#guess who's writing again boys

[odetoviscera]

tfw you're 12k words deep into writing and realize you are not even halfway through act one of this roughly five act fic

[wonielvr]

[00:24] - shen ricky

"you know, you are my first at everything, right? my first kiss, first boyfriend, first date, i gave my virginity to you," you said proudly, and you should've, because ricky was an amazing partner at every step of your relationship.

"hey, what's with the sudden mood change?" you asked when ricky's hug suddenly got much tighter. you didn't expect and actual answer to your questions, maybe a giggle, or ever a quiet laugh, but you certainly didn't expect a shaky breath from him.

"I just really appreciate how you said 'gave you my virginity instead of 'you took my virginity', it makes me feel loved."

"first of all, you are very loved, and you know that quite well, and second, it's because 'took' sounds forced, like you decided by yourself to grab my virginity and throw it out the window, but it's not true. you were the absolute best at everything that happened then, and I'll forever be grateful for you."

that's when he actually started to cry. you were never a very verbal person, usually just showed affection with long hugs, cuddling, making food or buying presents, which made your words much more meaningful to him.

it's true, he was the best boyfriend anyone could ever wish for, and he did anything he could to take thing in your pace, but he never knew how much you appreciated it until now.

"those are probably the sweetest words anyone has ever said to me. i love you so much, bun." he smiled with every word he said. the treasuring was audible in his sweet tone.

"i love you too."

[dustykneed]

Hello! Random whipper snipper! Share a WIP of your work!

ooh, with pleasure. six the musical araleyn fanart? in the year 2k24? more likely than you think xDD

i realize this looks finished, but technically i'm still deciding whether to add a background or not lol. still, for the sake of sharing a proper WIP, here's a line or two from an araleyn brainworm WIP that i started reworking yesterday (mild tw for religious guilt and period-typical internalized homophobia from aragon's pov):

She remembers sharing her bed with Anne at Henry's behest, remembers the nights of tossing and turning and trying not to think about Anne asleep next to her-- remembers waking up to dark hair spilling across her pillow and the press of blood-warm bosoms against her own, softer than sin, as hot as the Devil, remembers lying still as death, mouthing prayers into the heat of Anne's neck like an act of penance.

[heloflor]

I kind of hinted at it in previous posts but I’m kind of fascinated and very amused by how Peri is low-key a daddy’s boy in New Wish.

For those asking, the things that make me call Peri a daddy’s boy are 1. Cosmo being the more cuddly parents and taking the situation more seriously than Wanda when it comes to their son, 2. Peri taking a lot after Cosmo personality-wise, and 3. looking back Peri seems to have more patience towards Cosmo than he does Wanda, though I definitely think that last point is a bit of a stretch and not something the writers actually intended.

Giving examples for these three elements under the cut (1k words):

1. Cosmo being the more cuddly parent:

- In “Lost and Founder’s Day” he cries about missing his son

- in “Battle of the Dimmsonian” when reuniting with Peri he’s the first to speak and gushes about him

- Same in “Lost in Fairy World” with him taking pictures and being the first to gush about Peri, calling him his and Wanda’s baby boy later on too and also the small hug when talking about the tracking devices

- Again in “Operation Birthday Takeback” he throws himself at Peri at the beginning (granted I see this more as Wanda respecting her son’s boundaries) and then is more openly gushy when Peri agrees to give them a tour (and I still adore this moment, those three are so goddamn cute!!!)

- At the end of “Dig a Little Deeper” when Peri snaps back at Dev, Cosmo joins in to back up his son

- Cosmo spends the whole show hiding behind Wanda when scared and/or stressed out yet in “Best of Luck” he straight up starts a fight, all because Irep was insulting Peri; and while he does also stand up against Vicky in “Operation Birthday Takeback”, 1. He was doing so with Wanda, 2. Vicky was playing the nice act so they didn’t feel in immediate danger and 3. Cosmo brings up Timmy in this scene, Timmy being basically his adopted son so it’s still a show of his paternal instincts

- Oh yeah and at the end of “Best of Luck” Cosmo visibly hugs tighter, tho it’s worth noting Wanda is the one hugging tighter at the beginning of “Lost In Fairy World” (goes against my argument but I like being throughout)

- In “Battle of Big Wand” Wanda tends to Peri by standing next to him and rubbing his back while Cosmo straight up holds him in his arms. Also Cosmo does it for longer than Wanda. Also also when Wanda tries to talk Dev into helping them and starts insulting him a little, Cosmo catches it and calls her out through gritted teeth, taking the situation more seriously than her

2. Peri is a lot like Cosmo:

- The persona he puts on when trying to look professional has been compared by many to Cosmo’s personality in the “Oh Yeah” shorts. Also I stumbled across what’s apparently a tweet of one of the creators confirming that the voice actor took inspiration on either “Oh Yeah” shorts Cosmo or early seasons Cosmo for the voice

- I’ve also seen comments on a “everytime Peri talks” youtube compilation pointing out how his voice is a lot higher-pitched past his introduction scene, comparing it to Cosmo’s voice gradually getting higher-pitched as the og show went on

- Wasn’t sure where to put it but in “Battle of the Dimmsonian” Peri makes a comment about Cosmo having the heebie-jeebies, showing his dad easily comes to his mind (at least when he knows he’s around)

- In “Battle of the Dimmsonian” the potato wish suggestion; like between the body language and things Peri says, this is pure Cosmo right here (and for some reason I find it very funny)

- In a similar but opposite way, at the end of “Lost in Fairy World” when the fairies hug their kids, Cosmo’s nervous comment about the kids being alive is similar to how Peri acts when stressed out

- There’s a few moments of Peri having a similar expression to Cosmo, those being them eating candies at the beginning of “Lost in Fairy World”, while Wanda is talking after teleporting to Jorgen’s office in that same episode, still in that episode them hugging the godkids at the end, the beginning of “Operation Birthday Takeback” right as Peri escapes Cosmo’s hug, and them waiting for Wanda for a hug at the end of the finale. Granted in “Operation Birthday Takeback” Wanda and Peri have a similar expression when the “computer” lights up after Cosmo danced on it (right before Cosmo hides behind Wanda)

- Peri’s a bit of a cowards, constantly cowering whenever Dev raises his voice (which kills me everytime bc Peri wtf?! You’re a magical godlike creature! Why are you scared of that ten years old child?! And why being so visibly intimidated at the slightest raise of voice?! Who hurt you?!) and as said before Cosmo has a tendency to hide behind Wanda, so yeah he gets it from his dad; and no I’m not including his reaction to Vicky as proof of being scared easily bc there was clearly some trauma here that caused his reaction

- Because I like being throughout, it is worth noting Peri took his mom’s braincells (literally in this show) and flair for the dramatic; but for the most part other than that he seems to take after Cosmo

Also if you imagine that Blonda and Big Daddy changed their names (bc from my understanding Blonda wasn’t always blonde and there’s no way someone named their kid “Big Daddy”) he also took the tendency to get a new name from Wanda’s side of the family

3. Peri is more patient with Cosmo:

Now this one I’m incredibly unsure about as it could just be coincidences but yeah you have some moments in which Peri seems more annoyed with Wanda than Cosmo. For example at the beginning of “Lost in Fairy World”, he tries to escape the camera and looks annoyed when Cosmo gushes about him but doesn’t outright says anything. But when Wanda does the same, he pushes her away and audibly calls her out.

Likewise later on when his parents interrupt him, Peri has a sarcastic laugh with Cosmo but looks more angry with Wanda. Then there’s also “Operation Birthday Takeback” with him trying to escape Cosmo’s hug at the beginning but again not vocally expressing his annoyance, but later on when Wanda makes a cringy comment to the godkids (the “welcome to your dad’s spooky lair”) Peri whines about it.

Now again, those are like three small examples and I don’t think it actually means anything, but since I’m talking about Peri potentially being closer to his dad might as well point this out.

And when I say it doesn’t mean anything, an example from “Lost in Fairy World” I didn’t mention is when Cosmo and Wanda tell Dev he can’t go to Fairy World. Peri doesn’t say anything when Cosmo talks but interrupts when Wanda does. But in that case, I think Peri would have done the same thing to Cosmo had Wanda been the first to talk, it’s more of a coincidence that Wanda was the second to talk here and as a result the one Peri shut down. Hell you could say the same thing about the later scene of them interrupting him, maybe he seems angrier at Wanda because it’s the second time he gets interrupted. So yeah, don’t take that part too seriously.

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[unnamed-atlas]

Finally finished sweet tooth s3. Having incredibly mixed feelings

[randomwriteronline]

"Pohatu - fancy seeing you here."

Nokama smiles a little more when the Toa turns to her. He sits slightly hunched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, powerful legs swinging idly in the emptiness that divides the rocky wall from a plummet into the ocean, completely unafraid; the unusual shape of his Kakama Nuva greets her wordlessly.

"I hope I did not bother you," she continues gently: "You seem so caught up in your thoughts, these days..."

A comfortable silence follows the pause she allows to hang.

For a moment a sense of dread creeps along her spine, around her arms, ensnaring her neck: Pohatu, whose voice rattles the mountains, stares at her eerily quiet with a terrifyingly blank gaze and a lack of emotion in his expression.

But he blinks, and his eyes widen, and he says: "What?" as he leans his head forward. "I'm sorry Turaga, I was not listening."

She exhales, amused, as the broken tension allows her shoulders to sag a little: "I only mentioned that you seem very distracted as of late - even during Vakama's tales."

"Ah," he replies with a slightly embarrassed laugh: "I guess my head likes to be in Lewa's domain far more than my feet do in Onua's."

Nokama laughs with him: "May I?" she asks.

He gestures to his side amiably, inviting her to sit with him: "Of course, of course."

It's surprising how little he's worried. Even her head starts to spin from vertigo when she dares to look down at the swirling waters, and she is the furthest thing from the infamous Po-Matoran hydrophobia; yet he sits there without the barest hint of concern despite knowing very well he would sink to the depths of the ocean horribly easily.

Pohatu looks again to the horizon.

He's unusually unreadable.

"I've spoken with the Mahi of Po-Koro, on one of my visits," she tells him - her Rau's abilities have already been unmasked by now, so it's less strange than it could be - "They've told me you quite love to pamper them, more than the Hapaka."

His laugh vibrates out of him, but she notices he does not smile as wide as the sound would imply when he simply shrugs: "I like horns."

They've told her that, too.

"What troubles you, Toa of Stone?"

He glances back at her: "Nothing."

"Yet your mind is so often elsewhere, and you almost don't look like yourself. I've come to know you, Pohatu - I wish to help, if I can."

Nokama's gentle worry makes him sigh deeply: "You're as good a teacher as Toa Lhikan thought, Turaga," he replies with a heavy tone. "Very attentive."

She looks to her feet: "Vhisola was proof otherwise," she mutters.

Pohatu tilts his head: "Then it just means you've gotten better."

The Turaga smiles: "You're always too kind."

He does not reply to that.

His fingers sink into the stone of the precipice to rip a chunk out of the cliff like it's nothing; he tosses the rock from palm to palm absentmindedly, neck craned back to look at the sky.

"I'm just thinking of Po-Metru."

Curiosity, then. "It's only natural," she soothes him: "Your siblings wonder about Metru Nui too. Gali has asked me about Ga-Metru and the Great Temple quite a lot in the past few days. I'm certain Onewa will not be too shy to answer your questions."

She watches him pull one knee up to lean his chin on it: "I don't have many, to be honest - not about the city."

"Really?"

A shrug: "Turaga Vakama is very good at descriptions."

"Ah... Yes, he is, isn't he."

The Toa does not smile back at her; he keeps looking further away into the endless sky, as if to pull on the rest of the ocean with his mind until the other side of the island appears on the horizon.

"What is it, then?" Nokama nudges him. "What doubts take hold of your focus?"

He does not answer immediately.

The rock falls back in his hand perfectly each time he juggles it.

He does so halfheartedly, distractedly - in the same way he sits at the Amaja circle and looks at her brother speak as though he could see right past him, through him.

"The Matoran come from there," he finally says.

She nods.

At last, his strange nearly impersonal gaze returns upon her mask.

"Do you know where we come from?"

It takes her a moment to understand who he speaks of: "You come from the canisters," she answers, because that is nothing if the truth. "You come from the sea."

"The sea bears life - the sea bore us," he says under his breath at that, as though he is repeating a memory. It sounds a lot like Gali.

She nods: "That is as much as we Turaga know."

"And nothing else?" he insists. His words don't hold any desperation, but there is something in them she can't explain with any other term. "Did we have anything before that?"

"No, nothing. Nothing that we know of."

"You were Matoran. You became Toa. Do you not remember us?"

"No - you were never in Metru Nui. We never could have met you there, not even as Matoran."

"It remains we must have been Matoran. Isn't that right?"

His tone is... It strikes her enough to make her stagger before she can offer a response.

He sounds like...

He sounds like them, in a way.

He sounds like he is testing her - to see if he can trigger a specific reaction from her.

His tone is somewhat methodical, scientific, like a researcher interrogating a subject to observe the effects of whatever he's administered them; it is that of calculated questions that one already knows the answer to. His mask is unreadable, incomprehensible - not for a blank anonimity but instead an overwhelming amount of minuscule tells and signs that muddle the waters of his emotions, obscuring them within their own cacophonic confusion.

If only she too knew the answer.

If only (she assumes) he had not forgotten it.

"I imagine as much," Nokama finally replies. "But you six are special, Pohatu."

"You were chosen by Mata Nui himself," he interrupts her. The kindness in his voice is nearly an afterthought, but he masks that fact well. "I would say you too are not necessarily as ordinary a bunch as any Gukko flock might be in Le-Wahi."

She chuckles despite the strange atmosphere: "Oh," and then she laughs, and she laughs some more, bent over herself to try and stifle the giggles that bubble in her chest, "Oh, be careful not to say that in front of Tamaru or Kongu, lest you want a very angry lecture on how the Gukko force is so very different from their wild siblings."

Pohatu's smile is lukewarm.

The Turaga recomposes herself quickly when she takes in his lack of amusement: "But you are different," she insists. "You are something more than what we were or could have hoped to be."

"That sort of thing doesn't spring out of the ocean from nowhere."

"That sort of thing is what legends and prophecies are made of. Your arrival was foretold in stars that cannot be rewritten; you came to aid us, delivered upon our shores by the elements themselves; you battled against the Great Spirit's most insidious, terrible enemies, and defeated them. You are special. And perhaps you had no need of a Toa Stone to become who you are."

The reply she gets is a silent stare.

The rock creaks from within the Toa's grip.

If she were looking at it she'd notice the liquid manner it behaves.

"It's a sad idea," he finally says, "To be born only to fight."

The Toa protect, for that is their duty; the Matoran create, for that is their destiny.

Her hand lays on his arm with a kind, humid pressure.

"I may very well be wrong," Nokama reassures him now. "I've told you, not even we Turaga know much."

"You know prophecies."

"Those can only get us so far. And they can't see the past."

"I wish they could," Pohatu says with a focused gaze.

His eyes are locked onto her own.

"I will pray the Great Spirit to bring you answers soon, Toa of Stone," she promises - because what else can she do? How else can she reply to the perfectly still stare that seems to pass through her, carving holes within her head with the precision of a sculptor? "So that you and your siblings will never have to feel as you do now again."

He does not move.

Then, at last, his head tilts with a tired, relieved smile.

"Thank you, Turaga," he tells her earnestly. "I hope so too."

Nokama grins back at him, so gentle, so sweet - so glad that the disquieting spell is over and the Toa is once again fully himself.

She raises herself from her seat with a bit of a struggle, helped upright by his powerful arm. Another burst of vertigo makes her sway for a moment as she catches sight of the long fall into the waters, head feeling light before she imperiously shakes the sensation out of it: there is nothing to fear, the cliff won't fall. Even Pohatu has gone back to swinging his legs in the nothingness with the carefree movements of a Matoran dangling from a jungle vine, and if he is not afraid then she has no reason to be either.

He does not move to follow her.

"I shall return to Ga-Koro now," she tells him: "Soon enough we'll have to carry the boats to Kini Nui, and I ought to make sure they're nearing completion."

"Call Taipu when you need to move them, if my brother is too busy listening to stories - I'm sure he'll be happy to help," he suggests.

Her smile confirms that his poison is mistaken for a lighthearted jab: "A good idea. I will ask Whenua to send him to us, if he is not busy enough already and wishes to lend us a hand. You should be off too, listening to stories like your siblings, should you not?"

Head thrown back and legs stiffened, the Toa whines like an annoyed child: "But Turaga," he exaggerates his whimpering drawl to kick a laugh out of her shoulders, "I don't wanna!"

"Neither do I want to go fetch Nixie out of her observatory for the eleventh time today, but duty call us all the same."

He huffs and pouts dejectedly as his body slumps on himself in a comical manner; his furrowed brow clears into a simple smile as Nokama hiccups chuckle after chuckle at his stellar performance.

"There's still a little while," he bargains with her.

"And will you be at Kini Nui on time?"

"Am I ever late?"

No, she can't argue with that. Her eyes shine with affection as she lays them on him again.

"Alright," she pretends to concede with a sigh, as though she were doing him a big favor. His grin amuses her to no end. "But make sure to be there."

He places a hand on his heartlight: "I will be."

"And try to focus, as best as you can."

"I will try my hardest. I just need to clear my head a little more, and then I'll be the most captive audience Turaga Vakama has ever had."

"I'm certain you will. I hope the sea brings you solace, Pohatu."

"Thank you, Turaga. Goodbye."

She does not see his cheerfulness drop in an instant as soon as her back tells him she will not turn to look at him again, smile flattening, eyelids drooping, eyes hardening. He watches her until she disappears from view with a face devoid of love and a sizzling in his heartlight that almost makes him feel sick; the stone in his hand squeezes through his fingers like putty, slithers between them, takes a slug-like shape as it coils around his digits squirming like a worm emerging from a fresh tomb into a summer downpour, before he lets it collects itself in his palm once more.

He crushes it gently and looks down only when he opens his palm again. It looks like a Kane-Ra bull. He tries again: this one is a Makika. A Fikou. A Dikapi. A Tunnel Stalker. A Husi. A Fusa.

A Turaga with their mask shattered.

Without a word he presses the rock with both hands to somewhat shape it back into a proper sphere, carefully, taking his time.

He kicks it as far into the ocean as he can. His eyes follow its trajectory until the distance turns it far too small for him to distinguish it against the flickering gleams of the waves in which it no doubt sinks. He continues to look at the calm waters, legs swinging idly much like branches in a light breeze.

The sea bears life, Gali said; the sea bore us.

Pohatu looks into the cradle of his siblings' rebirth thoughtlessly, quietly, hating it as much as he hates them for not swallowing them whole.

[raeofgayshine]

Kind of fucked up they’re making a new natm movie and just

Not including Ahkmenrah in it.

Like at all, not even in the lazy way two included him just in the intro.

He’s just

Not there

Even though the tablet, His Tablet, is there and is literally essential to the entire plot of the movie (as it is every movie and yet Ahk never gets the love and development he deserves but anyway)

They just decided to cut him out completely this time as far as the trailer shows??? Which like, what the fuck my dude.

They continue to rob of us of the excellent comedy of putting Ahk and Kah in the same movie and frankly I’m sick of it

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads

Saint Juniper’s Folly

YA paranormal mystery

follows a foster kid returning to the small town he grew up in, who runs from the judgemental townspeople and ends up magically trapped in a mysterious house in the woods

a boy who lives a boring life in the town until he finds him, and wants to figure out how to save him

and the young witch from the town over who’s heard the woods calling since her mother died, and wants to help

m/m, friendship & investigating a mystery

[aterribleinfluence]

dan and phil: has a fanbase that's notoriously passionate about them being in a romantic relationship

dan and phil: notoriously keeps their personal lives private

dan and phil: are smart enough to make jokes they know will rile up their fanbase because they think it's funny

[millidew]

WAKES UP IN A COLD SWEAT. kaemugi utenanthy/rgu au. junko akio. monokuma chuu-chuu. it’s all coming together

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

I finally own a Tomorrow by Together album! Can you guess which version of Tomorrow I went for? :3

[quietlyblooms]

gimme a minute to cook over this bnha verse and then i'll get cracking on some starters B))

[princekirijo]

You know thinking about it Riku could also be a Lovers Arcana character. His story + arc very much revolves around his relationships with other characters (particularly his family and most importantly himself).

Captain is ultimately his arcana however because I feel like his stubbornness and his like willingness to keep going is what makes him a Chariot character (as Captain is an alternative to Chariot). He's also a very devoted/emotional character and I think that plays into it too!

[finch-the-foolish]

Okay boys, time for yet another round of angst, plushy Jim edition. Whoo. This is because of @pesky-bird7, blame them for my crimes against the little guy. Also if anyone cares I might compile a list on how well I think people can sew in canon just cause.

threads and seams (and how not to tear them)

by lqmie

TW/CW for self harm, suicidal thoughts and actions, body horror

Jimmy had never liked his seams. They were a reminder of what little he was, what little he had become. Nothing more than a little plush, cursed to live on even in this twisted form.

Besides, they had an irritating tendancy to tear, and he often found himself limping into some half-trusted home—usually whoever's was nearby in which he could assume safety—and awkwardly requesting help patching himself up. Sometimes it was by monsters or accidents or his own twisted hand; his answers were usually the former two, and it didn't take long for him to hear murmurings of his latest screw-up across the empires. He was a point of ridicule, after all.

He was exhausted of it. Exhausted of the cruel jokes and the terrible insults and the constant suffering. He was tired of feeling like a sad little creature of plush, skin forever marred by those damned strings.

Every glance at them brought about a strange sort of anger, furthered still by that awful string at his back, which forced a chorus of humiliating phrases from his lungs with each tug. He hated that, too. He hated it all.

One day, if only to avoid more embarrassing visits to some unkind neighbour's house, he made the decision to get himself a sewing kit—he should learn, he reasoned, being a functional toy after all. As terrible and irritating a fact as it was, it was true. And sure, borrowing it from Scott may prove a mistake in the future, but that hardly mattered to him. He was the sheriff, he made the rules. Who cares what the others say?

After fleeing Chromia with his prize, Jimmy headed home, taking inventory of his new kit in one of the many empty rooms of Tumble Town. That was another resentment—this place had long been lonesome, empty, with few travellers and fewer residents still. On the bright side, nobody was likely to walk in on him and his.. newly procured goods.

Jim smiled, carefully pulling apart the contents of the little bag; a handful of seemingly random buttons, countless needles of assorted sizes, what seemed to be a multitude of thread spools, all varying in remaining length, a rather broken looking tape measure, some rusty scissors (two pairs of them, he later found; both of wildly different sizes), and a seam ripper, among other things he couldn't quite remember the names of.

Reaching out across the floorboards, he picked up the seam ripper. There was a strange temptation in holding the tool, a sudden inexplicable urge to tear out those damned seams and- and- do something, certainly. Recreate himself, but better, even if it took tearing himself apart bit by bit to fix it all.

The idea was oddly tempting; he'd always loathed the strange edges across his skin, always despised how prominent the markings were. And there were other things he could fix, too—small alterations he could easily make. He could become something… else. Something better than the frail little creature he was now.

He gripped the thing tightly, quietly considering the idea. After a moment, he shook his head, setting it back, the reality of doing such a thing dawning upon him.

Jimmy didn't approach that messy bag of supplies until several days later. Today had been particularly harsh—a day of rough comments and insults barely veiled as teasing, yet another attempt at violence—dear god, why did they never really kill him? why wouldn't they let the poor man go if they cared that little?—a tiring, awful day which merely drove home the fact that he wasn't good enough, he would never be good enough like this.

Holding back a storm of emotion, he ascended the stairs, finding the bag sat just where he'd left it, hidden in a long-empty barrel where no one would be snooping.

Jim drew in a sharp breath, a shaky hand dragging it from its hiding place. He rummaged through it, and then, unsuccessful in his searching, dumped the contents onto the floor. He didn't care enough to gather it neat; he just wanted to fix himself, however that may be.

He grabbed at the seam ripper, tentatively weighing it in his hand. He wasn't entirely certain how it worked—he never had been with most sewing tools, frankly—but it didn't deter him. Careful, he held out one arm, staring down at the clear line of stitching; as he did, some awful jab at how easy it would be to merely tear him apart floated through his head, sending a shudder through his form. Jim wouldn't let that happen. He was going to make sure nobody could hurt him again.

The sheriff took in another breath, steeling his nerves, and jabbed the blade into the threads. A sharp pain shot through his arm, and he nearly shrieked, allowing only a pained gasp out. He had to be strong. He had to.

Shaking slightly, he dragged the blade forward beneath the thin ribbons of thread, wincing as they were cut. The slicing was awkward, fraying the threads as the blade passed, and some part of him questioned if he was doing it right.

Still, he shook his head, continuing on. A dull sense of wrongness overtook his mind, and he watched the ripper drag further up, tearing sharp into his thread and cloth. Gods, it hurt. His arm burned, aching with a pain which he shouldn't have even felt—there was naught but a strange, fluff-like material beneath his skin, though looking at it made him ill—and every slight movement sent a jolt of further suffering through him.

Jimmy stared at the frayed line, a sudden, sickening feeling swirling deep in his gut. He… he shouldn't have done this. He…

The thought trailed off, lost by an abrupt swirl of memory; all the taunts, all the menacing, hurtful words floated through his ears in an array of harm, and his illness turned to a stark rage. His mind seemed to watch, distant, as he gripped the seam ripper tighter, tearing it across the remainder of his arm's seam, dragging it across his hand's cruel bindings. He hated it. He hated it all. He wanted it gone now.

On the topic of those taunts…

With a crazed, manic look, he turned, tightly grasping the string which was so annoyingly attached to his back. He wanted that gone, too. He reached back with his other hand, slicing at the thing. A sharp pain shot through his back, and he cried out, something in it drawing him to his senses.

He found himself standing there, a seam ripper with the remnants of his many seams and stitches still clinging to its blade clutched in his hand, shuddering terribly. He stared at it a moment, before throwing it to the floor, gaze quickly returning to the horror which was his arm.

It was mangled, terrible, many of the seams poorly ripped and shredded, cloth holding awkward, barely together. He could clearly see the fluffy something beneath, peeking out in those terrible holes which he'd wrought upon himself.

A sharp sob drew up in his throat, and he let it fall, crumpling to the ground. The movement elicited another pained noise, and he curled in on himself, eyes squeezed shut if only to avoid looking at the horror of his limb.

What in the world had come over him? He felt terribly sick, and yet hollow but for the still-singing edges of pain which graced his arm and back with their awful presence.

How long he sat there, Jim didn't know. It seemed an eternity had passed when a voice rang out through the stairwell.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Is-"

The voice, heavily accented, cut off, a head appearing in the stairwell. Jim just stared, eyes blurred from tears and fright at his own actions.

"J- Jim? What in the world-" The figure—Scott, he now realised—looked over the scene, gaze soon fixing on his largely-limp arm. "Oh. Oh shit."

He started over, crouching down next to the smaller man, who simply looked away, tears still freely falling from his face.

"Jim- what happened?" Scott stared at his arm, eyes wide with horror at the torn cloth, the twisted remnants of thread which had been so poorly removed.

"I- I couldn't take it.. I wanted it gone… I- I hate it- I hate everything-" The words were stuttery, broken by choked sobs, barely coherent.

Scott paused a moment, before carefully venturing, "You… did this? You cut your… seams?"

The sheriff glanced at him, giving a hesitant nod. His uninjured hand gestured weakly to the seam ripper, still cast aside on the wooden planks.

Scott stared at the thing, the pieces quickly falling into place in his mind. Then, he turned back, gently grasping Jim's unharmed shoulder.

"Why, exactly, did you cut them? Are you-" Scott stopped, suddenly, spotting a thin cord left on the floor just behind the pair. One hand, shaky, rose to his mouth as he realised what it was.

"J- Jimmy-" He pulled the small man into a light hug, careful not to disturb his wounds. "I…"

Scott sat back, a soft sigh escaping him. He could ask questions later. All that mattered right then was making sure Jim didn't fall apart completely.

"C'mon. I'll help fix up your arm, if you're willing to let me."

Jim paused a moment, before nodding, letting Scott take his arm, wincing at each small motion.

It took what felt like hours of careful work, hours of twinging pain, but Jim's arm was finally restored. As for that stupid drawstring, he'd managed to convince Scott to leave it, his disdain of the thing coming in drawing, sharp breaths as memories of all the times others had taken advantage of it returned.

Scott bandaged up the wounds, too, setting Jim's arm into a little makeshift sling to keep it from tearing anew. Alongside these physical repairs, though, were more mental assurances, promises that he was not hated, not despised and unwanted, that there were people who cared, who loved him as he was.

It was hard to believe, after all that time of hurt, but Scott still stayed with Jim for several days longer, watching to ensure he recovered. He took the sewing kit as well—he'd been wondering where it had gone ages ago—and Jimmy was glad to see it gone. Perhaps he could afford to stop in Chromia next time he had such an accident.. perhaps he wouldn't hear of his misfortunes for ages to come there.

Perhaps he really was loved. Perhaps he really was enough, even as a being of thread and cloth. Perhaps he could be alright.

[dustylovelyrun]

So, I’m pulling out a piece for a ‘last line’ and just going over them, picking out a thing I like, right? One of the last edited ones from nano. Getting all curious and such about them, reading further back. And there’s one thing I’ve noticed after bouncing between the same few wips for Nano -

There’s always a Nathan.

Why are there so many Nathans?