you moan and pant on her lips. It’s everything you’ve always dreamt of and you can’t help wanting more. More of her and her body, of her lips, more of her heart. You try to not be greedy, take what she gives you, and soon you’re seeing stars and rolling over, breathing with difficulty.

“That was…” 

“Yeah” she mumbles.

“So… What happens now?”

“What do you mean what happens now?” she seems confused as she stands from the bed, walking around until she finds your clothes.

“We just had sex,” you say, obviously.

“Look, we shouldn’t have done this. It was a mistake.” She throws your t-shirt at you, you put it on slowly.

“A mistake?” you’re getting angrier by the second, but you don’t want to yell and alert whoever is sleeping in the room next to this one.

“Yeah, we will act as if nothing happened.”

“What about Art?

“He doesn’t need to know,” you shake your head as you finish putting on your clothes.

“That’s fucked up.”

“Do not act as if I was the only one who cheated! Aren’t you and Patrick dating?”

“I never said that! You can’t just run away from everything you refuse to accept. You haven’t talked to me in years!”

“Yeah, and it should have stayed that way.”

“One day you’re going to wake up and realize that everything you’ve refused to accept all your life is catching up to you, and by then, it might be too late.”

“Get out” she says, instead of replying to what you said, you don’t need to be told twice.

You manage to hold back your tears until you are standing in front of the elevator. You’re fully sobbing when the doors open, revealing a very confused Art. You see him step towards you, but you refuse to let either of them continue breaking your heart. You step backwards, then turn around. You run until you find the stairs. By the time you make it back to your room you look like a mess. You knock on the door, you must have left your key in Tashi’s room but you are too upset to care about that or waking Patrick up. His entire face changes when he opens the door. Worry taking over his expression.

“Y/n, what happened? Where were you?

You fall onto his arms, sobbing. He leads you in, closing the door behind you. You don’t speak until you’re both seating in bed.

“I saw Tashi… And I… We…” you don’t say anything else, but you don’t need to, he understands.

He holds you through the night. The next morning, you forfeit the tournament and go home.

New Rochelle, New York. August 23, 2019:

“Honestly, I thought you’d be happy I was in the draw” Patrick is not ready to let it go, to shut up and walk away from Art, he doesn’t know when’s the next time he’ll be able to talk to him again, so he runs his mouth. “I mean, you’ve always wanted to beat me in a tournament, and two weeks before the open… It’s the perfect confidence booster.

He settles on cocky because he doesn’t know what else to do. He has never been very good at being vulnerable, not with Art, and no amount of therapy is going to make him start now, when he can see how done he is with him from a mile away.

“I know what you’re trying to do right now,” Art smiles.

“I’m not trying to do anything, Art,” but he doesn’t know if he’s telling the truth. “This is a challenger, I don’t need to play mind games with you.”

“Right, you don’t give a shit.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that…”

“We both know that you have a considerably higher stake here than I do.”

“Do I?”

Art laughs, but there’s no real humor to it. Patrick does too, trying to conceal the way he is sure his entire body is shaking.

“Oh, fuck… Where do you get your swagger from, man?” Patrick can tell, from the way Art is looking at him, that this is the part that’s going to hurt, he doesn’t try to stop it. “I mean you come in here swinging your dick around like I’m supposed to be afraid of it but do you realize how embarrassing it is that you are here right now?”

“Not quite as embarrassing as you being here,” Patrick has never known a way to back down, so he stirs the pot.

He’d rather have Art yelling at him or humiliating him than not talking to him at all. His therapist would not be very proud.

“I’m just stopping by, man. You would live here if it wasn’t for her” there’s a pause, suddenly Patrick wants to take everything back, run away with his tail between his legs, but it’s too late. “You know, I’ve always tried to figure out what happened to you, but the more I thought about it the more I realized… It’s what didn’t happen. You never grew up. You still think you can talk to me like you’re my peer because we came from the same place, because you’ve managed to stumble into some of the same competitions. But it’s not about where you came from in tennis, Patrick, it’s about winning. And I do, a lot. And you only do because you tricked Y/n into playing with you. But one day, she’s going to wake up and realize she wasted her entire fucking life in a pathetic man who thinks he’s the shit because he won the junior U.S Open a trillion years ago. And then, you’ll be left with what you deserve: nothing.”

“You’ve never beaten me,” he says, as if it’s what matters out of everything he said.

He says it because if he focuses on what Art said about you, he might cry. He doesn’t want to cry, not in front of Art, not right now. He doesn’t have enough willpower to fight him, like he knows he should, like he did with Tashi.

“So what? I haven’t beaten most of the guys who play in these things, or the ones who only make it into the big tournaments playing doubles. This is a game about winning the points that matter.”

“I don’t matter?” he doesn’t know why he says it, or what he is expecting to get in return.

“Not even to the most obsessive tennis fan in the entire world,” his voice is monotone, tired, Patrick wants to crawl out of his skin.

“We’re not talking about tennis.”

“What the fuck else do I have to talk to you about?”

“I wanted to come in here to wish you good luck, Art,” he says, and he means it.

“That makes no sense,” Art scoffs, looking away, he’s talking to himself more than Patrick.

“I wanted to say that I’m looking forward to it, I miss playing with you,” he is being vulnerable, but he knows Art won’t believe him, which is probably why he says it in the first place.

“Yeah,” he nods his head and he looks amused, but Patrick can see right through him, he’s about to finish him off. “Well, I don’t miss playing with you, man. I’m too old for it.”

As soon as the door is closed behind Art, Patrick lets himself drop onto the bench. He tells himself he is not going to cry. There’s tears running down his face by the time you open the door of your room to him. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to, you understand.

[awordsmith]

Secrets and Liars

Chapter One

----

One Year Later

There's something about being back in Rosewood after a summer away. I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh August air, letting my hand catch the wind out the window of Elio's backseat.

He's a sophomore in college this year. He doesn't talk about Jason much, I don't ask. None one in my family does. The topic of Alison never got any easier, I liked to avoid her all altogether. It's easier that way; if I pretend she never existed it doesn't feel like I'm missing anything in my life. Aches come and go when a memory forces itself to the front of my mind, but ignoring them has become easier.

I started avoiding the girls after starting therapy, it wasn't hard though, Aria packed up and moved to Iceland, Hannah started hanging out with Mona Vanderwaal, Spencer threw herself into whatever school work she could, and Emily focussed solely on the Sharks.

It hurt being around them, but I always tried to keep myself updated on what they were doing. It might be creepy, or not, depending on the context, but seeing them all, especially together would pull on that missing piece. I just know it would.

I wrote a book, something light and coming of age. It was kind of reality, though, all the characters were based on real people, the only difference being everything went right that summer and no one went missing. I published it under a pseudo name, knowing if any of the girls found out they'd probably never forgive me.

We pull in front of our house, I avoid the one to the right of it, keeping my eyes focused on ours,

"It's gonna be okay kid," Romeo rubs my arm.

I shove him away, scoffing, "I'm not a kid."

He laughs slightly. Mom and Dad park their car next to Elio's. They get out at the same time and speak with Elio for a little, probably about college again. I wonder if they're talking about him, I don't have the guts to ask. Even though it's him, my home, I just can't.

"Come on kid," Romeo kicks my leg, I glare at him, then a large smile spreads across my face and he starts running toward our house. I follow after him, knowing I'm not going to be fast enough, he's a track star; it's impossible to catch him.

----

I wake up early, I have been for a year; it's almost second nature now. I haven't told anyone, I'm pretty sure they know, at least Romeo or Elio, but they haven't said anything, and for that, I'm grateful.

I open my window, watching his window, missing the nights we'd sit here, across from each other in our own bedrooms, testing. My heart compresses as Ali's image flashes through my mind. I open the window, appreciating the slight breeze of summer.

It was a night like this just a year ago, when I was in Ali's room, watching her strut in her new dresses, gosh she loved showing off. I always admired that about her, and sometimes, I thought even Jason was jealous of the way she was able to be.

Last summer wasn't his best summer, he was pretty much a wreck that whole year, and he was only a senior in high school. I saw less and less of him, it'd felt almost like he'd been avoiding me. I shake my head, not wanting to think about it anymore.

--

Romeo starts his first year at Hollis this year, but he asks if I want him to drive me to school anyway. I tell him, no, I can drive myself. Elio goes to Hollis, I don't know if Jason still goes there. Every morning I read our last conversation over and over again until I feel like I can ace the day.

I don't look at mine and Ali's. I hate thinking about how I left things that night, with her and the girls. I should've just apologized, I never should have-ugh, I grab my head feeling a headache coming on.

--

Aria's back, I see her walking in with Emily. I keep my distance, though I notice she's missing her pink hair. I wonder how she's been, how they've all been.

I ignore the stares, you'd think by now people would cut you some slack. I curled my hair this morning and brushed it out to look somewhat presentable, but their eyes make me think I should have just stayed home.

My first class is English with Mr. Fitz. He's new, I've never heard his name before. I head to my locker first, running a hand over the cool metal, remembering Ali's reaction on the first day of school: confident, determined, and dominating. She was a sight for sore eyes. Jason had cornered us during lunch at her locker, Elio was right behind him talking to Ian.

He towered over her, messing with her hair and asking lame questions that had lame answers. Like I said, he wasn't himself that year. He was smoking, a lot more than usual. I kept telling him to stop, kept warning him he'd do something reckless. I don't think I ever got through to him.

I sometimes wonder if I should have done more, tried to reach out, maybe told someone.

Whatever.

I shake my head and push open the classroom door, immediately I catch four eyes, then five, "excuse me," I say to Mona, scooting past her and into the only open seat left, the one to the left of Aria.

I pull open my phone to pretend like I'm texting someone when in reality I'm again, re-reading old messages, this time from Melissa Hastings. She'd been threatening me–well Alison. Of course, I knew why, but at the same time, it wasn't really any of my business. At least that's what I'd felt at the time, but maybe I didn't make the best decisions back then. There are still so many I regret.

Blocked ID

I’m so DONE. Tell that Aug/31/09 BITCH to get her own 12:36 am BOYFRIEND. She needs to leave him Aug/31/09 alone or she's going 6:30 pm to regret everything. I swear to fucking Sept/1/09 god, I'm going to 11:01 am kill her.

She messaged me that that week from a blocked ID, but I knew it was her, and I knew she was talking about Alison because Ali had written it down in her diary... though I only found it that night after I'd left Spencer's barn, when it was too late—but I didn't tell the cops that.

--

The door to the classroom opens and the bell rings, knocking me back into reality. The new English teacher, Mr. Fitz, sets his things on the desk, turns around to write his name on the chalkboard, then turns to face the class.

His face drops almost instantly, "holy crap." The class follows his gaze, where we all find Aria, mouth agape, eyes wide.

Something happened, and I don't really think I want to know any more than the look they shared just now has told me. Though, I could be wrong.

No, I'm never wrong.

----

Chapter Three

Hello again, thank you for reading. I feel like I should mention this now though, this is a Jason Dilaurentis x Reader (Female OC).

[penguwastaken]

On ‘Danganronpa Togami’ also, I would be of the viewpoint that most of what happened in the present in terms of actual events not merely spoken of was real (unlike the interpretation of certain others) and that the way Borges worked was essentially like a more advanced versions of the vision filters from ‘Black Mirror’, replacing what was seen/heard by Blue Ink with regards to the identities of (some of) the people who were being encountered then being obscured/replaced with others if they seemed to contradict what Blue Ink’s reality (as Byakuya’s biographer) was supposed to be, and what words they were saying. That what can be guaranteed to have been real 100% would be those scenes Borges wouldn’t have had the right context to in order to properly filter it off into something else, like most of the Ultimate Despair encounters, Byakuya calling Junko, the brief Mukuro encounter, Toko showing up and Genocide Jill going into action, etc., as well as any information given by characters in the games (like there being 15 to 108 Togami siblings). One particular fan theory building on this concept that I like being that the real Shinobu who died was the actual decapitator in the island flashbacks, Borges having switched around the identities of the major players in terms of what they did in presenting a facsimile of the past for her to look back upon. And that while the Ultimate Imposter may very well have been one of the many Togami siblings, it didn’t matter anymore to his present goals with Ultimate Despair, the ‘Kazuya’ Orvin made that way basically to see how his original plan might have gone if he hadn’t met Junko. It was a trilogy that seemed to assume one had played the other games/read the other novels, that its readership would understand what certain things would be referring to, even if not explicitly spelled out.

What would be your thoughts on the trilogy?

Ignore everything below, my mind has completely changed (lol). Read my updated review instead.

If you want a very short description of my opinion of Danganronpa Togami, it's basically this image.

I can't help but think that maybe if i read the Kagami Family Saga novels or if there were just better full translations, maybe i would have liked Danganronpa Togami more. But the truth is, I REALLY don't like Danganronpa Togami. It's honestly one of the worst media experiences I've ever had 😭

My biggest gripe is that i hate that any flaw with its storytelling can be exempt by just saying "well actually it was all fake and you don't know what's real and what isn't" because that just makes it worth nothing, if the bad stuff can be exempt then so can the good stuff. And it is HEAVILY implied that a majority of the novel is fake, the themes rely on it, it's the main point of the novel. And if they were real, that would make it actual dogshit and also just noncanon because it would contradict Danganronpa 3 and Zero.

I genuinely can't tell if I really like the twist or if I really hate it because it makes so much sense in retrospect but getting to that point was an actual pain to read, and the implications of it are also so baffling.

There's so much god awful stuff in this book like Kazuya and Suzuhiko, the weird recurring incest stuff, Byakuya's really bad and flanderized characterization, and all the absurd stuff that happens like Sakura projecting herself or the despair novel but it's all dismissed by the "it was all made up" thing which is so awesome but so stupid at the same time. If that twist was in literally any other novel I might like it but it's handled so poorly that I end up despising it.

Basically, I don't like this novel. And while parts of it matter, for the most part it can be easily dismissed because most of it was canonically made up.

I shouldn't have to read a completely separate book series to enjoy this. There was no need for all of the gross and poorly handled incest and sexual abuse stuff. Byakuya's characterization just makes him insufferable and his entire motive and actions is kind of gross. And to top it all off, NONE of it mattered. It's not like V3 where the events had an effect on the people involved or changed something, the book literally just describes it as another weekend in Byakuya's life and it's all forgotten and most of it didn't even happen. I sat through all of that for none of it to even matter. Basically what it results is self nullifying nonsense that means literally nothing as none of the events happened.

I'm sorry if you like this trilogy, I just can't find many positives. I went in thinking that maybe the hate for it was unfounded, I wanted to like it. I mean, I think Danganronpa 3 is great, I found redeeming qualities in Danganronpa S and Ultra Despair Girls. So if anyone can find something to like in an unpopular piece of Danganronpa media, it would be me. And honestly volume 1 wasn't even that bad, I remember thinking that it was kinda dumb but harmless. But my experience with Danganronpa Togami can best be described as a decent into madness. I have a lot of issues with it, but that's just my opinion.

[starryvioletnight]

Thoughts on being trans, being the eldest, and being raised by an alcoholic (not in that order)

My mom is going to the ER tonight.

My mom used to call me first in any situation.

And I hated it.

I hated listening to her drunken rambles on the phone, of how her life was going oh so terribly, and how I could never understand. I hated visiting her and my father, for the one or both of them to get drunk in front of me, in front of any visitors they had, causing scenes that made everyone uncomfortable. My brother and I would share a look and roll our eyes. We were used to this, after all.

She used to drink and yell at us. Pick fights we could never win, take away belongings just to prove she had power over us, usually when she was in the wrong. She used to blame me for not being able to pay her bills, when I was paying rent for the room I lived in after I turned 18. She still makes snide comments about his girlfriend to him, or how he's living his life or the choice in dog he decided to adopt. She doesn't say anything like this to me anymore since I decided to come out as trans.

Mainly because, I really don't talk to her anymore. That should be a win, shouldn't it?

Before I came out, she was diagnosed with alcoholic hepatitis. I remember that late November, taking her to the ER, joking with my brother about having a gender crisis (it really wasn't a joke, he didn't know that yet).

I remember her going, "Ugh, are you going to change your name too?" in that tone of voice that draws the image of smelling rotten cheese to my mind.

After I came out, she made a show of how good of an ally she was. She would do her best to get my name right and my pronouns right, though it never felt... good. It felt hollow. A gesture done to keep the peace between the three of us (my brother, her and myself). I'm told she still uses the correct name when talking about me to him.

We haven't talked in almost a month. It's been liberating. it seemed like my brother got the worst end of that deal, having to maintain contact with her only because she was his landlord.

Tonight, my brother calls me. He's supposed to be at work, and he tells me he's taking mom back to the hospital. She's winded all the time, her stomach is swelling again. She has a dry cough she can't shake.

We already knew she was drinking again. We'd already asked her to stop. She said taking a shot here and there, a wine cooler once in a while wouldn't kill her. We didn't believe her, but we couldn't stop her.

She never called to ask if I could do it. I should be relieved, but I'm not. I'm not getting dressed and rushing to the ER to see her, though a part of me believes I should be. I want nothing to do with her visit. I want my brother to update me any time he knows anything.

I should be there instead of him. I didn't even get a call.

I'm still the eldest sibling. I've got better defenses, I can handle the stress better, I can ask the doctors the right questions. He shouldn't be there, he shouldn't have to deal with any of that. I feel like a coward, hiding in my home while he faces whatever diagnosis she has alone.

I'm the trans son of a woman who told me my dad would disown me if I ever took "that gay shit" (being trans) too far. She would get drunk and tell me how much she wished I was straight. She's said so many, many hurtful things, been so selfish in so many ways, like never letting me have extra-curriculars after school. When my brother begged to be a part of marching band, she would pick him up from football games completely wasted. Her and my dad never attended a single one.

I should be relieved that I get to stay home and watch TV. So why am I sitting on my couch crying?

[mysticjourneys]

Update On Myself

Hello, and I hope you all are having a good day. I know I have been semi-active after my post about quitting. I want to say first that I appreciate all those who gave feedback and reached out. Although some words had various effects on me, I know you all were coming a place of well intent.

The issues I have been going through when it came to my joy in life stemmed more than just writing. It was a question if I could even go on with anything. Before I go on, I want to warn that this will be personal and touch on heavy subject material. This is all subjective and might not matter to some of you, which is why I am putting the details in a readmore.

This is to give you a better understanding of where I am coming from.

TLDR: I am getting better and will make a strong return. It will be slow, though. Working on self-love.

As far back as middle school, I had grown a hatred towards myself. I have made mistakes in my life that had jeopardized my life or my relationships with friends or family. Even though some things are not my fault, I blamed myself for letting things happen or not fixing them. In middle school, it was regrets in losing friends or not doing more. Eventually, it made me form a wall around myself to not get hurt.

In high school, I did make friends, some of whom I still hang to this day. But, I still felt an immense amount of anger. Yes, I only fought when my friends were in trouble, but I still felt like I had a lot of pent-up anger.

When college came, I learned that not everyone would like your ideas. And having dreams to create and express myself, only for no one to notice or care, it made me wonder if something was wrong with me.

Then I fell in love, but it was long distance. I eventually dropped any goals I set for myself to work on getting a house for my now wife and I to live in. I thought the Navy was the quickest option, but it was not. It took away a lot more than it gave, and it was a major regret.

I kept regretting and regretting my choices. My intentions were noble, right? What am I doing wrong? I wasted time in college, I wasted time in Navy, if it's not perfect then what was the point? I am giving it my all but I can't seem to be happy with what I make.

So many times I wanted this feeling to end. I didn't want to be myself anymore.

Being creative, writing, or doing a project allowed me to be someone else. I could be Deku, I could be Chai, I could be anyone. I wanted to be anyone but myself. Even my original characters are people who I wish I was.

Aeon, confident and kind. Maria, smart and gifted. Joanna, brave and strong.

But I didn't see any value for Aiden Copass. Even if I was the creative mind behind it all, if I failed at anything, I failed the image I wanted to be. The dream I wanted to be real.

That's why things were less fun. I never forgave myself for mistakes or perceive that I had qualities. I am in my late twenties now, and I still feel stuck. I thought I could do anything, have my child like wander, by being an adult turns a colorful world in a world with terrifying shades of gray.

I have been seeking therapy, and I have had talks with others to get a perspective on things. Why I am dissatisfied with what I do. I haven't been practicing self-love, I have been harsh on myself because I can't seem to settle for anything less.

If I can't enjoy what I do, how could anyone else?

This eventually made me more prone to violence, wanting to hurt people. But, it wasn't because I didn't want them to look down on me, I wanted to prove myself. I wanted something in life that could reach the ideal life I wanted. When I didn't, I just lashed out.

I didn't enjoy the struggle because I felt I struggled enough. "When is it enough?!" "When will I get my chance?!" "Why isn't it enough?!"

I kept falling in this endless cycle of hatred and crying. Unable to sleep, unable to function, unable to care for myself. And that just made me hate myself even more.

It wasn't until a friend of mine said these words to me that I began to see what I was doing to myself.

"You can't love anyone or anything without loving yourself first. Because all you'll do is reflect the insecurity you have in yourself towards those things."

So, I started to reflect and take my time. To heal and be better. I still want to work on achieving my goals, but I am going to try and approach it with a different mindset.

It won't be instant, and I might fall back again. But, I will get back up and keep trying. No matter how beaten down I am. I only ask that you all be patient with me.... You have no idea how much you all mean to me. This community has been a huge chunk of my life. I made friends, family, and loved ones here....

I love you all.

[luckyjackofdiamonds]

I fucking hate every single motherfucking update to every single fucking social media outlet to make them more trendy and more fucking tiktokky till I can't even fucking understand how to navigate it anymore or just scroll through context-less images because attention span shit and now twatter is fucking removing traffic from hard working creators and artists and limiting the list of notified posts and constantly fucking censoring our goddamn fucking words till we sound like goddamn space creatures trying not to displease our disney and walmart and target and ballshaving club and you and tech leader trillionaire overlords that have turned places of genuine interest and creative spaces to nothing but fucking crop fields for ads to just play and invade and steal all your fucking goddamn data so you can't even look shit up on google anymore without getting fucking constant toilet seat ads shoved down your fucking throat because you thought HMM SEATS GETTING A LIL LOOSE ON THE SHITTER LETS JUST TAKE A PEEPSIE but fuck you and fuck your search history because now for the next 12 weeks you'll get at least 50 ads and 50 emails detailing how YOU yes YOU have just won the presidents premier shitter stool and YOU that's right YOU need to send us your card info right now because we assume you're either a stupid fucking elder with 0 internet savvy so we can exploit you or some fucking drooling child that happens to click on the shining glittering YESSSSS button that makes the happy sound and now even our fucking video games are having bullshit like supposedly free dlc being sold and cosmetic skins being sold for the price of some fucking games not like that's ever changed so yeah I'm fucking tipsy and I'm so fucking pissed at the world and ads are at the very tippy top right this fucking goddamn second so fuck you try to do things that make you happy and fuck these corporations and businesses and anyone else trying to prey upon you you're worth so much fucking more and I hope if you read this you have a fantastic fucking day.

[iicheeze]

Emotion Suppression

Genshin SAGAU

summary: What if we, the Creator, suppress our own emotions to keep up the 'strong' and 'reliable' Creator image and one situation was able to break the glass.

cw: just angst with a fluff ending

You were tired. You've always been tired. Ever since you were transported to Teyvat, everything has been bugging you like leeches. Not to mention that 2/4 of the Nations' problems weren't solved yet since Genshin Impact's update has only reached Sumeru, and not more.

You were required to attend every single nation's festivals, including ones that celebrates your birth, the day where you 'descended' to Teyvat, and more.

And.. Were the characters always this clingy? They've been attaching themselves to you like you're the light source for moths. You couldn't help but like the attention but at the same time get annoyed by it. Can't you at least have ONE second of privacy.

You wanted so badly to stay here, yet you also have a life back home you crave oh so badly. Your parents could be looking for you, and your friends even!

All your life, you've learned that in order to be liked. You have to have the image of a strong and reliable person. Just one crack of your negative emotions will lead your 'friends' away. You can't have that. You don't want to be alone. You never wanted to be alone. Yet, you still end up in the same situation over and over.

It's an endless cycle of people relying on you but when you need them the most, they turn their backs on you. Never to see you with a happy smile unless they need something.

Your facade still continues even in Teyvat. You were sure that they would leave you behind if you were to show just a tiny bit of negative emotion. That's why you only let them out alone. Or you just don't.

Years of suppressing your own emotions has made you feel numb on the inside. You can't help it. It was bound to happen. Even when you want to cry or be angry, about anything, just anything. You can't. It's like you don't even have control of your own emotions anymore.

All you want to do is just sleep.

“ Your Grace! There you are, would you like to come with me to Windrise? The breeze seems to be picking up lately! ” Venti invited, with a glee smile.

“ Oh! Venti! Well, about that.. ” You replied, before someone else interrupted you.

“ No, they won't come with you to Windrise. Because I already asked them first to do pranks with me! ” Hu Tao interfered.

“ Oh, right.. But..- ”

“ Oh? But I was sure that Their Divinity would have a tea ceremony with me. Isn't that right, Your Grace? ” Ayato joined in.

“ Um.. Guys?- ”

“ Seriously. Give Their Divinity some space. Well, why don't you come with me to the Dharma Forest to relax? I'm sure the sunlight would calm you. ” Tighnari stated.

Seriously! You were being thrown left and right by your own acolytes. Not understanding that all you want is just some alone time. You've been keeping your business to yourself, so why are they including you in their business?!

“ ENOUGH! ” You yelled, as the ground deflates to your rising anger, with a couple of birds flying away from the trees they were sitting on. With your acolytes thrown back due to the sheer force.

“ SERIOUSLY! I'VE BEEN INCLUDED TO EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOUR BUSINESSES, WHAT MORE COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT?! I'VE BEEN WAITING AND WAITING FOR A LONG TIME TO FINALLY BE ALONE. BUT OF COURSE WITH YOU HERE, IT'D BE IMPOSSIBLE TO GET THAT!?! JUST KEEP YOUR BUSINESS TO YOURSELF, DAMMIT!! ”

Your voice echoed, along with your anger. Is this what it's like to feel the Divine One's anger? They feel a rising guilt inside, slowly burning them inside out. But what pains more, is that they never realized.

How could they do this to you?! How could they not realize what they've been doing to you?! You'd forgive them.. Right? Right?! What if you don't? What if you exile them from your existence? Thousands of ‘ what if's ’ continue to multiply in their heads.

Meanwhile, you just realized what you have said. Could they hate you now? Will they leave you? Will they replace your for another person? You couldn't help but break into tears as panic rises, torturing your brain like a thousand arrows.

“ I.. I'm.. I'm sorry! I - I'm not feeling well! ” With that, you disappear to thin air. With nothing left behind, not including the petals of gold leaves falling to the hard ground. Before disintegrating to nothing but dust that was blown by the wind.

They're gonna hate you now. Aren't they?

Days have passed after that breakdown, and the acolytes were searching all over for you. The Starsnatch Cliff, Mt. Aozang, The Grand Narukami Shrine, even Sumeru's Desert Temple! Where could you have been? Did you abandon them, perhaps? There's no way.

But those negative thoughts of you getting into the worst of the worst outcomes, were burnt to ash as one of the acolytes (Your favorite character) found you at the very same shrine where you 'descend' to Teyvat, sound asleep.

You were awoken to the soft, silky bed instead of the hard ground from your shrine. Back to your own Palace of Divinity. Of course, you didn't want to wake up just to see your acolytes. You were sure they'd be disappointed in you.

But before you could even go back to sleep, the doors flew open, revealing the four archons, with apologetic looks.

Silent, you decided not to look at them in the eye. Knowing damn well you don't have the strength to. You're just tired. You just want to get this over with. You know that they're gonna dispose of you. You're not strong. Nor reliable. They're gonna think of you as useless. You're just a pile of garbage in their eyes, right?

“ We're sorry, Your Grace. ”

... What?

“ We weren't thinking thoroughly of our actions. We didn't mean to bother you, we just wanted you to relax. Perhaps we thought wrong. And we apologize for that. ” Zhongli stated, as the three other Archons bowed to you.

“ ... ” Speechless, you don't know what to say. No one has ever said this to you. What do you do in these type of situations? You can't think of anything. Yet, your vision gets blurry as water drops fell from your eyes.

“ Oh- Oh my gosh!! Your Grace, we didn't mean to make you cry! We're very sorry! Please, forgive us! ” Ei apologized, worries starting to show on her eyes.

Hiccups were starting to form, and your teeth began to grit on itself to prevent any awkward noise coming out. Is this what it feels like? To finally let go and just be yourself? It feels too good to be true.

Without any words, Venti hugged you. No words, as he knew what it feels like to mask your feelings away. To bury your feelings six feet under so no one would worry about you. He knows exactly what it feels like. But what he didn't understand is.. Why?

Questions began to form in his mind, but none was answered. As his only focus is only to comfort you, the Creator.

“ It's okay now. Feel free to express that beautiful emotion of yours. ”

With that, wails of crying was heard coming from none other but you. Tears falling down to Venti's shoulder, wetting the green fabric. But he doesn't care. He's glad that you're finally yourself.

Nahida had always knew that you were hiding something, she just doesn't know what. Now that she knows, she couldn't help but pity you but be proud of you at the same time.

Ei had never knew of your facade. But she always feels that something is wrong whenever you put a smile at your face on unexpected situations, calmly confronting it with your advice. Have you had these situations before? How could you confront it so professionally? Now that she knew, she was glad. She could finally see your first, genuine smile around them.

Zhongli knew of your facade. He just doesn't confront you about it. He knew that the smile of yours was fake. He knew that the laughter of yours was fake. He knew that you don't feel comfortable showing your true emotions. All he could do is just stand by and watch. He doesn't want to force you to finally tell the truth. He wants to wait for the right time. For you to tell him about your facade. And now that it did happen, he's proud of you. Very proud.

All you could do now is just hug the Anemo Archon back as you cry to your heart's will. You're finally given the freedom you've always wanted, why not use it for the first time in your second life?

a/n: ngl, I teared up. BUT ONLY FOR ONE TEAR. THAT'S IT. Also I feel kinda cringe writing this, hope it's actually angst-ish instead of the opposite lol

[wovenstarlight]

is your "send me a character and i’ll list:" meme still open?? if so, han yoojin (canon or yours, your pick)?

(send me a character and i'll list...)

i love the way you phrased this. he's my poor little meow meow too. shared custody with geunseo. jokes aside i'll pick canon because i have a bunch of hyjs with all slightly different flavors of weird depending on the AU so let's go the simple route

favorite thing about them

god he is so fucking mentally ill. i'm being funnee but quite honestly i love how all over the place his emotional state is. someone will be like Hey, i think you're a decent dude! :) and he'll be like "i'm going to jump out of this moving car right now. never speak to me again. never look at me again." he's straight up having a panic attack and yoohyun will call him and he'll be like Actually i'm fine by way of i don't give a shit anymore. [fond voice] what the fuck, dude

least favorite thing about them

god he is so fucking mentally ill. i dare him to tell the whole truth ONE time in his life. you'd think after yoohyun burned down a whole forest and was ready to fake hyj's death for him he'd have gotten better but hyj is olympic athlete at the sport of Running Away From Healthy Communication and Healthy Coping Mechanisms. i don't begrudge him for having trauma but i hate the way he chooses to deal with it despite everyone around him straight up going "here's how you can deal with this better". i know it makes him an interesting protag. i hate it though. be less interesting it's good for your health. who give a fuck.

favorite line

i'd answer this except i don't have one LMFAO i don't retain any memory of the text past when it's literally in front of me. my favorite line is whatever i most recently read. ok i got one, the ebook edits i was going over recently extended the scene where hyj first gets kidnapped and now there's like 3 new paragraphs of him commentating like a sports announcer just how shitty his kidnappers are at their job. he's like LMFAO look at this stupid loser. loser got kicked by a weak shit F-rank. stupid weak shit kidnapper. it had me in tears laughing

brOTP

myeongwoo yoojin myeongwoo yoojin myeongwoo yoojin they are bros they are besties they are ride or dies i want childhood friends myeongwoo yoojin content at all times i have a medical deficiency

OTP

[fond smile] jinjae. taejin. taejinjae. stw and shj have such fucking compelling relationships with hyj it makes me want to put a bowl over my head whenever i think about them too long

nOTP

eeurgh..... i dunno.... i don't really have....... notps with hyj? past, like. the obvious. with yoohyun or yerim. oh maybe noah i know some people ship noah and yoojin but i just can't see it. that's his little boy v2.0

random headcanon

he's really good at rhythm games... he likes the simplicity of it. yerim got him into them and then realized he was just fucking better at it than her and now she outsources 90% of her actual playtime to hyj who just accepts it bemused

unpopular opinion

what opinions are popular LMAO idk i don't associate with the actual fandom enough to know what opinions are un/popular

song i associate with them

GAH i'm gonna say. atlas two by sleeping at last. i assign this song to every one of my knovel male protags but unfortunately the fact is that i have a type. WAIT also nobody by mitski that one can be attributed to zmur

favorite picture of them

oh fuck oh shit the same problem as fave line. here have this from latest webtoon update

constant hyj mood. constant hyj lover mood. i'm simultaneously all three of the people in this image and also the wrecked room in the background

[astraltrain]

watching tommy's exile meeting vod from december 2nd, will update with things i find interesting as i watch

"if the roles were reversed, i wouldn't even think about exiling you" - tommy. haha foreshadowing for the actual exile haha

tommy: you have bees.

tubbo: i do have bees!

tommy: if they all died, that'd be fuckin...

tubbo: that'd be awful. probably all of humanity would die with them.

...

"i am addressing the elephant in the room, which is me. although i am not the size of an elephant. in height i am! not in weight. if i was the size of an elephant though -" *laughs* "if i was stretchy, this world would be real different right now." what goes on in tommyinnit's mind.

tommy preemptively preparing everyone for him to fuck up the meeting and no one listening... tommy knowing he was going to ruin it for himself and knowing he'd somehow let tubbo down.... fuuuuuck

tubbo: minutes man, we summon you!

ranboo, materializing in the seat next to tubbo with a book and quill in hand: hey

tommy: what the FUCK,

we all talk about wilbur's acting with his facecam, but tommy does it a lot too. the way he rolls his eyes and shakes his eyes with a confident smirk every time dream speaks, the way he looks shocked when things go wrong. goddamn

jack manifold watching the whole meeting, listening the whole time, just following them around with very little input. hmmmm

he was taunting him. the fucker knew

tubbo desperately wanted a way out for tommy. he wanted to give him probation to escape whatever dream had planned. he never ever wanted to do what he had to do.

dream: "tommy, let the adults speak." hmm, sounds familiar... almost like a line techno would repeat almost exactly a month later, when talking with dream about the favour.

he was taunting him the whole meeting. trying to provoke tommy into snapping.

"this isn't some "insanity arc," i'm not following down wilbur's path!" ouch ok tommy

the way tubbo's voice flattened in tone when he said "you're speaking out of line." he knew tommy had fucked it from the moment he brought out spirit.

god, the second it seemed tommy knew what he was doing, fundy and quackity were on his side. tubbo was the only one who remained serious the whole time, knowing dream had something up his sleeve.

everyone turning on tubbo the second it seemed like they were winning because he was the only one to realize something was wrong. fuck, man

"i don't give a FUCK about spirit." holy shit way to pop off with the voice acting???

the fact that c!tommy genuinely can't imagine being unable to care about things because himself and c!dream are such polar opposites when it comes to attachment. tommy loves with ALL his heart, he cares so deeply and so warmly and so fiercely. dream cares for nothing unless it gives him an edge, an advantage. that's why tommy was certain that holding spirit's remains over dream would help them win. he couldn't picture being unable to care about anything.

"l'manberg can be independent, but l'manberg can't be free." *dream leaves the call.* DANGGGG

tubbo, very softly and calmly: "tommy. you had one job." hoooly shit

the way tubbo snapped at quackity and fundy and began to argue with them while tommy zoned out and stared at dream as he began to extend the walls upwards in disbelief. god

"you couldn't do one thing for me! you couldn't do one! you couldn't do one thing, and it was for your own good! so yeah, if the roles were reversed, you probably wouldn't have exiled me - because i would have actually listened! i would have had a couple ounces of respect! ... you've messed this up for no one but yourself." *pause* "you're selfish." c!tubbo.... :stress:

RANBOO STANDING UP FOR TOMMY???? RANBOO SPINE ARC??????

"tubbo, you said that tommy was selfish. that he doesn't care about anyone else. that's not true. i robbed george's house too. i did it with him. but in court, he said that it was just him. he could have pinned the blame on me, he could have said it was me, there was evidence it was me - but he didn't. he's not selfish. he can't be selfish. me and tommy robbed george's house. we didn't mean for it to burn. we didn't want to burn anything down." HOLY FUCK WHY HAVE I NEVER SEEN THIS SCENE BEFORE

tommy: tubbo, you can't become what you hate. you can't become the next schlatt. if you exile me, you're following in that man's footsteps.

tubbo: .. ok. well, if i can't be the next schlatt, you can't be the next wilbur.

ouch

tommy: the only thing dream wants is the one thing i care about. *realizes, glances at ranboo* well, not the one thing.

tubbo, deadpan: mhm. the one thing you care about.

literal chills from tubbo's voice acting what the FUCK

"what do YOUUU think, connoreatspants?" ok now we're onto the lighter stuff thank god hakshsksjk

fundy: so if eventually the people choose not to exile tommy... what happens to l'manberg?

tubbo, about to come up with a serious answer: i guess -

tommy: it gets fucking simpsons movie'd, bro, we get boxed in

tubbo, immediately breaking character: I LOVE THAT MOVIE

tommy: this guy's a wrongun, ranboo.

techno, literally just vibing: •_•

tommy explaining server history to ranboo? telling ranboo that techno was at fault for the crater of l'manberg? wuh oh

"wilbur died in action, so he didn't live long enough to face the consequences." o h

tommy taking ranboo to the bench to watch the moon go down, not turning to see the sunrise like usual. hey i could make symbolism out of this

TOMMY THANKING RANBOO FOR STICKING UP FOR HIM.... ALLIUMDUO REAL

c!tommy has nightmares about wilbur, huh. interesting interesting interesting interesting

"i knew that if tubbo was president... it would pull us apart, ranboo." IMAGE OF A CAT CRYING HERE

ranboo and connor's first meeting being tommy getting ranboo to help him evict connor from his house hsksbskdjsk

connor: "never trust a british man. that's what my parents taught me, in the 1800s." IMMORTAL CONNOR HAS ALWAYS BEEN REAL WE WERE ALL SO BLIND

LITTLE PENIS LAND

FJDKDHDK JACK APPEARING TO ADVERTISE MANIFOLD LAND

"hey jack you've actually just been exiled from this land here" "no" I FORGOT HOW FUNNY THESE TWO WERE

monkaS

tommy: i've never seen dream that angry.

ranboo: well, this is the first time i've actually ever heard him speak

tommy: oh

OH MY GOD WAS THIS THE DAY THAT TUBBO MADE THE JOKE ABOUT C!WILBUR BEING DEAD TO FUNDY AND HE ENDED STREAM AND LEFT BAHAHAHA

"this is a very wide taco stand" i love dream smp lore

"i don't wanna go. there is no wilbur anymore. i'm on my own. i don't want to be on my own." OK NEVERMIND GO BACK TO THE TACO STAND LORE

wow ok that really was just IT, huh. what the hell man that was heartbreaking

in conclusion. ouch

[sweetestlamb]

Bring Me To Life

Summary: Kang Sujin has never had anyone to turn to, hiding behind a façade her entire life. Someone begins to peek behind the mask. 

Author’s note: My two favorite characters in TB are Seojun and Sujin, both characters who are honestly treated like trash by the writers. I cannot begin to tell how upsetting it was to see Sujin’s character assassination or how painful it is to watch her being physically abused knowing that the writers will not give her therapy or a true happy ending. She’s just here to be beaten and vilified. Seojun, I won’t even rant everyone knows what the problem is (idk who told them we wanted to see Start-Up the high school edition.) So I wrote this after watching the most recent episode and hating most of it for these reasons. I don’t know how far it’ll go or how often I can update, but I need my two babies to have a happy ending preferably together because the visuals are just a dreammmm. 

The rain crashes down loudly from aggrieved storm clouds bellowing above her in the sky, the chilled condensation plastering her thin satin pajamas to her trembling body. She had to get out, the pain in her cheek numbing and electrifying all at once.

How dare she tell him that she didn't want to get married, want to stand on her own two feet without a man giving her value?

His hand had flown across the room before she could sidestep the blow, the fragile glass filled with water in her hand- the very reason she'd left her room in the dead of night- shattering into jagged pieces as it collided with a greater force. Just like her.

She hadn't been trying to eavesdrop but it was hard not to hear him chuckling deeply on the phone, offering up his only child like she was an item on a menu.

"Yes we should set them up. It seems Suho isn't interested and she should marry young, that's when women are worth the most."

Nausea rolled like waves in the pits of her stomach and before she could think logically, her feet were sprinting into the living room, air barely filling her lungs as she stared at the man she'd never once thought of as a father. The last time she'd made the grave mistake of calling him daddy he'd smacked her so hard that was how she lost her first tooth. He'd been father ever since or Mr. Kang. She tried her best to avoid him at all cost, she would never be good enough and it was getting harder to hide the marks he left behind.

It was difficult to remember clearly what occurred seconds after her refusal to marry a man she didn't know left her lips, his fist connected and she was knocked back onto their coffee table the sharp edge cutting at her cheek. As she looked at him, anger painting his face a demonic red, fear crippled her and her hands twitched desperately wanting to wash them raw. Then he grabbed a thick marble ashtray from the table and her instincts took over and she was out the door, running as fast as she could, knowing her life was at stake and she couldn't afford to stop.

When the cloud in her head cleared that was when she found herself at the bus stop.

Judgmental whispers breeze by her ears as people passed by with umbrellas, shocked to see the young girl crying in her pajamas at the stop, but none stopped to offer her help or inquire about her situation, happy just to pass judgement. She ignores them all, panicking racing through her blood until she's unable to breathe, choking on nothing as she twitches in the harsh air. Her throat constricts as she screams at herself, breathe. 

Breathe.

BREATHE! 

But it's useless as her body shuts down, forgetting how to do the basic function, she sways as she starts to feel light headed from the lack of oxygen and with a final wheeze she collapses. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He signs as he weaves past cars moving far too slowly, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he marginally misses nipping a car to the left of him, easily dragging his motorcycle away with the fluid movements of his body. He glares up at the sky before cursing, "Fucking weather report didn't say anything about a sudden rainstorm." If he'd known he would have stayed home, always hating the rain. It brought back bad memories.

Halting at a red light, he puts his leg down for balance bouncing slightly in place. Pulling the shield up on his helmet he glances around, recognizing the area easily, before something in his peripheral catches his attention, a lump on the ground. Tilting his head he revs his trusty iron steed to live, riding over to the direction of the mysterious mass on the wet ground. As he gets closer his heart falters, it's too evident now. 

It's a person.

Jumping off his bike and pushing out the kickstand he flings his helmet off, his hair immediately drenched under the downpour as he races over to help. As he nears the figure, it becomes clearer it's a woman wearing what looks like sleep clothes. Momentarily he wonders if this is a crazy person and if he should just mind his business but a frightening image of his little sister unconscious on the ground and no one coming to her aid flashes in his mind.

"I'll just check if she's breathing and call an ambulance. That's all, if she tries to attack me I'll just ride away." He takes a deep breath, collecting his courage before closing the gap between him and the unconscious woman.

Crouching beside her, he reaches out a hand hesitating before sighing and shaking at her cold shoulder. No response. He shakes harder now, watching the motion quake through her entire body, but still she is unresponsive.

"Hey! Hey! Are you okay? Wake up, you're scaring me!" He starts to jiggle her with both hands, before he crawls into her space not caring about his safety any longer, the idea that this unknown woman might be dead is making him nauseous. People are always dying without his permission. It's so frustrating.

"Wake up! Come on!" He shouts at the figure now holding both her shoulders and turning the woman over, lifting her face from its place on the ground, cradling her limp body in his lap. After two more vicious shakes, she starts to cough and groan in his arms. Relief swims through his veins as he watches her come back to life, anxiously watching as her dewy long lashes flutter open and he's caught in a lifeless deep gaze.

"Han Seo-Jun?"

It takes a long pause for him to register that the woman has said his name and then a longer moment to recognize who she is.

"Kang Su-Jin?" He replies in genuine shock, taking in the wom--young girl in his arms. She's shivering so violently that it's becoming difficult to hold onto her, vibrating out of his hold before he grips her tighter, whipping off his jacket without second thought and wrapping it around her. Goosebumps raising on his skin as his body mentally berates his lack of survival skills.

"What are you doing here?" She looks at him bewildered as if the stranger occurrence is his presence and not her own.

He squints his eyes looking back at her, "I could ask you the same thing. I found you unconscious here. I thought you were...." He trails off unable to utter the rest of his sentence.

"You should have left me here. Maybe I would have. If I was that lucky."

"What? Are you crazy, you want to die? Did you do this to yourself, what are you on?!" He roars at her, rage flooding his system as he shouts at the stupid girl, how dare she try to kill herself and leave her body for him to find? He wishes he had taken a different route, that he'd never come across her. He was in no state to comfort someone who was suicidal, still too raw and hurt. What was so hard about living that made people want to do that? Hot tears gather in his eyes as he abruptly pulls away from Sujin, unapologetic as she tumbles to the ground without his support.

She starts at him, stunned before righteous fury twists her features and she roars back at him.

"Who are you to judge me! I didn't ask you to help me, leave me alone!"

He glares back at her ready to yank his jacket away and run away from her but a small movement stops him, as she's screaming at him a small muscle twitches in her cheek bringing his attention to said cheek. It's nearly purple, standing out obscenely on her pale skin and then he notices the split lip and the bruises on her neck and he's so ashamed of himself he could bawl.

He deflates before speaking to her, "What happened to your face? Who did this to you?"

He doesn't know what kind of look he has on his face but before his questions can even settle between them she's sneering and twisting away from him, throwing his jacket on the ground before making her escape. Unprepared for her sudden departure he reacts too late, before chasing after her. It's easy to close the distance separating them with his long legs and within seconds she's merely inches in front of him, he reaches out a large hand to grab her wrist but hesitates recalling the bruises littering her frame. Instead he races past her, blocking her with his body swerving to the left and then the right when she tries to dodge him. They play this cat and mouse game before she finally gives up, glaring up at him with moist enraged eyes.

"Why do you care? We aren't even friends!"

Her piercing shout rings in his ears as he looks down at her passively. He can't answer that question, doesn't know what brought him to this area so late and not understanding why he was the one to find her in this condition. He doesn't know why he cares. But maybe things could have been different if Se-Yeon had someone to chase him. Maybe he'd still be alive...

So he answers her honestly.

"I don't want anymore people to die."

To his complete shock she starts to cry, tears falling rapidly from her eyes before she crumples to the ground, the rain pounding on her head and he stands still unsure of what to do before he drapes the jacket he'd rescued from the ground over her head, shielding her from most of the thunderous downpour. When she looks up to see the jacket protecting her, he almost falls backwards as her head slams into his chest, her tears simmering hot on his chilled body. It's almost painfully uncomfortable but he doesn't move away. Letting her cry on his chest, his shirt is soaked anyway this makes no difference.

He doesn't know how long they are crouched there on the ground, so dark that the sidewalk is completely devoid of anyone else, it feels like they are the only two people left on Earth.

"If we stay here you're going to get a cold."

He voices his concern but the only reply he receives is a gross sounding sniffle and he grimaces, knowing that his poor shirt is probably damaged beyond repair covered in snot and tears.

Sighing he starts to repeat himself before she whispers, "I don't have anywhere to go."

"I can take you home." Her fists tighten in his drenched shirt, he can practically feel the fear wafting off her, he'd assumed the marks on her face were from a possessive unhinged boyfriend but her reaction makes him uneasy. He tries to push those unpleasant thoughts to the corner.

"What about your friends? Why don't you call Su-ah or Ju-Kyung, I’m sure they’ll help you.” 

She stiffens in his arms before shaking her head in decline.

"No. I can't let anyone else see me like this. I don't need them looking at me the way you did, like I'm a sad pitiful puppy. I never want anyone look at me like that again."

He can respect that, he never wants to appear weak in front of others. It was easier to become angry and lash out rather than showing your true heart, nobody could hurt you that way.

"Then what? Where do you want to go?"

"I have nowhere to go. I'll stay here until morning. I'll be fine, you can go."

He looks at her dumbfounded, what kind of man would leave a battered woman alone in the rain? He wasn't raised by animals, damn it.

"Let's go." He makes a point not to touch her, their only point of connection are her hands twisted in his shirt.

"What?"

He bulldozes past her confusion, looking at her with what he hopes are comforting eyes.

"I'm taking you to my house. I can't just leave you here."

"Are you crazy? Don't you live with your mother and sister, what will they say?"

He winces at the logical inquiry, he had already considered that himself, thinking of his mother's subsequent smacks and his sister's teasing once they learned what he'd done but still deciding that he has no other choice. He can't just leave her here.

He shrugs, "That's my problem to worry about. I'm not leaving you here, I'd really like to get out of his rain. Let's go." He repeats himself harder, pleading with her.

She looks away and he's prepared to throw her over his shoulders and face the consequences when he hears her response, "Okay. Let's go."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It's a quiet ride back, the engine rumbling through the aching bones of her frozen body. Han Seojun. The last person she ever expected to see after being roused from her panic induced collapse. Her arms tighten around his thin waist as he swerves around a car, adrenaline and fear battling for dominance in her body. When her fingers accidentally brush across wet bare skin she quickly moves her hands higher, fighting the embarrassment that washes over her.

If he notices she can't hear his reaction over the roar of the motorcycle.

When they finally pull up to a small apartment, she loosens her hold on him cracking her frozen digits.

"You didn't need to hold that tightly, I wasn't going to let anything happen to you. I ride this everyday you know."

She doesn't reply focusing on getting off the bike, swinging her leg over and hopping off not graceful but effective, a small proud smile spreads on her face before she gazes back at him.

He stares back before shaking his head, as if lost in a daze before he stomps off for her to follow.

Wordlessly she trails behind him, feeling foolish in her duck pajamas, a gift from Su-ah.

When he pushes his front door open, letting her in first she steps out of her sopping wet house slippers standing awkwardly looking around.

"Stay here. I'll get towels so we don't trail too much water."

She nods at his command, gazing at the floor and seeing how much water is already pooling around her feet.

"Here." He hands her a fluffy pink towel, she raises an eyebrow at the color.

"It's the guest towel. I wouldn't give you my towel."

That makes sense, sharing towels is far too intimate for the relationship they have. That being none. 

She rapidly towels at her hair, before running the towel down her body and wrapping it around her waist.

"You can use the bathroom. It's the second door on the right. I'll bring you dry clothes."

She steps cross the doorway, finally entering his home. Before she turns back to him staring directly into his eyes, "Than.... You didn't have to do this." She loses her confidence but his answering smirk lets her know he understood enough, with that she walks to the bathroom locking herself inside.

The sight of her bruised face in the mirror makes her pause, reaching up to finger at the stark purple mark on her cheek. She's crying before she can control her emotions, tears dripping into the sink as she remembers her night, how close she was to the end despite what she said to Seojun she wanted to live. As her father stood above her ready to snuff her out like a mere nuisance in his life, she realized with a burning passion how desperately she wanted to live.

A soft knock drags her back to reality as she rapidly wipes her tears away.

"I'm leaving clothes by the door. You can come out whenever you're ready. I'm making tea."

When she hears the light steps of his feet moving away from the door she opens the door a crack, picking up the neatly folded pile of clothes. Sending the boy a mental thank you before closing the door quietly.

It's clear that these clothes belong to Seojun, draping off her body, too large for her frame, a black T-shirt with a microphone on the center and sweatpants that cover her feet as well, he'd even remembered to bring her socks. Instantly she feels her body warming as her body temperature returns to normal. 

Folding her wet clothes and splashing water on her face then using the towel to rub it dry, she exits the bathroom walking towards the light she sees assuming that's the kitchen.

"The water's almost done boiling. Sit down."

His deep voice greets her as she follows his orders and takes a seat.

"Are these your clothes?"

"What? Oh yeah they're mine, sorry my sister locked her door. They're very old though, I haven't worn them in years I thought they would fit you better." He eyes her as he says the last sentence, "I guess it didn't make much of a difference I'm just too tall and manly for my own good."

She scoffs at his narcissistic comment rolling her eyes "Tall and manly my foot. You're so skinny I could probably pick you up with one arm."

He immediately turns at her comment, affronted look on his face, "Shut up! It's hard for me to put on weight, I'm not that skinny."

He places his hands on his hips, looking down at himself before puffing his chest out to make himself appear broader, it's so ridiculous that she can't control her reaction.

Sudden uncontrollable laughter.

She laughs breathlessly, folding onto her lap trying to contain her giggles but his scandalized look makes her laugh harder and she has to stuff her face in her elbow to prevent herself from waking his family.

After a few minutes of random spasms of laughter she finally peers back up at him.

He looks just like he did outside when she'd smiled after successively getting off his motorcycle.

"What? What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. I just never see you smile at school."

"Well you never do anything worth smiling about." She quips back, wondering if she'd gone too far but he doesn't reply beyond a slight smile that's gone too fast to even be titled that, he places her steaming cup of tea before her sipping at his own after blowing on it.

They drink in comfortable silence.

She's the first to rapture the silence, "I don't need pity."

"I don't pity yo--"

"But thank you. Thank you for stopping. Thank you for this, thank you."

He stares wordlessly before nodding, a slight blush on his cheeks before he hides his face in the cup of tea. She doesn't bring attention to it.

"You can sleep in my room. It's the door next to the bathroom."

Humming she looks up, fatigue hitting her like a brick at the mention of sleeping.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I have a perfectly good couch, don't argue you're sleeping in my room. That's final. It's better that my mother doesn't see a strange woman on the couch when she wakes up."

Well, she can't argue with that logic.

"Okay." Drinking the last of the soothing beverage, she stands up walking over to place the cup in the sink.

"Good night." She starts to walk back in the direction of the bathroom, seeing another door next to it. Seojun's room. Twisting the doorknob she pushes it open, before she hears his voice from behind her.

"If you need anything I'm right outside."

Blinking her tears away, she nods without looking back, too vulnerable with his palpable concern.

When she lays her head down on his pillow, his scent fills her senses and she falls into a deep restless slumber feeling safer than she has in long time.

Tomorrow will be horrible.

But tonight, she will allow herself to breath easy knowing that someone is on her side.

[holycatsandrabbits]

Love’s Endless Light: A Good Omens serial romance

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

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NEXT: Coming soon

Chapter 11: In Love's Safekeeping

2019, Mayfair, London, England

Aziraphale sat on Crowley’s uncomfortable black couch and watched Crowley pace about his flat, bouncing on his feet even though he was so visibly tired. There had been a stain on the floor when they’d arrived, holy water and what had been the demon Ligur. Aziraphale had cleaned it carefully, but he thought he could still smell the holy aura in the air.

Crowley looked thin and pale and a cross between anguished and deliriously happy. There was a smile that kept stealing onto his face, before he chased it away.

“I suppose,” Aziraphale said quietly, bravely, “we should have gone faster. If this was going to be the end of it, so soon.”

That smile worked its way onto Crowley’s mouth again. He’d removed his dark glasses, and his snake eyes shone gold. “It’s not the end, angel. Can’t be. We can’t have gotten this far just to lose it.”

Aziraphale felt his tired body tremble with anxiety. “I think that’s— I’m sorry, my dear, but I really think that’s the way this is going to go. And it’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

Aziraphale had sworn he’d never tell Crowley the whole of it, because he was ashamed, because it was useless, because it felt like instead of talking, he would just break open and the words would fall out. But there was no reason to keep it a secret any longer. Not when this was their last night. Crowley deserved to know. “I mean this is my punishment,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley looked bewildered. “For what?”

“For the War in Heaven!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “For saving demons, for giving away my sword. For all the things I’ve done since, rescuing people when Gabriel said not to, writing false reports, healing you. I wasn’t sure until we— until I knew I loved you. But I’m sure now.”

“Sure about what?”

“That I Fell. That I’m Fallen.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale like he was speaking a language that Crowley had long forgotten. “Show me your wings.”

Aziraphale took a moment to remove his coat, and then miracled holes in his shirt to let the wings erupt forth. They stretched themselves out in the empty space, feathers rustling quietly.

“They’re white,” Crowley said.

“Falling’s not the same for everyone.”

“Yes, it is. You Fall, you become a demon.” Crowley tilted his head in that sharp, snakeline manner he had, showing his demonic aspect clearly. “I would know.”

“I’m being punished,” Aziraphale said, resolutely. “I don’t belong in Heaven. The other angels hate me. The one person who loves me— I can't accept that love. The one person I love— I can't give it. What is that if not Hell? I disobeyed Her, and it pleases Her to punish me like this, an angel in his own personal torment. But the worst part is, She’s punishing both of us. We’re both in this misery and it’s my fault.”

“I’m not in misery,” Crowley said, lightly, quite as if he wasn’t. He crossed the room and sat down on the little coffee table in front of the couch, reaching out to take Aziraphale’s hands in his own. “That’s not what I feel with you. Never has been.”

“We’re going to die tomorrow,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley looked amused. It was beautiful on him, as every happy look was, brightening his eyes, rounding his face. “Really? The angel who guarded demons in the War is going to let Hell get me this time? I don’t think so. And just so you know, I’m not going to let Heaven get you either.”

Aziraphale squeezed his hands, it was too hard not to. They’d held hands on the bus for hours, with no one to notice anymore. “But how—”

“Well, for me, holy water, I’d guess.”

“No,” Aziraphale said forcefully. “Not now, not after everything. I won’t lose you that way.”

Crowley’s smile got larger. “There’s my guardian angel.”

Aziraphale let out a frustrated sigh. “But I—” He looked down at their hands, fitted together, their fingers laced, as if there wasn’t a firm boundary between them, as if they weren’t separate people at all. “I could take your place,” Aziraphale said slowly. “I’ll take the holy water for you.”

“Then I’ll take the hellfire for you,” Crowley said. “And we’ll survive it.” He raised their joined hands and pressed a kiss to their fingers. “Angel,” he said quietly, “this is the reason I go on. This is what saves me, not what damns me. It’s not a punishment, it never has been.”

Aziraphale blinked away the tears that were filling his eyes. “Then why— why haven’t I been punished for what I did? For the War in Heaven? For letting Adam and Eve escape? For everything since?”

“Maybe,” Crowley said gently, “because you’ve been doing the right thing.”

“It can’t be. It was against orders!”

Crowley scoffed. “I don’t see why you think Gabriel always had things right and you always had them wrong. He tried to help cause the end of the world. You wanted to protect the entirety of Heaven, Hell, and Earth. That one’s kind of obvious.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s hand again. “I have faith in you, do you know that?”

Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed him. It was softer, a less desperate thing than their first kiss, until Crowley made a little groaning noise in his throat. Aziraphale tugged his hands free from Crowley’s to slide them behind his head, pressing closer.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley breathed against his lips. “I need you.”

“You have me,” Aziraphale promised. He stood up, drawing Crowley up with him, kissing him all the while. Crowley tasted sweet, and he clutched at Aziraphale, sliding fingers into his hair.

Aziraphale had thought that their first kiss had been something hard-fought, like a treasure grasped from the very claws of a beast, a feat that could not be replicated. But here were endless kisses from Crowley, so many that Aziraphale could not count them, given freely.

Aziraphale had thought that if they ever gave into this, one of them pressing the other against the wall, stumbling feet and wandering hands, laughing when their noses bumped, moaning when it was their hips, that it would feel like Falling. Because it was wrong not only to have this, but to even want it.

It didn’t feel wrong. In the same way that it hadn’t felt wrong ever for Aziraphale to stretch out his wings to protect the enemy, to stretch out his hands to heal those the other angels had wounded. It didn’t feel wrong now to fold his wings around Crowley as they kissed, keeping him close and safe. That shouldn’t have been right, by all the rules that Aziraphale had ever been taught.

Apparently, the rules were wrong.

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NEXT: Coming soon. Crowley's got a little secret he's been keeping from Aziraphale.

Read on Ao3

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and Tumblr.

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

Coming August 20: "Tollense," my next serial romance. A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

My previous Good Omens serial: Mr. Fell’s Bookshop

My Carrd

*********

Image text: Love’s Endless Light by Dannye Chase (HolyCatsAndRabbits) Chapter 11

As Aziraphale and Crowley slowly fall in love over the millennia, Crowley discovers that Aziraphale is keeping a very dangerous secret.

[topconfessions]

i'm so sick of TOP's "edgy" IG updates... i became a VIP only a year ago and TOP has always been my favourite. even though i realised pretty quickly how weird he's, i kinda kept giving him numerous "second chances"... but i just can't with him anymore. idk what's up with his strange posts, like dude, u r not even that interesting anymore... everyone is crazy abt 4th gen now and oh, right BTS. if any of them posted weird photo edits or alpaca pictures, within an hour there'd be a fuck ton of comments and various articles with theories on what this could possibly mean... but TOP, no one except very loyal VIPs gives a shit anymore. i wonder if he's really so delusional that he doesn't understand this

Exactly how I feel. All respect I actually feel bad for you cause you missed the best of TOP that we grew up with and got to see unfold but as he communicated in a magazine once that was a manufacturered image for him. Now we see this insta behavior is who he always was as a person and honestly if I ever knew or had an inclination of him being this way back then I would have stanned Seungri instead and not wasted a good chunk of my life devoted to supporting TOP. The worst thing he ever did was give into peer pressure and GD with making IG. IG ruined him. If he never joined and still had that HSH scandal it would have all went much smoother with the public actually possibly defending him.

To me objectively speaking, I feel TOP is why idols need to be manufactured and controlled but also a cautionary tale of What happens when too much of that is going on and mental health help isn't available.

I agree with you 10000% TOP ruined himself and yeah please do followers. To the followers please don't send an ask telling me I'm an anti and I hate top or why is it top confessions when its anti top. Just like this anon we've given so much and stuck in there but are beyond burnt out on trying to understand. The only other celebrity who has this crazy behavior on IG I can think of John Cena and a lot of people low-key say he's strange and very robotic his damn self. But he is honest about the purpose of his blog that he will post shit that represents something without context, caption or interpretation for us to "enjoy" while top handles this insta like tumblr knowing damn well his IG is a mixture of industry professionals and peers following him and fans. Doing things forcefully to seem vague and edgy.

If this was anyone else of any race he or she would be cancelled and deemed disturbed.

And I feel Taeyang is the only one aging well. Daesung sure. Throw him in too. The other 3 look worn out as hell. Tops looks aren't enough for me any more and he doesn't do anything professionally for me to stay connected. Aging is natural and will happen but his face is showing the signs are decent still but I can see he really is age and not in a flattering way. Smoking is going to age him faster and the drinking.

He could have been Koreas George Clooney but look what happened.

And yes he is delusional and doesn't realize now that like you said minus these loyal fans who haven't grown and left, nobody cares nor gives a damn about what he does. Taeyang has all the happiness now cause he was just normal and allowed happiness to come into his life.

This is why I feel Mark Grotahjn is a sugar daddy or fake friend. He is an enabler to tops place right now.

I still believe Kim Woobin is where TOP somehow thought he was going and deserved to be.

[differenttriumphdragon]

WHAT'S UP, EVERYBODY!?

Season 4 has arrived, and with it a multitude of changes to the game's framework.

We can't actually talk about all of 'em cause of the image limit, so check out the in-game announcements for yourself.

First, of course, we need to announce the Showdown results!

You know, the one we couldn't talk about 'cause Tumblr sucks? Anyways, I'm pretty confident that my team'll-

WHAT!? ARE YOU SERIOUS!? We even won the Twitter poll!!!

It pays to not slack off, Devil. You can't waste an early lead. Haven't you ever heard of The Tortoise and the Hare?

Since when do tortoises grow hair!? Aren't they reptiles or something? And what does that have to do with slacking off, anyway?

...

Still, almost 2 and a half billion obstacles, each...I'd kill for the kind of power you'd need for that.

It's definitely impressive to think about. You likely won't run into more than a few hundred obstacles in a run, and yet, you've all managed to break nearly five billion...

It really shows how dedicated both sides are to the game. We really couldn't ask for a better playerbase.

Yeah, so let's make this Season the best one yet!!!

Speaking of, it's time to introduce the new Breakout Episode!

Introducing the far off land of Yogurca: a thriving desert town loomed over by icy mountains and a Yeti rumored to be bent on freezing the continent.

So you're saying...it's a Desert Paradise?

Not if it freezes over, of course. It's said that Yogurca has mountains of hidden treasure waiting on its shores, as well as the secrets of the origin of Alchemy.

...Wait, Alchemist is getting a Magic Candy before ME!? But she's the WORST CHARACTER!!!

I didn't say that.

Hey, Vamp! If you're watching? GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN!!!

Also, so you're aware, Treasures can now only be used once in Breakout, just like Cookies and Pets.

Wait, what!? Even aside from the obvious, the Treasure Gatcha really hates giving you new Treasures! How are we even supposed to get enough!?

Actually, the new event might help!

The Special Treasure Draw has been slightly reworked; Now, you can select five different Epic Treasures to increase the chances of, instead of just one!

Five different Treasures? Kay. So, what if I don't know what I want?

You could always just set ones you haven't maxed. Or, you know, just keep drawing repeats forever.

You also have quadruple the chance of drawing an Epic Treasure. It's much easier to get them all!

So, hey, who's the guy in the corner?

That's Yogurt Cream Cookie! The son of a merchant, he collects vast hordes of treasures with the help of his three spirit companions. His power is similar to Alchemist's; whenever he slides up until his meter is full, the spirit he'll summon changes.

They're genies, right? Can we just call them genies?

His companion is Magic Lamp. No one knows for sure exactly why this Lamp is following him, or what it could be thinking.

I'll bet you a pound of Royal Dough it wants to curse him to be the fourth genie.

Yogurt Cream also has a Costume!

Huh. Is this what Yogurcan fashion is like? It looks like his coat is covered in ninja stars.

I'd assume this outfit is for the icy side of the country. Or at least, for those cold desert nights.

There's also a new Treasure!

...WAIT, I'VE GOT IT!!! If Peach is Sun Wukong, and Plum is Momotaro...Yogurt Cream must be Ali Baba!

Devil, not everyone is a mythological character. We've been over this.

So you want me to be more low-key about it?

*sigh*

By the way, there's one more big update!

Daily Quests have been changed!

By which you mean Cinnamon hijacked them, right?

Er...you're not wrong, per se...each day, he'll give you cards with tasks on them. Completing these tasks gives you valuable prizes, including lots of Rainbow Cubes!

Sweet! I might not have to use all my money on 'em anymore!

Anyway, that's all for-

Hold up!!! You're not even gonna show the new Jelly Set?

Which new Jelly Set, Devil?

My Again Set!!! Put the picture up!

Look at 'em! Look at how cute they are! They're perfect!!! The red one tastes like sweet potato fries, the black one tastes like cola, and the big one's the best ketchup you ever had!!! I top it off with the Red Dragon Bead Basic Jelly for that feeling of power I deserve!

...You don't have your own Basic Jelly yet, do you?

Look, it's weird giving myself virtual gifts, okay!?

Hehe...Well, until next time, everyone...

Heaven or Hell, let's rock!

...So, aside from a Magic Candy, what do you want from this Season, Devil?

Someone at Devsis to give a damn about me.

[ssfoc]

Hello, Sea. Idk why am i writing it. But feel so bad. About my own feelings. I feel like I'm betraying Louis rn. Because i kind of... can't anymore? His updates make me feel so sad and fucking anxious everytime. And i noticed that i stoped being interesting like at all? I'm in nice safe space with Niall and with Harry especially (i can't wait for concert days). And Liam makes me smile. But everything related to Louis makes me fucking cry. And i hate how i can't enjoy being his fan. 1/2

2/2 And its so fucked up, bc he was my fave for so many years. And i know, i just need to take a break and all that. But it makes me mad at myself. Am i weak? Or what? Louis is going through all that mess rn. Not me. All i can do is support him. But i fucking can’t even look at him. Gosh. I hope you would understand me. And i hpe you will understand. Bc for real i have no one to talk about irl. And i’m so stressed about it? Sorry in advance. But wtf is wrong with me?//___________

Hi!

You’re not weak. You’re human. You’re self-aware. In trying to be more conscious about your decisions, you’re being strong.

We all get very sad when we examine things that make our hearts ache, and feel guilty when we want to turn away. That’s normal. We want justice and we want to help those who need help.

But there are a few things about Louis that are so challenging for the fandom.

1. He has helped so many fans come to grips with their own lives. His acts and words of generosity have brought so much comfort and inspiration. We feel like he’s family. We want him to make it. We want justice.

2. He has been through a lot of turmoil in the past two years. Sometimes there’s nothing that will help. That’s hard to face, but sometimes the grief is for Louis to work through alone.

3. His career seems to have been singled out to be so differently promoted and sold to 1D fans, compared to his bandmates. His promo has been ineffective and blunted, and the media associated with Simon (Sun, DM) have pointedly promoted his private life instead of his musical career. This is puzzling, infuriating, and difficult to witness.

4. Louis should understand the points of narrative that are not working for him, yet he does not / cannot act on them. Eleanor, Freddie, the chav image… these signifiers are poorly understood by non-fans, and by the international audience at large. We can’t “read” the take-away message. Harry’s: be kind, be inclusive, be charming. Liam’s: enjoy being young, life is fun, join me. Niall’s: young hearts get broken, mine was once, but I get to have a full, enjoyable life and I want to share it with you. Louis’: I’m an international celebrity / also an underdog and… sometimes I just disappear. Until my girlfriend / other artists/ Syco / a video game/ a beer needs promo. It’s disjointed and meretricious, and feels fake.

5. I do believe that in spite of it all, Louis does want a successful solo launch; he’s working with collaborators who share the same musical tastes and visions, and he has a definite opinion of what his music should be like. That’s an important thing, maybe THE most important - that he has artistic vision, a goal. Good artists want to create, need to create. They WANT to give to their audience. They know their audience is hungry and waiting, and they also have a craving to show their creative output. And I feel that from Louis. Every time he talks, we can sense his longing to put his music out there.

So my advice is, maybe give him time, and give yourself time. Come back when he has something good to show you. I think he will.

In the mean time, much love to you, hugs and kisses and message me any time.

S

[maybe-homestuck-now-or-something]

oh, thank god, I've been wondering about this for a while now.

okay so like, I just really hate the whole idea of all of that. why would Jane and Jake ever try to get married, after everything that happened?? I'm not really the type to take shipping super seriously, but man... Jane and Jake didn't have much chemistry with each other at all in my opinion. or at least not romantically. and that's not even to speak of the fact that, as far as I can tell, they just treated Jane like her being possessed by the Condesce never stopped being a thing. or rather, after getting unpossessed, she just grew into all the same traits that she had when she was possessed, all on her own. it's such a weird way to go with her character... I really don't understand what anyone would find appealing about taking her in that direction. it makes Jane seem just kind of stupid, like she's totally unaware of herself. does she give a crap about literally anyone anymore? and Jake just honestly deserves better, both in the sense that they write him as totally spineless, and in terms of the life he leads, which seems just awful. I can't even be mad about either of them... just disappointed.

but yeah, like, the early homestuck fandom was a riot. I miss update culture, or like, all the bonkers off the walls fan creations. the fact that there's an actual pesterchum chat client that is actually useable is insane to me, cuz someone literally just did that for fun because they liked homestuck a lot. that was kind of how the comic ended up with music in it too, as far as I know. like, I think creativity was a big part of fan unity, and the fact that homestuck was so insanely multimedia really added to what the fans were invited to do for it. for a lot of shows or comics, it's basically just still art and fanfiction... which is more than fine! I myself am more of an artist than a writer (in spite of all the word vomit 😬 my art blog is rwendellartdump in case you're curious) but like, I have this theory about how homestuck invites people to get inventive with their own creative endeavors based on its own presentation.

basically, homestuck starts with a syle that is very simple, and very representational. the fact that it's simple is nice for the creator of the comic, cuz he can just move the character sprites into different environments with no redrawing and minimal editing. I'm sure that's part of how he was able to crank out content so fast. but the simplicity of the style, and the transparency of the fact that this is done to cut down on a bit of effort, makes new or underconfident artists think "hey, this seems manageable" or "my style isn't gonna look like it pales in comparison to this" which makes it easier to put something out there. it makes the comic a good jumping on point for new creators, who then get to practice their skills and improve, as the comic gives them new ideas.

but then the comic also has a collage element to it. the assets are all clearly single drawings that can be moved wherever they need to go from scene to scene, and the backgrounds will include photos of things as either wall art, or backdrops. most notably, Prospit and Derse's environments are all just heavily edited real images of basically any cathedral, and the Felt mansion is photos of real rooms, but green. it feels experimental, but also like... whatever works, y'know? it gives fan artists permission to mess around with the style. and because all the characters just have simple sprites that are probably more like representations of what they look like, rather than a literal depiction, you're kind of invited to invent whatever you think a more literal depiction of the characters would look like. it lets people's character art diversify without anyone ever really being wrong. and to this day, I think homestuck still boasts the most variety in how each character is depicted by different artists within the community.

and like, I guess as an example of what I mean, hiveswap is gorgeously illustrated, but its visuals are more explicit than homestuck itself ever was, like, this is an art style that you could replicate by drawing on your own, and there's a level of consistency to what everything looks like. hiveswap is basically what homestuck would've looked like if everything in homestuck were drawn by hand, rather than collaged together. but homestuck broadcasts the idea that it's okay to take visual shortcuts, and it's okay to interpret the visual information it puts forth in a way that isn't strictly literal. it's putting things in a visual medium without getting too hung up on a lot of the roadblocks that people usually hit. and this kind of "throw it at the wall and see what sticks" feeling only heightens with the addition of more gifs, or animations, or music, or games... one of the parts that absolutely floored me when I was reading homestuck for the first time was when Doc Scratch was talking directly to the audience and the whole site layout went green. like. he used web design as an indication of both setting and character! we were in the Felt mansion... and Doc Scratch is an omniscient character, so his awareness extended outside the usual boundary of what the story could affect. I absolutely love that level of detail, and like, I very much see that as the precursor to Undertale's extreme ability to fuck with its own medium, even outside the boundaries that most games don't cross when interacting with you. homestuck even jokes about breaking "the fourth wall" as a physical object that exists within the story, like, its just super dense with these ideas.

homestuck without a sense of innovation just doesn't seem right to me... it was so baked in, and it was what everyone was responding to. and it kept people from stepping on each other's toes too much because when it came to ideas, the more the merrier. plus almost all of the kids had some kind of creative hobby... programming, art, writing, roleplaying, music... its all stuff that the kids did, and it's all stuff that homestuck was made of, and that the fans were invited to join in making. the comic, its creator, and the characters were relatable to one another. we were there to have fun. and yeah, I wish HS2 could've been leveraged into creating more of that kind of atmosphere.

also, yeah, I didn't really mind the retcon, but that's mostly on me being fine with anything that leaves the characters in a good position by the end... I don't think your dissatisfaction with it is an unpopular opinion, I think I'm just easy to please in that kind of way. that said, my first time reading homestuck, I only read it when it updated, and didn't really reread in between, so because of the update schedule, things got reeeeally disjointed there at the end. it was only when I went to reread it way later that I actually like... retained solid information about act 6. and I ended up enjoying it way more than I thought it would. it just felt so much more cohesive to read it straight through without all the months long interruptions. go figure. ^^;

oh, yeah, and with Fruits Basket, I'm biased towards the manga because that's how I originally experienced it, but the art style is super outdated by now... I would most definitely recommend the newer anime, like, the old anime stopped halfway through and is like... similarly really dated. there are good things about the old anime, like, it has that 90s anime feel to it, which seems appropriate, but there are also some really annoying things about it. I think the best thing about the old anime was probably the OP, like, I get the most nostalgic about that. otherwise, it desperately needed the new adaptation. but yeah... when I got into all that stuff, I got into manga first, cuz I could find it at the library, and I wasn't sure how to watch anime without buying a ton of DVDs. and my tastes weren't very discerning, so I had a weird mix of favorites.

also, wait, Detective Pony? is this like, someone's take on what Dirk's version of Pony Pals would've been like? because that would be awesome.

it is time.

I want to compile a more complete rundown of my thoughts about homestuck 2. I want all the stuff in my head to be in one place, and I know this is going to be incredibly long winded and I don’t care. I want to be honest… I want to understand why I don’t like this media. on more than a “but of course” level because there are a lot of people who have it as a gut reaction that this stuff isn’t right. but I think there are layers to what produces that. I wanna get in depth with this. so that’s what I’m gonna attempt to do.

Keep reading