#since my other blog is broken as fuck im archiving it here.......

[chickenswithsocks]

[masterturner]

long drawn out personal post

this is a bit stream of consciousness, so if you’re reading this and trying to make sense of it, im sorry. its okay if youd rather not. its a lot and its emotional labour to even read it probably. it’s been almost a year since the breakup now. every day closer to the anniversary of it, i feel a little more broken. i’ve had two suicide attempts since then, a prolonged IOP thing, and i no longer see a therapist (though i really should start again). im not crying about borderline personality disorder though. this is all breakup shit. still.  im still holding together somehow. i dont really know how, some days. ive gone through the whole cycle of grieving multiple times now, cycling again and again through denial and bargaining and all that, ‘til i reach acceptance and think the hurricane is at its end. then i find i’m just in the eye of the storm, and it’ll soon pass as i get caught up in the winds again. then i do the whole cycle over and over again. thats what the therapists in the IOP said it was. a grieving process. you can grieve the terminus of a relationship the same way you grieve a dead person. it sounds so silly when i make that comparison. they also said that progress and healing are nonlinear and that it’s not really necessarily going to be as simple as passing through the grieving process a single time.  i said it sounds silly. its not silly though. its real, and i have to remind myself of that from time to time. i dont usually talk about anything personal on here, and its a little weird that im doing it now. but i guess im doing it because i dont know where else to do it. i could do it on facebook, but it feels attention-grabby, needy in a way i always feel weird being. doing it here under a little ‘read more’ thing feels less obtrusive and private, but not so private that im completely trapped in my own skull again. i hate feeling trapped in my own skull.  the anxiety bubbled up and got bad again pretty constantly. it got that way tonight. i felt my heart race while i tried to sleep. usually the worst points stemmed from me looking my ex up and seeing how their life was progressing along without me. unlike me, my ex has a drive and interest in the performance of social media that i generally lack. my social media experience begins and ends in shallow ways: i look at cute butts on tumblr, reblog dumb memes and get vague impressions of things going on in the world and such through the sometimes nonsensical things other people reblog. thats about it. my ex, though, shes the kind of person that does things like update her facebook profile picture at least once in a 6 month period, unlike yours truly.  i dont even follow her or have her friended anymore on facebook. heaven forbid i had an instagram to see what kind of stuff was going on there. it always got the worst when i saw her with her new SO. now i get to look at that every time i get the nerve to message her. its literally painful to even look to the extent i have to archive or delete every stray line of text we send to one another afterward.  i was seriously in denial - i talked myself into believing the SO wasnt an obstacle, wasnt a big deal, he was just a rebound and it didnt invalidate me. it didnt make me lesser, and it didnt mean that i was being replaced. after all, what stranger can replace 5 years of memories and experiences together? but i was a rebound too, and that led to a deep and intense relationship. why couldnt it this time too?  i was naive, i think. hopeful and naive, and i really wanted to believe this and that. ‘i know her’ i’d tell myself. ‘i know her, and i know she wouldn’t think this’ or ‘she wouldn’t do this’. but it’s wishful thinking.  maybe a part of me always did know better. maybe i stopped listening to that part of my own psyche because i started to recognize how harmful it was.  it’s kind of messed up how that works though? like... you can be happy with someone, but also be terrified of that day when they realize they can do better. and then it becomes a sort of twisted, fucked-up self-fulfilling prophecy because that thought sucks the life and passion out of you. it’s insidious and slow.  and it’s tempting to look at it like ‘i was right all along, everyone will leave me’, but that’s not really how it necessarily is. thats just the trauma talking, the fear, the part of my mind that’s lazy and resigned to suffering and collapse. it was that fear that made it real. maybe if i’d learned to manage that fear, though, things could have been different. would have been different.  it’s pointless to speculate on that though. the reason i say it isnt to speculate though, it’s because im trying to remind myself that it can apply to right now. the friendships and relationships i have now - few and far between as they may be, stretched thin as they may be, damaged and in dire need of repair as they may be - aren’t doomed to failure just because i’m afraid of loss and abandonment. the collapse doesnt have to be inevitable.  maybe talking like i’ve learned and figured something out from all this will make me feel better. maybe believing it all had a purpose will make it feel like it was worth it. eventually. right now, though, it doesnt.  i’m still so upset. i’m still miserable and i still long for things i can’t have. i miss affection. i miss being touched, even in a plain and nonsexual way. i miss being kissed and i miss being hugged. i miss being wanted, and every day i wonder if ill ever feel that again. and then i get to thinking, would it be enough to feel that from just anyone again? why do i feel so starved for... any kind of affection at all? why do i feel so desperate for something - anything like this? could anyone ever love me the way my ex did? i guess the cynical and plain answer to that is no, but thats okay. and maybe someone else can love me better. and maybe that desperate longing to be loved, cherished, cared about, touched, anything is just a symptom of an addiction that’s yet to pass. kind of a cold and clinical way to put it though, and i dont know if thats really me. yet i dont want someone else because its not enough to just have anyone. my ex left me, and now i still have that feeling of being invalidated, devalued, abandoned, and ultimately replaced. even if someone else came along and professed undying love for me, no matter how i welcomed it, that feeling of being tossed aside would remain. and i dont know how to come back from it.  i hate how much my mind... fixates on it. like... everything makes me think of it. i cant make a status on facebook without wondering if my ex will see it, what she might think. i cant leave my house and go somewhere without wondering, what if my ex sees me? what would she think of what im doing? would she approve, or be proud of me? would it impress her? or would it disappoint her? it saps the joy out of almost everything i do. i cant watch an old show without feeling bad im watching it without her. i cant help but wonder if she feels the same, or if shes gotten over it. and a part of me doesnt want to know the answer to that wonder. does she still listen to mili? coheed? does she listen to ‘old flames’ on repeat like i do? when ‘sweater weather’ comes on, does she think of me or someone else?  even now as i write this, i wonder if my ex still stops to peer at my dumb blog from time to time for a hint of how im doing and what im thinking. and i dont even know if id want to know, because seeing this message in that light casts a pall over it that makes me feel sick. i didnt want my ex to see how not okay i am. i didnt want her to see the part of me that feels so sick still. and i dont want to know that she doesn’t look at this either. so here i am at an impasse, writing words and tossing them into the void of the internet, hoping for and expecting only silence, while also hating and fearing the very same. id like to think that maybe this is a sign i dont care anymore, but i think i know better than to really believe that.  i force myself every day to just... not reach out. not say anything to her thats real or vulnerable - the few times ive talked to her it feels forced and fake. and it feels like ive cut off a limb, because im so used to leaning and relying on her. but i feel like i have to, because expecting that level of emotional labour from someone that has cut those ties with me seems silly and foolish... not to mention selfish.  why? maybe a part of me thinks that by hiding it, i’d win her back someday. or maybe im just afraid of being burdensome and difficult. or maybe i just... genuinely do want her to be happy without me. i wish it was that last one. i wish i could just back off and be happy that shes with someone else that maybe will treat her good in a way that i couldnt, or didnt.  i dont know what i want, though. i know what i dont want though. i know i hate feeling like this and i wish i could make it stop, but i cant. its not really getting easier. i had the borderline shit before this, and i could end up meeting the criteria my whole life for all i know. the breakup is just a massive complication in that whole mess, but i dont know if id even know what was wrong with me if i didnt have that relationship in the first place.  there was a day a few days ago, or maybe a week or two ago (i dont remember) where i wanted to hurt myself (not physically though for whatever reason), and in order to do it, i made myself do something i was starting to break the habit of doing. i browsed her facebook profile and scoured it for anything that’d make it sting again. i succeeded - it didnt take much. a few pictures, a relationship status change, that was pretty much it. my mind filled in the blanks after that because of course it did. it snowballed into full blown catastrophizing. they’re probably madly in love. they’re probably moving in together, if they havent’ already done so. they’re probably making plans to get married. they’re probably this and that and this and that - like it matters. like it affects me somehow.  but it doesnt. not really, not physically anyway. i dont have to look, and its like i hope not looking will make it hurt less. but not looking makes me hope, and hope has bred more hurt than anything else in the past year.  since i last looked her up in that fog of need to hurt myself emotionally, a lot of that dreadful hope i had that i could win her back drained away, and i want to believe that the pain will go away now. i havent talked to her since then. i still think about her. i still dream. i still fear and i still wonder and reflect. but i havent talked to her. is that good? is it bad? is it anything other than what it is? does it matter? maybe someday ill be over this. a part of me yearns for that. and a part of me is afraid to ever let go, because what if love wins in the end and all the time we had together meant something after all?  did it not mean anything if it didnt end up taking the shape i wanted it to take? no, it still meant something, but does that matter now?  i dont know. all i know is that to this day it hurts and... that’s all. thats all i know.  eleven months later and it still hurts. but i guess expecting it to be all better after 5 years of dating is a little unrealistic. i thought we were gonna be together forever. forever is a long time, though, i guess.  she makes it look easy, but maybe it isnt for her either, even if she’s better at making it look a certain way. i have no way of knowing and thats maddening in its own way. if i had the ability to close that distance... hear her out, be there for her, could i do it? could i get over my own fear and hurt to build a connection again? id love to find out. but i cant seem to get that far.  it doesnt matter though. its her life, and she has every right to move on without me. its easy to say ‘poor me’, but theres two sides to every story. a lot of pain that led up to the end. questions i still have that will never go answered, and closure i might not ever obtain.  ctrl+a, delete, backspace. that’s all it’ll take, tyler. then maybe you can sleep.  but no, instead you’re going to post this. for what? why? is it a cry for help? complaining for the sake of complaining?  i dont know. i cant leave it all in my own head though.  but the silence that i get back in response is liable to be deafening all the same  

[shima-draws]

I Took the Stars from My Eyes

...and then I made a map And I knew that somehow, I would find my way back...

Thanks to the brilliant @monsterunderthefedora​ for writing a couple of fics for my Timeloop AU, they inspired me to actually contribute more to my own AU lmfao so. Here I am c: (And thanks AGAIN for the awesome fics, bruh!! I really really appreciate and treasure and love them with all my heart so. You could say this is my return gift to you ^^)

Also I’m gonna put this up on Archive and FFNet in a bit, so please keep an eye out for it over there too! (It’ll be under the user Shima2112, just an FYI!)

As usual I’m a little shit who sucks at keeping things short so. You’re welcome, I guess. This is 4k words. Kill me now. Also hey, if you have no idea what the heck is going on in this fic, check out my Timeloop AU tag on this blog! Things will make a little bit more sense. Though I do sum it up pretty well in the fic too, your choice.

And, a brief summary: "Stop, s-stop it, please," Michael begs, crying heavily. "There's no point, Jer—you can't save me! Just leave me here. It's okay." "Shut the fuck up," Jeremy snaps, furious. "Don't ever talk like that. We're going to make it through this. And when we do, I'm going to kiss the hell out of you, Michael Mell." That's what does it. Michael's cheeks immediately flush with a bright pink color, enough to touch the tips of his ears. "Wh-what?" "One, two, three, go!"

This is based off the conversation I had with @monsterunderthefedora​ earlier over IM. I suggested a little something, and now I’ve gone and written about it...from my perspective of things! I hope you guys enjoy! And please don’t hate me for doing this to Michael //throws confetti

Footsteps thud loudly against the floor. Gasps heave out of his throat as he runs, breathless. The only reassuring thought he has is that his best friend is close behind, right at his heels. Having him here is more reassuring than anything.

"How much further?!"

"Down the hall, to the left! It's just outside the corridor!"

Jeremy finally skids around the corner, almost colliding into Chloe's back. Michael manages to stop right next to him, looking visibly shaken, his favorite hoodie drenched in sweat, blood and dirt. Jeremy is sure he looks equally as awful, if not worse. The circles under his eyes are the result of countless time loops before this, loops of running into dead ends, shattering windows and hungry flames devouring them all alive.

He's lost count of how many times he's been here, at Jake's house on the night of Halloween. The party had begun smoothly; it always does, but what soon comes to follow has caused him to relive the night over and over, stuck on repeat.

Most of the time, Rich is the cause of the fire. Sometimes, he isn't. But either way, it's a fated event. Something that always happens, no matter what the circumstance, even if Jeremy tries to prevent it from even starting. By now he's learned to stop wasting time worrying about when the fire is going to start, and more on how to get everyone out safely.

He hasn't succeeded with that. Yet. Hence why he's gone through so many timelines.

He should feel blessed that he's been given a second chance to save his friends from a burning doom—and a third chance, and a fourth, and a fifth, and all the way up until now. But he's sick of this, sick of seeing them die, sick of hearing them cry out for help or sacrifice themselves for somebody else.

He just wants to go home. Maybe curl up in bed with Michael and bury his nose into that faded red hoodie.

He's come to understand, over many time loops and endless conversations with his other half, that he is hopelessly and absolutely in love with Michael Mell. However, in the midst of all of this insanity, he hasn't really been in the mood to confess his feelings. It's always too hectic to say the words, too crazy and chaotic. It's never been a good time.

"What are you standing there for?! We have to keep moving!" He snaps, giving Chloe a shove.

The girl stumbles forward and swears at him. Well, at least that tactic worked. He's not here to babysit these guys; he tried that once already and it didn't end well. Knives got involved. Don't ask him how, he doesn't like remembering.

Suddenly the house lets out a horrible groaning sound, as loud as a freight train. Jeremy's eyes dart around in fear, looking for the source of the noise. What now? He can't remember what happens next, he's gone through this too many times to keep track. Events change in every timeline, leading to an infinite amount of possibilities of the ways the house can kill them.

"Shit!"

The cry comes from Michael, who is staring at the ceiling, mouth taut.

Jeremy doesn't have time to respond as the teen suddenly shoots towards him.

"Jeremy, look out!"

He feels a weight slam into his side, sending him sprawling across the floor. An enormous crash sounds from the ceiling, and he watches in horror as it collapses on top of Michael, showering him in wooden debris and bits of furniture from upstairs.

"Michael! No!" He shrieks, his voice cracking in the middle.

Immediately he's on his feet again, throwing apart pieces of wood and broken glass.

"Oh fuck," Rich breathes from several paces in front of him. The rest of the group turn around and race over to help, digging through the remains of the ceiling.

"Michael!" Jeremy cries out, shaking. "Michael, Michael, answer me! Michael!"

This can't be happening. He doesn't want to start over again. He doesn't want to rewind time and reset it all again!

"Jeremy, over here!"

He kicks up dirt as he goes, scrambling over to Brooke. She has uncovered a portion of the wreckage, revealing a red piece of clothing decorated with dust.

"Michael!" He screams, giving all he has to clear the rest of it away. Christine and Jake lean over to help, tossing broken pieces of houseware over their shoulders.

Finally a face appears amongst the mess, and Jeremy chokes on a gasp.

"M!"

Within moments he's in the taller boy's arms, his head cradled against Jeremy's chest.

"Michael," Jeremy whispers, rubbing dirt off his cheek with a sleeve. Probably not that affective since Jeremy's shirt is also covered in grime.

"...He's not answering," Jenna whimpers, shaking.

"Michael." The brunette tries again, withholding a sob. "Hey, c-come on, you knucklehead. Wake up. We gotta go."

"Jeremy..." Christine reaches out to him, her eyes full of sadness.

"No, no, no," Jeremy slaps her hand away, shaking his head. "He's fine. He's okay. He—he has to be..."

"Come on, you guys." Rich beckons them all away, to give them a little privacy. The others stand up and follow, silent and melancholy.

"Michael," Jeremy cries, shaking his friend. "Michael, Michael, wake up. I need you, M. I need my player one, come on, please..."

He lowers his head until it's resting on Michael's chest, bawling. It can't be over already. Not like this. How many times has it been, now? How many times has he seen Michael die like this?

Suddenly Michael's chest moves, slowly but surely. His breathing makes Jeremy's head go up and down. And then, like a miracle, he releases a quiet cough.

Jeremy shoots up, eyes wide.

"Michael?!"

"Ugh," Michael groans, his voice a low croak.

The brunette releases a yell of joy and tackles his friend, squeezing him tightly. His call alerts the rest of the gang, who come rushing over.

"Ohhh, Michael! Thank god! You scared the absolute shit out of me!"

"S'rry," comes a mumbled response. Jeremy looks up to see the shorter boy shooting him a crooked grin, his eyes-half lidded.

"Never do anything like that ever again, you asshole," he demands, reaching up to pinch Michael's cheeks playfully.

"Yeah, yeah...”

Jeremy sits up and helps Michael do the same, watching warily as he looks around, disoriented. There's something wrong with the way his eyes wander, almost lost, and there is a weird sense of panic emanating from him. But there isn't time to think about that, they have to get moving. So Jeremy hurries on to the more important questions.

"Are you okay? Is anything broken?"

Michael's eyebrows draw together and he slowly starts wiggling parts of his body cautiously. Finally he puffs out a breath, sounding a bit wheezy.

"No, don' think so," he manages to mumble, wincing. "'M definitely bruised though. And I hit my head real hard."

Jeremy frowns and brushes his hand against Michael's temple, making a noise of concern when something sticky and warm coats his fingers.

"You're bleeding," he observes, leaning over to inspect the damage better. It looks like there's a lot of blood, but Michael is awake and coherent, so it can't be that bad, right? He desperately hopes so.

"Jeremy, we gotta go," Brooke pleads, her eyes wide and her hair frazzled as she peers around anxiously.

"Right, okay," he nods, moving to help Michael stand. Rich comes over to assist, and both of them manage to stand the shaky boy up on his feet. The injured teen groans but steadies himself, shaking the dizziness off.

"You okay, M?" Jeremy murmurs, wrapping an arm around his best friend's shoulder for support as the group finally starts to move. Embers lick at their feet as they stumble amongst the debris of the fallen ceiling, looking for the next closest exit.

"Uhh," Michael swallows, his fingers clamping tightly down on Jeremy's shoulder. Terror flashes across his face for a split second and then he's grinning, albeit with a grimace. "Y-yeah. Just hurts a lil'. I'm fine."

Jeremy notices the slur in his words and chews his lip. Clearly he isn't as fine as he says, if the glazed look in his eyes have anything to do with it. But they don't have time to worry about that—they can fret over Michael once they're out. Or, if something happens and Jeremy's forced to reset the timeline again, there's no need to worry at all. He really hopes it doesn't come to that, though, even though that's the most probable outcome, as usual.

"Jeremy!"

Jeremy hurries his pace, Michael barely managing to keep up with him, and pales when he realizes that half of the floor is gone. The others are looking at him worriedly, their bodies slack with exhaustion, their eyes full of despair. They look about ready to give up.

But he isn't going to let that happen. They've come this far, they can make it this time! He's sure of it.

"We'll jump across," he says firmly, determined. "Jake, can you see a solid place to land that won't collapse?"

Jake looks somewhat surprised at being addressed, but he takes a moment to look across the gap and nod.

"Yeah. See that stretch of tile over there? That should be enough to hold us."

"Okay, good," Jeremy releases Michael after making sure he can stand on his own, and then walks to the edge of the chasm in the floor. Below is a sea of swirling flames, a death sentence to anyone who'd fall in. He gulps and starts to hype himself up. If he hesitates, even for a second, it's the end.

"I need one of you to jump over first," he turns to Jake and Rich, and almost laughs at the way they look terrified. If the situation were any different, he probably would laugh.

"Come on," the brunette urges, beckoning them forward. "One of you needs to get over there first to catch the rest of us."

"Why don't you do it?" Rich mumbles weakly.

"Do I look strong enough to catch you?" Jeremy deadpans, holding out his sorry excuse for arms. They look more like pool noodles, if he's being honest.

"Yeah, alright, I'll go," Jake sighs, his shoulders tending up.

Christine almost steps forward to grab his arm, but she holds herself back, waiting.

"C-can you make it?!" Chloe squeaks, chewing on her fingernails as she stands close to Brooke. Jenna is behind her, shockingly silent for once. She looks tired.

Jake shoots her a cocky smile, but it's half-hearted at best. "Course I can. Just watch."

"Be careful," Brooke whispers, trembling.

Jake nods and blows out an exhale. Then, he backs up, crouching low. Jeremy holds his breath.

Jake darts forward and leaps, flying across the gap. For a moment it looks like he's going to fall, but he clears the space easily, landing several feet beyond the edge of the hole. He holds himself still for a couple seconds, and then he straightens out, all of the tension in his muscles dissolving.

He turns around and gives the group a large, shaky grin. His face is white as a sheet.

"Made it!" He calls over.

"Okay, who's next?"

Jeremy looks at the rest of the group, and they all avoid his eyes, fear clearly written across their faces. He sighs and rubs his temples. He can understand how frightened they are, but now really isn't the time to be hesitant. They don't exactly have all the time in the world to stand here deciding whether to jump or not. The flames devour the walls around them, threatening to bring the whole house down, and if they don't go now they'll be caught in it. Michael had almost been taken out by the house before.

"Come on, you guys. The hardest part is over. Jake's over there to catch you. Unless you'd rather turn around?" He knows he shouldn't be so harsh, but if this is the only way to snap them to attention he will.

Christine takes a brave step forward but before she can get far Chloe pushes her out of the way, her heels clicking across the floor. She looks absolutely terrified, but she tries to hide it with a fierce expression.

"You'd better catch me, Jake!" She shouts, her hands shaking at her sides.

"I will," Jake says honestly.

Seeing that he's being genuine, Chloe takes a deep breath. Brooke covers her eyes, whispering, "I can't look," and Jenna shifts her feet from side to side, visibly anxious.

Chloe jumps, a frightened scream tearing out of her throat. Jake lunges forward and snatches her out of the air, his arms wrapping firmly around her waist.

They stand there awkwardly for a moment before he sets her down, eyes full of relief. Chloe throws her head up and huffs, announcing, "That was so easy!" But it isn't difficult to see just how scared she was as she distances herself from the hole, not wanting to be near it.

"I'll head over next," Rich says, and Jeremy nods.

The rest of them watch nervously as he makes his leap across the gap, skidding to a stop on the other side. He gives them a thumbs up, mouth stretched wide in a grin.

"Okay, Brooke, your turn," Jeremy coaxes her gently, his eyes flickering to the oncoming wall of fire behind them. "Hurry, now."

Brooke stays in place and shakes her head, tears gathering in her eyes. "I can't. I'm too scared!"

"Hey, hey," Jeremy places a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying to seem reassuring.

"It's gonna be just fine, Brooke. They won't let you fall. They'll catch you."

The blonde sobs and buries her head in her hands, trembling. "B-but what if I do fall? What if—"

"Just don't think about it." He says firmly, cutting her off. "Run and jump. Don't even think about the "what ifs". If you do, you'll just psyche yourself out."

She peers at him through the gaps in her fingers, sniffling.

"Will you help me?"

He nods, his hand sliding down to her back to guide her forward. "Yeah. I'll be right here, okay?"

Brooke rubs her arms and gazes across the pit, managing a nervous smile at Chloe, who waves at her from the other side.

"That's it. You can do it. Alright, on the count of three. One...two...three...jump!"

Brooke springs into the air, soaring across. Her hair whips wildly out behind her. Simultaneously Rich and Jake reach out to catch her. A horrible second passes and Jeremy's stomach clenches, watching as Brooke falls closer to the edge...

The boys both grab an arm and haul her up, and she embraces them both, crying. Jeremy breathes out a sigh of relief. Now there's only four of them left, and time isn't really on their side at the moment. The fire is fast approaching, creeping slowly across the wooden floorboards, mere yards away from Michael's back.

Jenna goes next, and it's so strange not to see her upbeat and hyper as she usually is. Her face is solemn as she locks eyes with the others from far away. She pumps herself up before taking flight, landing safely on the opposite end.

Jeremy turns to Christine, who gives him a silent nod. It seems she has readied herself while the others were traveling over to the other side. She makes it over in one piece as well, almost tripping as she touches down on the floor.

"Okay, Michael," Jeremy hurries over to his friend, who is staring blankly ahead, his vision unfocused.

Jeremy notices this and regards him worriedly. "Michael?"

"Hmm?" Michael tilts his head towards the taller teen, and his eyes seem to look right through him.

"Are you okay? You look really spaced out," Jeremy whispers, even though he knows the others are too far away to hear.

The bespectacled boy nods slowly, biting his lip. "Mm. Yeah. Jus'...still a lil' out of it, I think."

"Shit, how hard did you hit your head?"

And Jeremy reaches over and smooths Michael's bangs back, flaring in alarm when he realizes the other teen is very, very warm.

"Jer," Michael murmurs, searching for his sleeve. Once he finds it he grabs on, fingers clenching. "Jer, I don' feel so good."

For some reason, hearing this makes Jeremy want to cry. "I—I know, M. Just...just a little longer, okay? Once we get out of here we'll get you checked out. As soon as we make it over this hole—"

Michael shakes his head, preventing him from finishing. He has a look of sad acceptance on his face, his hand falling to his side.

"You go on without me, Jer. I don' think 'm gonna make it."

Fear shoots up Jeremy's spine like lightning, and suddenly he can't breathe—and that's not because of the choking smoke in the air. He releases a pathetic whimper and latches on to Michael's arm, tugging him along.

"No, no, don't say that, Michael," he whines, pulling him away from the oncoming fire.

"We—we have to make it out. We're going, we're going together."

Michael halts, gently moving his arm out of the brunette's grip.

"This's it for me," he continues softly, as if he's trying to soothe Jeremy. "You'll havta beat the game without me, J."

"No!" Jeremy shouts, tears already beginning to slide down his cheeks, making tracks through the dirt on his face.

"I'm not leaving without you! I won't do it!"

"Please, just go. There's no time—"

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, you're coming with me and that's final! Don't you dare—" He heaves out a sob, voice breaking. "D-don't you dare give up, M-Michael. Don't you d-dare leave me again..."

Michael regards him sadly, tears clinging to his own eyelashes.

"Just...just c-come on. Why can't you do it? You can jump, r-right? Or is there something wrong with your legs...?" At this, the boy in the red hoodie glances away, looking pale.

And then it hits him.

"No...no way," he mutters, backing away. He tosses his head from side to side, clenching his teeth.

"No way...no...! No, that can't be—!"

"That's why I can't go," Michael admits, his voice more small and timid than Jeremy has ever heard it before.

The way his eyes look so lost and distant, the way they can't focus on anything, even the way he stumbled through the house, holding onto Jeremy's arm for support.

He's blind.

The impact from the ceiling falling on top of him had taken its toll. Severe head trauma, combined with a limited amount of oxygen—yes, that was enough to rob somebody of their sight and render them helpless. Jeremy had no idea if it was permanent or only temporary, but it was enough. Enough to prevent Michael from escaping. Enough to make Jeremy have to rewind time again...

No. No. I won't. I won't restart, not this time!

"We're going," he says firmly, looping his arm around Michael's. The other boy's face becomes panic-stricken.

"Wh...what are you doing?! Are you insane?!"

"Yes," Jeremy responds without any hesitation. He's been through so many time loops now, he'd honestly be more surprised if he was still sane. "I'm getting you over there even if it means I kill myself in the process."

And it's these words that make Michael start to struggle, batting his free hand against him in an attempt to break free.

"No! Let me go! Jeremy—you'll die!"

"We won't know until we try! And I'd rather die trying than give up and be burned to death." He hisses severely, backing up. They're going to have to make a run for it. Luckily the path ahead of them is clear of any debris, so Michael doesn't have to worry about tripping on something he can't see.

"Stop, s-stop it, please," Michael begs, crying heavily. "There's no point, Jer—you can't save me! Just leave me here. It's okay."

"Shut the fuck up," Jeremy snaps, furious. "Don't ever talk like that. We're going to make it through this. And when we do, I'm going to kiss the hell out of you, Michael Mell."

That's what does it. Michael's cheeks immediately flush with a bright pink color, enough to touch the tips of his ears.

"Wh-what?"

"One, two, three, go!"

With his shout the two of them dash forward, putting all they have into their legs. Michael lets out a terrified wail, and then they're airborne, weightless. Jeremy can feel the intensity of the heat right below him, can feel the flames touching the soles of his sneakers—he can hear Michael yelling from next to him, his arm holding him so tightly that he can feel his bones creaking—he sees the other end of the floor, rapidly approaching, sees Rich and Jake and Jenna as well hold their arms out wide.

He and Michael crash headfirst into the three of them, and it's enough to make them topple over in a heap. Christine, Brooke and Chloe gather around them, shrieking worriedly, and help them to their feet.

"Jesus Christ, Jeremy, that was the craziest shit I've ever seen you do," Jake gasps, standing up with Jenna's assistance.

"Why the hell did you two jump at the same time?!" Chloe exclaims, looking more scared than angry.

But Jeremy pays them no mind. Instead he rolls over and flops on top of Michael, whose sightless gaze is fixed on the ceiling. He seems to be in shock, and a little winded.

"I told you we'd make it," Jeremy murmurs, and then he kisses him fully on the mouth.

Gasps erupt from the other members of the group, and he's almost sure he can hear the sound of a camera shutter going off in the background. He's too far gone to really care, lost in the scent of his favorite person, even though it's masked by smoke and dust and burnt wood.

It takes a moment, but Michael finally responds, groaning happily into Jeremy's mouth. Even though their world as they know it is falling apart at the seams, even though the roof might crash on their heads at any moment—they drown in each other, teeth clacking, tongues tussling. It's messy and it's sweet and in the midst of all this chaos it's the most wonderful thing in existence.

Eventually the boys break away, completely breathless. However they look livelier than they have in a forever, across countless time loops. Jeremy has never felt more alive than he does right now.

They stagger to their feet, dizzy, elated. The remainder of the teens' expressions show something Jeremy hasn't seen in a while: happiness. And hope, too. And maybe a bit of amusement as well.

"That was hot," Brooke comments offhandedly, squealing when Chloe elbows her in the side.

"Well..."

Christine smiles and starts to walk ahead, being careful of the hanging wood up above. The rest of them chuckle and start to follow her, picking their way through the mess.

"Hold my hand," Jeremy whispers, reaching over to interlock his fingers with Michael's. The other boy squeezes his hand, his expression showing nothing but utmost love and trust. Jeremy is his guide now, his escape, his sight, his freedom.

"Don't let go. Stay with me."

They follow the gang further into the smog. Their future is so uncertain. They may not even get to see the light of day. They might have to start all over from the beginning, in a new timeline. And if they do make it out, Michael might stay blind forever. But for now, they hold on to each other, and they will for their hope and their love to carry on into the future—whether it be their own, or them from another time—and take a step forward.

"Always."

Da da daaaaah, and that’s the end!!

I hope you all enjoyed that angsty fluffy sappy mess! It was fun to write~

Also, a couple of things:

*Jake’s house is three stories. I figure he probably has rich parents. Or, ya know, HAD. So in this fic they’re on the ground floor--so it’s possible for the ceiling to cave in and the floor to collapse as well. Just to clear that up if it was confusing!

*I have NO IDEA about blindness and if it can really be caused by a ceiling falling on your head. I’m sure it would hurt though. I did a little research and it is possible to go blind from a severe head injury. Combined with all the smoke Michael had been inhaling, he lost a lot of oxygen, so it’s probably possible an accident like that and the oxygen deprivation could take away his sight, even temporarily. But don’t quote me on that. It’s fiction, I’m allowed to bend the rules a little, right?

*I have a lot more ideas for this AU I might write in the future, who knows. But...if you guys are interested, and if you want to come and talk to me about your own ideas--please do! The possibilities of what could happen in all the different timelines are endless, so come and suggest stuff! I’m totally open to chatting about all the different tragedies these kids could go through--//shot (And hell, I already have such awesome support already, from the person who wrote me short fics about this AU--which are also under my Timeloop AU tag here, so please be sure to read them they’re so awesome!!)

Okey thank you for your time, have a great day, I hope I didn’t completely destroy your hearts and souls with this. IT HAD A HAPPY ENDING. I have a legit excuse hhh

[stephamphetamine-blog]

exhibit h

Ladies and gentlemans, meet HikaruXANA, the new thief on display: Behold the horror. God, when they will learn? She hangs around this place or this one too, so beware: She is highly unestable and dangerous. (XD) Shoot at will, then.

Ah, Maneko told me about you. He didn't eactly have a good word about you, however. You've probably figured out why...but still, you geta watch because Phoenixes = Awesome.

Um,who is Maneko?

Author of the comic Neko's House a couple of months ago, he found This comic which had...recolors of a couple of his characters' sprites. Apparantly, someone else made the sprites used here, using the sprites he uses in his comic, which is 403 FORBIDDEN.

Uh,broken link dude,and im still confused.

Second link, right? Maybe this one will work?

Another broken one,AND I SAID DONT POST LINKS TO OTHERS ARTWORK! It annoys me greatly...

Also,please do not post links to other comics/artists. I kinda hate it when people do that,cus their advirtizing on my art page...*glares*

Name: Hikaru Age: 15 Level: 3 Class: Sage of Fire Currency: 1500 Gender: Female

FAKE! FAKE! Lies about a fifteen year girl of stealing.

Okay to exact violence?

What else did he fake?

This is by far, the SADDEST thing I've seen in AGES: NIKE'S HOUSE!!!

Making sure this bitch can't get away with this: Ladies and gentlemens, meet Nike Navora, aka NIKE THE PATHETIC COMIC THIEF. The little shit  stole jokes, stories, backgrounds, edits, and even ENTIRE PANELS FROM MY COMIC, for christ's sake. She even had the nerve to paste her PATHETIC SONIC RECOLORS over MY OWN  fucking sprites, thinking that nobody was going to notice it, so she could get away with her FUCKING ATTENTION WHORISM FRAUD.

But don't worry, pals! Even if her cretinous minions tried to get me banned from  her ex- community   to hide her theft, Justice prevailed anyways, and before she could say "ayamawhore" the great Modstaff exposed her like the imbecile, lying, coward, pathetic fraud she is... AGAIN!

Yes! This was her SECOND time stealing other people's work to get some attention (She also stole LOTS of stuff from Insonicmia's site) without giving a shit about it, but since she was too nice, holy and mellow as to face the truth about her blatant theft, the poor, poor Nike tried to get everyone's pity by doing THIS ABYSMAL PITY SHOW. But guess what? Once again, Sonniku.net's modstaff managed to put her in her place, like the fucking, pathetic, insignificant MANIPULATIVE EMO SHIT she is! Yay! Go, Sonniku.net's Moderation team! Fight for everlasting peace!

In case the little bitch tries to delete the evidence of her retarded theft, I took the liberty to post some of her "comics" here. Egads, is it just me, or is something looking very familiar? And that's just the tip of the Iceberg! She stole MY ENTIRE GODNAMED ARCHIVE! Everyone, please point at Nike Navora and laugh. Serves her right, dammit.

You know, sometimes I wonder what part of "My sprites are NOT PUBLIC" is so difficult to understand.

I wonder why a man in his "late twenties" has to lie about teenage girls? All links go nowhere. Wayback Machine has nothing! All of it was fake?

Remember Nike Navora, the comic thief? Well, after I unmasked her, she and her gang pulled some really funny things (Like homicide threats... through internet. Le Sigh) but finally, she accepted that what she did was wrong, and apologized for real. Check this:

Alright! This has gone far enough...I'm just going to say it straight forward! I'm sorry, Maneko! I understand what I did really pissed you off, and I don't blame you! You had every right to post what I did on your site, it hurt, but I deserved it! and I think you probably believe this is "Self-Pity", but I truly am sorry for what I did....I just didn't think I'd get caught, but I was wrong and not only did I make you mad, but I also made some of your friends mad at me too. My friends don't deserve to get caught in this since they weren't involve, it's me you want not them. I won't steal from you or any other site again, I learned my lesson. Seriously ~Nike

Ok, so the little brat finally understood that when you lie, steal and mess with the big dogs, crap happens. Fine, fine. Just don't do it again, kid. Of course, her friends Darky, Melissa and Yaoi_Lover never stopped to vomit hate, lies and threats, but meh. Who cares about them? Nobody. Nobody important, at least. So yeah, the issue is over.

Thanks for your support, people. You have no idea how much I appreciated it.

Who supported this FAKE outrage?

The harassing and trolling of a teenage girl by a man claiming to be in his "late twenties"?

Bob and George?

It didn't end there.

I have found he posted FAKE messages on other blogs, 4chan, and KKKchans.