#break me free from this curse of hyperfixation...

[spicymotte]

How fandom culture killed my creativity

hi. I have some thoughts about my time in a huge fandom and how it changed me:

First of all, I would like to say that these are my personal experiences in a large anime fandom. I have made very good friends with whom I am still in contact today - and I was exposed to a kind of brain rot that has changed the way I deal with art forever. However, this does not apply to every fandom/every person.

this - essay? - is way longer than I thought it would be. More under the cut:

In 2020, after a long break, I was able to get excited about One Piece again. Until then, I had always considered art important to me and I had never been able to do it professionally. (maybe someday...!)

The One Piece fandom is huge. There are now over 1000 manga chapters and anime episodes, which is gigantic; and the fandom itself is just as huge: millions of fans love this manga/anime and exchange ideas about it on the internet. I was previously very limited to tumblr, but then I ventured into OPtwt, the One Piece community on Twitter. There is a lot of fan art, fan fiction and small cliques that like the same character. There is something for everyone. It was great! I had a hyperfixation phase on OP before, in 2017. Now it came back - so violently that I realized very quickly that I could hardly think of anything else but One Piece.

Hyperfixations involve two major factors: an intense obsession with a character (or theme/media/whatever), which often brings with it a bottomless well of inspiration and motivation for artists – and a strange influence on brain chemistry. Neurodivergent people are prone to difficulties with the release of happiness and rewarding hormones anyway, and even though I am in no way qualified to make grand statements, as a person living with AuDHD, hyperfixations are both a blessing and a curse.

Often, the neurodivergent niches in the fandom communities are very lively. On extremely interactive social media like Twitter, TikTok and Instagram, you are flooded with posts of fan art, discussions and also escalation. It quickly becomes stressful for the brain to keep up with it - especially if you manage to accumulate a large number of followers. (also a blessing and a curse!)

I started posting fanart and OC x canon in 2020. I spent most of the last three years on Twitter and I have to say that it set me back in some ways. At first, I was slow to get to know people through fanart, but then I got to know people very quickly: fellow artists that I am still good friends with today and, unfortunately, people who have also succumbed to an incredible, destructive brainrot. I had chosen a character (or rather, my brain did) who plays almost no role in One Piece. All the better, so I pretty much had him to myself and I could do whatever I wanted. The OC x canon community is generally very friendly and respectful, so I found quite a few people who liked what I drew. Cool!

And then it started. With fanart and a small fan club for my OCs, I got more followers and more likes. More retweets and comments, more notifications. The algorithm started to like me and the growth increased steadily. My fandom (OP) account grew, as did my reach.

I checked Twitter more and more. Every free second I took my smartphone in my hand and checked my notifications. I reloaded the page until I had a new notification. I repeated this on Instagram and tumblr. Sometimes I catch myself doing it today, even though I haven't been active in this fandom for over a year!

Likes were good, retweets better. Every notification of an interaction with my art was a push on the feel-good button in my brain. It's very addictive, even if I talked myself out of it at first. The pandemic was at its peak and the internet was the only way to meet friends anyway. All this shit was fast food for my brain.

Then I started drawing fanarts, even though I didn't feel like it. But the likes had to come from somewhere, didn't they? I drew favorites from manga, characters that I didn't even like that much myself. But they were popular, so that promised likes and reach! Every single day, really every day, I drew fanarts. I was disappointed with myself if I didn't.

As of today, my two One Piece art folders have 80GB of data in it! what the fuck!! That's not normal!

I learned a lot during that time and was able to develop my art. I was able to participate in projects, to draw for several zines and also had a lot of fun – but I treated it like a job. Making fan art your job is very difficult – and has a lot of consequences. If you run a merch shop (as I did for a short time), you always have to follow the hype and draw what's in style. You switch fandoms because the hype has just burned out and the next new thing is already in style. If you're one of the first to offer keychains and stickers - or plushies - you make the big money. That brings profit, but in my opinion you can very quickly step on the wrong foot in this jumping around and slip into burnout. (Or stagnate to such an extent that you lose all motivation to refine your artistic skills and become better at your craft.)

I see friends of mine, many of them, who are trying to live off of fandom merch. They all have one thing in common: their skills in art have remained absolutely the same over the past few years or have even declined. If you have to churn out a new batch of merchandise every week, you have to cut corners. There is no time for experiments and crazy studies when you can hardly live and have to produce merch/fan art that sells 100% well.

I don't mean to offend anyone - it's just that I've been thinking a lot about my own setbacks as an artist since I've been dealing with them so intimately. And I've definitely made some setbacks!

In 2021-2023, fandom life continued and got worse and worse. Checking my smartphone, drawing something every day to post it - just so that the algorithm doesn't sort me out. Posting daily is the number one rule on all Social Media, unfortunately. But I did it, no matter how burned out I felt.

And then there were the dramas on Twitter: internet puritans, antis and proshippers were screaming at each other and tearing each other to shreds (a trap I almost fell into myself! anti and pro are the biggest bullshit ever and I'm lucky enough to have reached a point where I can say: I don't give a shit lol). Callout posts, vague tweeting and aggression instead of simply blocking and moving on. Harassment that I myself experienced: I blocked a few people because I found them strange and unpleasant. They posted explicit things that I did not want to see on my timeline. This triggered a wave of harassment that was simply disgusting. These are people who hate their own lives so much that they can't do anything but feel miserable and stalk strangers online. Admittedly, this made me paranoid: a group of people had chosen me as a target. They passed around screenshots of many of my tweets and made fun of me, copying and stealing my art 1:1. They lied and cheated to make me look like an asshole – and this went on for years. It made me paranoid and was the first step away from fandoms, as it escalated more and more.

So, I was successfully bullied out of the fandom and my hyperfixation was over. It left a terrible void that I am still trying to fill today. Neurodivergence sucks, I'll tell you.

That's when I honestly asked myself for the first time: What the fuck am I doing here? When did I become a content machine for strangers on the internet? Why the hell do I feel so bad when I don't draw for a day? And why do I care what strangers think about me?!

Then I realized that I can't draw anymore.

Without references or the 3D models from Clip Studio Paint, I'm lost. When I try to draw something without any help, I sit in front of an empty canvas. My hands don't do what they're supposed to do and my brain blocks the thought of how drawing even works. My eyes only see the mistakes I make. Everything I draw looks bad to me.

I realized I have a problem.

So I try again and learn it all again from scratch: Anatomy, perspective, color theory, everything. But every time I sit down and try to put something on paper, there's nothing there. I've been drawing things every day for the last four years. Now my hyperfixation on this character and this manga is over and there's nothing left. I've been burning the candle at both ends and I've broken something in the process. Art is no longer something I enjoy. I need art to live and breathe, no doubt, but… the barrel now has a bottom again and it's empty to the last drop.

The little motivation I can muster goes into my webcomic, which is my everything. It's just mine, not a fandom. I feel honored that so many people read this comic. At the same time, I'm afraid that it's not enough; in my eyes, my art doesn't look good. Being surrounded by perfect illustrations on social media all day long distorts one's own perception of art, like the beauty industry that gives you body dysmorphia. On top of that, I haven't had any financial success with my comics in recent years, none at all. The dream of being an independent comic artist has receded so far into the distance that I can no longer see it. Bummer.

The constant stream of content that I gave during my fandom days has set me back incredibly. I can no longer enjoy the process of art, but my brain constantly pushes me to finish it, to have a finished product - because then I can post the drawing and get the virtual handshake that my weird brain likes so much.

Social media detox, of course, is the first thing that comes to mind. It's actually bullshit that we're all so addicted to these apps, but here we are. It's uncomfortable for me to admit, but I have hardly any friends in real life. I'm very introverted and many people find my autism very unpleasant (I can't blame them, I often come across as rude), so I only have 1-2 friends. I would like to have more friends, but maintaining social contact is terribly exhausting. It's hard enough to reply to my mutuals in the DMs (sorryyyyy if I forget sometimes………).

And what if I just take a break for a while and don't draw so much? Recharge my batteries? Right now I'm taking a 6-week break, partly because my jaw surgery is coming up soon. I'll be sick anyway, so why not put the webcomic on hiatus and take a break for a while? I don't know if it will work out, but I have a hunch that it won't, because I always have the fast-paced internet in the back of my mind. How can I be a freelancer if I don't do fanart? How can I make money with it to help my partner, who is currently financing our lives, financially? How can I, as a disabled person, find a job that I can do and at the same time build my career as an artist? As an independent comic artist, I have to do the job of so many people (artist, author, manager, taxes, work organization), how am I supposed to do that?

I have no answers to these questions. Original works don't go nearly as well as fanart! So you have to work ten times as hard and play by the vague rules of the algorithms, which is exhausting enough. Nowadays, you can only be lucky and ride the viral wave if it falls into your lap.

But reflecting on my time in a huge fandom has made me realize that I was going down a very wrong path and am now experiencing the consequences. I'm completely burnt out and no longer know why I'm even making art anymore. I don't know if I want to make art much longer. (I think shit-life-syndrome plays a big role here, but not exclusively.)

As I said, I don't have any answers - but I would at least like to warn those who are having difficulties with distancing themselves from the internet and are quickly losing themselves in this maelstrom of social media.

I have since deleted Twitter from my smartphone and, fortunately, have hardly ever used TikTok (dodged a bullet there!). I try to get back into traditional art and get away from my computer. I am all the more grateful to the people, my community, so to speak, who do nonsense with me on tumblr. They read my comics and are extremely nice to me, which I really appreciate. Thank you!

I don't know yet if and how it will continue, but I would like to finish Berserkir in the next few years. I'd love to find a way to finish all the short comics I want to make, even though it's just me and not a whole team. Maybe I'll find a way, maybe I don't. Anyways, thanks for sticking around!

#long post #really long. #but uh! yeah! this is just my experience with fandoms and social media as an artist. thanks for reading! #writing this made me very sad about what I have lost BUT I am so glad I wrote this. off my chest and so on #+

[milkochaa]

brain rotting so badly about timmy that I dive right back into making (coughs, wheezes) ...art? I'm actually going back to drawing??? who am I??? tims making me want to draw his stupid ass?? not even writing cld fix this problem!!?? not enough!! *collapses

#personal #ext talks #my art #tim drake #tim the loml??? #break me free from this curse of hyperfixation... #this ones far worse than when i was 14 #in fact #even worse than the bnha x dc batfam fic i wrote from 2019...2020...2021??? i dont keep track mb #i keep rewritting n revising that fic #it can never be completed bc of it #it was more so a self indulgent fic than anyth else #i shld expand that honestly #imo it was a good idea but #it needs work im afraid lmao #quotev hv mercy on me #my sleep deprivation bc of work will end me this weekend im certain #i hope to sleep for 12hrs mwah #or idk let me fantasise abt my ocs lore ig #as a treat heh ♡

[kotaerukoto]

Hey! Just a preface, since I'm going to be making myself very, very vulnerable here. But I still want to do what I said I would do in my New Year's resolution-- to make this year one of action and reconnection, and to do that I think I need to address this first. So, this past year and a half have been very, very difficult for me. I haven’t really talked about it since I thought it wasn’t something I should go public about to this extent here. But I think I should, to make a statement and solidify my resolve to start taking steps again. I’ve been, frankly, extremely depressed. I've been going to therapy weekly for a while now. I don’t want to talk about exactly the reasons why since it’s very personal, but there’s just a lot of things going on with me that I’ve been confronting and trying to work through. From how I’m isolating myself to how I’m honestly afraid to get excited while talking about writing with friends because of an incident a few years back that I still don’t (and probably will never) understand completely, there's a lot of negativity going on in my head even if I put up a happy front about it. And beyond that, there's just a lot of shame and guilt in even doing that isolation, which leads me to do it further… It's a cycle I need to break myself out of, one that I'm just starting to tackle with my therapist now that I can put it into words. And through all of that, my writing — which is one of the few things about myself that I've ever had pride in -- has atrophied, what I used to have just isn't there anymore. It feels like I've lost the voices of my muses and even Makoto, who is basically my ADHD hyperfixation and my most permanent and favorite muse, doesn't come to me as easily as he used to. Is this what they'd say? Is this how they sound? Is this what they'd do? I don't really know anymore and it breaks my heart. In a way, that's probably why I've been thinking of and posting about Makoto's determination so much-- because I need that in my life right now, the will to keep on and work hard no matter what. But I'm not here to say I'm quitting writing or roleplaying! Just the opposite! I want to free myself of the curse of perfectionism I have of myself because despite how much I want to write larger things to reply to you all with, since I love everything my mutuals write and I want to do my absolute best in response, it's no longer easy for me to do that. I need to be more reasonable to myself to free myself of my unrealistic expectations, and build myself back up to the point where I can express what I want to express. If I write something large and complicated, cool, if I don't, that's just how it is-- I want to be able to think that way. So I'm going to try. Not to do something I think is impossible right now, but to do what is possible for me right now. It might not be perfect, and I might be floundering to find my muses' voices again, but I'll still try, and do. I've got no idea how long it'll take or if I will, but (to use a phrase a certain normal, unlucky but stubborn guy might whip out) even so… And eventually, I'm going to get back to where I was and exceed the Alex I used to be.

Thank you for reading and listening. And to all my mutuals who've been with me this past year and longer from my previous blog, for being so patient while I work to build back the person I am and the things I lost, I hope to and want to restrengthen our relationships, which I feel like I've let fall by the wayside because of my isolation and depression. I say it a lot but I really do mean it: Thank you so, so much.

#out of character. #the past four years in general have been pretty hard... the aftereffects of the pandemic really shifted the world and my own. #now that this is out of my head-- time to start taking steps again.

[marrfixated]

Pinned post/My info:

Last updated June 4, 2024

TL;DR: Marr, he/she/they, neurodivergent, Total Drama (Alenoah, Priyemma, etc), fanfiction, sideblog @priyemma

I’m back on the writing grind 💪

Hello! My name is Marr! I use He/She/They, whatever. I’m Omni, Bigender, and Aspec. I’m cool with any gendered terms, and I pretty much use them interchangeably myself. Gal, guy, neither, whatever!

I have ADHD and anxiety (both diagnosed) along with other things, but those are the ones I’ll probably talk about on here the most. I’m mixed White and Latina (plus Native) but fairly white passing. I speak English and want to learn Spanish, but I’m definitely not fluent. American, and a lot more “country” than I realize lol (I’m a midwestern gal)

Right now im really into Total Drama. It’s one of my longest lasting hyperfixations so far! I also post about a few other things, like House M.D and Dungeon Meshi. (More likely reblogging those things though)

Specifically in Total Drama I mostly post about Alenoah and Priyemma. Recently been talking about the newest Reboot season (and my complaints with it). I talk the most about World Tour and TDI 2023 because it’s been a while since I’ve watched all the seasons and those are the ones I remember the best. I plan to rewatch them all… someday. I haven’t even finished watching reboot s2 because it’s painful!

I love shipping! I can’t even list them all because there’s so many tbh. I am very much a multi shipper and I constantly am finding new things to ship! I try to not engage in ship hate ever, but sometimes I slip up lol. I post some less-than-positive content about Nemma on occasion or Juliayne… everything that could be considered ship hate is tagged as such and never tagged with the ship that is being slandered.

I can’t really draw, so if I ever post my beginner drawings please be nice lol 😭 I’m still developing a style and learning. I have many, many WIPs that I might share here and there. I do really want to be able to draw confidently and make art for the things I love!

I’ve started writing fanfiction again lately! It’s a struggle for a lot of reasons. Props to everyone who writes fics because it’s hard. It takes me hella long too… I have a lot I’m writing but few published lol. My user is Marrfixated on AO3, feel free to leave comments or kudos!

I’ve written four Alenoah oneshots so far. Most recently posted Contra Entendre, so go read that! I have 3 other oneshots that are somewhat written and I’ll post someday, but I’ve shifted my focus to planning some longer fics. I currently have an Alenoah AU and a Priyemma post-canon fic in the works! The latter is my main focus as I plan out the entire thing… kind of obsessed with it. My job and taking care of my little siblings takes up a lot of time, but now that I have a break from classes, my free time can be spent on writing instead.

I also have tiktok @Marrfixated. I post on tumblr more than TikTok because it’s easier, but I started off there. I mainly repost (reblog) things on TikTok. I don’t really use anything else yet (except ao3). I also have a Priyemma centric sideblog on here (@priyemma), where I’ll usually reblog content from and vice versa.

You’re on thin ice if you engage in ship discourse, constantly hate on ship I like (it makes me sad 💔), or are a dsmp fan/an enjoyer of any of Vivziepop’s works (I don’t like you).

Proshippers DNI. Zionists DNI. TERFs DNI. Vivziepop defenders DNI. Dream supporters DNI. Dsmp supporters also DNI. Do some damn research. Also general DNI… I can’t list everything that makes someone a terrible person.

I might post suggestive things here sometimes, but rarely and usually jokingly. Anything like that would be tagged accordingly, and let me know if there’s something for me to add. I don’t plan to EVER post nsfw or suggestive content related to td, it makes me uncomfortable as most of the characters are minors. I do curse a lot, and reclaim the f slur on occasion. Please don’t engage in ship discourse on my account for no reason! That’s no fun.

I usually take like 3 years to answer asks or dms or whatnot for various reasons… but I swear I don’t mean any offense! I just um forget sometimes 😇 Or I post it to drafts instead… or I get nervous 😶 and sometimes idk if you just sent it or want me to actually respond so I just guess? Ummm yeah. Also they go missing a lot. Probably have to figure that out. Oops! But basically… I’m not a passive aggressive person, and I mean no ill will if I don’t answer anything

I reblog a lot, so I tag all my non-reblogs as #original post. Lazy posts are usually tagged with #shitpost. Random posts are usually tagged as #nonfandom post. My td fics are tagged as #my fanfiction, but it’s probably easier just to find them on ao3

That’s it!

#original post

[schermit]

@churromancermasterofchurros @dyinggoosenoises

Thanks for introducing me to this!

Name: You can call me Justin!

Pronouns and gender: I'm a man! He/him is fine.

Sexuality: Honestly, not sure. At this point I'd probably say bisexual. Is that a dumb answer?

Country: US

Top 5 fandoms: Hard question. Probably:

I love the Arcane Ascension novels recently.

Avatar-TLA is an obvious choice!

The SCP Foundation has taken up hours of my time.

The TTRPG community.

I'm throwing in the tumblr wizards here because that shit jives with me for some reason

What is your Most forbidden snack:

Sometimes I smell the cat treats and I get the urge to shove fistfulls into my mouth.

Would you pet a bug: I have pet bugs before.

Share a weird fact/story about yourself with the class:

I have like three eyebrow hairs that will seemingly grow infinitely long if I don't fucken handle them. Also I eat the tails of shrimp too.

What does the color blue taste like: The blue ICEE/Slurpees.

What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen:

I love when the sunset hits the mountains and you can see rainclouds in the distance. It's one of my favorite vibes. Look at my blog's banner for reference.

What is the stupidest thing you've ever done:

I locked my keys in the car like twice in one week once. I know there are stupider things but my brain must be repressing them now.

Stupidest thing you've seen/heard someone else do/say:

I don't even know what to pick seeing as I worked in retail for most of my life. Probably any time a parent would let their kid try to pet the large birds at the pet store I worked at. Those things can amputate fingers.

Hyperfixation song: Currently it is Love's Not Enough by Lane and the Chain

Is there any meaning behind your profile picture and/or username:

Username is a portmanteau of a portion of my name and the word 'hermit.' My profile picture is of the plague doctor costume I made!

Dream career as a child: Veterinarian. Turns out you have to cut and stab things.

Dream career as an adult: Probably like successful Twitch Streamer or something. They make bank.

Thoughts on cilantro: I don't even know anymore. I thought I liked it but the last few times I ate it it tasted bitter. So yes I guess? Maybe I got a bad batch.

Have you ever been banned from a location and if so, why: Uh, not in real life but I was banned by the gamefaqs Pokemon Mystery Dungeon forum because I posted I was 12 like an idiot.

What is your cursed food combination:

I used to put mayo in a slice of bologna and roll it up like some sort of fucked up taquito.

Trans rights? Um, duh! Live your life, people. It has no bearing on mine. I wish I could give everyone struggling a hug. I have a few trans friends/relatives and seeing what they go through breaks my heart sometimes.

And instead of tagging people, if you follow me and you see this, feel free to reblog with your answers. I'd love to read them. :)

#long post #196 #questions

[lesbian-duck-art]

Sorry if this is annoying!

Do you have any specific headcanons about sdmi?

Oh my god you’re not annoying at all!!😭 I love talking to you you’re so good! I have a few here and there so let me put them down here. so sorry a lot of this is E or Angel related!

- E has so many issues in regards to relationships whether it be romantic or otherwise. Pericles’ betrayal and being forced to leave everything and one he’d ever known at 17 did a lot of damage and I don’t think he’s ever fully recovered. It’s the reason he pushes people, including Cassidy, away. Because of his childhood best friend who he cared immensely for could betray him, why couldn’t everyone else? He’s definitely got PTSD and I feel like if he didn’t already, now has a severe anxiety disorder

- We don’t see a whole lot of Ed Machine in the series nor do we know a lot about him but I think he was closer to E and Angel than people tend to assume. Whether that means they were friends or polycule, I take either one lol

- I think Nibiru’s curse has a waaaay harder time affecting people who have someone they love. Whether that be familial, romantic, or even friendship. There is no love within the original Mystery Incorporated and they fall to shreds. MI II on the other hand comes back together through their love for one another. Marcie is able to break free of the curse because of Velma, Mayor Jones temporarily breaks free because despite the lie he does love and care about Fred, E loses both Ed and Angel one after the other and he becomes worse until he realizes Angel is gone.

- That in mind: I do think Jones cared about Fred. I think sans curse, he would’ve been a better dad and I see parts of Post-Nibiru Timeline/Sitting Room Jones peak through in both seasons. There’s a one shot fic on AO3 about him in the episode with that art monster? Highly recommend it and it’s exactly how I view him as a character

- While on the topic of Fred Jones Sr., I feel like his time in jail and away from the Planispheric disk weakened the curse’s hold. Not by a lot certainly, but by a tiny bit. I think the closer you get to the pieces the more corrupt you become

- I truly think that if things were different and E had let his walls down and interacted with the kids the way Angel did, I think the mystery inc gang would’ve gotten along with him the same way they do Angel! (This is part of why I enjoy Purposefully Silent so much lol it gives me exactly what I wish the show had) I still think everything would have gone to shit one way or another but

- We been knew that Fred is autistic but I also raise that like. All of Mystery Inc is somewhere between autistic, ADHD, and AuDHD(I say this as someone who is autistic and possibly AuDHD). With this I also think Ricky is neurodivergent

- Angel is pan, E is Bi, Daphne and Fred are also bi, I think Shaggy is pan and maybe even aro, Marcie and Velma are both lesbians. I also honestly think there’s n o t h i n g about E that screams “cisgender” but I can never decide if my answer is trans man or “he/him/they/them” non-binary

- Jones and Sheriff Stone *abso-fucking-lutely* had something going on there was nothing heterosexual present. Jones is giving gay man who’s over compensating via toxic masculinity and Sheriff Stone just seems to be into Crystal Cove Mayors

- Birds were Ricky’s hyperfixation after he met Professor Pericles. He knew all the different facts and terminology and everything. He still remembers most of it(mostly unwillingly), but it’s never relevant anymore

- I’ve said it once I’ll say it again I just think E gives off dad vibes in a way I can’t explain and this is why the Velma is Ricky and Cassidy’s daughter AU is one of my favorites and one I wanna do a fic for

I don’t want to make this too long so I’ll stop here but you’re not annoying and I’m actually so glad you asked!😭 I am always down to talk about this show and you already know I enjoy talking to you lol I feel I’m very bad at expressing my head canons so I hope this is okay!

#I won’t tag everyone I’m lazy lol #not art #headcanons #scooby doo #scooby doo mystery incorporated #sdmi #mystery incorporated

[serenefig]

So you know that prompt from @dire-kumori (https://www.tumblr.com/dire-kumori/716392823136616448/time-travel-au-where-michael-goes-back-in-time) i shared a wip Wednesday of a while back? Unfortunately I'm not certain I'll ever finish it due to interests changing (curse you ADHD hyperfixations). So! Instead I'll post what I have for the writing as well as my plot notes in a reblog.

Fair warning this was not going to have a happy ending for anyone. I planned to have this set up as a stable time loop.

Content Warnings for: child death, child murder, body horror

If I'm missing some warnings let me know and I'll add them here and the tags.

~*~

Michael was so very very tired. It was nearing the end of his shift and he could not wait for this nightmare to end. Here he was stuck doing actual work for a pretend Fazbear Pizzeria that wouldn’t even last the day. It was Saturday; almost time for the “Big Party”. He knew Henry had some form of plan to end it all, but what it was he didn’t know. And if he were honest with himself, Michael didn’t care to know. It was easier that way. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have contingency plans.

He wasn’t certain if Henry knew who he was. The “interview” was a farce at best, and clearly negligent. If it weren’t for the murderous animatronics, Michael might have even let himself enjoy being a manager. There was something freeing in running a half-decent Freddy’s. But no, he was here for more reason 

His alarm went off, signaling the end of the day. The tension drained from his body, barely listening to Elizabeth. Soon, he thought. He was ready for this “big party”.

[LINE BREAK]

Was this heaven? A dream? Another step in his long line of failures? Michael expected to be fully dead. He expected to be rotting in whatever hell his father ended in, suffering side-by-side for all eternity. And yet, here he was. Here Michael lay, in a wooded area devoid of buildings, and a familiarity in his soul.

He wondered how he ended up here. Where his skin once melted onto burning metal, now soft grass tickled what little sensation he had left. It was a habit now, taking stock of his body and decay. How much of him was still left, and how much he would need to replace.

Wriggle the toes and the fingers, twist the joints, flex the small amount of muscle left, feeling the scrapped together endoskeleton push and pull against his body.

Some of the tension left Michael. It seemed there was no loss of movement. He slowly sat up, wincing at the crackling of his burnt and rotten skin. There would be little he could do to patch his skin now, he had to be careful. He had to stay human enough.

He wandered, albeit slowly, out of the wooded area. It was difficult, remembering how to walk. 

[LINE BREAK]

It shocked him to see a younger version of himself, even more so see him laughing and genuinely at that! He watched his  (ex-)friends wave goodbye, leaving the younger Michael by himself. He remembered this day. It was one of the last times his friends were actual friends. Back before his friends used him for Fredbear Diner freebies, before his siblings’ deaths. Back when his life was simple and the worst thing he knew was the occasional swat on the back.

The elder Michael felt fury in his bones, and the urge to rip it all away. This must certainly be hell, as his 13-year-old self had no right to laugh, to not know fear, to genuinely enjoy his time outside of the house instead of using it for an escape.

There stood the boy who let so-called friends dictate his newly teenaged life.

Step

There stood the boy who took his anger and fear out on his kid brother.

Step

There stood the boy who, instead of protecting his family, let his sister die and directly caused his brother’s death.

Step

Soon he was behind his younger self. How the young Michael didn’t hear his older self shamble behind him, the elder didn’t know, but clearly his stench was enough to draw attention as his younger self turned around.

All the self-loathing and disgust that he felt every time he looked into a mirror surged to the surface. How dare he be unblemished. How dare this child live for all the horror that he would come to cause. If it were not for Michael, Elizabeth would not have been snapped up by Circus Baby. If not for Michael, Evan’s head would have never been crushed between Fredbear's jaws. If not for Michael, perhaps his father would never have found Remnant. (But that was a lie, and he knew it. William had created the Funtimes to kill long before Elizabeth stepped in front of Baby).

Michael shoved his younger self to the ground and straddled him. He watched his own hands wrap around this young Michael's throat, feeling as if they had moved of their own accord (how long has it been since Ennard piloted his body, since they left bits and pieces of endoskeleton inside him), and squeezed. Time stood still.

He felt disconnected from the scene before him, and yet he reveled in the sounds his younger self made. In the feel of his remaining skin being torn as the younger Michael clawed at them in an attempt to gain air. God, he really was his father’s son, wasn’t he?

It disgusted Michael how, in this exact moment, it was the most alive he had felt since his brother’s death all those years ago. The haze of his depression had turned sharp, and for the first time in a very long time, he was acutely aware of his actions. Michael found it difficult to let go. To let this young child go where he would be a catalyst for all that went wrong in the family. There was no blood staining the boy's hands yet, but there would be. So he kept squeezing, putting all his weight both rotted and left behind animatronic into killing. And for the first time Michael was glad that his tear ducts had rotted away. 

Soon, too soon, the younger Michael’s struggling got less and less, until eventually he stopped moving altogether. It wasn’t enough for the elder. He was still so angry at himself, and at the world. Michael kept squeezing and squeezing until—

CRACK

It all went dark.

[LINE BREAK]

Bad End (true): There comes a time when a person must admit defeat. Michael had been in this loop for what felt like eternity. He had no idea how long it had been since the fire. And if he were honest with himself, time itself held no meaning to him anymore. He had tried so very hard to change his history— their future. Yet it seemed it was all for naught. Elizabeth was still taken by Circus Baby. Evan was still bitten by Fredbear. Mike was still scooped.

There was a brief period of time where he had set fire to each establishment as they popped up, but each resulted in another loop. Always starting in that clearing, always watching his younger self. And Michael, well, he never knew when to give up as a child. That had not changed. So he watched, and he waited.

Finally, after a long and isolating 100-some odd years, Michael watched as the labyrinthian location went up in flames. He slowly joined the others in the inferno, hoping, praying that he could finally rest. Knowing that the other Michael would likely start his own time journey soon. Perhaps he would break the vicious cycle of death and misery that followed the Aftons.

It was not for him to know, and he was okay with that.

And at long last, Michael Afton was finally reduced to ashes.

[LINE BREAK]

Alt End (good end???): Killing William actually work and the family is safe and no else dies the end

#cw child death #cw child murder #cw murder #cw body horror #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #dire kumori #direkumori #my writing #my fanfic

[s41nt-b3rn4rd]

Tumblr won't let me put a read more on the orginal ask but, HELLO? HI?? I THOUGHT I HAD ANON OFF????? Yes hi I have ocs. My current favorites are like- 5 out of... so many. They'll be under the "read more" because there's alot about them. I'm normal I prommy.

Also potato if you see this, hi. {remember to read the tags for sillies}

In order of who im (SADLY) Hyperfixated on, it goes;

* Sasha {Bulleteer Aaron} , in canon she's an ex-boxer that now works at a tattoo parlor and shares an apartment with a demon she summoned while on a wine binge. She's mixed with Russian+Irish+Icelandic+Mexican heritage but grew up mainly with her Irish and Mexican heritage. She's a disaster panace who can't be picky at this point- Sasha just wants someone who she can come home to at the end of the day, and talk to like a normal person. Does she count as a villain? I hope so. She killed a small family in nebraska once. In a story/rp, she used to be the ambassador for a kingdom but settled down as a butcher. She got burn scars from it for being a #girlboss and they stayed canon. * Sydney {Witherstone Appleton} , in canon their a demon that got summoned BY Sasha. She works at a diner, but mainly lives to annoy Sasha by giving her "water curses" and "sleepy spells" which is just him staring at Sasha until she takes care of herself. Notice how Sydney has multiple pronouns! Because in my lil' oc universe- demons don't have genders. Hell is seperate by everyones own depiction and in mine- it's just.. bland. normal. Sometimes the current ruler throws parties, that's fun. You can get a gender if you want, healthcare and stuff is free. ANYWAYS- Sydney is so normal it HURTS me. It just wants to fucking get groceries, pay bills and leave. BTW they commited tax fraud but shhhh we don't have to talk about that. BTW 2 THEY ALSO KEEP IN CONTACT WITH THEIR FAMILY- HER FAMILY * Matthew {NO MIDDLENAME NOR LASTNAME}. You know that funny meme of what happens if a centaur and a mermaid have a kid?? Yeah he's that. He's basically like, a generic guy- minus his bull ears and the horn's he's growing and his ability to speak underwater and breathe underwater. In canon he used to be like- a leutanint general but now he works at a light-house. He's a weed smoking girlfriend despite being a gnc acearo man with chronic leg pain. also lung pain. In the rp he was made for, he was surprisingly the least problematic. All he did was stress knit- I'm pretty sure he got the job BECAUSE he was just! some guy! He does have horrors though. And by "horrors" I mean he grew up (and out of) the orphanage so he has little to no knowledge about his parents, chooses to stay silent/nonverbal throughout his life so his sentence forming SUCKS- he lives is life in a cycle, can barely cook nor fold laundry. To cope though, he knits and likes to sneak into gardens and revive dead/dieing plants via necromancy. BTW he grew up in the same orphanage as Sasha and they have a blood pact. If one gets hurt, so does the other. * The Asker {that's it's name}. Me and my bestie for life have an ask game with eachother, where our ocs ask eachother questions, and that's my silly little guy for it!! Funnily enough, it was based on anon asks, but eventually evolved into it's own thing. It used to live in an empty black void- with bright computer lights illuminating it's small area of safety, and a single keyboard with oh so many letters and such. But RECENTLY, that fuck ESCAPED!!! JAIL BREAK!!!!! And is currently living in the basement of a motel because "oh my god is this the outside why is it bright why is it loud oh my god oh my god [THEIR] going to [DECOMMISSION ME]." #slay, y'know? Don't worry though, it'll get a job at like- walgreens or walmart and live in a normal ass neighborhood soon. * Sammy {Picture}. Once again, another oc made for an RP that I absolutely FELL IN LOVE WITH!! He's an object-head with one of those rotary phones for a head, but more pathetic looking and kinda like a bug, but it's okay. He's a preschool teacher and admires his job. He has a situationship thing with the person who he shares an apartment with- a soap rabbit humanoid named Bob, that is also a substitute history teacher. Anyways remember the bug thing? Yeah. Sammy used to be a catipillar centaur but someone fucking robbed its grave when he died. BTW Sammy was a catipillar in this sense

and therefor he's very colorful. he's a pathetic meow meow but he's also said the most ominous insults ever. He's my favorite bc I like to imagine him doing the most boring tasks like drinking water. He does his taxes btw. Their my only oc who willingly does its taxes.

#the clown reveals it's blorbos #the clown escaped the tags. #long post #ocs #ocs. #oh btw in canon Sasha has a cultist sibling #Matthew also got tax benefits married. It was to a woman named Margiold and it's a cover-up bc shes doing evil lesbian stuff with her wife #answered asks #anon #anon if you want to him me up my dms are open. please. pleasee #i will give you my discord. maybe

[randombubblegum]

(reformed!) comphet travis anon here. hey sydney long time no talk :) i still lurk, just lost interest in the band. on topic though i am here to defend my honor because being attracted to GAGE MATHIEU is way stranger than my, albeit deranged, former attraction to travis. the lore is lacking and from what we can tell his personality sucked. travis didn't used to always suck, he was like my widdle wet blankie, et cetera.

also sorry strangers are asking you for another stranger's nudes online. hope you're keeping well, going outside and all that. you are almost free of the waterparks curse!

aw hiiii!!!!! i agree with you and your travis thing was more normal in comparison but you are hurting your cause by referring to him as your “widdle wet blankie” unfortunately</3 LOL no im joking tho like…. he was. he was the human version of a peanut allergy and a chew toy we wanted to rip the squeaker out of and whatever else batshit stuff we said about him TRULY he was. the girls who know know and the girls who dont know dont……

im glad youre still around tho yayyyy ily :,) i dont mind being asked for strangers nudes online LOL i think i may have given the impression that i like, just have them on deck due to the Christo Incident (which i will also not give you you have to just trust me) but i dont just like seek out or collect dick pics. and if i did i wouldnt just pass em out on tumblr??? anyway. i am indeed keeping well and going outside thank u!!!!!! every week i get so pissed at parx i dont want to talk or think about the band anymore and every week i allow myself to be pulled back in like the fucking chud i am but -_- eventually i will reach a final breaking point (or just hyperfixate on something else GOD WILLING) and be free like you. fly high former travis comphet anon, you are free now

#we should all be so lucky #mail time!

[trenchcoatsbi]

*kicks open door, holding a bag of stuff. I have serveral new features added to whatever form that my almalgmation of kintypes is and have somehow obtained glowing eyes*

Hi :D

Haha I'vee been taking a small mental health break (and honestly still on it but i miss you guys :( ) and wanted to check in :D

some Fun things that have happened: - pokemon hyperfix go brrrr - danganronpa hyperfix go brrrrr (do not ask. i do not know how. i am in hell /vvpos) - hi hello remembered that I have a batim kintype and I am going to make it everyone's problem (it's your favorite musician who was very gay for the projectionist (remember my holw 'fuck the 18/1900s' bout racer? yeah. double it)) - um. might be kinsidering a danganronpa AU I made. this is a very small potental but hey constelic is rarely normal /lh - following that. the following stels have been added to The Horde: Prune juice cookie, candy diver cooker, molten freddy, the puppet, my other smp character, allister (from pokemon) & Angel (from a pkm au i created). Don't know how long these'll stick around but at this point i'm just *head in hands* - I joined a small origins SMP!!! I'm a starborn and vibing!!! I made a friend who's collectivly a sculk origin and we live on a mountain together and curse the sun :D - my entire jazz/hiphop class is being very malocually compliant bc we have no free will /dramatic (really we just can't dive into the more hiphop parts & we didnt have theme/song/outfit choice. hey the teacher is in the same boat so-) - i found a new love for writing and drawing!! i'm just vibing and living my life :3

so yeah, not a whole lot has happened but i wanted to update you guys cuz i miss you :( - Voidling Anon

ahwhaghg I’ve missed you too Voidling! ‘m really glad to hear from you!!! hope your mental health break is treating you well!

-> Yoo hyperfixations go brrrr! I know nothing of danganronpa beyond jokes my friends make abt it but I’m a pokemon guy. It rarely hits nowadays but I can watch people play or talk abt pokemon all the time!!!

-> Ooo new kintypes revealed let’s go!! those are all so cool!

-> Aww that’s nice :]! I love playing MC with friends and the origins mod is so fun ajslkfs

-> ooo that sounds rlly interesting! jazz/hiphop class sounds hella interestin. hope thats fun!

-> And raghgg writing/drawing my beloved! I’ve been drawing alot more again too! Vibing and making fanart for my blorbos :]

thanks for the update!! I would update u on me but i have nothing going on lmao it’s just me sitting around watching streams and drawin and stuff lol

#phil posts #sbi asks #voidling anon

[the-invisible-queer]

Feel a little late to this but I’m glad you liked Midway! I’m probably the literal only person in the word who can say this but that movie is what got me into the Jonas Brothers lol. I’m really not into war movies in general and only sat through that one because my beloved emotional support idiot Darren Criss had a bit part (the curse of hyperfixating on Blaine from Glee at too young of an age </3) but then whenever Nick was onscreen I kept finding myself thinking he was so handsome and must be super hot without that terrible mustache. So afterwards I looked him up, which led to me watching bc some of his and his brothers’ performances and realizing I liked their music AND Joe was even hotter than Nick, which led to me watching some of their interviews and dumb social media videos and gradually falling in love with all of them especially Joe, and now here I am years later with even more emotional support idiots I’m deeply invested in lol. So even though I didn’t even particularly like Midway as a film it has a special place in my heart forever for somehow managing to lead me to a band I overlooked for years before watching it. RIP fictionalized version of Bruno Gaido, you were a real one even though your mustache sucked 🫡

Midway was a movie on my radar when it came out for its cast and being a WWII war movie but I was probably never gonna get around to watching it on account of I forgot

Honestly I wasn't even planning on going through Nick's filmography until I watched Jumanji and I was like I gotta see more of his roles

For context Nick is my least favorite Jonas BUT that's not saying much because I still love that fucker with my whole fucking heart

ALSO

It never occurred to me that they get new fans 🤣

I just assumed we've all been here since before the break up

Also I'm so happy to have a Jonatic nonnie

SO HI AND WELCOME TO MY DUMPSTER FIRE OF A BLOG

Enjoy the ride

Also since it seems like you're a Joe girl please feel free to DM me so we can be friends because I'd kill to have someone to scream about Joe with WHO GETS IT

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Déjà Vu

On the eighth day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A fake-dating Josh fic that’s got a bit of everything.

Christmas Song Pairing: “Fall in Love at Christmas” by Mariah Carey, Khalid, and Kirk Franklin

~~~

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, masturbation and references to sex

Words: 9.3k

Josh: I need help.

Josh: Please.

The text came through late one night, and it terrified you. You woke up from the semi-conscious state you’d drifted off to and dialed a number you hadn’t really interacted with much over the past three months.

“Hello? Hello? Josh – Josh are you okay?”

“What? What do you mean? Y/N? Are you okay?”

You frowned. He didn’t sound like he needed help. “Josh. You just texted me ‘I need help’ with no context – what the fuck did that mean?”

Josh made a noise of understanding across the phone. “Oh shit, I didn’t mean I was in – yeah, no, it wasn’t that kind of help. Sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

You collapsed back against your pillows with an audible sigh of relief. “I thought you’d finally found yourself drunk and in a ditch.” He laughed quietly. “Are you drunk?”

There was a shuffle and the dissonant twang of something hitting the strings of a guitar, and you weren’t surprised that he happened to be around one instrument or another.

“No, not drunk. Just…a little guilty. Angry at myself.”

“Mmmm,” you hummed, the spike of adrenaline that had appeared with Josh’s cryptic text message settling back into your bloodstream, “why?”

“I – fuck. I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I – fuck.”

You frowned again. “Josh, you’re worrying me. What happened?”

He sighed, his mouth right by the phone, so you heard him muttering more curses. “I never told my family that we broke up.”

“Oh…kay?”

“And tomorrow, I’m leaving for Michigan to stay until Christmas. My mom texted me just now. She thinks you’re coming with.”

You didn’t see the problem. “So…tell her that I won’t be there. If you haven’t told them, now would be a good time.”

Even after the months you’d been broken up, you could still see his expression – chewing on his lip, fiddling his fingers, bouncing his leg.

“I would have. But then she said she’s had your gift since June and that she’s so excited to finally give it to you and – and I just went along with it. I don’t know why,” he admitted. “So, since we, you know, since we’re still on relatively good terms, I thought – maybe if you were free, you could come with – just for the hell of it –”

“Josh,” you started.

“—just to not make a big deal out it. I know –”

“Josh,” you said again, and he sighed.

“I know. Sorry for bothering you. Happy Holidays,” he said, voice dripping with humiliation and something reminiscent of regret, but it couldn’t be.

He had been the one to break up with you. Well – you liked to consider it a mutual thing, but he’d been the one to initiate it.

You weren’t over it. But your pride still stung and your sense of self-preservation still tried to make you hate him, and while the very notion of admitting it made you reel – in all truth, you missed him.

“Josh,” you said quietly, hoping he hadn’t hung up.

“Yeah?” He sounded tired. Down.

“Will this be easier for you?”

He was silent for a second. “Not if it would be harder for you.”

His words struck a chord of indignancy in you. Harder for you? As if you were over here, wilting away like a flower without water?

You were no one’s to ruin. He didn’t have that sort of power over you.

(At least, you didn’t want him to know that he did.)

“You know I love your family, Josh. And…yeah, we’re still on good terms. I wouldn’t be talking to you right now if we weren’t. If you really don’t want to deal with – with breaking up a second time right before Christmas, I understand. And I’ll do it, if that’s what you really want.”

You heard a few chords being played softly on a keyboard from his end, and knew that if he started playing now, he wouldn’t get to sleep for a few hours.

“You’ll really do it?”

You turned over in your bed, heart clenching dangerously, whether in a misplaced hope or a preemptive grief, you weren’t sure. “Sure. I’d like to see your family.”

One last time.

“That’s great, because they’ve been bugging me about you visiting since we left the last time.”

His words struck up memories of the 4th of July, watching the boys set off fireworks in the unsafest manner they possibly could, drinking yourself silly, and playing card games until the wee hours of the morning.

You really did love his family, but you knew that the real reason you said yes with so little convincing was that deep down, you recognized the flimsy reasoning Josh had presented and hoped that maybe he felt the way you did. That maybe he’d been presented with the opportunity to rekindle your relationship and was offering you an olive branch.

“So are we…we’ll be pretending that we’re still dating? Or that we’re just friends?”

“I mean…yeah, yeah, we’re still dating. Like we were last time.”

Stolen kisses around corners. Secret glances at the table, cuddling on the couch as his family told stories. It wouldn’t be like last time, but you looked passed that detail.

“Like we were last time,” you repeated softly, “okay. Um - well, when are you leaving tomorrow, then?”

“Probably around 11 am.”

Your mind raced through things you’d need to pack and potential gifts you could bring for everyone, and then looked at the time.

“Could you swing by and pick me up when you leave? I’m gonna have to pack, so…”

“Oh yeah, of course.”

You didn’t know what else to say after that. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes,” Josh said, voice sounding considerably more upbeat, but still rough with exhaustion. “Yes, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much, Y/N, I know that you didn’t have to do this, and – and I just hope you know how much I appreciate you doing this.”

You smiled. “I know. Now get some sleep, Josh, you sound exhausted, and we have a long drive tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “We do.”

…

You wanted to say that you were composed and waiting for Josh when he inevitably showed up an hour late, but you’d be lying if you did. Except, who could really blame you when you’d had less than 12 hours to pack for a week-long winter vacation and Christmas shop for an entire family you hadn’t been planning on shopping for.

Which is why you were still scrambling to wrap presents when the knock came at 12:06 pm.

“Just a second!” you yelled, securing the piece of tape on the seam the wrapping paper made against the box. You jumped up and unlocked the door, pushing any wayward emotions down before you opened it up.

You smiled and tried your best to not let your gaze wander, instead meeting his eyes and taking in what you could from there.

His hair was a little fluffier, his eyes the same kind brown, his smile still wide and toothy. But the dark bags under his eyes had gotten deeper, and there was a stiffness in his stature that was inconsistent with his easy-going attitude.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted softly. “It’s been a while.”

You shrugged, trying to disperse the rush of unconscious affection that rushed through you at his gentle tone. “It’s no longer than you’ve had to be gone for tours and promotions before. Come on in,” you said, turning back to your wrapping station, “I’ve just got to finish wrapping Jake’s and Ronnie’s gifts.”

“Oh.” Josh sounded surprised. “Were you sending them gifts?”

“No,” you said, refocusing on pressing corners in and folding sides over. “I ran to the mall this morning to do some frantic, last-minute shopping. I found something for everyone, though – it’s not a big deal. I figured if your mom got me a present, it would be rude of me to show up empty-handed.”

Josh immediately started protesting. “You know they wouldn’t have cared –”

“Yes, yes, I know, but I – if we were still dating, I would have gotten them gifts,” you said, not looking up from your work. “And we’re supposed to be dating still.”

“Right.”

You finished the wrapping job on Jake’s present and then setting Ronnie’s in a spare gift bag you had, fluffing some tissue paper on top of it and calling it a day.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Josh took some of the gifts in his arms. “I’ll get the gifts, you get your bags?”

You nodded, picking up a tall gift bag. “I’ll take Sam’s gift, though. I’m not sure I trust you with an armful of gifts not to drop it, and it’s definitely not something we want to drop.”

Josh took one glance at the bag and smirked. “I wonder what could possibly be in the bag.”

“Yeah, big surprise, I’m sure,” you deadpanned back, rolling your eyes.

Josh maneuvered the door open and tossed a quick, “I’ll meet you in the car,” behind his shoulder, and then he was gone.

You licked your lips and went to retrieve your bag from your bedroom, slinging it across your shoulder and doing one last check around your apartment for anything you missed.

Everything was alright.

Everything was alright.

So…normal. Of course it was a little bit stilted, but all in all, everything really did seem just as it had been. Except you were quietly drowning in the knowledge that it wasn’t real.

You made you way down to Josh’s car, where the trunk was already popped open and waiting for your stuff. You arranged it so that the bottle of alcohol was nestled between the back seats and your bag and went to the passenger’s side door, peeking in the window and frowning when you saw Josh with his eyes closed, leaning against his hands which were braced on the top of the wheel.

He lifted his head and smiled when you opened the door, but it morphed into confusion when you didn’t get in. “Did you forget something?”

You twisted your lips. “You don’t have to drive, you know. I’ve got a GPS and my feet reach the pedals. Why don’t I take first shift?”

“No, no – I wouldn’t make you –”

“Stop it, Josh,” you said heatedly. “You’re not making me do anything. I agreed to this trip and I offered to drive – stop trying to make a martyr out of me.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as harshly as it did, and Josh looked taken aback, but you were tired of this weird tiptoeing that was passing for normal but devoid of the natural comfort and give and take that your relationship had subsisted on before.

It wasn’t that you expected it to be the same; of course it wouldn’t be. But that didn’t mean it had to be like this.

You sighed. “Look, Josh. If you’re going to act like I’m gonna snap at any moment and – and catch an uber from Michigan to Nashville and leave you to explain to your family that we’ve been broken up for a few months now, I might as well not go. They’ll know something it up and it’ll be much more awkward trying to explain why you didn’t just tell them in the first place while I’m there, too. So please – stop treating me like a time bomb.”

“Sorry,” he apologized, looking more nervous than you’d seen him in a while. “Sorry. I’m not meaning to, I’m just – I’m just tired. Maybe it would be better if you drove for the first few hours; I’ll drive after we stop to get gas.”

You nodded in satisfaction at his complicity, and as you passed by each other at the front of the car, you grabbed his wrist, causing him to stop in his tracks and turn towards you, only to be pulled into a hug.

He was stiff at first, but then he returned it, and as much as you had meant for it to be quick – just a reintroduction to casual touches – you found yourself without a desire to let go, and Josh’s tight hold told you he didn’t mind either.

The bubble of hope in your chest grew.

“It’s good to see you again,” you said against his shoulder.

“You too,” he said back, and you released him shortly after, smiling and then getting into the driver’s seat, readjusting the position as Josh buckled himself in, leaning his seat back.

“Ready?”

He met your gaze. “Ready.”

…

Josh didn’t take the second shift.

In fact, he snored right through getting gas and food, and only woke up once you were only a couple of hours away from his parent’s house.

“Shit, Y/N, I didn’t mean to sleep that long,” he murmured sleepily, inhaling deeply and looking out the window. “Where the are we?”

“About to enter Michigan. You just had about a full night’s worth of sleep,” you teased. “Haven’t been getting many of those, lately?”

He rubbed his forehead, stretching up and twisting his back. “Unsurprisingly, no. You could have woken me up.”

You shrugged. “I was fine. Stretched my legs when we got gas. I also ran into the Subway to get some food – there’s a sandwich there for you, by the way.” Josh was quiet, and when he opened his mouth to speak, you beat him to his thought. “And if you tell me, ‘Y/N, you didn’t have to’ – yes, I know. But I did. Thank you will be just fine.”

He laughed – a real laugh. “Thank you,” he said, unwrapping his sandwich. “You remembered my favorite!”

You snorted. “It’s not hard when it’s what you ordered from every single sandwich shop we ever visited.”

“I’ll pay you back for gas and food.”

“Do, don’t – it’s no skin off my nose. I’d have paid for half, anyways.”

Josh spoke through a mouthful of sandwich. “No you wouldn’t have, I wouldn’t have let you.” He swallowed his food. “You’re doing this for me – it’s the least I can do for you. And I am not trying to make a martyr out of you, it’s just common decency.”

It kinda amazed you how well you knew each other still; how you knew what he was gonna say before he got the words out and vice versa.

The observation caused a pang in your chest, and you refocused on the road. “So what have you been doing the past couple of months?”

Josh flicked the edge of the sandwich paper. “Oh, you know. Writing. Playing. Recuperating. Drinking,” he chuckled. You didn’t return his laugh – you hoped he didn’t mean more than usual. He must have caught your expression. “Not, like, heavily or anything. Just the normal – you know, beers with my brothers.”

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. Not my business, really,” you said lightly.

He cleared his throat. “What about you?” he asked, and then took a too-big bite out his sandwich.

“Oh, you know,” you said, unintentionally imitating him. “Working. Writing. I did start taking a yoga class at the gym a couple blocks over – I think you’d really like it, actually.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is. A nice way to pass the time.” There was a stretch of silence where you let Josh eat his food in peace and you navigated the car from one interstate to another. “We’ll have to stop and get gas one more time before we get to your parents,” you said, glancing at the meter.

Josh nodded. “We should…talk, you know, before we get there.”

“About?” You were feigning confusion. You knew exactly what you needed to talk about, but just the thought of it made your stomach squirm and skin itch with possibilities.

“Once we get there, I don’t want to overstep any boundaries you might have.”

You sighed, and despite everything in your being resistant, or perhaps looking forward to, the reinstitution of intimacy between the two of you, you wanted to get it out and over with. “Josh, let’s just – let’s just act like a couple. This doesn’t have to be difficult.” You swallowed the bitter taste of a lie on the tip of your tongue. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

You’d wanted to say ‘this doesn’t have to mean anything’ more than you wanted air, but you didn’t.

You’d gotten the impression that Josh wasn’t totally over your relationship either, but it was the principle of the concept. It was the lingering hurt and wounded pride and perhaps a little bit of masochistic, self-defacing vindication that you wanted to prove to yourself that you weren’t under this man’s thumb anymore.

“Right,” he said quietly. “You’re right. This doesn’t mean anything.”

Your heart broke a little bit.

…

You arrived at the Kiszka household late that night, trying not to shiver at the colder Michigan weather as you both grabbed your bags and as many gifts as you could manage so that you could make it in one trip. You knew someone would still be awake – it was before midnight, after all. But you didn’t expect everyone to be awake.

Karen popped her head around the corner when you closed the door and smiled so brightly that you would have come just to see her. But then Josh dropped everything with a, “Hey, Mama,” and you knew your expression went soft.

Shit.

“Josh and Y/N are here!” she yelled into the living room, where you heard a chorus of hellos from different voices – you could pick out Sam, Ronnie, and Kelly, and you assumed the other two were Jake and Jita, but you weren’t sure.

“Look what Santa brought to town,” Jake said, rounding the corner. He gave Josh a quick hug and then moved on to you, quickly letting you go and looking at the present in your arms. “Something for me?”

You rolled your eyes and started to continue to the living room to drop them off under the tree. “Maybe. Here I was thinking that I was the present this year.”

Jake wrinkled his nose and took some of the gifts from you. “You’re a given, not a gift.”

All the breath whooshed out of your lungs, and your eyes met Josh’s, who had come up next to you. Jake hadn’t intended to disorient you, but the level of ignorance really hit you out of nowhere. You’d thought Josh had at least told Jake – there wasn’t much they didn’t tell each other, and the fact that Jake had called you a given at Christmas pushed the ache and longing that you had been squirreling away to the forefront of your mind.

Karen took the rest of your gifts with a hug and a kiss to your cheek, leaving you and Josh to take your bags to his room. As you unpacked a few necessary toiletries, you inhaled deeply and cleared your throat on the exhale. “You didn’t tell Jake?”

The soft sounds of clutter being moved around paused for a second and then resumed. “No. No, I never did.”

“What did he think when – I mean, didn’t he wonder why I wasn’t around?”

You turned just as Josh shrugged. “We’ve been busy. I just told him that you were too. And he believed me, so, you know, that was that.”

“Oh.”

You weren’t sure if you believed him. Jake was more observant than that, and both twins were stubborn as hell when it came to each other, but you didn’t say anything more on the matter.

You pulled your pajamas out of your bag and took your toothpaste and toothbrush in hand. “I’m gonna go do my bedtime thing – I’ll see you out there?”

Josh sent an affirmation your way and you headed to the bathroom, feeling a little bit detached. What were you doing here? Why did you go along with these flimsy-ass plans based on a flimsy-ass excuse if not for the hope that Josh would get over himself and maybe – maybe fall back in love.

Two and a half months hadn’t been nearly enough time for you to have fallen out of love with him, and some part of you wanted to believe that that was the case for him too.

You poked your head into the living room where everyone was still congregated once you’d finished and were met with smiles all around. The only seat left was an armchair settled near the fire, even though it was the best seat in the house.

You settled into it happily, though.

“So where have you been, Y/N? Josh said you’ve been really busy with a new project these past few months,” Jake said casually, arm draped across Jita’s shoulders.

You chuckled. “Oh, just a personal thing that’s been a work in progress for a while now. I just happened to have gotten inspired one day and kinda got lost in my own little writing world, I guess. Sorry I stopped coming by.” You could play this off – lying wasn’t something you liked to do, but you were pretty darn good at it.

Jake laughed. “Well, Josh spent enough time at your place to have made up for it.”

Your blood turned to ice at the prospect of Josh not spending his nights at his apartment, because you could only guess where he was and what he was doing otherwise, but you forced another smile onto you face. “Exactly. Still, it’s nice seeing you again, finally. I’m glad Josh talked me into taking a break and spending some time out of my apartment.”

“You were thinking of not coming?” Ronnie asked, acting offended. “How dare you.”

“How dare she what? Are you causing problems, already, Y/N?” Josh said, walking into the living room, and you saw his eyes searching around the room for a free spot.

“Me? Problems? The only problem I’m gonna cause is a ruckus if you don’t come here.” He smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

“I would never keep a lady waiting,” he said, moving over to where you were seated and holding out his hand. You took it and let him tug you up, knowing that he preferred holding you on his lap than sitting on yours.

You curled into him once you got settled in and pressed a kiss to his temple.

Just like last time.

His fingertips flexed against your thigh, drawing you towards him.

Just like last time.

You sat there and laughed and conversed like everything was fine and ignored that insistent, deep ache that was exaggerated by all the ‘just like last time’ little things until eventually, you yawned and kissed Josh on the cheek.

“Well, I’m going to head to bed. It was nice seeing everyone tonight, I didn’t think you’d all still be up when we got here.”

Kelly waved his hand. “Had to show you we could still hang with the youngsters. Looks like the youngsters can’t hang with us,” he teased, nudging Karen.

You grinned and ruffled Josh’s hair. “Well, I had a long day of driving with Sleeping Beauty over here.”

“—I offered to drive, don’t even,” he protested.

“I know, I know. I’m just glad you got some sleep,” you said affectionately. “But now its my turn. Good night everyone!”

They each bombarded you with good nights and you walked the hallway to the bedroom, about to push the door closed until only a crack remained, and almost jumped when Josh put his hand on the wood to keep that from happening.

“Shit – you scared me. I don’t remember you moving so quietly,” you chuckled. “You can stay out there with everybody, you know; you don’t have to babysit me.”

He shut the door behind him as he entered the room. “I think everyone else was about ready to call it a night, and I know I don’t need to babysit you, but a good boyfriend would never let his woman go to bed alone,” he said, and you caught the double entendre that laced his words and rolled your eyes, smiling, your underlying bond of friendship bubbling to the surface with the warmth of family and friendship still flowing through your veins, making you happier than you’d been in a while.

“Is that so?” you hummed, walking to your side of the bed and plugging your phone in. You pulled the covers back and stared at the ceiling. “Well then, you’d better get here before I conk out.”

You didn’t watch as he climbed into bed as well, instead feeling his weight dip the full-sized mattress in his direction and hearing his breaths.

“Good-night, Y/N. Thanks again for doing this.”

“Good-night, Josh. You’re welcome.”

It wasn’t just for you.

…

“Up and at ‘em, already!”

The loud voice was followed by a louder pounding on the door, and then you heard Kelly sharply say Sam’s name and a few other mumbles, and the jarring presence outside the door left.

“Little brat,” Josh slurred from the other side of the bed. You were rolled over, not facing Josh, but hummed in agreement.

“It’s supposed to be Christmas break – I thought he would be the last one up. What – hang on, what time is it?” You fumbled with your phone and squinted, laughing once your brain actually comprehended the time on the screen.

“What? Did we sleep in?” Josh asked, and you felt him roll over to face you. You turned your head as well and nodded, getting caught up in his gaze.

“Yeah, we’re a couple of late risers today. It’s already 1 pm,” you said, closing your eyes for a second. “It’s been a while since I’ve slept in this late.”

Josh shifted the blankets. “You always were the first one up out of the two of us.”

You blinked your eyes open to see him smiling, so of course you smiled back. “You just can’t ever get that head of yours to stop working early enough at night to get up at a reasonable time.”

Josh’s eyes softened, and he smiled. “You always made the late nights bearable.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you glanced away, the intimacy of the moment weighing heavy on you.

You rolled over and unplugged your phone, sitting up to stretch. “Well, I’m sure there’s plans for today, so I’m gonna get out there.”

Josh groaned and threw the blanket over his head. “Will you tell them I’ll be out in a minute?”

“Of course, Sleepy the Dwarf.”

“Hey!”

You laughed as you shut the door behind you, wandering first to the bathroom to brush your teeth and then to the kitchen, where Josh’s parents, Ronnie, and Sam were.

“Good…afternoon, I guess,” you greeted with a smile. “Sorry we were lazy this morning. I was just telling Josh, I can’t remember the last time I slept in like that.”

“It’s Christmas, everyone deserves a little extra rest this time of year,” said Kelly. “Would you like some coffee?”

You accepted their offer, and then on a last-second decision, grabbed another mug for Josh. His mom looked from the pair of mugs to you and gave you a soft smile.

You pretended not to see it.

Instead, you made up your coffee first, then Josh’s, hoping his taste hadn’t changed in the past two months. “Where’s Jake and Jita?”

“They ran to the store to get some candy for the Gingerbread house competition tomorrow.”

Your eyes lit up. “Gingerbread competition? That sounds like fun.”

Ronnie laughed. “It used to be a tradition until they got all famous and couldn’t come back for Christmas, and we don’t do it if someone’s missing.” She shot a glare at Sam, and he stuck his tongue out at her.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I win every year, anyways.”

All three other Kiszkas protested at that, and Ronnie started listing off previous winners. Josh rounded the corner and smiled at the scene, then caught sight of the mug beside you, coming up behind you and placing a soft hand on your lower back.

His lips at your ear sent goosebumps racing up your arms, even underneath your sweatshirt. “Is that for me?”

“Of course it is,” you said softly, leaning back into him. He accepted your weight willingly and even pecked you on the cheek.

Karen was the first to notice Josh had come into the room. “Oh, good afternoon, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”

“Better than I have in months,” he said. “Must be that childhood bed charm.”

Sam coughed, but it sounded suspiciously like ‘sex,’ and Kelly backhanded him lightly on the head while Ronnie hid her smile in her mug.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Sam said, flinching away from his father, but not expelling the shit-eating grin from his face. “I know what they sound like having sex, and there was nothing going on last night!”

He had to raise his voice after the first part of the sentence to be heard over you, Josh, and Karen all throwing various phrases of disgust at him, batting at Kelly’s returning backhand. You tried not to let your face heat, but you could have fried an egg on your cheek – you knew every single other member of the band had most likely heard you and Josh going at it at one point or another in the time you dated, but you didn’t want it to be acknowledged, much less in front of his parents.

You leaned back and turned your face into Josh’s neck. “Were we really ever that loud?” you asked quietly.

Josh chuckled, hand sliding to loop around your waist. “I mean…” He left it at that and you groaned in embarrassment, but Josh just chuckled.

“I never minded.”

You felt the vibration of his words in his throat and shifted on your feet, pulling your face away, your stomach tightening at his admission. “Of course you didn’t.”

His thumb stroked across your lower belly once before it stilled and Josh stepped back, putting a few inches of space between you two.

You missed his warmth.

…

You had never loved anyone more than you loved Karen and Kelly Kiszka for keeping extra snow suits and thick gloves and scarves at their place and Ronnie for being roughly the same size boot as you.

Because trekking up this steep-as-hell hill would not have worked out in your favor had you been stuck with only the clothes you had brought. But the payoff would be worth it, you were assured. You and Josh had been dating this time last year, but you had friends coming into town, so you hadn’t been able to go with Josh, and were therefore quite unprepared for his family’s Christmas activities.

“So doesn’t having double the weight on one sled give you an advantage with increased momentum?” you huffed, any exercise you may have been doing previously not seeming to help in your climb. “Wouldn’t that be unfair to any single people?”

Josh laughed. “Oh, couple races are only one part of the event. We have singles, sibling, backwards, tied together, and then non-competitive runs. That’s why you had to bring a sled, too.”

You looked behind you in defeat. “I have to climb this hill again? Multiple times?”

“Only on the races you participate in. So,” he paused to calculate, “like, four or five times minimum, yeah.” He turned a smug gaze on you. “What, not up to the Kiszka challenge?”

You wanted to snark back about the things you did for him, but no one was really in earshot to hear, so it would take on different meaning if you did. “There’d better be more of that hot chocolate when we get back to the house,” you grouched good-naturedly instead.

“Papa K’s special. I’m sure we even have some liquor to add into it, if you need.”

“Fuck yes, I need,” you scoffed, your fingers having already gone numb.

There was a thump and a laugh from behind you, and both you and Josh turned to see Jake facedown in the snow, shaking his head while Ronnie and Jita giggled and ran as fast as they could toward you

“Hey Jake,” Josh called with a grin, “you, uh, got a little snow there.” He gestured around his face and Jake didn’t look amused, swiping his face across his sleeve, which was also snowy from the fall.

“Fuck you,” he called, starting up again.

You finally reached the top of the hill and felt a swirl of excitement when you realized that the sled down probably would be worth it.

“Okay!” Sam called out. “Individual round first, then?”

There was a call of agreement and you settled your sled next to Josh’s, still a safe distance away, Jita on your other side.

“Three, two, one, go!”

Kelly gave the countdown and as soon as the last word was out, you kicked off, trailing behind most of them since you hadn’t gone sledding in a hot minute.

You grinned as you picked up speed, attempting to drive the sled, but ultimately just letting it go where it pleased. You passed by Jita and then Josh, laughing all the way down the hill you’d just spent the last seven minutes hiking up and feeling the sting of snowflakes that sprayed up from the front of your sled.

You and Josh were neck and neck, but at the last second, you pulled out in front of him, flattening yourself to the sled to give you more aerodynamic speed. The slope finally flattened out and you slowed down, coming to rest right behind Sam in a respectable fourth place, Kelly taking first and Ronnie taking second.

As you crawled off your sled, you grinned back at Josh, red-cheeked and laughing. “You know, for a Michigan native, you sure know how to lose,” you joked, and Josh started forming a snowball. “No!” you screeched, grabbing your sled and running as well as you could up the hill again.

You heard the snow crunching behind you and Josh’s maniacal laugh, and your heart kicked up a notch, the feeling of being chased sending adrenaline through your veins.

You were leaned so far forward in an attempt to combat the snow pulling at your boots and the incline of the hill that the impact of the oddly-shaped snowball was all it took to bring you down. You tried to twist your torso so that you wouldn’t eat snow in the split second you realized that you weren’t going to be able to keep your balance, but it was so deep it didn’t matter – half of your face disappeared into the ice anyways.

You recoiled from the chill immediately, and Josh tried not to kick more snow at you as he approached you, offering a hand.

The sky was white-gray and bright, so you had to squint to look at his face, boisterous and happy against the dreary background. You took his extended hand and let him pull you up just as Ronnie, Jake, and Jita passed by.

Ronnie gave you a secret smile and then smashed a snowball over Josh’s hat, the snow falling down to settle in the crevices between his scarf and neck. He yelled out in surprise, spinning to find the culprit, and Ronnie laughed. “Justice for Y/N!” she said, giving you a gloved high-five.

You laughed. “You see where allegiances lie.”

Josh shot you a loaded look, and that alone made you regret voicing the quip.

Because it was the last time.

Your mood dipped, but you quickly dispelled the feeling and smiled again. “What race is next?” you asked, stomping up behind Ronnie and Jita.

“I think Mom and Dad were saying couples next,” said Ronnie. “I just want to be up here for the race afterwards. Sam’s staying down there to judge.”

You nodded and glanced back towards Josh. “Are we using your sled or mine?” you asked.

“Well, obviously you slicked yours up before we came, so yours,” he said, still pouting from his loss.

“Uh-huh, that’s definitely the reason I beat you on your home turf.”

He stuck his tongue out at you and then poked you with his sled. You were all too busy huffing and puffing to say much after that, reaching the top of the hill and settling your sled in the same place you’d been before.

Josh immediately picked it back up, settling it to the side of the hill you trekked up, which had a treeline bordering it. “We can’t set it in the same place, or else the paths get all wonky, so we have to pick fresh spots until there aren’t any left.” He shrugged. “Family rules.”

“Well then, who am I to argue.” You stared at the sled for a second. “So how’s this going to work?”

Josh hummed. “It’s also been established that there can be no horizontal stacking – couples must be in a sitting position.” You smirked and Josh raised his eyebrow. “For safety reasons, Y/N.” He couldn’t hide his smile, either though, so you didn’t feel attacked.

“You want back or front, then?”

He sat down on the front of the sled. “Front. I’ll try to steer.”

You sat down behind him, letting a couple of inches of space exist between your bodies. The other couples – Kelly and Karen and Jake and Jita – all got situated, and then from behind you, Ronnie yelled out the countdown.

“Go, go, go!” Josh said, furiously pushing his heels into the snow to get you going. You tied to help, but one boot got caught in the snow, throwing your sled sideways right as it tipped down, gathering speed. “Oh, shit!”

Josh tried to get it back on track, wrestling with the wet, flimsy cord attached to the front, but the damage was done, and the sled started to veer off towards the trees halfway down the hill. As it crossed the hiking path, Josh let go of the string, grabbing your leg instead.

“Abandon ship! Abandon ship!” he shouted, rolling you both off the sled and into the snow while the sled skidded across the path and into the trees.

You didn’t realize you were laughing until breath became hard to come by – except that might have been Josh, who had landed on top of you and was cackling right along with you.

“That was totally your fault,” he wheezed, face within inches of yours.

You didn’t care.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you said you could steer!”

“Not when you’re sabotaging me!”

Your giggles trailed into heavy breathing, and you blinked into the brightness, once again only seeing Josh’s face. He was heaving, but not laughing anymore either. His eyes dipped to your lips, and you could have sworn he moved in infinitesimally.

Your lungs were stuck – frozen like the snow beneath you until Sam’s voice broke into your little bubble.

“Hey! No horizontal sledding!”

…

“Aw, shit.”

The words falling out of Josh’s mouth made your blood run cold. “What? What happened? Is everything okay?”

“Uhh…”

Well, that wasn’t promising at all. You were three sides and three and half hours into the gingerbread house competition, and supplies had been relegated to couples instead of individuals, so you and Josh were tasked with building a house together – and you knew from experience that Josh didn’t do well with delicate things.

“What did you do?” you moaned, thinking about all the time you spent painstakingly putting details into the design. The house was not professionally decorated by any means – you didn’t bake and decorate all that often, but you were still proud of the relatively neat and pretty design you had managed this time, and if all your hard work was for nothing, well, you might end up calling that Uber after all.

Jita broke out in giggles from across the table as a roof piece that Sam had been trying to stick to his walls slid off, prompting a panicked yelp from the other man. “My roof!”

There was icing all over the table – drizzled and dropped and smeared and spilled – and mounds of miscellaneous candies scattered between houses.

You had been arranging one of the last candy wreaths to stick to the front of the house when Josh had let out his curse.

“It’s nothing bad, I swear! I’m trying to get this icing out, and a dried piece of it fell into the roof design – I’m trying to get it out without messing it all up.”

A wave of relief swept through you. “Oh. Okay, well, I’ll get the piece out, and you keep trying to unclog that tube.”

Josh made a noise of disgust. “’Unclog’ is such an unattractive word.”

“You’re an icing-plumber,” you joked, grabbing a toothpick and trying to push the dried crumb of gluey royal icing out of your nice, neat rows of green and red icing patterns. “Try rolling the tube a little more,” you suggested.

In your peripheral, you saw Josh put the tube on the table and begin to roll up the remaining contents until the top was stiff again. He pressed down and shifted his hand up, the pressure pointing the open tip up, and tried flushing the dried stuff out.

“I got it!” you said in satisfaction, brushing the errant icing piece away from your work and turning back towards Josh just as he picked the tube up and tried squeezing it as hard as he could. “Josh, the second the dried icing comes out, you’re going to make a huge—”

Josh’s hand was jerked up the tube with a sudden release of pressure from the tip, and with the position Josh had it in, the resulting explosive shot of white icing was shot straight across your face, landing first in the hair at your hairline and then draping diagonally across your nose, touching the corner of your still-open mouth.

You pursed your lips and nodded your head. “—mess.”

Everyone at the table burst out in laughter, and you couldn’t help but join them, thumbing as much icing from your skin as you could and licking it off – grateful that it at least tasted good.

The sexual innuendos that could be taken in the situation weren’t lost on you, and you couldn’t help but glance at Josh, who was laughing along with everyone else, but whose eyes also never left your face, watching the icing disappear with your finger between your lips in ill-contained rapture, pupils dilated.

You took no small amount of joy knowing you still had that effect on him.

“I bet that’s not the first time Jo–” Sam started, but you turned to him with a glare, finger pointed at him across the table.

“Don’t. Even.”

His comment the other morning was one too many on your sex life, and you didn’t need another joke at the expense of your (secret) lack now thereof.

“Or what? You’ll sabotage my house?”

You watched as the newly-repaired roof started sliding again since Sam had gotten distracted. “You’re doing just fine on your own, actually.”

Sam glanced to his forgotten house. “My roof!”

You returned your attention to Josh, who was still smirking in your direction – at least he was until you swiped a fingerful of icing that had dropped onto the table from the explosion and darted your hand to swipe it across his cheek. He tried to avoid it, but you grappled with him until he had the sticky sugar smeared from cheekbone to jawline. “Just a little bit of retribution before we continue.”

He pouted, wiping it off. “Menace.” You grinned as you turned back to your workstation.

Falling back into that casual intimacy during the past couple of days was easier than you thought it would be – you’d had your doubts that you wouldn’t be able to fully get past the knowledge that everything was fake, that you’d be too rooted in reality to be able to commit to believable interactions.

Except despite having the knowledge that it was, it sure didn’t feel fake.

And that was exactly what would make it so much more difficult to settle back into reality – the tumultuous hope that maybe it could have been real if not for the fact that neither of you had the courage to confront the ambiguity.

…

You woke up silently – disoriented and blinking into the darkness and feeling your breath even out from the abrupt change of conscious state.

You were tempted to grab your phone and see what time it was had you not already taken in the fact that there was no light peeking in from the spaces between the slats of the blinds on the window. You were also entirely too tired to want to squint into an LED screen when you were almost certain that it was before 5 am.

In fact, you weren’t quite sure what woke you up. The night was still and quiet and for once, Josh wasn’t even snoring.

Snuggling back into the mattress, you sighed quietly and relaxed again, drifting off again when you heard exactly what it was that woke you up.

A quiet, yet violent exhale of breath. The shift of the blankets came next, and then you felt the mattress dip near your feet where Josh must have dug his heels in, ever so slightly, so that he – so that he could –

You knew those sounds. Josh was jerking off, right next to you.

He’d always been vocal in bed, so you knew it was a respectable task for him to be as silent as he was being. You were turned away from him, and fought to keep your breathing even and body relaxed – you were certain he’d been listening for any telltale signs you’d woken up, so when you had, he’d stopped until he was convinced you were asleep again.

You kept listening, a voyeuristic streak flaring to life at his sounds and making you wet. The room was filled with harsh breathing and the soft scrape of skin on skin and the slightest grunt you’d ever heard from him; the minute shifts of his body that you wouldn’t have paid any attention in a normal situation took on new meaning.

He worked himself – you could only assume slowly, or his movements would be more detectable – and as much as you would have liked to claim to have fought the images that came to mind, you welcomed them like an old friend.

His thumb brushing over his tip, putting a pressured slide to the underside of the head, right where that vein was most prominent, lightly callused fingers scraping against skin. The twist of his wrist on the way up. The caress of his fingers against his balls once he’d reached the base of his cock.

You knew his preferences intimately and he, yours - during the course of your relationship, you had each witnessed the other pleasuring themselves – both by accident and by request.

A vicious jerk of his body was the only way you knew he’d come, and his body relaxing afterwards made you want to clench your thighs together.

What you’d have given to watch.

He sighed into the room, and you wanted to kiss the air out of his lungs and drink in all his noises, wanted to swallow down all his sounds so that he wouldn’t have to work so hard to stay quiet.

You hadn’t felt this kind of arousal since the last time you slept together, and it was intense.

So intense that your pride and hurt were battling tooth and nail against the idea of rolling over and having your way with him, consequences be damned.

But the longer you laid there, pros and cons racing indecisively through your mind, you couldn’t help but think back to all the loaded looks he’d given you over the past three days. Of the way he’d almost kissed you in the snow yesterday. Of his flimsy excuse for you to come with him to his family’s Christmas and the very little convincing that you’d needed.

You were still in love with him. You knew that. And you were almost certain he still held feelings for you, too.

Your heart kicked up a notch as you made a decision, and let out a measured breath.

“Josh?”

He wasn’t asleep – his whole body stiffened at the sound of your voice, but the room remained quiet for a second.

“Yeah?” His voice was tight – he knew he’d been caught.

There were some things you needed to know, first, though, before you acknowledged his getting off. “Why didn’t tell your family? Not even Jake? I want the truth.” You rolled over to face him, but he kept his gaze on the ceiling, letting the soft buzz of the night stretch between you.

“I was hoping you’d continue to let me…I thought maybe you wouldn’t ask me. Hoped you wouldn’t,” was what he finally whispered.

“Why?” Time seemed slowed down in this moment – words lazy and quiet and the desire for a response faint, the pace of conversation sluggish.

Josh sighed. “Because I don’t have a reason.”

But there was more to it – you just knew it. He was keeping something back, and you were pretty sure you knew what it was, and emotion built up in your chest at the prospect. “Josh.”

“I was wrong.”

His voice was quiet, and for all his stubbornness, he’d always been able to apologize to you – always except for that last time. So now, with his words of admission, it almost seemed as if the past few months hadn’t happened – like you were laying in bed after a round of make-up sex and the two of you could finally reach past your pride and into the love you held for each other to find the words of apology.

“I am too,” you offered back, but he disagreed, finally turning on his side to face you.

“No. No. You – it takes two to argue, but I was the one who – it was my fault, Y/N, that everything happened and that I’ve been...that I’ve been so damn miserable ever since we – fuck, I can’t say it even now.”

Broke up.

“I didn’t tell my family because not even a week after you left, I thought – I hoped that maybe things would resolve themselves. It was stupid, and I should have just apologized, and maybe things would be different.”

You nodded. “I’ve been miserable, too.”

Josh’s intake of breath and harsh swallow were magnified by the silence, and your chest almost hurt when he reached out to take your hand in his, but didn’t say anything, so you continued.

“I was hurt. And that was the only thing that kept me from knocking on your door to apologize. I…I wanted – want – things to be different than they are now. Want them to be the same as they were before.”

“Just like last time,” Josh said, voice impossibly lower.

He started to lean in closer, but there was still something that Jake had said on your mind. “Josh?”

He stopped immediately, cocking his head. “Yeah?”

Your hand made it’s way to his face, and he leaned into the touch. You felt bad bringing this up now, not wanting to throw the time you were apart back in his face. Because you had been broken up, miserable or not. Regrets or no regrets. But still, the words were seared into your brain.

“Jake said you didn’t sleep in your own bed some nights. And I know that it isn’t my business—”

“It is your business, though.” Josh kissed the palm of your hand. “Jake did notice something was going on. About two weeks out, he mentioned you and I – I obviously hadn’t come to terms with it yet, so I lied. I went and drove around. Almost wound up at your door. I went to the studio and played around. I’ve become more acquainted with that couch in the past few months than I have since we moved to Nashville.”

You let the relief sweep through you and closed your eyes, shifting closer to him and curling your hand around his neck. “I won’t say that I’m not relieved,” you chuckled softly.

“I felt like I was still cheating any time someone even looked at me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to—”

You cut him off with a peck. “Do that?”

He answered with his lips and hands, dragging you over by the waist so that you were draped half on-top of him. “Not with anybody else but you, darling.” He pulled you down for another kiss, a deeper kiss, the kind that you’d been longing to give and to get from him.

You hummed in contentment, making the final move and shifting to hover over him, opening your mouth to him and beginning to breath his air, to breathe him.

His hands began to wander and you were shed of your clothes within the space of a few minutes, making quick work of his flannel pants, too.

“Y/N,” he breathed. “I love you. I hope you know that I never stopped.”

You smiled against his lips and snuck your hand down to where he was growing against your thigh, but you thumbed his hip instead of wrapping your hand around him, not wanting to take the moment away from your words. “I love you too. Perhaps in the future, we both let go of our pride – to save us from our own self-inflicted misery.”

Josh grinned. “What are we without our choice of the seven deadly sins?”

You decided the moment was over, and took him in hand, basking in the lovely gasp that escaped him.

“Well, right now, I choose lust.”

Josh nodded vigorously. “My hand’s just not the same, baby. Lust has been the sin of choice for the past few days – fuck – every time the urge struck, it was you and your face –”

“—let me guess, covered in white icing?”

Josh’s fingertips gripped into your ass and he buried his face in your neck, trying to stifle his laugh – too loud for the hour.

“You were a menace for that, by the way. Do you know how difficult it was trying not to fuck up a sprinkle dusting trying to hide a hard-on from hell?”

You ground down into him, cutting off his giggles. “About as difficult as it was for me not to give myself any friction knowing you were jerking off right next to me.”

He groaned quietly. “Well, feel free to now.”

The temptation was there, and this time with no reservations, so you reached over to fumble at his bedside table. “Are there condoms in here that didn’t expire when you were still in high school?” you laughed.

“Probably not. Let me up and I can see if I can sneak one from the bathroom. I know my parents usually keep a box here for when the girlfriends visit – they don’t want a conception in their house and they know what goes on – it is sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll, after all.”

You rolled your eyes and then flopped down next to him, trailing your fingertips down your body to the wetness between your legs. “Well, then, I’ll be waiting.”

Josh groaned again and made a mad dash, naked, to the bathroom.

…

“Merry Christmas Eve!”

You went around the room exchanging the informal greeting, tired eyes accompanied by a yawn.

“Did you not sleep well last night, sweetheart?” Karen asked from by the stove.

Josh appeared behind you with a hand wrapped around your waist and a kiss rather inappropriate for polite company, taking the handles of two mugs in his hand and setting them on the counter.

“I woke up to a weird noise around 1 am, actually, and couldn’t fall back to sleep for a few hours,” you said, faux-confused, and felt Josh’s fingertips rake down to your hip from your waist, the quiet huff of a laugh escaping his lips.

Karen frowned. “Huh. I didn’t hear anything – did you guys?” She turned to the table where everyone was hanging around, and Sam’s eyes lit up in mischief, bringing his elbow up to his mouth. You knew what was coming, and you would have said something to stop him—

Except you didn’t like to lie.

“Sex,” he coughed.

Kelly backhanded him on the head.

~~~

NOTE: Hey guys! A new publishing schedule will be implemented for the final four fics - every other day instead of every day (I bit off a little more than I could chew during one of the busiest times of the year...whoops). 

Also, given the chance, I may come back and edit this fic to turn it into a multiple-part series, since the fake dating trope tends to feel rushed if the slow burn aspect of it is smushed into a one-shot. If that happens, it won’t be until I can finish a couple other projects and requests that have been put off.

~~~

Taglist: @fleetsonfire @theweightofstardust @theatrekidjosh

#12 days of trope-mas #josh kiszka x reader #fake dating #josh kiszka fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fics #gvf smut #gvf angst #gvf fluff

[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light Chapter 13: Tunnels

A/N: Hey there, long time no see. Left to hyperfixate on Doctor Who for a while, but I’m back on my Fablehaven business. This is a long chapter, it probably should be two chapters in the final version, but I really wanted to get the tunnels part out. Also, let me know if Kendra’s crafting is making sense and if the dialog for this chapter is working out. Very important chapter. 

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13

Chapter 13: Tunnels

 When Kendra woke up the next morning, she knew Ronodin had left. The night before they had eaten dinner separately, and while Kendra focused on reading or staring at the library wall, Ronodin hadn’t come out of his room. She saw him for a moment as she went to bed, but he turned away from her.

It was confirmed by a note on the countertop.

Love,

I hate to leave while we’re fighting, but I have to go handle another errand for our host. Despite your doubts in me and what I implied, I will be back for you, and we’ll go on another little adventure. This is what we have to do until we can go on the bigger adventures together in the sunlight. At the bottom of this note is another design for an amulet you might try, and we’ll both be working to shorten your quarantine.

Ronodin

 And Kendra was back to feeling bad all over again! She went back and forth all yesterday afternoon about apologizing again, promising that Mendigo wouldn’t stop him if he tried to leave, or holding to her words. It was dangerous. He was trying. She was being difficult. She had a right to be difficult.

Sketched at the bottom of the note was a triangle amulet, with crescents open to the left. Inside the triangle was a circle inside an oval with an ‘x’ through it, bisecting in the center of the circle. Because you have to carve intent into every craft, Kendra had to go look up what the symbol meant in the dictionary he gave her.

The triangle was a curse, and the eye a symbol for blindness. Putting it within a circle, she should be able to direct it only at certain people, namely enemies. Did she want to blind her enemies? On the one hand, it was the same principal as her weakness charm. No harm, unless they intended to harm her first. On the other…

As someone who can count on her hands the number of rooms she’s seen, as someone who is alienating the single relationship she has to get a glimpse of sunlight, and as someone whose most prized possession is a landscape painting of the outside, could she take away someone else’s sight?

Maybe she could limit it to cursing people not to see her. An invisibility charm was a lot less problematic than a blinding curse. Combing through the books didn’t give her any insight on how to limit the blindness. In fact, applying Ronodin’s charm as is to a circular amulet wouldn’t even limit duration. It would blind any enemy that looked at her once, permanently.

It would take good craft and magic application to create, and a single mistake would make the magic run out halfway through the first use of the amulet, leaving a person…partially blinded? Blinded in one eye? Temporarily blinded? It didn’t say, so Kendra had to put a couple of concepts together to make a guess. Magic based on gaze was actually the most magic consuming type of enchantment. That was all it said, so Kendra went looking through her little library for more of an explanation.

She managed to clobber together answers from five different books:

All magic is reactionary, a person must interact with the spell caster or the enchanted object for the magic to be applied. The safest place from magic is away from it. Simply seeing something only activates extremely rare curses and enchantments, usually crafted from Dragon parts, because it just required that much magic. Touch is the most common type of curse conduit, and came in the variations. Presence within an enchanted area or physical contact with the item or caster were the most common. Proximity casting is rare, but technically falls between touch and sight in terms of magic usage. There was also gaseous spells, which technically also operated based on touch, but the enchanted matter expanded, so that’s also deserved a special mention.

Kendra was a limitless supply of magic. If she wore a sight-based curse, well crafted to actually create an effect, it would never run out of juice. It would fully infect others every time. It also couldn’t be used against her to the same potential.

If she made that work, there was no way Ronodin could justify keeping her locked up.

But what if…what if her brother felt like he had to harm her in order to get her to go with him? She could blind him, and not even know it. Is that what old Kendra would have wanted, after giving up her memory for him? No. Temporarily feeling too weak to chase her? Fine. Permanently blinding someone with good intentions? Not fine.

Kendra left the books open and went into the hallway.

“Mendigo?” she asked, and the puppet walked in front of her. “How many hours ago did Ronodin leave?”

Mendigo held up two fingers.

“Did he say words as he left out the front door?” she checked.

Mendigo shook his head. Ha. She knew that he had made that up to keep her from stealing the key.

“You have to follow all my orders, correct?” Kendra checked. And the puppet nodded.

“Are there things I can’t tell you to do?”

Mendigo hesitated, then nodded his head.

“Are the things you won’t do if I tell you impossible because Ronodin ordered you not to do them?”

Head shaking no. She couldn’t ask him about the things he couldn’t do, Mendigo couldn’t handle questions more complicated than yes and no.

“If I gave you a paintbrush, would you be able to write out explanations to longer questions?”

Mendigo shook his head no. Drat. Complicated magic, but not an intelligence behind it.

Could she craft a puppet like Mendigo? Probably not, not unless there was some kind of wood that wanted to become a limberjack. None of her books said anything about creating a little bit of intelligence, enough to answer questions and have memory. But maybe if she got good enough. Though why she’d want another when she already had Mendigo made it a moot question. It was probably impossible anyway.  

“Mendigo, the things I could ask you to do and you wouldn’t,” she asked, “is that because they would be impossible for you to do?”

He nodded, and pointed at the front doorknob. Right, she had told him to open the door, and he couldn’t.

“Would you be able to tell me if Ronodin is the one really giving you orders?” Kendra tried.

More hesitation, then slow nodding.

“Has Ronodin ever given you any orders that you followed?”

More nodding. That didn’t actually tell her much. Ronodin was her secret boyfriend, if she had ever once said ‘Mendigo, do what Ronodin says,’ then the answer to this question would be yes.

“Are you currently following any of Ronodin’s orders?” she said. Vigorous no.

“Right,” Kendra said, feeling a little better. “From now on, you are not to follow anyone’s orders but my own, under any circumstance. Will you be able to follow that order?”

Here came the longest pause. Was it because she was asking him a question about the future? Maybe the enchantment didn’t allow for questions like that.

Slowly, Mendigo nodded his head. That was good.

For the rest of the morning, she settled on making a stronger version of her first amulet, temporary weakening based on intent and proximity. Maybe if she made that good enough, she wouldn’t have to permanently blind someone just to be free.

Ronodin showed up in the late afternoon, but didn’t fully enter the apartment, instead choosing to stand in the doorway.

“I see you didn’t take my suggestion,” Ronodin said, nodding at the newly carved amulet in her hand. She had taken a break to grab a snack from the kitchen, and found him there.

“Is this your way of checking in on me without having to let me out?” Kendra asked, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I ran into a snag when arranging your fake death,” Ronodin explained, “A quick video of you telling the person to help me will fix all my problems. I need to go back out again right away —”

Kendra sighed, “You can come in Ronodin, Mendigo won’t stop you from leaving.” Because it felt like the properly dramatic thing to do, she leaned against the hallway wall and slid down until she was sitting. It took a small adjustment, but her current red dress was stretchy, and she managed to do it modestly.

Ronodin came and slid down beside her, and the door swung shut.

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” Kendra said. “it’s not fair, and there’s no excuse, but it’s just so frustrating being locked up like this.”

Ronodin smiled, “Believe me, I know more than you can guess at what that’s like. Think you’re ready to hear why my family hates me?”

Kendra nodded, sitting up straighter.

“Forever ago, I started to question why the Fairy Queen was the ultimate authority on what was good and what was bad in the world. There were five other thrones, and they all play important roles in keeping the world functioning, and they all had different ideas of what was good and right than the Fairy Queen. But mortal wizards sided with her, as did human adventurers, and every kind of mortal agreed: the Fairy kingdom is the brightest light, and we should all strive to their ideals.

“Never mind the naiads and great fairies who kill because mortality is funny. Never mind the imps and the abandoned nipsies. Never mind the philosophies of balance that demand that destruction is just as important as creation to the continuation of the world. Never mind the strength of not picking a side and acting according to your own will and conscious. It sickened me to be part of such an oppressive kingdom that claims the moral right in everything.”

Ronodin drifted into a memory. “What did you do?” Kendra asked, bringing him back.

“I corrupted my horns,” Ronodin said simply, “It took a bit of time and a lot of favors, but I was able to break myself from the Fairy Kingdom. The Queen doesn’t command me anymore. I owe allegiance only to myself, and that’s how I want it to be. Some of those favors contributed to people getting hurt, but I can’t regret it. When I saw you going through something similar, I knew I had to talk to you. And now, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kendra echoed. Sitting in the depths of some underground labyrinth, fighting over prison keys and the greater good, Kendra with no memory of who she was, and Ronodin fighting the same battles he’s fought his entire life over freedom.

Kendra leaned over and touched Ronodin of her own volition. Nothing romantic, not really, just her head resting on his shoulder. A silent show of support.

She sat up after just a minute, because she liked sincere Ronodin much better than flirty or angry Ronodin. (Flabberghasted Ronodin still held top spot).

“Let’s get that video for you,” Kendra said, then paused. “Wait, no one is going to get hurt when faking my death, right?”

Ronodin shook his head and took out his cell phone, “I promise, no humans are going to be harmed in the faking of your death. I just need some help creating a believable fake body.”

Kendra gave a little smile, “Doesn’t it ruin my fake death if someone knows about it and is helping you set it up?”

“Be very vague,” he advised, “The vaguer the better, so that when we do fake your death, even they will be convinced.”

“Okay then, what should I say?” she asked. “Am I talking to someone specific?”

Ronodin pointed the phone camera at her, “No, I’ll probably need to use it on a couple of people. Just tell the viewer to help me. Don’t mention my name directly, if you can help it. The less they know about who you’re with, the safer you’ll be. Ready…three, two one.”

"Oh, um, hi,” Kendra waved at the camera sheepishly, “I’m not sure who is going to have see this, but this guy is actually helping me. If you could lend him a hand, that would be great and I could get out of here much faster. Thank you!”

Ronodin then changed the view of the camera so that they were both in the picture, and gave a little wave. “Anything for Kendra.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek and caught the start of her blush before he stopped recording.

“There, that should be convincing enough,” he said, pocketing his phone.

“I assure you, that kiss was unnecessary,” she said, folding her arms, still red.

He grinned back, “And I assure you, my caterpillar, that it was completely necessary. Another one for the road?”

Kendra stood up rather than let him take another kiss. They had had a good moment, she wasn’t going to let him ruin it. He stood up as well.

“I’ll probably arrive back while you’re asleep,” he said. “Can I see how you’re doing with that amulet? You chose another weakening one?”

“I’m not ready to permanently blind my misguided family,” Kendra said, handing over the amulet.

Ronodin nodded, “Well, you’re progressing. A lot more magic took in this one than your first try. It’s well on the way to making fatigue hit anyone who lays a hand on you.”

Kendra frowned, “I was going for proximity, still not enough focus?”

Ronodin nodded, “The applied magic isn’t strong enough, nor is the craftsmanship. You accidentally cut all the way through one broken link, making one of your four chains whole, and you really oversanded the top. Don’t worry, we’ll work on it some more when I get back. This is a skill like any other, it’s going to take time. You’ll get better at this, I promise.”

Kendra nodded, sighing over the flaws he pointed out. “Is ‘have fun’ the wrong response for the task of faking my death?”

“Oh,” he said grinning, “After the stunts you pulled, I’ll be having lots of fun. Don’t go crazy.”

“You’ll be the first to know if I do.”

Mendigo stepped out of the shadow of the doorway as Ronodin approached, “It’s fine Mendigo. Ronodin can come and go as he pleases.” Kendra said.

Mendigo stepped back and Ronodin stepped past and closed the door without a backward glance.

Knowing she lost the fight, Kendra returned to the craft room. She took that feeling, and turned it into the desire to weaken those that would make her lose with every paint brush stroke.

The second medallion was certainly more than just wood and paint when Kendra was done with it. It felt…expectant. Waiting to fulfill its purpose. A spiked trap, waiting to fall. It was kind of exhilarating, knowing what she had created had force and abilities beyond her.

Kendra had wielded magic.

Kendra looked back over the amulet that Ronodin has suggested she make, then ran to one of the books she had referenced that morning about how to build in a command. A dual check, the person had to want to harm her, and she had to want to curse them. She could make that curse.

All it needed was a second circular border with a notch, and Kendra would have to hold it and intend to activate it before it would blind someone. The pattern was more complex than what she had attempted before, but after all her reading, she felt ready. She switched to a block of wood called stiltseia, because the description indicated that it’s flowers alternatively flashed darkness or bright light each time the flowers bloomed. It felt right for this project.

Kendra worked though lunch, snacking on the bread and cheese that populated their kitchen. This time she made sure that if her carving tool was touching wood, she had her magic gathered and turned towards blinding enemies. The emotions feeding this purpose were vengeance, ambition, and desire to lash out. She didn’t have strong vengeance on her own, but Lady Kuychia wrote the book on vengeance, and Kendra had read it. Towards the end of Lady Kuychia’s life, when her husband found out about her shadow charmer abilities, he accused her of being pure evil, stole their children, and put a ‘kill the witch’ order throughout the entire countryside surrounding them. Vicariously, Lady Kuychia’s burning vengeance took shape in the amulet, to permanently blind those that would harm her.

Lady Kuychia had never gotten vengeance herself, if the handwritten note in the back indicating that the conquistadors pillaging the area around her village had hung her, after she kept putting out the fires meant to burn her. They caught her when she had sacrificed herself in a distraction to give her children a chance to run away from the Portuguese raid. Her husband had spat at her on his way out with their children. The children were captured and killed the day after their mother had died by hanging. Those emotions fueled the carving.

Except the outer notched circle. Following instructions, she focused on her need for control. The battle to control her negative emotions took place outside her body for the first time, as she ordered the power of the amulet into the circle, and into where she said they should stay. There were two different types of magic under her hands, the negative emotions of the amulet and the unyielding neutral control being pushed through her tool. Building a wall around the fire pit.

Kendra added a coat of paint right away, it didn’t feel bound tightly enough without it. This time she selected a dark purple paint, phantom tears and harpy blood. She was going by instinct, but tears also came from the eyes, and harpies seemed like the kind of creature more than happy to take out your eye for taking their blood.

It came out a color so deep, it was almost black, but the purple seemed to highlight around the cuts of her design. She hung it on a hook over the fire, next to the one she had made that morning. Three amulets down. No way to safely test them.

Crafting two amulets was exhausting enough that she wanted to take a nap. First, she had to clean up the mess she had made in the library.

Unfortunately, she had to guess at the places she had taken the books from. She had a vague idea of the organization: magic books left of the fire, histories and biographies on the right, and close to the door were the reference books, but without being able to read all the languages, she was mostly guessing.

Kendra scooted a space a little wider to make room for where she thought a book was supposed to go, and a yellowed piece of paper fell from between the spines. Kendra put the book away and picked up the paper.

To the current occupant,

You’re probably like me, someone whose abilities can only be used voluntarily, so they are keeping you locked up here until they can convince you to do what they want. I have no hope for rescue, and I refuse to do what they ask. I expect to die here, but I have hidden notes written in Silvian, and hidden them around the library to pass the time. If there is nothing else to my life, maybe these notes will make the duration easier for the next occupant.

So far I have discovered a single secret tunnel going out of here. Twist the head of the goblin statue and the wall will become permeable. I won’t survive outside this room, but maybe a prisoner better suited for this environment could use it to their advantage.  

Peace,

Maykrill of Anksonling

 Not what she expected to find, but she was wide awake now. It took a little bit of digging, but the goblin statue was directly diagonal behind her favorite reading chair. What kind of prison cell has a tunnel in it?

The tunnel probably didn’t lead outside, there was no way she was that lucky, but ‘anywhere else’ still ranked pretty high on the places she wanted to be.

The statue was a little taller than her palm, and currently being used as a bookend. The goblin made an icky sound when she twisted the head, like she was killing a living thing, and the small stretch of wall between bookcases became hazy. More gas than solid, and while she had to turn sideways to fit, she made it through just fine.

Unfortunately, she could barely see in front of her face. With how good she’s gotten at hiding her light, there was practically nothing. Should she un-dim herself? It would let things know where she was when she probably didn’t want them to, but she was probably already glowing a little anyway.

Kendra reached out and touched a wall, which immediately lit torches filled with the same blue fire that haunted her own apartment. Hiding wasn’t an option. Should she go back? But what was she waiting for?  Ronodin wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours yet, it was mid-afternoon. She might not get a better chance to figure out more about where she was.

If someone asked her what she was doing, she would just head back. And she’d stay out of the dragon invested grotto. A quick check showed that the wall was completely permeable from this side, meaning she wasn’t going to be locked out. Unless the twisted head operated on a timer. But she wouldn’t be able to test that theory without it being too late to do anything about it. Her best bet would be to make the most of this current foray, but if she didn’t leave for long periods of time and she didn’t get locked out, she might be able to keep this secret until they were cleared to leave this place. She grabbed her second amulet on her way towards the tunnel.

So much for Ronodin winning their battle of wills. Ha.

Kendra crept along the corridor, her bare feet quiet along the ground. It sloped downward, and she thought there was a very subtle switchback before it opened another fuzzy wall. Fuzzy on her side, hopefully solid on the opposite side. Stepping closer, she tried to get a good view of the room before she set foot.

The room seemed large, enormous even. It was dimly lit with sporadic torches, the stone darker than in her hallway. A neutral jean blue darkened into marbled navy, made to look even colder by blue flame. Kendra glanced down at her bare feet, and really hoped the ruby necklace actually warmed her up and didn’t just shut off her perception of cold.

There were large structures scattered about the room, and Kendra narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out the nearest one through the wall.

“I know your mother taught you better manners than to skulk when you know people can sense you, Ronodin. Please do leave me be, I’m not telling you anything else, and this constant taunting is rather irritating, even for you.”

Her eyes adjusted as the boy spoke. Because he was a boy, and based on his voice, couldn’t be much older than her, probably Ronodin’s age. She could catch the outline of bars, bent in around a circle, like a bird cage. Almost appropriate, given that this boy’s voice was the most melodic she had ever heard. Beautiful as Ronodin’s, but in a different way. Clearer, somehow.

“Fine, I will simply annoy you in return. I don’t think High Sylvian has ever graced these halls, join in if you remember the words:

 Follow the wind,

The one that blows of honey and rose

A caress, a brush, steady and slow

Follow the wind to Asamelle

  Trail the stream,

Of cerulean and lily pads green

It bubbles laughter and splashes song

Trail the stream to Asamelle

  Chase the light,

It hovers and flickers at the edge of sight

Whiter than ever beheld, brighter than ever-ever lived,”

The boy’s voice cracked here, and the imperfection in the perfect song made her throat grow tight. When he started singing again, it was just a little more raw, and Kendra had to cover her mouth.

“Chase the light to Asamelle

Chase the light home.

  You followed the wind, and trailed the stream,

chased the light, found the dream,

Home, to Asamelle.

  Moonlight blossoms, viridian forest,

Wave to the naiad, dance to the Djini lyre

Unicorns race and run through the mire

You have come home to Asamelle

  Beneath the tiger sky, follow softly,

Pass tree-grown houses, and beds of petals new

The final rise gives way to Heartsworn

The crowning jewel of Asamelle

  There’s so much light, it’s too bright,

Push forward; the sun was brought to house,

The virtuous beings of Asamelle

  An orchestra of birds, winds, and strings

Elf and Phoenix dance with the grace of falling leaves,

Step forward, part of the dance, the moment, the chance

Asamelle sings you home.”

 A tear slid down her cheek. An honest tear, her payment for the song. It was so full of love and longing; it would have been a sin to not be affected.

“Hang on, Ronodin would never have listened to me sing that,” the boy said, “Who are you?”

Kendra fled back to the library. She banged her hip on her way through the secret passage, and curled up in her armchair.

Her heart was thumping, pounding, her face hot. What was wrong with her? She just…all she needed was a moment to calm down and collect herself. That prisoner revealed a lot, she just needed some space and time from his voice to be able to process it.

The prisoner was so sad. How could anyone keep him jailed away like that? Was Asamelle his home? Why did he ever leave? It sounded beautiful, in a way that looks fragile but is more solid than anything else. A sculpture that appears to be made of glass, but is actually of ice or diamond.

And the part she didn’t want to think about: Ronodin is his jailor. He seemed to know Ronodin quite well, well enough think he could tick Ronodin off. And considering Ronodin’s relationship with his home, that song probably would. The boy thought she was Ronodin, there to question him some more. What could Ronodin want with him? How many more of her schemes would Ronodin tolerate until Kendra was in a cage next to the boy?

If she was trapped down there, would he sing for her if she asked?

No. The goal was to get out to the sunlight, not end up another bird in a cage, one much more unpleasant than her current residence. Why was he in a cage? Ronodin was all about freedom, and making sure people had the space to make their choices. He seemed to hate that Kendra was in a cage, Ronodin wouldn’t imprison someone else without reason.

Things weren’t adding up. Should she wait to confront Ronodin about it? Should she go talk to the trapped boy? Kendra thought she could make another trip before Ronodin came back tonight. Who would be more likely to lie? The boy or Ronodin?

Kendra needed facts. Evidence. Mendigo was under her full control. She had a brother named Seth. She chose to give up her memory. Ronodin loved her. She was fairykind and could use magic to make enchanted objects and see in the dark. Everything else she knew came from Ronodin’s story.

Kendra wanted to talk to the boy. And when Ronodin came back, she didn’t know when he’d leave again. This could be her only chance.

The goblin’s head was back to normal, and she broke the neck again. Kendra also took her second amulet, to weaken those who would harm her, not the blinding one. If the boy had the intention of harming her while she was down there, her curse would strike. Possibly. Not that he could do much from inside a birdcage.

The hallway had darkened, but lit once again as she touched the wall. Surer than the first time, Kendra hurried down the secret tunnel to the half-there wall. Once again, Kendra stopped.

“I know you’re there,” the boy called, much softer this time.

Gathering her courage, Kendra passed through the wall, halfway. She spotted an identical goblin statue, this time part of the brace holding up a torch, and went through all the way.

She walked forward, and a light sprung from inside the cage, small and dim, it illuminated the boy.

He was handsome. Unbelievably handsome. Kendra couldn’t remember seeing the cover of a magazine, and only knew that they depicted pretty people. She felt like she wouldn’t ever need to see a magazine; the boy in front of her screamed that kind of impossible perfection. White hair, blue eyes, unblemished pale skin, cupid’s bow lips that had fallen open at the sight of her.

Too late she remembered that she was currently wearing the stretchy red dress, a ruby medallion, a white cursed amulet (luckily that eyesore was tucked under her neckline), and her hideous orange cardigan. Her hair had been brushed and tied back before she started crafting, and she certainly wasn’t wearing the makeup in her bathroom. She felt a thousand times grungier than she had before.

The boy’s face changed, hardening, and he turned to speak to the general space around them, “Nice try Ronodin. I’m not going to lie and say I expected you to send a fake Kendra,” she jumped when he said her name, “but she really needs some work. This one barely glows, much less radiates like the sun. I’m honestly more surprised you let through such a bad copy.”

“Oh, um, Ronodin didn’t send me, I’m kind of here without him knowing, so I’d appreciate it if we could keep this a secret,” Kendra said nervously, tugging at her cardigan, hoping to turn it into something less ridiculous. “And I can shine brighter, but it seems to bother people, so I dim it.”

The boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “Kendra could never be dim.”

She unclenched the mental fist halfway, removing part of the block on her light, and immediately things became easier to see. One of the nearby cages started grumbling, so she dimmed it again.

He stared at her, and Kendra blushed and shifted under his gaze.

“Um…, I came to ask you some things,” Kendra tried, eyes drawn to the floor. This was not how she expected this to go. “But mostly, I really liked your song. Is Asamelle your home?” That was not what Kendra meant to ask him about, and blushed. Hopefully he couldn’t see in the dim light the way she could.

“Asamelle was the capital city of the old Fairy Realm,” he said, with disbelief. “Kendra, look at me.”

It clicked in her head, “Oh, you know me, don’t you?” she said, doing as he asked and looking at him. “I’m sorry, but I’m having some trouble remembering you at the moment.”

“And I’m still having trouble believing you’re the real Kendra,” he said. “Not knowing who I am isn’t doing you any favors.”

Kendra shrugged, “Don’t take it personally, I don’t know who anyone is. My oldest memory is turning a key that made me lose my memory. My brother Seth was there, and Ronodin, also an angry guy that claimed to be the King of the Dragons, and a magical dwarf. We were all fighting over a stone and my brother kind of won, I think, then I faked my own kidnapping and brought myself here. I really am sorry I don’t remember you.”

He was shaking his head slowly.  

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said, but I’m still having some trouble believing you’re Kendra and not some Ronodin knock off sent here to torture me,” he said, “Do you mind letting me confirm your story?”

“How?” she asked cautiously.

He held out a hand through the bars, “It’s not bad, just touch my hand, and give me permission to see if you are telling the truth. I can’t see anything you don’t want me to, and you won’t feel a thing.”

Kendra pulled back a little. “I don’t know your name, and I don’t know who or what you are. I’m sorry, I really don’t feel comfortable doing that.” Could all unicorns do what he said? She might be in a lot more trouble with Ronodin than she thought.

“I’m Bracken,” he said, retracting his hand and backing away, “We’ve done this before, if you really are Kendra. I’m a unicorn, and the Fairy Queen herself vouched for me.” His eyes softened, looking over her again, “I’m sorry, whatever is going on, I don’t mean to frighten you. I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, though it will make trusting you a little more difficult. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

Oh, he was kind. Why would Ronodin imprison someone like him? Being a unicorn the same age as Ronodin explained the comments about Ronodin’s mother and the polite dislike. The name Bracken also sounded familiar…

“Oh no,” Kendra said, covering her mouth. It all came together. Bracken was Ronodin’s cousin, the one she was engaged to while secretly seeing Ronodin.

Bracken’s eyebrows raised, “I will admit that’s the first time my name has evoked that reaction. You remember something about me around your mysterious bout of amnesias?”

Kendra wanted to run away again. No wonder Ronodin knew it wasn’t safe for her to leave yet; people from her old life were already tracking her here. Why hadn’t Ronodin told her? Of course, he didn’t tell her, she spent so much time fighting him. Was Ronodin worried she would leave, or demand to leave until she hated him? This was all wrong and not fair, and Kendra didn’t know what to do.

“I’m so sorry for what old me did to you,” Kendra said. “I don’t know why I led you on, I’m sorry.” Kendra put her hand over his, which was suddenly gripping the bars of his cage. “I give you permission to see the truth of my words.”

Bracken closed his eyes, and his forehead creased, “It’s…blank. I can sense your memories for a time, then its just gone. You gave them up, but it is your mind,” he said with disbelief. “You are really Kendra.”

Bracken frowned, “There’s something awful here, dark, but nowhere near strong enough to block your memories. Do you remember any other curses? Or maybe you have a cursed item?”

“Oh, um, I made it today, to protect myself from people who would do me harm? It’s a little new, but it might be what you’re talking about,” Kendra said, pulling out the medallion.

“You did what? Kendra, you don’t make curses. That’s dark magic,” Bracken said, clutching the bars of his cell, “Listen to me closely, whatever you do, stay away from crafting curses. How can you even do that?” Which verified Ronodin’s words. Her crafting had been a secret, he did think she was evil, as was her art. There was just one more thing to check.

“Are you familiar with Mendigo?” Kendra asked.

“Your puppet? Kendra, I feel like you’re not listening to me. Whatever Ronodin said —”

“Does Mendigo only do what I say or not?”

“Well, yes, Mendigo, as I understand it, is keyed into the commands of you and your brother, and whoever you tell him to listen to.” Bracken said. “I don’t see why that’s important. Look, Ronodin is evil, you can’t trust anything he says —”

“What about my family?” Kendra asked, “Do they really imprison dark creatures against their will?”

Bracken’s eyebrows rose, “What? In a manner of speaking they do, because nothing else would have the chance to grow and flourish if we let them out. Demons, the unbound undead, dragons, they would destroy everyone and everything if given a single chance. You helped put so many of them away. They’ve killed your friends and family. It isn’t an unjust prison sentence if that’s what Ronodin told you. They all chose darkness and destruction, or it’s their nature and life sentences over huge tracks of land to roam seem more humane than killing everyone in an effort not to die ourselves. You and your family are the best people I know. Good people. Ronodin is twisting the truth for his own ends if he says differently. You are a good person Kendra, you don’t craft curses. You don’t chose evil, you can’t. It isn’t who you are. Don’t listen to Ronodin’s lies.”

“Ronodin said the exact same thing,” Kendra said sadly, and Bracken went quiet, “Except, he knows something you don’t, something we couldn’t share with either of our families because yours hates him and mine wouldn’t understand. I’ve been enchanting magic objects for a while now. I met up with Ronodin in secret, and fell in love with him. I ordered Mendigo to kidnap me from my home so that we could be together.”

“Wha-no, no, no. That doesn’t make sense,” Bracken said, hurt crashing through those beautiful blue eyes as he drew back. “That can’t be true…I…you let me into your mind a week ago. Please believe me. You met Ronodin for the first time this past week.”

“He’s a little rough,” she defended quietly, looking away, “We’re learning our way around each other again over my memory loss. He hates that we have to stay cooped up, but he knows who I was better than anyone else.”

“That’s a lie,” Bracken insisted, “He doesn’t know anything about you. He doesn’t know that falling rain makes you think of your friend Lena. He doesn’t know that your favorite way to travel through the air is being held by the Dragon Raxtus. He doesn’t know that your cousin Warren would die for you, after seeing you die once already and being unable to stop it. Ronodin knows you less than you know yourself right now. I get that you-you might not be able to believe me right now, but find Seth, find your grandparents, they’ll be scouring the earth for you. They love you so much, and you love them more than anything in return.”

Bracken’s voice was low and sincere. His voice had cracked again, like it had during his song, his tell that the emotion was just too much. So utterly certain he was right. But Kendra didn’t know a Lena or a Raxtus or a Warren. And she couldn’t ask Ronodin about them, because then he would know she went wandering.

Why couldn’t the old Kendra have fallen in love with Bracken instead?

“Why did Ronodin imprison you?” she asked. “Was it…was it because of me? He and Seth mentioned that we were…intended.”

“Oh, um…I mean…That’s not...we’re, um,” Bracken said, flustered. He wasn’t blushing, but unicorn blood was silver, could he blush? Did he sparkle more in the light when blushing? Pooling silver instead of red? “I would have come for you, I swear, but uh, Ronodin got to me first. I’ve been here a week-ish. Hard to tell the days, the guards aren’t regular on feeding us. I’m not sure what he wants to do with me. He was helping overthrow preserves and trying to set dragons on the world to massacre humans, so I was sent to stop him, but he got the jump on me.”

Ronodin would try to negotiate better circumstances for the dragons, and starting them from a place of freedom is something he would do. Keeping Bracken for no reason? That didn’t sound like something he would do. Bracken being sent off to stop his cousin? Bracken looked fit, but she would probably bet on Ronodin in a fight.

What was the truth in all of this? Where was it? Except she knew where it was, locked away with her memories. This was the first time she felt like she needed her memories. Kendra had missed them before, but if what Bracken said was true, then Ronodin was brainwashing her. If what Ronodin said was true, she had purposefully led Bracken to believe the way he did, and she had escaped from the consequences of the harm she caused someone who seemed so honest and sincere. Why couldn’t she just know. Like a normal person.

“Would I give up my memory so my brother wouldn’t have to?” Kendra asked.

His eyes were soft, awkwardness leaving, “In a heartbeat. Seth has suffered much, often by his own folly, much because he was a child in a world too dangerous for someone with his curiosity and kindness. He has trouble knowing who to trust. You supported him, gave him strength, pulled him out of his misery, helped clean up his mistakes, but you wished you could bear some of the burden for him. If given the chance to spare him pain, to keep him from messing up without his memory and creating new guilt, Kendra Sorenson wouldn’t hesitate to give up her memories.”

His hand raised, and she noticed a piece of hair falling in her face, he hesitated just short of her, and then pulled his hand back to the bars.

“Sorenson,” she said, fixing the loose hair on her own, because she’d start crying if she didn’t speak, “Is that my name?”

Bracken nodded, smiling, “Kendra Marie Sorenson. Your first name came from a book your father loved, your middle name is the same as your maternal Grandmother’s middle name.”

“I want to believe you,” Kendra admitted. “But from the things I know for certain, you’re probably a victim of my own lies.”

“You are goodness,” Bracken said simply, “Goodness and light. Ask yourself if what you’re doing feels right, feels good. If it makes you a better person who helps people and creates good things. Don’t listen to Ronodin, don’t craft curses. If you find a moment to escape, take it. Take it and don’t look back. Head to upstate Connecticut, ask for the Sorensons. You’ll find people who can help you.” Bracken tensed, “My jailor is coming, hurry away, don’t stop.”

Kendra rushed to the goblin statue, twisted the head, and hurried back up the hall.

Back in her little apartment, she took off the amulet and held it up. It had felt good crafting it. Honest. Part of who she was before that she had reclaimed. What was true and what was false?

#Forgotten Light #Bracken #Kendra Sorenson #Brackendra #I love this chapter so much you have no idea #Thanks for being patient #The hyperfixation choses you #Fablehaven #Dragonwatch

[lieblxng]

im developing a lot of aus including the reverse au which is currently only available for rose, but leon also has it developed, i just forgot to put it in the verses page for him haha but wow im developing a reverse verse for a chara i dont have??? i might as well throw damos on the blog and be the only person in the pkmn rpc who plays him LMAO i cant help falling for obscure characters but i think he might have a better chance in getting interactions than my etrian odyssey muses but no if anyone wants to do damos,,,,you can hmu 😳😳 i cant reply it or see it if you do tho LMAOO

anyway reverse!damos here who goes by lazarus (meaning: my god has aided me) is not a nice farmer unlike his normal verse, instead being akin to a mercenary, but he kinda fills in the role of marcus - he has the ability to manipulate the hearts of pokemon, even legendaries and because of this, he’s been fiddling with legendaries and experimenting with things to try something out - and while reverse!arceus has been severely weakened from an intense fight or a meteorite too (im still figuring it out) and lost its life plates, lazarus finds it. it’s on the brink of dying, and instead of returning the plates like a nice person, lazarus only thinks of profit and benefitting himself - because it’s so vulnerable, it manipulates reverse!phae into summoning the lake guardians, where it promptly fights them and steals their gems before kicking them into the dirt. then he uses said gems to restraint and fully take control of reverse!phae before inserting the plates back into it, saying it will only get them back if it corporates. yes, lazarus literally pulls a cyrus being the first one to actually create a draft of the red chains to have arceus under its command. one of cyrus’ pc posts is “According to myths, the Pokémon created Sinnoh with its power. However, capturing the Pokémon with a Poké Ball prevents it from using its full power... But with the Red Chain, the Pokémon can be shackled, and its power can be used without restraint...” and he’s implying arceus with the first mention of pokemon, so maybe the red chains can be used on god??? i dont see why not, although the lake guardian was made more to check the creation trio than god itself, but why wouldn’t you have checks against god? “The Pokémon of the lakes and Mt. Coronet are somehow connected. Capturing the Pokémon of the lakes will free the Pokémon of Mt. Coronet. From the Pokémon of the lakes, crystals can be extracted to create a Red Chain.” i know he implies the creation trio with pkmn of mt. coronet but technically arceus lives in mt. coronet as the hall of origins can be summoned there LEMME HAVE THIS - 

originally i was going to have reverse!arceus be a completely neutral god, both in personality and how it handled things - just create life, casually, and just head out and do nothing for them - “the humans can handle their planet however they wish to. if they destroy it, they destroy it.” and i was trying to redesign it and it kept coming up as punk (more below because this is a long ass post)

so i was like, aight i guess i’ll go with what my heart wants but something still didnt feel right, because punk is an expression more than just a simple fashion statement - it was created to rebel against those who tried to hold you down and mold you into who they wanted you to be. to defy the shitty standards of what’s supposedly normal. and then it all clicked when i looked at this vid 

ive heard the music itself and one of my favs, but not the music video so i kinda just exploded with ideas and it really completed the punk i wanted to go with - funny thing, im a bad character designer so i scrapped the punk look and pulled a unique thing with phae’s case - legendaries and mythics are statements of unchanging, fixated ways while normal, evolvable pokemon are statements of improvement and change - growth, which is something phae is completely jealous of. gods don’t evolve; they don’t change. so i thought, why not keep its original look (i love it too much anyway and i cant think of anything better tbh for phae) to reflect that aspect but have the way it governs and behaves different? normal!phae and reverse!phae are still similar but opposite - normal being the kind, caring god and reverse being the relentless, uncaring god. both are the two most popular aspects and themes of gods and how they treat those beneath them, so i thought it worked.

reverse!phae never wanted to be a god. it’s immature and uncaring on purpose to get the attention of the creator of the original one itself; to be a sign of rebel, to show that it was its own character and no one can morph it into what they want it to be. it revels in its creations screaming in pain, as nothing else entertains it so and because it empathizes with them. it sends the world into pure chaos a majority of time so no one enjoys living. seeing its creations, both human and pokemon, excel in the trials and tribulations of this hell; seeing them perform so expertly under extreme stress, how humans and pokemon can come together and defeat anythin - and rebelling in their own right and way give reverse!phae so much hope and relief. that it’ll be able to do the same. and once reverse!phae does get its creators attention, you bet it’s gonna be very angry on why it exists. it might even try to murk its creator. it’s more of a “i didn’t ask to be born so i’m gonna make it your problem” type of person, and a god prone to violence - often fighting with its own creations, like even the lake trio and the creation trio. but it checks them all every time, and it’s so hungry for an actual fight that reverse!phae can actually work for and struggle for and feel like it actually won. and that’s when lazarus comes in. that’s where lazarus comes in.

how much it hates lazarus. how much it hates lazarus. it hates everyone, but lazarus has a special kind of hatred reserved just for him. in fact, hatred isn’t the proper word to explain the intense, raw, unfiltered feelings reverse!phae has for him. on one hand, it absolutely respects the honest work he puts in to further himself, but on the other hand, being the one on the receiving end of his malicious intentions is never ideal. it has no interest in whatever petty crimes he wants to commit, but trying to take god and become it yourself? completely admirable. a fantastic way to rebel, but having to have someone chain you down and control you? reverse!phae’s worst nightmare. i’ll get into that later since this is already long enough god help me

is reverse!phae messed up? yes, severely. that’s kinda what happens when you rot alone in the depths of dark space for eons. no human nor pokemon - no, no living being can ever handle that. both normal! and reverse!phae have the same backstory, but different reactions to it. reverse!phae wants everyone to scream and lash out, it wants everyone to rebel against their origins and become their own people, even with the immense baggage on their shoulders. it wants everyone to risk death to accomplish their dreams. it laughs in everyone's faces before spitting in them. i think reverse!phae will be one of my most violent takes on a muse, if not, my most since it is god and the shit it talks can easily be proven right. it constantly berates and breaks people down into pieces. no one understands it. it hates everyone and everything it sees. it doesn’t need love and kindness, it just needs a body to break. which is untrue, because obviously its yearning for love and kindness - something its never experienced - and it’s lashing out for attention. secretly hoping someone will just hug it and all its problems away. that everything will be okay in the grand scheme of things. that it won’t have to have the unlimited stress of being a god anymore.

usually when i put my touch on muses, canon or not, they’re primarily good people with hearts of gold. even with ones less so, they’re not as intense as this. so working with that kind of character is thrilling and i’m excited to see if i can get anyone interested with it lmao- reverse!phae’s name might be nou or chali, what would be better? sorry this was such a long post!! i’ve been working on this since last night and it’s been really fun to develop like this again - i only get this kind of productive with my hyperfixations, so they’re both a blessing and a curse -  i think this is everything i have rn for the reverse au but ii’ll be going back into it

#//trimming because this is a long ass post #//talking about the reverse verse oh hee hoo #//ive made developments #//see now after the fluff we get the angst its the circle of life on this blog #'Cause we kick it like it's summertime. | Mun Art #There's no need to be so VIP. | Headcanons #Arceus (self) | I have many names~ #big boy anxiety | OOC #Turning a cold shoulder. | Verses

[princessdianaartemis]

Brainstorm Vomit

TW: Bullying; Emotion Manipulation Mention; Panic/Anxiety Attacks; Suicide Ideation; Self-Harm Mention; Death; Cursing; Description of Injury; Slight Misogyny; Depression; Anxiety; Description of Dissociation

Being made fun of in the 5th grade made me become a monster: mean, biting, sarcastic - nothing to make tears flow other than the pain that came from wanting love and even that was something no one knew about me. Just a child and already fighting with the desire to be loved. Already fighting down the thoughts of wanting to die, that everything would be fine, or better, without me.

I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t pretty enough to not get bullied; wasn’t normal enough not to be compared to things associated with taunting culture: ‘Lety la Fea’, ‘Harry Potter’s sister’, names that echo for years in this strong memory vault. Not funny enough to be approachable - that was my Feffy - not the right culture, language, look, speech. Did they see me sweet back then, or was I the carry-on for people cooler than me even back then. I shared the world of my imagination when it’s still fun to pretend in the fifth grade, when you can still be a kid, but not for much longer and the imagination had to be silenced when it wouldn't go away.

By sixth grade, I was a new me. Hard, not afraid to manipulate - adults believe anything when you’re sweet - throwing my weight around to get my way. I was told I was too mean and it stung, but anything softer and I’d be trampled to the ground - at least that’s the way it felt. I used the muscle around me to protect me, the sharpness of my tongue. Hate was easier than love, then friendliness - that was meant for paper - and I had seen how the world corrupted softness into cruelty until it disappeared.

I saw that no matter how much I primped and preened, someone would always be more beautiful and I hated every inch of me: every hair, roll, color, zits, glasses, smile, everything. I turned to my imagination to build perfection and pushed everything childish into the safety of home. Paper was my sanctuary, where kindness was allowed, where my childish likes wouldn’t be judged, and the beauty I would never be able to be came to life.

I think 7th grade saw the realest me. Joking around with Darius and Zach, the humor of my friends, the artistry, the sarcasm directed at someone who laughed it off - a father figure I hadn’t given that title to - a friend that wasn’t ashamed of my likes and my heart safe because this time I’d keep it all a secret and maybe life would take pity of find me worth and give me a chance It didn’t matter that if felt impossible when the friends around me encouraged my heart.

With eighth grade came pressure. New people with new ideas that could cost me my friends and so, like a chameleon, I adapted. Swathed in black and safe in a subculture that said it was okay to be dark and quiet and edgy but not fitting in because the darkness hit too close to home and the openness behind hurt culture shocked. Because I’d rather hoard friends: old friends, edgy friends, Latino, Black, white, rather than lose them. Not fitting into any one group but pushing into all of them. Hate mainstream ideas - the football player behind you, the cheerleader next to him because that’s what the media taught. You don’t understand why when you don’t see anything wrong with them other than the entitlement given by others, the privilege of their birth. Collecting friends so that if - when - you’re forgotten, you’d always have someone else there to catch you.

Depression, real depression not what emo culture thought it is, hits in the 9th grade and you think it’s just the leftover from those fake-dark days. You think the pain from lightning through your veins is because of the lightning in the sky and has no correlation to the heaviness in your chest, the tears you hide into pillows, screams and sobs into your palms to not wake the house. You’re 14 and surrounded by children that you still play with, down to their levels of imagination and scraping knees on carpet, and you think it’s okay because they’re still children and you’re just entertaining them.

High school means being flooded with questions about college and your plans after graduation and you’re smart so everyone assumes you know everything you’ll need in order to take those next steps. No one asks if you need help, you face that world blindly and it returns to bite you in the ass. Your head and heart finally agree and for a few blessed months you’re free of liking, of wanting to be loved, yes, there is bitter anger but you hope it teaches you never to fall again. You find a home on the stage and think that maybe there’s some talent in you after all. The words flow from your head and your mouth to the page and you start to think that maybe, maybe, life can be okay.

Tenth grade and fuck up...and you don’t even realize until that you have until it’s too late and you’re drowning. Drowning in a feeling that starts off like a crush but ends up feeling like so much more. You’re scared - you freak out a ‘trusted adult’ trying to figure out your feelings, she thinks you’re gay and afraid (you’re not but that’s a discovery for later). He says you’re aggressive and, for once, you listen, You learn not to smack people in the arm when something stupid comes out of their mouths, the sweetness you buried deep inside starts crawling back out and people like her so you like her, you parade her around and sure, she can still turn a sweet smile into a shark’s grin, but she’s kind, sweet, what he might like - might be looking for. You heal certain wounds and never say ‘love’ because that’s heartbreak ready to happen. People encourage your feelings with playful testing, the harmless pushes of ‘maybe he likes you, too’ that fuels a heart waiting for someone to love it because…

INTERMISSION

It’s easy to put on a happy face and pretend that everything’s okay when people only know one side of the dice that is your life. They don’t see the years of hurt in your own home. The poison dart glare of your mother and its returned one from your grandmother, a cycle of anger they throw each other into, of burning cold silence and explosions and you stuck in the middle. Of fearing our grandmother walking out and leaving you with the weight of caring for others, of the storming out of my mother when she’s had enough, the way grandma looks when she does disappear into the night. They don’t know that you’d sworn to yourself that those three younger than you would never know how it feels to be trapped between them. All they know is that your home life is a mystery - you don’t have a nice house, a nice neighborhood, neighbors that like you. They don’t know about all the times you put yourself before the littles so they don’t get in trouble, don’t get yelled at, don’t fear. They’ve never seen the terrifying flare of your mother’s nose, the disappointment that curls your grandmother’s lip - both of them seeing you as an echo, a step away from making the same mistakes. You feel anger, resentment, more fear than love - but like in every case, you love them because you don’t know better. When have you ever truly felt love that didn’t come without a warning sign - that this feeling is fleeting for anger and fear might be on the horizon.

END INTERMISSION

Those feelings for him is your escape - a place to channel all the hope you feel. You think if he can love you, you can have a world away from the pain you’ve seen and he pays attention in ways no one else has. And still your imagination flourishes. You don’t share your likes because you’ve learned they quickly become obsessions - hyperfixation is not a word you know yet - and that’s not normal. And Junior Year starts beautiful and full of promises, of hope and ends with still more pining for a feeling you think is impossible and for a future that, for once, doesn’t seem like a stretch.

Senior year.

You don’t know what to expect except for what you know from screens and books - the culmination of your life and the beginning of it all. But things soon take a bitter turn, promises sour. You realize that before the heartbreak breaks you, you’ve gotta let go...because the feelings aren’t going away. So you try...and try...everything up to tearing your heartstrings out themselves, but you’re blamed for hoarding, for selfishness in something uncontrollable. But you try because you know that the happiness they’d feel would be enough, but he asks you for advice and you give it…and you get blamed for tilting the situation in your favor. You’re hurt…a friend is lost but you Go ON. Things slowly fall back in place. You make deals that you don’t know, one that people say to believe in: Give me Love returned or take these feelings away before it’s too late. Please. Please. You dance together at prom and you hate the way it feels. You try to pray the feelings away with no answer. He sits next to you in your tiny car, close and just hidden from the world and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly and you pray that these feelings disappear in the next few weeks or you’re doomed. And still they remain. In hindsight, you wish you’d told him to reject you. A clean cut to set you free.

Graduation is supposed to mean the end of one chapter and beginning of the next, but it becomes the difference between a coming-of-age story to a tragedy. It’s hot and full of happiness…and sadness. Wanting desperately for a movie moment, a final act that seals a love that has always been there and making those dreamy romantic notions reality. But the buzz is too much and you lose him in the sea of people. Sourness in your stomach, the words of nights before echo: “Don’t let me make it past graduation. I know that everything will go downhill from there.” Sealed fate. Abu crying in joy, or was it acceptance? Her touching my hair and telling me how long it was getting. A lunch together before I take off to be with friends - so many friends and I think that I will never be forgotten. I said goodbye and rolled my eyes when my grandmother told me to be careful. I should’ve said I love you. I should’ve said something. Party hopping: joy, Joy, JOY because I’m accepted, I’m loved and it feels like I’ve made it. Like I’ve basked in Love meant for me, missing that one piece, but still drunk in joy…and it all crashes down with reality.

Chaos.

Police interviewing Mom, Police interviewing Brother, can’t see the littles and wonder if it’s about them. Then the words: grandmother, car - chaos. Be the strong one, be the steady one: Mom’s hurting, Brother’s hurting, littles are panicking, be the one with strength. Call him. You need his steadiness, his cold detachment - you need someone who doesn’t care but cares enough to keep you balanced. “Distract me,” you say and that droning voice does enough to push you forward. You are strong. So many times being told it and it becomes a mantra. But it’s also your downfall. You bite your tongue that says she won’t make it and ride that thread of Hope until it snaps. Excuse yourself. Pull yourself together in the hospital bathroom, be steady for the rest of them. Ask to see her. Don’t wonder about the bruises, the lifelessness of an eerily quiet body - so different from its snoring slumber, don’t focus on the stumps where legs should be - don’t think that this is the better option than seeing her live crippled. Don’t wonder how exactly it happened. You call him in a garden, May-warm night that feels cold and the stupidly selfish part wishes it’ll happen, that he’ll be there in this dark time and love could blossom.

You have a job to do. Hold yourself strong as mother and brother mourn, keep the younger ones joyful, fed, happy, clean - the world didn’t end, we just have to adapt. Become the missing person and pick up where she left off: distract the kids, fall into the quiet trap of summer. Summer had always been lonely, now it’s a different type of darkness.

The medium comes to your house and you’re a skeptic - this woman has been told about your grandmother beforehand and will tell you what you want to hear. She says vague things at first and you’re still standoffish, then she gets specific - things no one knows - and she echoes familiar words from the deceased: “They’re not your kids.”

But it’s too late.

You’re short on tuition, scholarships you weren’t good for, the things that they didn’t teach you have caught up and you resign yourself to not go to school - get a job to help the house - by some miracle you get the money, you make it in. Far from your dream - away from Spanish moss covered streets or a French castle - and into a world of hours in traffic, walks in a metropolis. Acting is a vague dream, so you turn back to the imagination you pen. You don’t learn to live on your own and instead learn how to care for, serve, others (in your head you feel Chris cackling somewhere, that you’ve served your rightful place as a woman). Everyone else is growing, learning, loving, and you’re still playing with littles, still trying to find connections among peers - both past and present. When everyone is much more applied, talented, artistic, open and you close up.

Your foolish heart still wants him, but your brain knows better - know that you’ll never see him again. That he’ll fall for a lithe and kind thing, traditional, safe - things you’ll never be. You want to rip that bandaid away, push him out of your life and hope that it snuffs out the flame. So you block him - he might’ve reached out to you - but you don’t know - and the question haunts you. You know you need help. It’s not healthy to lock yourself up and cry in the bathroom, mourning alone so no one hears, so you can stay strong, and hope that no one catches you hurt. You wait for your mother to explode in anger - it's been a while and you can sense it in the air. And now Abu isn’t there to protect, to take the brunt, to tell her off - what do you do. The therapist says to create boundaries and be able to live your life and you try - she made you say the word ‘love’ and you hate it - the kids need protection, they need someone to buffer it - your brother is in a dark place and spiraling, no longer the sunshine of the house. Like you predict, mom explodes and you stand up. Tell her you’re all terrified of her - of her anger, of tiptoeing around her. She withdraws and the fear paralyzes you, lives inside of you like ice, but the kids need to eat, need to play, need school, so you go on with your days, And eventually, she speaks and says she’ll do better. For the kid’s sake, you hope so, it’s too late for you.

You find yourself not liking anyone new. Discover a term you identify with: asexual. Because the body and its orifices are disgusting to you even though you still want to be cuddled, coddled, loved. You say demi because you’ve never been attracted at first sight, not until the strands of their being have been exposed to you and things make sense - why you can’t let go, why you can’t build something new when you can’t get to know anyone. Suddenly things make sense.

Your imagination is dimming. The world you're so meticulously poured your lifeblood into now withers and becomes hollow. Poetry mixes into the page, melancholic and sadder than it has any right being. The feelings you’d wished would dissolve come and go in tides, in sighs that replace his name, your heart aches and the heaviness fills your bones like lead. You try to make friends and, despite the privilege etched into the world of the young woman, you think you've made one - and then she drags you under a bus. All the while, you’ve been pushing people away, people that loved you. You still have such a strong love for all those people in your heart, people you’d written to, but your obsession lies in knowing if you’d even meant anything and you come up empty. You were never a friend, just a passing character in their lives. Again, you hide yourself. It’s too late to build up these walls that made you tough and mean, but the cynicism creeps back in.

Someone had once said they’d seen you become less cynical - they'd be sad to see it return, but they’re not around anyway.

You chose your family over yourself, over friends, over making a life, and now...People get engaged. People get married. People have children. They have friends they meet up with - friends they want to meet up with. They have significant others. You know it’s a matter of time before you break. You’re not envious, you’re so happy for them, but you feel so hurt and chillingly alone. A burden on everyone you come across. But you made yourself this way. You’re afraid of being jobless, a financial burden in the household you’re still living in, so you find a job in the one place you can fall back on - school. In the place you think appreciation lies. You want to help kids not become you. You forget the specters of pain hiding in corners - you forget that memories can quickly become tangible. Not ready for the emotional weight this job brings, the kids you cannot help. The kids it’s too late for, the disrespect because people still see a child and that’s all you’ll be - never enough for others. Cynicism settles in your heart, quiet is your friend, self-flagellation your comfort.

It gets better.

Then it gets worse.

Realize how you’re bound to this land when your brother gets to leave. What blood-spilled oath has tethered you to this place and refuses to let you escape? You chose to stay and protect children that didn’t ask for protection. You chose this job. YOU chose your family over yourself, over friends, over making a life, and now YOU’RE TRAPPED and there’s no escape. You try to do things you love, you make an exchange, a deal, with higher beings: If this doesn’t work out. It’s a dream not meant to be.

See unfortunately that’s how I see the relationship with God works. They will never give you anything without taking something else away. It’s an exchange, not a gift.

It doesn’t work, but someone does get that dream and you try not to be upset. To be happy. But bitterness sets in because you wanted a moment to get to shine again, to be more than a shadow and they seem to grow brighter as you dim. Cold settles…colder than it’s ever been. This is depression like you’ve never known and it claws at every strand of joy, every light swallowed. For the first time, you want to draw blood. First, it’s kitten scratches, nails biting into flesh. Then you find a tool of irony - the broken fragments of a happy family picture - and cut deeper. The beads of blood you offer to the Heavens and hope that, for once, it appeases the being that seems to be set on punishing you so soundly.

Am I a scapegoat of some familial fault? Payment for the sins of my parents? My grandparents? For my own cruelty? Am I such a horror that I deserve a lifetime of torture and punishment at my own hands?

You feel lonelier than ever. Push away people because you don’t deserve joy and people don’t want to be brought down by a killjoy like you. Feel the sharp edge of childhood in your face as sneers replace smiles, as stoic faces replace shallow happiness. Fuzziness. You move like a robot. Disconnected between mind and body. Watch yourself, detach from the body. People question the scars and the lies fall easy, swallowed down because it’s easier to accept that self-mutilation. And all the while you’re searching for Home. You don’t know what that is because you say it in the comfort of your bed. Find comfort in sleep, find comfort in your new hyperfixation - in the angel and demon on your shoulders and their love, fictional or maybe hovering over you - it’s the only thing keeping you going. You imagine them loving you and it almost feels real. Until the illusion shatters and the loneliness returns. You’re a bird of paradise, flaunting around in bright colors to hide the numbness inside. And you know for the first time in your life that the chemical imbalance needs to be fixed. Medication helps. Meditation helps. And, for a short bit, religion helps. But there is always numbness underneath.

Then slowly things start to come apart. Blame the distance, blame disease, blame that “everyone is feeling the same”, but you feel less than before. A new void of nothingness - even the sweet brushes of hopeful love extinguished and you want to be alone. Alone keeps you safe. You’re gone and no one notices. You’re gone and want to stay gone. Spirited away by feathered embraces, to a place where there is Love.

Writing comes and writing goes. That world you created, that you loved and filled with people you loved is now an empty chasm or what might’ve been. You can’t enter that headspace because they’re gone and you’re alone and - and they were never real to begin with. She faded with your spirit, the world you thought would always be there is now something you don’t even recognize anymore. It was a world built on the hopes of a girl - with the promise of love and a future that this woman no longer sees. So you pen the outpour of your soul, the things you cannot tell people out loud.

You don’t want people to reach out, because it’s always the same. Offers of help that you can’t take. You’ve always taken care of others but you can’t take care of yourself, can’t let others take care of you because you’re a burden. People that get busy and you can’t drag them away from that just because you’re hurting, that’s not their job - it’s not what they signed up for. Let them be happy. They can be happy. Don’t drag them down with you. So stay in your little corner and hide stare yourself in the eye and see if you can pull yourself out of the hell you created. You don’t want the supportive words that you can’t even process, that you hear but can’t let them sink in anymore. Affirmations mean nothing. Touch is no longer allowed with this fucking virus and it’s all your hungry soul want. You want love - a love you don’t have to share - a type of love you don’t have to share, but your hunger for that needs to be starved.

Plus, you’re only word vomiting, not asking for help, not asking for attention, just letting it all hang out. You haven’t had anything to hide in so long, just that no one listens - no one has the time - and you suck at writing. You can talk about all the new medical shit, the imposter syndrome you had this week, the anxiety, the seasonal depression peeking and shaking hands with the regular depression. But what’s the point. Just write it down, let it all out and hope you can ease your fuzzy mind.

#me #writing #my writing #lots of TW #self reflection #tw: self harm #tw: dissociation #tw: panic attack #tw: anxiety #tw: depression #tw: bullying #tw: death #tw: description of injury

[starswornoaths]

GAME OVER (for Serella please)

I’m taking a bit of a cheat here to reveal what the heck happened in this one, but it’s part of the Worst Ending I can think of for her, so I’m naturally hyperfixated on it :p

With the Light fading, it was the first time in eons that Hydaelyn had beheld the world with eyes focused and free from the bright halo of her vision. It took time to force her now mortal, now fading body to move, to make her eyes adjust to their new, clear vision, but as she sat up and looked over the remnants of her battlefield, ash some six ilms deep like snow on her scarred world.

And all she felt was hatred.

Littering her beloved land like half burned refuse lie the battered forms of the Warriors of Light. Her chosen— her children— who had all come to bare their fangs at her like ignorant, feral dogs to be put down.

Hydaelyn should not have underestimated them.

Their radiance had become their own and outstripped hers by malms. Her honeyed words no longer moved them. Not even when she was their Mother, broken and begging, to be left to her work. They spat at her. They cut her down, and here she lie, in this rotting husk of a borrowed body. 

Hydaelyn could feel herself fading— forever this time. The light in her was guttering out. She lacked the strength to obliterate her insubordinate little children for what they had done to her, too mortal for anything but mostly impotent rage.

But that did not mean she could not make them pay. 

“Which one…” she mused, Ysayle’s voice melodic and melancholy. Ysayle had been such a good girl. Such a useful girl. Why couldn’t they have all been just like her? “Which one…?” 

Every step as she meandered about the battlefield felt like glass against her feet but still she pressed on. She would not be denied her retribution.

The Warrior was the one closest to her— ahh, her sweet Uthengentle. Her precious boy who was meant for such a bigger role in her narrative. Her feet turned toward him in half made decision. It would break her heart to ruin him so, but if it meant—

Tyrfing sank into her arm and tore out a scream from her decaying lips. 

Attempting to stumble away with a limp and a whimper, Hydaelyn looked about wildly like a wounded animal, like prey that knew its end had come. The sword in her arm held— as did the iron clad hand that gripped at her throat. 

Her little Ella, barely upright and leaning heavily on the sword she’d just lashed out with, bleeding and in agony, still squeezed at Hydaelyn’s throat tight enough that what borrowed breaths she had taken were robbed from her. Even just ‘round the corner from death’s door, she still insisted on drawing the enemy to her. How typical.

“Not them.” Serella snarled, just as feral as her mother. “No more.”

Hydaelyn considered. The woman who was poised to have an undeservedly happy ending, with a husband and lovers and a massive found family in a place where she would chase away the permanent frost? The leader that had rallied so many together and guided those she could on “the better path,” all in the name of love. Her? Happy? No.

Ruining any of them would be ruining all of them, but this felt right. Felt good.

Her daughter gnashed her teeth when Hydaelyn gently took hold of her face in her hands. She could no longer make the Light in Serella dance for her, but she didn’t need to. She anchored her aether into Serella’s erratic, fluttering pulse. She rooted her daughter in place...and let her watch her work.

Hydaelyn could not kill Serella— could not kill any of them. She was too weak for that now.

But she could use their radiance. She’d done as much on her first clutch of children. All she had to do was make that brilliance too bright in the minds of everyone whose lives Serella had ever touched. To make that halo of light surrounding her brighter than it was in their mind’s eye. Too bright to see her. Blinding them to her. 

Forgetting her just enough to know there was someone to miss.

Serella watched through her cursed blessing, watched the frantically unwinding reel of memories she had made with these people, watched her fade into haziness and obscurity in all of them. She watched, helpless, as Hydaelyn used stolen hands to unweave everything that Serella held dear. Comrades, Warriors of Light, friends, lovers, family...she was forgotten by all of them.

To summon a feeble teleport spell was nothing compared to moving the stars themselves— and when Hydaelyn set them down at the Rathefrost, pressed her daughter to kneel beneath the altar to Thaliak, she drained the nearby sprites of what feeble aether they could give her— it would not do to let Serella die before she could taste what her new life would be, after all. 

“You won, my weary, wayward daughter.” Hydaylen cooed mockingly as she pulsed healing magic through Serella’s veins. “This world is rightly yours for the taking. I am undone. Enjoy it.”

“Why not just kill me?” The Paladin hissed, barely managing to wrench herself free the more the Mother Crystal burned out.

“Now why would I do such a thing?” Hydaelyn asked as she felt herself come apart at the seams. As she faded, she offered a smile to her daughter that held all the warmth of Shiva’s ice. “I’m your Mother. I love you too much for that.”

Hydaelyn faded, dying at last, before her healing magic could restore Serella fully. The Paladin collapsed into a heap onto herself, all metal and blood and agony. She couldn’t even find it in her to cry— too many steps to go before that.

First...first, she would have to heal herself enough to get to Mor Dhona. Then…

Too many steps ahead, she decided when her vision blurred enough she couldn’t see the stars overhead anymore. She blinked those tears away, sucked in as deep a breath as her fractured rib would allow, and pulled the stars into herself.

Reach within, and you will never be without, Master Dace had told her. Now, it was all she had all over again: the starlight, and herself.

#ffxiv #game over asks #a wild anon appears! #non canon ending #Serella Arcbane #Hydaelyn #Problematic Crystal Mom is Problematic. In other news water continues to be wet. #ty for the ask!!! #this is...uhh...yeah this is an AU now. #sorrynotsorry