#no proofreading no editing we die like men

[acid-lovecore]

TW: su***dal ideation, disassociation, derealization, depression, insomnia

Introspection in the dark with your f/o

Do you ever sit in the dark?

Alone, sitting on the couch. The only light from moonlight beyond the window, distant streetlights.

You stare into the dark, conversations in your head. Questioning everything, your life, your personality, yourself. The nagging voice in the back of your mind repeating the non-option.

You ignore it. Just as always.

The darkness whispers to you, in a way. Or the voices in your head use the shadows as a means of words.

“You look tired.”

Your eyes slowly move to them, the tangible one.

“I am tired.”

“You probably feel like this because it’s 2 am.”

“I’m aware.”

They sit beside you, the couch giving under their weight. Real.

“You wanna come up and sleep then—?”

“I’m aware.” You repeat.

Their head cocks to the side, realizing the double meaning.

“I’m aware…” You bring your hand up to gaze at it, it doesn’t feel real. The movements, the curves, it doesn’t feel like your hand, your vision contorts. “I’m aware of how different I am, right here, right now.”

Your eyes meet theirs, they could never see these things, no one could ever feel like this.

It feels that way, doesn’t it?

You can’t tell if that was your head or them.

“It’s almost addicting, feeling that—black hole.” They grab the fabric in the center of their shirt, tugging at it. “To feel something you’re so sure no one knows, it makes you feel special for the once.”

They meet your eyes. “Doesn’t it.”

You don’t respond, they hear you.

“It’s destructive.” They finally say, the uptick, to bring you back.

“It feels cosmic.” You rebut.

“You’re not ready for that yet.” They stand, holding a hand out to you. “You have to stay here, grounded, just for a little while longer.”

“It hurts.” You say it, you say if every time. It feels stupid every time you do, but you say it and mean it.

“I know.” They pull you into a hug, hugging you tighter than anything ever can or ever will. “But you have to keep going. You’re not gonna give up and let the assholes win are you?”

“Of course not.”

They smile, it’s warmer than the sun.

“Atta boy/girl”

[puppeat123]

Homicipher

GN! MC x Mr Crawling

QUICK! ONESHOT

Clean up 🧼 Mr.crawling Fluff☁️

Alright it’s been a while since I have written any type of story or anything so have mercy it might be really bad! Anyways I appreciate yall and I hope yall enjoy!

The bold and crossed out words are the other language 🌀

Slight mention of nudity, SOAP JUMP SCARE,(Jkjk)

Quick note: I have not edited not proof read this so we ball sorry for the grammar errors in advance!

Since being in the this under world kinda place had been a lot it gotten easier tho. Over time you made friends with the residents. Although some of them you still haven’t quite gotten along with due to their odd or erratic behavior.

Mr crawling has been making it easier to survive through this places. He has been your best friend and companion through it all. Helping your survive encounters with Mr stitch, dodging Mr Scarletta who is still trying to find you.

However it’s been a while since you’ve done any kinda of self care and a good shower . (cute girl/guy)

Your hair felt oily and grimy, your skin looked like your rolled in the dirt, and your skin looked dry and ashy. You can’t remember when you let yourself get that bad,covered in blood and dirt.

Mr Silvair had a bathroom right? He has a whole living room type thing.

You felt a small tug on your rain coat. Mr crawling stared up at you looking a bit confused.

“Look?”

You’ve been staring at yourself so long in the mirror you completely forgot about him!

“Me look me!”

Mr crawling nodded in agreement.

“Pretty pretty!”

He can be so sweet but who knows maybe his saying that as a friend? The relationship between the bother of you wasn’t ever clear. He was ghost not human so a lot of things are bound to be different when to comes to romance.

“Together find Mr Silvair”

And off both of you went. On a small but important journey trying to find the doctor.

After a while you found his home. Knocking and pecking in hoping he was home.

“Hello!” You waved at the doctor before coming in.

“Hello”

The resident was always so kind when he wasn’t trying to use you as a lab rat.

“Big container water have?” You asked the ghost doctor. He had like a whole mini house in here.

“Yes. Water container there” He pointed to the room next to his lab.

“Thank you!”

You stepped into the room Mr crawling followed you in.

You hesitated for a second. Should I let him in? I mean he is literally just like a puppy he won’t be anything weird right? Now thinking about it has he ever taken a shower??Then again his a ghost who knows.

You sigh letting him in the room. Closing the door behind him. You look at the container it was almost the same size and a tube or maybe even bigger! The water was a nice temperature too not to warm nor cold.

“Body get out clothes”

You motioned to the ghost while taking your coat off. Mr crawling kinda looked confused after the request, seeing you take your clothes off he seemed a bit nervous but did so anyways. You try and not look out of respect. Since it was a huge tub of water a bath wasn’t enough you needed a shower. You found small chairs and placed it down in front of the tall man.

“Chair sit”

You instructed him.Now thinking about it taking your coat off was a bad ideas cause your clothes are going to get wet. Well you can always call in the bride lady. She was always so nice!

You found a bar of soap still in its box a while back while searching through ruins looking for something to remind you of home.

You started scrubbing at his back, Mr crawling first seemed tense but then started to enjoy it just happy to be there with you. He loved you washing his hair tho.

Once he was done it was your turn your told him to face the other way while you undressed cause it was a little awkward he was staring at you while you where undressing. He doesn’t have eyes but his stare was to much.

“Me want help! Cute cute me help!”

You sigh sitting down on your chair best to him and hand him the bar of soap and your rag in order to clean you up. He started scrubbing away the same way you did to him. It was really relaxing until he started to get to your front area in which you tried to do yourself without much luck.

Mr crawling was going to make sure to leave you squeaky clean like you left him! Plus you did him the favor of making him clean he will make sure to return of course!

He didn’t notice how your face was on fire, and you were thankful cause he was just trying to be helpful!

After washing off the soap and feeling nice and clean. You pulled out the lotion you found in the rubble. It was unscented so it worked perfect for the face.

You started rubbing the lotion down on Mr crawling. Starting from his hands to his whole arms and the up his neck and face.

His face trying to bury him self in your palms with the a big smile laughing to himself.

“Me like pet more”

You laughed he was truly enjoying him self. You made sure to careful rub in the lotion in his face taking in all the lines and was his face makes.

“Me like you”

His so silly he likes a lot of people you doubt he truly knows what romance is right?

He placed his hand on top of yours once the landed back on his cheeks.

“Me like you many”

You paused making sure your ear have not deceived you. Dose he understand the implications??

Mr crawling shyly gets closer to you holding you palm against his face.

“You want my [][][]?”

This a new word for sure, you haven’t heard it but non the less you wanna make sure you understand.

“[][][]?”

You repeated after him, he nodded a dusty pink shade spreading across his face.

What was he saying was he implying what you think he was?? But why now out of all places, literally sitting butt booty naked in a room after a shower is crazy work.

“Together? [][][]!”

He seemed a bit nervous trying to explain.

“Yes. Want you partner”

Mr crawling tackled you into a hug landing on top of you causing you to fall back and slide a bit further away cause of the lotion and water mix.

So there you lied naked being hugged by the huge man who can’t stop laughing and holding you tighter while rubbing his face against your neck. You laughed along with him happy knowing your feelings were reciprocated. You couldn’t help but kiss his cheek. In which he copied peppering your face all over with small kisses. This nice but it was getting cold with a slight warmth that the ghost could hold.

After a bit, both of you being nice and clean with new clothes given by Mr.bride.

“Cute cute!”

Mr crawling exclames seeing the new outfit given to you no noticing his own outfit matching your own.

“Thank you”

You did Mr.crawlings hair putting it into a ponytail at first ten braiding into to long braids and wrapping them in like pig tails so they won’t get in his way while crawling.

It took a while but once you were done he seemed to fall asleep on your lap. Mr.Crawling started speaking in almost whispered tone. Which you got closer to hear him.

“Me like you lots. You partner me. Together.”

You smiled softly.

“Yes together me you. Partner”

[dawnbreakersgaze]

Excuse me but the idea of MC and Xav sitting on their respective balconies and texting each other The Tea while people watching in their neighborhood is both so silly and so endearing to me.

So let's go on a small adventure, shall we?

Warnings: None.

Just fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff.

The late morning sun was already warming you through the windows of your tiny apartment before you'd even stepped foot outside. It was finally mid-spring in Linkon, which meant you could enjoy your late breakfast on the patio without having to worry about a stray chill or errant frost dampening your weekly Saturday 'brunch' plans.

Opening the patio door with your granola bar in one hand and phone in the other, you settle into the cushioned bench that overlooked your apartment courtyard and took a deep breath. Sometimes it felt like winter was neverending in Linkon, but you could finally feel the tension of the gripping cold that had settled in your bones start to slowly bleed from you.

After getting comfortable, you finally pulled out your phone, and quickly found your brunch 'date's' contact info, sending him the customary "Get up it's people watching hour" text.

[Hey Xav, you up? I'm already on my balcony?]

It doesn't take long for his reply. This has been your weekly tradition for a few months now. Ever since you had both just so happened to see that kid getting dragged down the street by the monstrous hound, it had become something of a... habit for the two of you to text each other the funny happenings on your street when you were home. Not that either of you were particularly prone to gossip, but the simple domesticity of it was oddly comforting after a long week of getting slogged on by wanderers.

[Yeah I'm up. Give me a sec]

The soft ping of your notification broke the peace, followed shortly by the shuffling of his patio door sliding open from above you. Sure, you could simply call out and greet him, as the acoustics out here are great and the soundproofing is atrocious, but the silence is cozy, and the atmosphere almost feels magical. This is your ritual, after all.

It's a bit like a storybook scene, you think, the two of you sharing a moment in time together yet still separated by some outside force. Maybe it was silly, but the fabricated longing almost made it feel romantic in a way that you're sure your neighbor would find ridiculous.

When you hear his footsteps above you come to a halt, you immediately notice something in particular is missing, however.

[You forgot your coffee Xav. Are you gonna be able to stay awake?]

[How could U tell?]

[I didn't smell any burning 🤭🔥]

He doesn't reply, but you can hear the huff he makes over the railing as his footsteps retreat, fading behind the sliding door once again. You don't even try to hold back the laughter his reaction elicits from you, hopeful the concrete carries it to him easily.

When he finally does reemerge, faint smell of bitter charred beans on the wind, his phone is already buzzing with the morning's newest additions to your people watching portfolios.

An older man you'd long ago dubbed "Green Thumb" who liked to frequent the flower garden outside your apartment complex was already taking photos of the new stargazer lily blossoms that had just opened this morning. So enamored by the vibrant petals, he didn't even seem to notice the couple he'd backed into who'd happened to spill their groceries all over the sidewalk. You heard Xavier call "Watch out!" From above you when he'd recognized the impending impact, but at your distance, it was no use.

[That was nice of you Xav. Too bad it didn't help 🫠]

[I can't believe they didn't see Green Thumb. He was so hard to miss. Even when Ur distracted U still see better]

[HEY! I'm not the one who sleep walks! 💀]

[And yet I'm always there to guard Ur back partner]

He's right of course, though you're not going to tell him. Xavier likes to play the part of a soft and harmless little thing, but it doesn't take much to stoke the hunter into burning hotter than you intended. His evol might be light, but you know better than anyone that light, under careful concentration, can start a blazing fire if you're not mindful. His teasing isn't ever harmful though, so instead you decide to simply poke the bear.

[Only because I'm starting to suspect you like it back there]

The distinct sound of a phone accidentally hitting the concrete marks the end of that thread.

Its not long before another of your regulars, pair of young kids Xavier had called the Trouble Twins arrived on scene. Aptly named for the number of times their poor mother has chastised them for chasing the ducks and picking the flowers, the siblings were quite the rambunctious duo. Today they seem to be a few steps ahead of their vigilant mother, rushing into the park with high-pitched hollers and improvised swords made of small branches they'd found. Today's unfortunate conquest seemed to be the pigeons that were being fed by the local grannies.

[They look like a pair of knights today don't they?]

[Knights? Don't knights usually protect people?]

[Maybe they're protecting us from the pigeons]

[Xavier those old ladies look pretty mad idk. That one even tried to chase the boy and almost caught him!]

The pause in messages was punctuated by his soft laughter above you, carried on the spring breeze. It was so warm, so genuine, so comfortable. You didn't need a mirror to feel the heat bloom in your cheeks; the overwhelming sensation of ardor flooding you at the the very sound.

[You're right. He needs more training. A good Knight should never be caught by an old lady]

[.... I don't think that's the message here Xav]

The rest of your morning goes back and forth like this for another hour. Watching your favorite people pass by, concocting new and interesting stories for them as they pass your balconies. Xavier has very interesting and oddly insightful opinions on those around him, considering you don't really recall seeing him with many friends. None the less, his company and companionship on your balconies has easily become your favorite part of the week. The only noises between you are the laughter that passes back and forth as the texts volley from one to another.

Finally, as the afternoon sun starts to become an uncomfortable heat, your phone chimes once more.

[I'm getting kind of hungry]

[Oh good. You're warning me this time. Thanks!]

[What?]

[No. I was going to ask if U wanted to go to lunch. With me, I mean?]

And just like that, the storybook was snapping shut. No longer a fragment lost in time where two people gazed at the same scene together from two separate places, but a tangible moment you could step into. Something intimate and real.

Perhaps you stayed in this thought a moment too long, or your silence below him made him second guess himself, as the chime of your phone snapped you out of your daze again.

[I didn't mean to impose if U have plans]

[I know it's Ur day off too]

Fumbling with the suddenly slippery device, softly cursing, and praying he didn't hear, you quickly hammer out the only thing that's been playing in your head on repeat-

[Yes absolutely! I'd love to grab some lunch I'm starving]

[Meet me downstairs in 30?]

[unordinary-diary]

Arlo and Responsibility

‼️Minor spoiler warning for… I think just S1‼️

I’ve been thinking about Arlo a lot lately, and I think I finally figured him out. All of the characters in UnOrdinary have major, underlying themes to their characters: for John, power and lack thereof, for Blyke, protection, and for Seraphina, its freedom. But Arlo is unique in that his most prominent theme, responsibility, is so central that every aspect of him leads back to it. Allow me to elaborate.

According to Arlo, high tiers have a responsibility to lead, and set an example, to work hard and keep order. This is the fundamental philosophy that everything is built upon. When John confronted Arlo, shouting about how all John wanted was to live a peaceful life away from the rankings, Arlo says “Who doesn’t want to live a peaceful life?”. Arlo doesn’t believe he has a choice in anything— that he, along with all high tiers, have been conscripted into a particular role that none of them really want, but they all have the duty to fulfill.

Arlo is an extremely hard worker and he takes his responsibilities very seriously. This is why he resents Seraphina and John— they don’t. To him, Sera and John both ran away from their duties, leaving all of the burden on him. The reason he goes after John in the first place is because he “corrupted” Seraphina. Remember, when Rei graduated, the school was a whole dumpster fire and Arlo cleaned it up all by himself, with no support from the other royals. Then later when Arlo is working in tandem with Sera to lead, the school is “the most peaceful it’s ever been”. Then Sera leaves it all behind. He feels like he’s been left out to dry, and unfairly forced to do everything by himself.

This is reflected also in how he treats Isen at the beginning of season 2: he puts Isen as the press leader, and Isen pretty quickly gets crushed under that weight and tells Arlo he can’t do it. Arlo has none of it, and tells Isen to basically suck it up and fix the problem. He admits that he does set high expectations for others, but “never without a reason”. He smacks the relevant paper down on the table and says “This is for the press leader to handle.” Arlo is delegating firmly because he believes Isen is capable and needs that push, but also because he is sick of working overtime while others sit back.

Even in his relationship with Remi, it ties back to this theme. He protects and looks after Remi because he cares about her, obviously, but a major facet of their relationship is that he feels responsible for her. Rei told him to look after her when she was about to enter Wellston. She’s also younger, smaller, and weaker than Arlo is. Not to mention that she’s reckless and naïve, especially by Arlo’s standards. This ties into my earlier point about Arlo’s kingly duties— he does have other royals helping him run things, so why does he continually lament that he’s doing this on his own? I think it’s because he sees Remi more as someone to look after than as someone he can rely on. Sera however, he did see as a reliable partner and an equal.

[walkingstackofbooks]

(part 1 here)

The truth was, that Julian had collapsed in the infirmary due to his own damned stupidity. He hadn't been neglecting himself on purpose, but he'd known that he'd been struggling with eating and sleeping recently, and he really should have been keeping better track of when he'd had meals, of when he'd managed to catch a few hours of rest. But no, that had apparently been too difficult a task for him, and as a result he was now sat here, in Sisko's office, unable to provide a good explanation to his captain.

Sisko had given him his time -- hell, Julian had been given an entire day's reprieve to come up with a suitable lie -- and his captain was now sitting opposite him patiently, but expectantly. And there were half a dozen plausible lies that Julian could tell Sisko, if he wanted to.

Julian didn't really want to, though. Ignoring the one, big exception that had been concealing his enhancements, he wasn't all that great at deception, and lying had always left a gnawing, nauseous pit in his stomach -- that one, big exception included.

And some part of him -- a treacherous, reckless part -- genuinely wanted Sisko to know the truth. Yearned for it, in fact. It would be such a relief to finally confess that he wasn't doing well at all, he was really struggling, actually, and everything was just far too much and even eating was hard, and while he wasn't having nightmares he would wake up with such a sense of dread and loneliness and fear that he'd really rather not sleep at all sometimes and that yes, he was probably suffering from depression and needed help, or at least a hug and an affirmation that it was okay, he was doing a good job...

Quickly, he swatted that thought away before he could be tempted to act on it. Admitting to anything like that would only cause trouble, and besides, that insidious voice was far too eager to exaggerate his problems. He was fine, he continued to insist to himself sternly, there's a war on, everyone's depressed right now, and it was just a minor, stupid lapse in judgement... But it would be a major, terrible lapse in judgement if he didn't come up with something to say to Sisko soon.

Because if he told Sisko the truth -- he'd forgotten a few meals, he hadn't slept much for a few nights, but really, Captain, it's not a big deal -- the captain would almost certainly make as big a deal out of it as he secretly hoped for. But it wouldn't end up the way his fantasies always did, being inundated with invitations from his friends to spend time with them, to stay for dinner, to stay the night... No. He'd be sent away from DS9, off to some recovery centre that actually had a counsellor who wasn't just the young-CMO-with-shaky-mental-health-himself.

And in an ideal world, that would allow him the chance to start healing.... but he simply couldn't imagine any happy outcome resulting from leaving DS9. Besides the matter of how selfish it would be to leave everyone now, in the middle of the war, just because he was feeling a bit off, he was also all-too-aware that Starfleet's eyes had been on him ever since his genetic status had been revealed. Any indication of mental instability could well be pounced upon as an excuse to cashier him from the service, to finally get rid of that augment, allowing the enhanced-Starfleet-Officer-experiment to be written off as a failure once and for all.

With such a lot riding on this one lie -- why hadn't he taken better care of himself, why had he insisted in doing that surgery when he should have known better?! -- Julian would count himself lucky if he managed to leave the office without breaking down into a panic attack. Which would be about the worst thing possible for him to do right now.

"Julian, what is it?" Sisko asked. Julian's time was up. He shook his head to clear it -- why couldn't he just lie, dammit, he'd always managed to before when the stakes were this high!

"You're starting to worry me," Sisko said, leaning forward across the desk. "Come on, whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I can't," whispered Julian. "I'm sorry, sir, I know that's not what you want to hear... but I can't. I can't tell you why and I-- I need to go. I'm sorry."

Anxiety bubbled within him as he pushed his chair away and made a hasty retreat for the door, knowing full well that his answer had hardly been any better than telling the truth would have been. At this point, he could only hope that something urgent came up to distract the captain, or else he could certainly expect another visit to his quarters later that day.

"I'm fine, I promise," he added as he reached the door, feeling the need to stick to the line as much for himself as for Sisko. Something stirred in his stomach, a horrible, sick feeling. "Thank you for your concern, sir, but I'm okay."

[moongothic]

Idiot's first crochet cardigan made in less than two weeks, let's go

I was going to a Spoopy Convention where I wanted to wear something Spoopy. And I had wanted to make a granny square cardigan for a long ass time, AND I wanted to have a black-and-orange Halloween-y piece of clothing. All these things combined lead me to making this cardigan in less than two weeks (just barely in time for the convention)

Because I was bullshitting this together I figured the best way for me to go would be to just start making granny squares and sew them together as I go so I'd be able to see and measure how big it was getting while working on it. And honestly, this worked just fine for me. I know a lot of people tend to make the granny square sweaters and cardigans in panels (front, back, sleeves etc), but like... I make my blankets by sewing them together corner to corner, and I didn't see any reason why I couldn't do that with the torso piece. So for my fit I figured out 7 squares would be plenty tall enough, left an empty spot for the arm and continued on towards the back.

It honestly went really smoothly and soon enough I had the whole piece done! And then I realized I had made a grave error. I did not make the back wide enough. If I went and sewed the front of the cardigan to the back, I wouldn't have any room for my neck.

Fortunately this was actually really easy to fix. I also noticed the arm holes were MUCH bigger than they actually needed to be, so I just added six more granny squares to make the back wider. Crisis averted.

Aaand with that, I sewed the front to the back on the top and did some basic ribbing on the bottom and around the front. Now it did take me a little while to figure out how I wanted to do the sleeves... I don't like super pillowy sleeves, so I wanted to make sure they were more fitted. But I wasn't sure how to do that. I did some weird experimentation but ended up realizing that if I added stitches and decreased stitches on some of the granny squares, and made some rectangles, I could make the sleeves slim down!

(To be exact: the granny squares I made for this cardigan were 3 rounds, so 11x11 stitches. On the sleeves, from left to right, the stitch counts are 15 on the outer row (where it gets sewn to the body), 11 stitches between the first and second row, 9 stitches on second and third and 7 stitches on third and fourth. The fourth and fifth rows were 7x11 stitch granny rectangles (two rounds instead of three)) (And yes, doing this does mean that the granny squares on the sleeves that connect to the torso don't actually match in size, so the checker pattern doesn't transition smootly. Personally, I just believed it'd be easier for me to do this instead of trying to figure out how to make the decreases if the sleeves were 5x5 rows instead of 4x5)

Forgot to take a separate photo but I did also make two extra rectangles that I put under the arm holes, just to make them smaller (by just half a granny square)

Now I will admit, I did make one big fuck up. You see, I thought I was being smart by making the checker pattern different on the two sleeves, thinking to myself I was making sure on the front of the cardigan the checker board pattern would continue uninterrupted (unlike on the back, where the orange and black squares go right side by side by other orange and black squares) But I forgot to take into account how the squares on the front aren't mirrored. So I was going to end up with a black square next to a black square and an orange next to an orange. On the front. That could not possibly do, so I ended up having to detach one of the four rows on the sleeves and moving it to the other end of the sleeve, just to fix that. All because I wanted to make sure I was sewing things on symmetrically on both sides. But once that was done, I sewed the sleeves on and did the ribbing on them.

Anyway, couldn't get a good photo of the cardigan pre-blocking because Honey had hogged my whole bed when I went to take photos (I could not possibly interrupt her nap time), and I was in a hurry to block the fucker because there wasn't much drying time left (I finished the sweater on like the 23rd? And convention was on the 26th. Mind you, I was worried if I'd have to frog and redo something after blocking, and this fucker IS wool)

So you get a photo of the cardigan post-blocking, but also these try-ons pre- and post-blocking respectively. Yeah it stretched out a bit, but it's also so drapey now (where as before it was super stiff)

Also, yes, I did go and add some basic black buttons on there (I did make button holes in the ribbing though they're not noticable), but honestly the buttons aren't functional and I couldn't be bothered to take any more photos just for some buttons

So, there it is. Idiot's first crochet cardigan. It actually turned out pretty good! I'm happy with it!

Honestly, my only complaint about it is that... so I was looking for the cheapest wool yarn I could order fast to do this project very last minute, and what I landed on was Drops Nepal. Cheap as hell, wool/alpaca mix, not superwash, and had a good range of colors. When I ordered this yarn, the product photo for the orange was a lot more... middle-ground orange instead of this very red-orange. And I'm slightly annoyed as hell about that. Like, I don't hate the color at all, it does still read as Halloween-y, (and I take comfort in it NOT being some ochre/muted yellow-orange instead) but... it's so much more red than I wanted.... That just annoys me...

But, yeah, Drops Nepal. 65% wool, 35% alpaca, 75m(/82 yards) in 50 grams, reccomended hook size 5 mm. I sewed everything together with black yarn while the ribbing was all done in orange, and I was able to get about 8 granny squares per ball. The cardigan required 120 granny squares but 18 of those were indeed rectangles and 24 had some other fuckery with stitch increases/decreases. I used 10 balls of orange (color 2920 (dyelot 357320)) and 8 balls of black (color 8903 (483356)) with leftover from both colors. Did not check how much I had leftover because I went and made a shitty little knitted beanie with it lmao

That's about it. I now have a granny cardigan, it's really nice and I really like it (despite the color). I am pleased.

[reborrowing]

curses and confessions, part 3

first | prev | Stranger Swap masterpost

angsty family reunion, attempt 2 word count ~2.1k

Val

The full moon came in the next few days and strangely, the magic that came with it was easier to stave off than usual. Val could almost blame practice, but it had only been the last two months that they’d been able to influence the timing of the initial trade at all. The headache came, dull and heavy, as steadily as always. They pushed it off until Sunday afternoon, at which point Phoebe asked them to please just get it over with before it interfered with her Monday classes.

They still hadn’t told Phoebe why they were on edge. Not exactly. She wouldn’t just drop it, of course, so they cautiously told her that they had heard something crawling around their loft while they were asleep. Not someone. That, they kept to themself. Because how stupid would it be to tell her that they were afraid of someone sneaking in their house and taking their things? That’s all Val was to Phoebe, after all, and now she cooked them dinner and gave them a place to stay. 

But the intruder hadn’t been a borrower, at least not one like any Val had ever met. They were huge, muttered in a strange language, and glowed a faint yellow in the dark of the loft. When Val stopped looking at it directly, it looked more like a beetle than a man, and it had hissed at them once it noticed they were awake. It ran out into the wallways with a sack of Val’s belongings and they’d been too afraid to chase after it.

It had flung their things off their shelf at random, so far as they could tell. It hadn’t been looking for food or clothes but it had torn up the closest thing Val had to a family heirloom. They weren’t sure if what they had seen was real but they knew their things were missing, including one end of their father’s shawl. They didn’t want to lose the rest of it and they really didn’t want to have to fight that thing.

Val had been worried about the beetle-man following them out here, but they hadn’t seen any sign of it. It was possible it had left and stayed gone but it was just as likely that it was simply afraid of Phoebe. Or maybe it was still exploring or tracking them or…

Maybe Phoebe had a point about answers making it easier to deal with your problems. Maybe. 

They helped her into the side table drawer that they’d been sleeping in the last few days as the day wore down. She seemed eager to get a feel for how Val chose to set up their space up close, but not so eager that the two of them didn’t make a few adjustments for her own comfort. They left the drawer slightly open to set out the goofy-looking bird ladders she’d bought a few months back so she didn’t feel so trapped. And to keep herself entertained, she’d asked Val to leave her phone at one end, against a towel to cushion vibrations and prevent a personal earthquake.

Val, for once, was going to actually sleep on the bed. It still felt wrong to take her place so directly, but curling up beneath so many blankets was too cozy to fight now that they’d tried it. Even the smell was something of a comfort, now that they were used to Phoebe as somewhere safe to be—though they kept that thought to themself. Their only complaint was that slight itch of worry about the beetle coming back and that was nowhere near enough fear to keep them from falling asleep in such a comfortable nest. And besides, they could…probably handle it while they were like this. It had seemed like a giant in the loft, but it was probably no larger than their hand now.

A short yelp woke them suddenly some time later. They jerked upright before they could remember where or what they were. The blankets flopped loudly to the floor as their ears flicked and tried to scan the dim room around them. They really hoped Phoebe hadn’t been on the bedding trying to get their attention. Surely, she would have yelled again, right? Something lit up off to their left and Val flinched, imagining that beetle flitting somewhere in the shadows.

“Phoebe?” they called.

Val pushed themself out of bed and hesitantly grabbed the handle to the drawer-slash-bedroom waiting in the side table. The opening was too narrow for Val to see anything but the glow of the phone inside. Val tapped a claw on the side of the drawer as if they were knocking.

“What’s wrong with you?” hissed someone who was not Phoebe.

“Wrong with me!? Who even are you? Hey, let go!” cried someone who definitely was Phoebe.

“Are you stupid!? Be quiet!”

Val’s heart jumped as they registered the voice. They weren’t sure if it was in fear or excitement or anger or maybe all three, but it jumped hard. Val’s grip tightened around the drawer handle.

Hollow?

Hollow had run the last time they saw each other, and for good reason. This was wrong.

Here?

Val were getting used to the size trades by now but they didn’t want to be seen like this, not by another borrower.

Again?

They were a monster.

Why would he come back?

“I’m gonna open this now, s-so…” they murmured.

Hollow chittered out a high-pitched noise that made Val’s chest hurt. Val hadn’t heard anyone but themself make that noise in a long time. It was kind of like a borrower equivalent of scream, the way it grabbed their attention and demanded urgency, just at the end of the human hearing range to keep their fear from drawing the wrong attention. Val rolled their shoulders forward as if that could hide them from someone they towered over.

In the drawer, Hollow pressed himself into the corner, dragging Phoebe along with him. The terror on his face made Val ache. In their memories, Hollow was fearless, even reckless. Was that a teenage bravado he'd outgrown or had it ever even existed? Maybe it had been smothered.

Hollow looked like he'd been put through a blender, with missing limbs and scars that loudly proclaimed that he had fought hard for every breath he took. That he’d earned his right to live. And what about Val? What had Val earned? They were hardly a borrower at all. They’d be dead if it weren’t for the mercy of the humans that had caught them over the years. 

“Val! Make them let go of me?” Phoebe shouted.

Her asking was enough to do it, really. Hollow blanched at the idea of Val making him do anything and all but threw Phoebe across the drawer. Val reached out to catch her before she could faceplant and Hollow cringed back into the corner. 

“Sorry,” he whimpered. 

“It’s okay,” Val said softly.

“What? They attacked me!” Phoebe said indignantly.

“I’m sorry!” Hollow repeated, the panic in his voice rising. 

Val curled their hand around Phoebe, scooping her up and out of the drawer, and she readily leaned into the rescue. She was slightly sticky and bleeding on one arm, which gave them a good excuse to look at something other than Hollow. They grabbed her a piece of a tissue to keep from making a mess, but it didn’t look serious, just some stray claw marks.

Hollow hadn’t moved. Val had expected him to run again, like the last time. But no, the back of the drawer was too high to allow an opening to squeeze through and there was no chance he was taking a step towards them.

“What are you doing here, Hollow? Why would you come back? Is something wrong?”

It was hard to imagine Hollow wanting to show up here. He’d had a year to do it and hadn’t, and when they did, Val had scared him away entirely. So they’d accepted that he wasn’t interested in reconnecting. They didn’t like it, but they couldn’t blame him. It was Val’s fault that Zee had caught them in the first place and Val’s fault she made Hollow so miserable. Some wrongs were unforgivable. 

“Wait, wait, Hollow? Like, your brother? The one that stabbed you?” Phoebe asked.

“Mhm. It’s fine,” they said.

Hollow flinched at the accusation. He crouched low, staring at the floor, with his tail stub bent submissively between his legs. He was mouthing something to himself but said nothing. He had always been like that, overquiet, on the relatively rare occasion he was overwhelmed. His throat choked up to keep him from saying anything. It was a useful enough instinct to keep a little kid from screaming at predators but most borrowers outgrew it. Val wished they could reach out and comfort him, but the only things they could think to do would only make things worse. God, how were they this useless, even this huge?

“He stabbed you!” Phoebe repeated.

“With a pen knife, in self defense,” Val said levelly. “No one’s trying to hurt anyone here.”

Phoebe gestured at her fresh scratches dramatically and Val tried not to roll their eyes. She could probably pass them off as cat scratches once they switched back. Compared to the obvious breakdown Hollow was having, it was nothing. It was fine.

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up? Hollow, you can take a few minutes to calm down. You could leave before I come back but I—I wish you wouldn’t,” Val said, flinching when their voice cracked.

They nodded curtly without looking down, sparing Hollow the intensity of their gaze, and turned toward the bathroom with Phoebe. They dug through the cabinet almost robotically, their thoughts still with Hollow. They’d been sick after seeing him the last time, what, a month ago now? They’d spent most of the last decade assuming he was dead—that they had then befriended the person that had killed him. And Hollow had spent all of that time ignoring them. And now here he was, wanting what?

“Val?” Phoebe’s voice pulled them back to reality.

“Sorry, here,” they said, handing her an alcohol wipe.

She winced as she rubbed the corner down her arm, but her frown was fixed firmly on Val.

“Couldn’t you un-do the thing by now? Go back and catch up with them face-to-face? We slept like four hours, isn’t that enough?” she asked.

They didn’t feel like they had slept for four hours. They felt like they'd been interrupted in the middle of a half-hour nap[. But when they probed at that little space in the back of their mind, the brick wall threatened to break apart. They just needed to push and they would fall back to where they belonged. They nodded slowly. They weren’t even sure it would help, revealing that they were unquestionably friendly with the unit’s human.

“If you actually want to, that is. And you don’t think they’re going to hurt you,” Phoebe added. “I’ve got your back either way.”

“No. I don’t think they understood who you even are like this, I don’t want you to—” 

“I mean emotionally, dummy. You’re obviously upset. You can talk to me, really.”

She reached out and gave their knuckle an encouraging rub. Their hand twitched as Val tried not to flinch at the invitation. They didn’t talk about things. That never went well, not in the long run. This was the sort of thing you only talked about with someone you love and the people Val loved always left, didn’t they?

Hollow had left once, twice, and now he was gone by the time that Val and Phoebe returned to the bedroom. 

Val sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, setting Phoebe on the pillows. They closed their eyes and focused inward for a few seconds until the world grew back to its normal size and the shirt they had been wearing collapsed around them. 

They wanted to be numb. That was the easiest way to handle this. Not sleeping, not feeling, just getting to the next day unharmed. Phoebe pulled away the shirt that cocooned them and passed them their own clothes. The hairs on the back of their neck rose as they dressed. They could feel her trying not to stare.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently. 

Their eyes watered. They shoved the back of their hand across their face, angry that their body kept feeling against their will. They wanted to be fine and they weren’t. 

“I—no. And I don’t know what there is to say about it. But I wouldn’t mind being held.”

Soft warmth curled around them and pulled Val away from the overwhelming world they lived in. Her hands engulfed them until they felt good and small, unburdened by larger concerns. They weren’t supposed to fit here, it was the last place a borrower was supposed to be, but as Phoebe held them to her chest, they could almost feel like they belonged. They felt insulated, protected. Her heart beat around them and it all felt dangerously close to love.

-

taglist: @da3dm @gt-brainrot @gt-daboss @whumpsday (please dm, ask, or comment to be added to the taglist! tags are easy for me to miss)

[dreaamerwrites]

things you said under the stars and in the grass >> Cho Guesung, because you know he is our starry-eyed babie.

things you said -> still accepting! things you said under the stars and in the grass.

couple: cho guesung x gender neutral reader rating: G notes: ??? unconfirmed r/s status? lmao

♫

He's lying in the grass.

Arms and legs sprawled out, chin up, eyes wide open. You can make out the way they shine even in the darkness, the lights of the training grounds long since shut down now.

"Everyone was looking for you, you know," you murmur, not bothering to announce yourself. He knows it's you.

He knows it'll always be you.

Guesung merely grins, a lazy, sideways tilt of a thing as he pats the ground beside him. You settle down beside him, legs folded in front of you. It's clearly not what he had had in mind.

"You're doing it wrong," he rolls his eyes.

His hand wraps around your wrist and he gives you a tug. One time. And then once more, with purpose. You roll your eyes back at him before flopping backwards onto your back as well.

The grass scratches at the back of your neck and your ears and you shiver at the sensation. He wiggles beside you until you're pressed to his side, shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm. The bare skin of his arm is warm against yours, even in the cool evening air.

"I don't know why you enjoy this," you whisper. It's much too cold for May. "The grass is so prickly."

He merely snorts.

"Very romantic," he teases back -- but there is nothing teasing about the way he shifts his position, then.

Guesung slides one arm under your head, pulling you into his side easily; prickly grass suddenly replaced by his very solid, very warm chest.

If he can feel your breath hitch, he thankfully doesn't comment on it.

"Look," he whispers into your hair. "The stars look amazing tonight."

You twist slightly, glancing at the way his face is still turned up to the night sky, and then follow his gaze. Up, up, and up -- past the empty goal net, past the training ground stands, past the concrete of the building that has come to mean so much to him in such a short period of time.

Up, up, and up -- until all you can see are stars.

Endlessly, they stretch on, sparkling in the air as if someone has painstakingly sewn them into this blanket of peace and night.

"They're beautiful," you agree, voice so soft you wonder if he'll even hear you. His grip around your shoulders tightens. "I don't think I've ever seen them like this."

He hums in agreement, tilting his cheek until it rests against the top of your head. Your hair catches his stubble and you want to laugh but the moment seems too fragile for it. The stars are too delicate. You're not sure when you'll get a moment like this with him again.

After all...

"I'm going to see the stars in England, too," Guesung promises quietly. You wonder if it's meant more for him than you. "I'm going to see the stars in England. Maybe Spain. Maybe Germany. But definitely England."

Something catches in your throat and you force yourself to continue staring up, up, and up.

(After all, come the end of this summer, who knows when he'll be here like this again?)

"I know," you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. He still smells of his shampoo and body wash and freshly cut grass, still soft and worn post-training. You try to commit the scent to memory. "You'll see them in England. I know you will."

The silence that stretches between the two of you after that feels like the stars. Endless. Fragile.

But then his lips are on your forehead, brushing a soft kiss there. Barely touching, but quietly hopeful in its own gentle, careful way. You grip at his shirt more tightly, your heart pounding.

"You'll see them with me too," he murmurs against your hair.

You can't tell if it's an invitation -- or a question.

Regardless, you shift slightly to look up at him. At his eyes, still shining in the darkness, staring right back at you. The prettiest stars you've seen all night.

"If you want me to," you reply.

This time, his smile is full. Wide and sincere and warm as he pulls you in, strong arms firm and secure around you.

"Of course. I want you to be there," his voice comes rough, when he finally replies. The sound seems to resonate deep in his chest and it shakes you right through from your fingers to your toes. "I always want you."

He knows it'll always be you.

[notsofunsenpai]

💕 Beautiful 💕

A smile came across your lips as you looked down at your scarred body,you had recently took your bandages off and never felt so proud in your life while staring at the two identical marks/scars under your chest.They had just healed,these scars tell a story and you wouldn't dare to hide them. You felt more like yourself and couldn't be any happier. You felt brawny arms wrapped around your waist along with feeling a head on your shoulder,"Look at my pretty boy." He said in a flirtatious tone. "My beautiful boy." He said kissing your neck then spins you around to make you face him,pressing his lips against yours. "My handsome husband of mine,so lucky to have you baby boy."your husband said giving you more kisses on your lips. His lips started to move to your jaw,collarbone then to your scarred chest,leaving a trail of kisses and compliments as he goes.He went back up to your lips,the kiss was filled with love and passion. You wrapped your arms around his neck,feeling his long brown tail wrapped around you slightly,bringing you closer as he deepens the kiss.The two of You stayed like that until you guys needed to breathe, he stares at you lovingly,"I love you baby." He says,making you giggle softly at him.

"Well? Arent you gonna say it back?" He clicks his tongue at you,wanting an answer,with a grin on his face."I know my ass didn't just give you kisses and compliments for you not to say it back." He adds to his little rant. You playfully rolled your eyes at him as you give him a peck on the lips,"I love you too,my darling." You said,watching his ears and cheeks turn pink as his eyes softens as you stared at him,then embarrassing hide his face into your shoulder. You chuckled at his reaction and hugged him,god you loved this man so much.

[re-whump]

Glass Eden - Enclosure

prev congrats on not being eaten, but you're still trapped with the snake contains: non-human whumpee (borrower and lamia/naga, both tiny), captivity, pet trope, neglect, dehumanization, communication barrier, conditioned whumpee, concussion, (mild) emeto

Poe

It had to be a game of some sort, yes?

She had few ways to truly lose and I even fewer to win, but it must be a game.

The master of the house had thrown me in here for entertainment, after all. I had assumed it would be his entertainment, but apparently I wasn’t even worth that.  

I couldn’t know if I’d been spared out of mercy or boredom or merely saved for later. I wasn’t even sure she was intelligent enough to have had a reason, that my survival wasn’t mere whim. The master of the house kept her like a pet, so it was possible her relatable visage was mere coincidence. Then again, it had seemed like she had been trying to speak with me, and the master of the house was hardly a compassionate figure. He threw me in here for sport, he may as well be keeping a person in a cage.

I think he knew that she wouldn’t finish me off. He left before she had released me. But I also recognized the silver box on the other side of the glass and its ominous black eye. He was still watching, or at least recording to watch later. He would be able to entertain himself with my inevitable death, over and over again. He would watch her feed on me and be able to share it with however many of his awful kin as he liked, just as soon as she changed her mind and attacked me again. Nightmare after never ending nightmare. 

For now she seemed content to remain in the stone-looking cave on the far side of the terrarium. One bend of her pale, looping tail squeezed out the entrance, so I could even look over and be sure she stayed put. But my tail continued to quiver at her perfect silence. She could come for me at any moment and if I wasn’t looking at her, I wouldn’t know.

I needed to hide. I could feel the instinct pushing up beneath the rest of my thoughts to demand attention. Anger, self-pity, despair…none of them quite held up to the desperate urging to escape back into the shadows. I had been raised to believe—to know—that being seen by the monsters that owned the house was one of the worst things that could happen to me, and I couldn’t just push the feeling aside now that I’d been caught. The glass walls and open air were torturous.I would worry about survival later. I would worry about water and food and self-defense and how to get out of here later. First, I was going to carve a hiding space into the bark lining the cage, tucking in between the glass and some large stone. My crushed ribs burned as I pushed myself beneath the surface. 

When that was done, I curled up to cry.

When that was done, I was still trapped. 

~

Hecate

I had pleasant dreams about a patch of sun and another body lying curled up alongside my own. 

I played them over in my head for awhile, lazily enjoying the empty schedule ahead of me. Hugh only ever expected me to perform when he had guests, not like the last hands. And he liked me to look like me, not dolled up and polished. 

I scratched an itch along the thin scales on my hips and decided I could do with a wash anyway. That wasn’t polish, that was hygiene. I had a rash or something on my side there that never seemed to heal. I couldn’t do as good a job as the hands, but a long soak in even the tepid water on the cool side of the tank would feel refreshing enough.

I slid towards the sound of gently running water. There was a short waterfall on one end of the shallow pool that provided an endless supply of clean water. I’m not sure where exactly it came from, but there were a lot of things I didn’t understand. I only ever got to take short excursions beyond my glass walls and hardly anyone had ever thought I might like an explanation. It wasn’t like I could ask for clarifications. Mostly, I was thankful that this enclosure was at least full of interesting plants and clean bedding and even some clay I could sculpt with.

The water stole away that wonderful heat reserve I’d built up sleeping over the hot floor, but it was worth it. The sharp pinches that dotted the line between scale and skin fell away too, although the burning lower down on my belly lingered. I twisted around to check on what that might be, then tensed as I remembered how I’d hurt myself. Or, not myself, how I’d gotten…bit? Scratched? Hurt, somehow, by the…thing. The little prey-person-thing. The maybe-child. 

Were they still here? Or had Hugh come back to collect them?

I whistled as I drew myself out of the water. Their scent was faint, but in a space that usually only housed myself, it was more than enough to trace them. They were wedged between a stone hide and the wall, lying still. As I got closer, they made a muffled squeak, not unlike a rat’s.

I slowed, continuing to sing. It was an old song, a gentle one, one I’ve known since I was just a hatchling. I used to know words to it, something about the sun, but it had been so long and become so meaningless that now all I knew was the tune. The words were in the language I had used with my clutchmates anyway, one without all those tricky human noises. I doubt the prey-person-thing would have understood it. 

The substrate lurched as they clawed their way to the surface. I leaned back to keep the spray of bark out of my face. The glass pinged as they backed themself into the wall. 

“Hey, hey, shhh,” I whispered. 

“No, no, stop! Please! I’ve done nothing to deserve this!” they cried.

“Shh,” I repeated.

There wasn’t much else I could say. I couldn’t speak, not like they did. I had the wrong mouth for it. My tongue was meant for sneaking tastes of the air, not dancing between t and k and th and r and all the rest. 

“You-you aren’t attacking me?” 

I shook my head. I hoped they could see, even if I couldn’t. It seemed like it. They took a sharp breath like they were reacting to something. 

“You understand me? You are intelligent, then? Can you talk?”

“I…mm.”

I pushed off the ground, head cocked. I could hardly answer three questions at once. I motioned with my hands for them to go slower, but it must have looked like something else from where they were standing. They were still sweating fear. 

“J-just stay away from me! Please!” they whimpered.

I wanted to hold the poor thing to reassure them, but I wasn't dumb enough to think it would work. I just did my best to show him I meant no harm. 

--

Poe

The python-woman stared for several excruciating seconds.

She sighed and looked as if she might cry, then lowered herself back down against the ground again. I wanted to believe it was some kind of submissive gesture, but I was loathe to get too optimistic with my life on the line.

I wished she would blink. 

I didn’t move. I was too afraid it was some sort of trap about to spring. I watched a cat catch a mouse like that once, on a trip out into the garden. It had hunkered down and just stared for nearly a full minute. And that minute must have felt like an eternity for the mouse as it waited for that inevitable pounce. The cat had let it go again and again and again until the poor girl was too bloody and tired to try and run.

Eternity dragged on. 

I waited and waited and waited until the creature finally grew bored of waiting. She backed away and silently drifted back to the other side of the cage. 

I had to get out of here.

I crept around the perimeter looking for some way out. The only breaks in the glass were along the front, where the human had first thrown me in. The glass fit together so tightly, I couldn’t even wedge my fingers between the two panes, never mind try to pry them further apart. The mechanisms to lock the door in place were too far overhead for me to even examine. I turned to glare at the camera still gawking at me from the other side of the glass. 

I could weave something out of the foliage, perhaps, or turn my little dagger into something more useful. Assuming I had the time.

I kept my distance from her as I explored and only partially for that most obvious reason of avoiding her. The far end of the tank where she seemed to prefer to rest was significantly hotter than the other, and the whole place was uncomfortably humid. I assume it all suited her but it was making me sweat on top of everything else.

I thought about taking off the wool I had wrapped around my shoulders, but it was also the closest thing to armor that I had. I was dressed to survive the cold floor of the underused study, not monster attacks. I retreated back towards where I had heard water on the cooler half of the enclosure. My aching ribs demanded a rest anyways.

The water was…not clean, to say the least. A small waterfall churned the pool, likely intended to keep the water from growing too stagnant, but it was clearly not up to the task. I knelt down and grimaced at the pool. It was clear, but a layer of dirt and dead bugs littered the bottom. I drank anyway; it wasn’t as if it was the most questionable thing I’d ever ingested. It was refreshing enough.

After a short break I thought about what to do for shelter while I was trapped in here. I probably couldn’t make anything truly safe, but I could at least gather up a decent bed to rest in. Something more comfortable for my sore ribs. As for food…I would have to hope some of these plants might be edible. I didn’t know them. I chose a spot to set up distance from the water, assuming she’d come back here to drink again before long.

A distant creaking caught my attention, and it was not the snake. The housemaster was back. I ducked as deep into the shadows as I could, as much habit as anything.

He moved slowly, spending a few minutes walking around and admiring various displays around the room. It was too far for me to make out the details, but I assume he was looking at other pets. I didn’t want to know anything more. 

He turned to this prison before too long. The snake emerged from her cave to whistle and wave at him. He greeted her with a smile and oh-so-easily opened up the doors, nearly removing the entire front wall.

And his attention was fixed on the snake, not me. 

I warily crept towards the open doors. I waited until he had his hands full with the snake-woman and I launched towards my freedom. 

It was a hopeless endeavor. The movement caught his eye and he released the snake to take a clumsy swipe at me. Of course, a man twenty times my size didn’t need to be too precise to ruin me and these were hardly ideal conditions for me. His massive forearm slammed into me like a wall, knocking my breath away. I went skidding off the edge of the shelf before I could catch my balance. 

“Shit!” the master hissed. “Didn’t realize you were still in there.”

I landed in a heap at his feet. At some point, either during the fall or the landing, my head cracked against something hard. My eyes watered as I tried to pull myself back together, back into a coherent train of thought, so I could get up and—

“No, no, you’re not getting out of here. I’m not letting some thieving vermin run wild in my home,” the master said. 

A flat weight collapsed on top of me as I tried to crawl away. Shoe, I registered dimly. Very bad place to be. Very messy death. I wondered how much of it I would feel. He pressed down, just hard enough that I might burst if I tried to move, and dragged me towards the rest of him. He leaned down. My head swelled full of pain and panic. 

I heard someone scream. I wondered if it might be me, even if screaming wasn’t a behavior borrowers were naturally inclined to perform. I closed my mouth with a groan and the sound kept coming. I pressed my ears back. It hurt. My head hurt so bad and the noise made it worse. 

“Hey! Hey, my! My!” the scream shrieked. 

Something struck the glass overhead and the weight crushing my chest pulled away. I threw myself forward to escape at the same moment the master bent down over me and all that motion all at once set my head spinning and stomach heaving.

“Mm? You do want it, then, girl? You were just saving it for later?”

I may have taken an entire two steps before collapsing back onto my knees to vomit up the meager contents of my stomach. I was still retching, unable to move, as the housemaster’s hand fell over me and pinched the back of my shirt. Vomit ran down my chin as I was lifted so quickly into the air that the world turned into a blur. 

“No, don’t,” I croaked, several seconds after he tossed me back in the bark. 

The snake woman reached for me. I kicked at her. She sputtered, but only because the housemaster pulled her away. 

“Ah-ah, Hecate. I’ll let you have the little pest, but for now you’re coming out with me. Come along. It won’t go anywhere,” Hugh said.

The glass slid closed. The lock clicked. The towering shadow disappeared down the hallway. I stopped fighting to keep my eyes open.

I might as well finish dying before she came back to finish her game.

[doriansbutt]

I had an idea for a destiny oc and it got away from me. My favorite lore is always the Ghost Stories entries and….well, here’s this…

I think I am supposed to love the Traveler.

I have been wandering for endless, hopeless years in search of my One. My Guardian. Every Ghost has one. I know this as all Ghosts know this. I have met others on the same journey I am, this ceaseless search. Most still have hope. Some seem to have lost their light. Not their Proper Noun Light, just…their hope. Some have joined with people who aim to help them, some have been lost along the way…

In my search, I found a young girl. We huddled in a cave one dark night and kept each other warm and safe. And the next thing I knew, we had been friends for years and year. Time passed so quickly. I still searched wherever we roamed, but it was not so bad anymore with Noora.

We helped the Vanguard when she got older, old enough that the Vanguard Commander allowed her. She had been waiting for that day for some time. I was happy for her.

Noora was not a Guardian. I have seen such looks of pity when people learned that we are not partnered. We are just a Ghost and a girl. Friends.

We both knew one day we would part. Either I would find my One or she would die, and either way I would have to move on. It was an unspoken truth, a heaviness that settled over us as time went on.

It happened unexpectedly. Fallen had spotted us scouting and the attack was so swift, we never saw it coming. Noora fell. “Haakon, I am scared…” Her last words will haunt me forever. I had seen Guardians die, but that is their nature. They brush it off and rise again in an instant. Real death is different.

I begged and begged the Traveler for her to be my One, to let me give her my Light so she could rise again, so we could spend forever together like it felt we were supposed to now. And I cursed and cursed the Traveler when she did not rise. I watched the Vanguard bury her.

My lonely, hopeless search felt so empty now, without Noora. I almost wished I would be lonely forever, to let this deep darkness take me.

Until I felt the Light. The One. My Guardian. I had found her. Finally. It felt bittersweet, but I knew this was Supposed to be.

Anja is a hard woman. She is fierce and strong and stubborn but there is a hardness in her that almost frightens me. In many ways, she reminds me of my Noora. Even the way she looks and speaks and feels.

It was a hard day when I connected the dots. Noora rarely spoke about her family, but I knew, vaguely, that she had a sister. Anja. Noora had never said her name, but as soon as I thought it, it was as though everything aligned. I was meant to be Noora’s sister’s Ghost.

When I told this to Anja, she told me to stop talking. She did not care. She did not remember her first life, so why should she care about some sister she does not know? It was hard to separate them. Noora was not like Anja at all, it seems. I would mention how Noora would have done things and Anja would get angry with me. She stopped calling me ‘Haakon’, the name Noora had given me. She now just calls me Ghost. We do not get along very well. I heal her and resurrect her, do my Ghostly duties, but we do not speak. It is lonelier than my endless search.

I think I am supposed to love the Traveler. I have never hated it more.

[agecfwonder]

*:·ﾟ✧ is that that aleksei frey , who is originally from valachia , and living in valachia ? it’s nice to see the assassin to the halliard family out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they notoriously reckless , whilst also managing to be quite charismatic . the thirty-three  year old was born human, and hails from the kingdom of transvania. 

———   GENERAL

NAME  : aleksei rian frey TITLE : assassin to the halliard family AGE :  thirty-three SPECIES : human GENDER : cis man  PRONOUNS : he/him SEXUAL ORIENTATION : bisexual BIRTHPLACE : valachia RESIDENCE  : valachia

———   RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER : damien frey † MOTHER : naena frey SIBLINGS : aleksandr 'sasha' frey † ALLIES : varian halliard ( lover ) ENEMIES : mikhail volkov

———   PERSONALITY

LABEL : the rogue TAROT : the hanged man ALIGNMENT : chaotic neutral POSITIVE (+) : charismatic — mindful — attentive ( to detail ) — discrete — loyal NEGATIVE (-) : reckless — relentless — sarcastic — brusque — reserved

———   HISTORY

looking back at his childhood, it's a wonder he turned out the way he did. the second son to a dedicated guard for the halliard family and a local seamstress, aleksei had been born in love and raised in it. his father was tall and strong, his mother was kind and gentle, and his older brother was the best of both of their parents and just a half step away from god in the younger's eyes. he'd always been half a step behind aleksandr- sasha as he was affectionately called- shorter legs constantly churning to catch up with him.

he'd been small for his age with a mouth that seemed to think he was much bigger. he ended up knocked on his ass more times than he could count until he learned he could outrun other children his age by three strides. there was a streak of almost reckless fearlessness in aleksei during childhood, always the one who was willing to 'go first'- the first to climb, the first to jump. a true wild child.

the wildness never left but it changed as he got older. sasha left to join the army the summer before he turned eighteen, leaving aleksei to go through the growing pains of adolescence alone. he stretched as he grew up- testing every boundary, every limit-- more often than not to the exasperation of his parents. there was expectation now that he was growing, a path set before him by a father who told him ( with love, everything was with love ) that he had to have some sense of purpose otherwise he'd float right away; sasha had been as steady and solid as the earth and aleksei had always been one good gust of wind from flying away and their father wanted to keep his youngest from wandering aimlessly.

when a letter delivered by a guard from the keep brought the news that sasha had been killed by a rogue vampire along the border, the home changes. his father doesn't laugh and his mother stops singing and aleksei grows angry. that anger lashes out against those that love him most- parents that cling all the tighter to the son they have left- all but dragging him to that life path of following in his father's footsteps to serve and protect the noble family. it's a path he finds himself starting- reluctantly- when his father grows sick and the house grows all the more quiet after aleksei buries him. his mother becomes a shell of who she was, sad eyes that stare out the window.

he tries for her, he does-- he cares for her and trains to take his father's place along the wall, day in and day out. aleksei had never been one to easily submit to authority— to fall in line and follow orders blindly— not when his mind could work so much faster and he could think of at least three other options that would work and work better. it lasts for months and the feeling of the walls ever closing in on him becomes too much-- and he leaves. it's something he thinks back on with great shame and even though his mother has forgiven him and told him that 'it's forgotten', he knows he'll never forget that rock of guilt and how it had felt so heavy the day he left. no real destination in mind, aleksei just had to get out of that track.

he makes his way by picking the pockets of those clearly more fortunate than he and by chance happens to stumble into the thieves guild though he's certain lady fate had been keeping a close eye on him. for a few years he makes his way as a petty thief- it's a far cry from an extravagant lifestyle but that time of his life is colored by bacchanalia, a wild freedom he hadn't known before.

but still there's that desire for more. it wasn't enough to make it by on picking pockets, he had to go for bigger targets-- bigger paydays that took him beyond the city of valachia and throughout the kingdom of transvania. fate is a funny thing and the lady certainly has a sense of humor because just as he was starting to make himself a name in a the cat burglary world, he picked the pocket of a man who would change the trajectory of his life. his name was mikhail volkov and aleksei could ( and would ) tell you all sorts of things he theorized mikhail saw in him in that moment but in truth, he couldn't tell you what he saw-- but he promised bigger paydays than aleksei had ever managed to get with thievery.

he was still a boy struggling like hell to make it into manhood when mikhail started to train him. when mikhail found him, he hadn’t grown out of his resistance to authority- something his previous employer had found entertaining and amusing- but he quickly learned that mikhail had no tolerance for impudence and no patience for outright disobedience. 

aleksei— for all his faults— was a fast learner, driven by a need to prove he was something more than ordinary. mikhail taught him how to bleed and how to make others do the same, taught him how to take life without remorse. everyone has a bounty on their head, it was just a matter of making sure you got there before someone else— and avoiding letting your own contract come up for grabs. he spent years working under mikhail, working his way up in the ranks, ever fueled by that desperate need to prove himself— and the money wasn’t half bad. his focus turned to poisons- the different plants and concoctions from across the kingdom that could loosen a man’s tongue or take him down with nothing more than a drop. 

( TRIGGER WARNING: IMPLIED CHILD DEATH ) it was a job in branu— two warring merchant families, each taking contracts out on the other. he’d gotten greedy, playing the two against each other with that wolfish grin and when the sun rose on the seaside, both families had been slaughtered. there’s something about ending a family’s line completely that changes a man and while in the moment, his eyes had been veiled with the focus of an accomplished killer that saw nothing more than targets- contracts to fulfill— but in the light of day, no amount of scrubbing could wash away the blood from his hands and no amount of prayer to whatever god was listening could remove the mark on his soul from taking purely innocent lives.  it became a horror too terrible to bear and instead of returning with the coin he’d collected from the contracts, aleksei fled back to the only place he thought he could escape mikhail's wrath: he went home.

tail tucked between his legs and back in valachia after over a decade of wandering, aleksei appealed to lord halliard for sanctuary and employment. the loyalty that his parents had raised him in was fierce and if there were ever a cause to throw himself to that might absolve him for his past sins, it was to devote himself to the warden family that had cared for his the whole of his life. his skills and training made him useful and he became a blade for the halliard, working in the shadows to protect and defend the noble family from those that would try and harm them in the dark. 

coming home had been a fresh start and in that fresh start was varian. he'd always been there of course; they had been boys together, growing from knobby knees to broad shoulders- closer than brothers. they kept in close contact with one another even when their paths led them far from valachia- varian to his service with the military, bringing honor to his family and aleksei to the crooked path of theft and murder that would've shamed his mother to death if he ever told her the extent of it- writing letters over the span of years to each other.

it wasn't something he planned on-- in fact, for a long while, it was something he actively tried to fight against. his oldest friend, the only person who truly knew aleksei- 'warts and all' as his father would say- and still looked at him as if there were something good in him, something worth loving. and aleksei has loved varian a thousand different ways- as a subject loves a good lord, as a friend loves a friend, as a brother loves a brother, as a bard loves a ballad, as a poet loves a muse. it's something that has always felt fragile, something precious to be guarded-- something that's been for just them.

aleksei has been in the employ of the halliard family for nearly four years now and his devotion to the warden family is stronger now than it was when he first arrived, begging for asylum and purpose outside of killing for coin— which, of course, is still part of the deal but there’s the underlying deeper purpose that drives him forward and turns his eyes towards loftier goals. his eye has been on the master assassin position within the king’s small council though he remains rooted in the service of the family that had for all intents and purposes, saved him from himself. and for now, he’s content with that. 

———   QUICK FACTS ( TLDR; )

typical second child-- wild as hell, what my coworker would call 'a bad baby'

had an older brother named sasha that he adored/idolized that died when aleksei was a teenager while sasha was serving in the transvanian military

spends a while in the thieves guild before meeting mikhail volkov who takes him under his wing/mentors him into becoming an assassin

he's like. really good at killing people. [ hairflip ]

got really into poison bc while he can get his hands dirty, he can do so much More with poison like the possibilities are endless

took on a job where he took on the role of a butcher and ended two bloodlines and that can fuck a dude up if he dwells on it long enough.

[ steve miller band vc ] ooooooh took the money and ran

ends up appealing to lord halliard for sanctuary ( hiding from mikhail ) and lands a job as the assassin for the noble family

has been kicking it in that job for about four years now and is content but [ angelica schuyler vc ] he's never satisfied and is always looking for the next leg up he can get.

aleksei lowkey was super into the idea of being a bard when he was a kid. he has a worn gusli that he carries with him and sometimes uses as a disguise when he needs to move around in public without being known-- he can play most stringed instruments. dudes got a natural ear for music

has more aliases than i have throwaway email accounts

bc of that natural ear, he's v good at disseminating where people hail from and is incredibly good at imitating dialects and accents

he's a gemini. im sorry.

his favorite flavor is mint. lowkey always has that hint of mint about him bc the fucking maniac chews mint/peppermint leaves. this man would go absolute apeshit on some andes mints

incredibly fast thinker who happens to be incredibly paranoid. his brain is a super fun place to be

he's stupid your honor but i love him

[wordmoth]

Analyzing a popular Fanfic Tag: no beta we die like men

Meaning: No Beta We Die Like Men is a phrase commonly used to tag in a fic (typically ao3) as a warning/note that a work didn't have a beta reader to proof-read/edit, which was a longer version of saying "please excuse any typos". It's also a bit of a self-depreciating joke, since the nature of the tag shows that a fic writer knows they probably should have used a beta, but instead are choosing to face the consequences of their actions, therefore "dying like men."

The "Die Like Men" part is most likely from a sense of bravado associated with masculinity, and it reminds me of soldiers bravely facing their fate in war. Therefore, this tag also suggests a sense of courage/recklessness in posting a fic work instead of overthinking things.

Origin: It's from a meme on here from around 2016 which had a bumper sticker saying "No airbags, we die like men." A post reading "No proofreading, we die like men" also followed that first post, and the meaning for it stuck.

Variations: Sometimes a fandom subs in dead characters instead of "men" for the tagging, or something else (will to live, author's sanity, etc.) as well. Generally though, the "no beta we die like" part stays the same throughout.

[hellishattempt]

𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 - false positive

cr 101strk on twitter, src from pin

🢥 summary : celebrity!au jjk men and rumours swirling around your established relationship, wc 2.4k 🢥 series includes : choso, fushiguro toji, geto suguru, gojo satoru and nanami kento, part two of five 🢥 content : celebrity!au, female reader, mostly angst, some fluff, married, body dysphoria, pregnancy, photoshopping / body editing, miscarriage, sickness, blood, fake newspaper used, paps being an ass, lying, use of pet names, suggestive content if you squint so hard your eyes are almost closed, i hate winter so this is set in like summer, jasper simping for nanami the entire time, the ending is what it is, not proofread we die like robins /ref

. . . BEING MARRIED TO AN AUTHOR has its perks, especially when you're a reader yourself. you always got to read the first drafts, and the second, and the final drafts before anyone else, including your husband's editors. nanami claimed that if it wasn't good enough for his wife, then it wasn't good enough to be published. you always thought that was a bit extreme, but you loved his writings either way. however, sometimes it was hard to find the time to read the latest chapter he sent you, because your job drained you. you were an influencer, and had currently signed a promotional deal with koh gen do, a popular japanese makeup brand. recently, you were barely home, busy with photoshoots and videos for koh gen do, on top of the content you had to make yourself.

neither of you really liked the limelight, nanami especially. you were young and naive when you joined social media, rising quickly to popularity. it was something you enjoyed, and you still do enjoy it, but it felt more like a tiring obligation than an aspiring career. you blame the paparazzi, nanami blames societal expectations, although he's not the paparazzi's biggest fan either. throughout your dating, and going on six year marriage, you and nanami have had your fair share of scandals. this one had to take the cake, however.

you were out, doing one of the last rounds of photoshoots for your endorsement deal. nanami was home, trying to churn out the latest chapter on his to-do list. he wasn't very successful. the mostly blank document had two words on it: CHAPTER THIRTY in the fancy font you had selected to be chapter headers. any attempt to write after that failed. every paragraph had been written, rewritten and deleted. so the buzz of his phone was a welcomed distraction.

it was an article post from red sun times, a relatively newer newspaper company in japan. nanami preferred them because they were quieter, at least compared to japan newsline or tokyoto sistership news. but the article title cause a deep frown to wrinkle nanami's sculpted face.

. . . "IS NANAMI KENTO'S WIFE PREGNANT?" was in big bold print on your phone screen. you didn't see it right away, but your makeup artist did. she got your hairstylist's attention, who read it just before your phone shut off. they both began to pepper you with compliments.

"congratulations, nanami okaa-san!" aki, your makeup artist beamed. your eyes widened at the term. 'okaa-san' literally translated to 'mother' of which, you were not. she should've used 'oka-san', which meant wife literally, and ma'am respectfully. "you look so skinny, i couldn't even tell!"

"yes, congratulations! how did nanami-san respond?" your hairstylist added, smile wide on his face. "better yet, how did your families react? oh, i bet they were overjoyed."

you sat there confused, racking your brain over what the two were referring to. "wh-what? what are you talking about?"

they stared at you with blank faces, their excitement slowly fading into a confused expression that matched yours.

"y-your pregnancy," aki stuttered out, as though it was obvious.

"pregnancy? i'm... i'm not pregnant," you stated, getting out of your chair. "who told you i was pregnant?"

"we just saw the news flash on your phone," your hairstylist defended, gesturing to your phone. "there was an article from red sun times and the title read: is nanami kento's wife pregnant?"

"i'm not pregnant," you repeated, growing in frustration. the fucking nerve. "do i look pregnant?" you snapped, causing the pair to furiously shake their heads and protest the article. you scoffed, grabbing your phone and your bag, storming out of the dressing room. the directory of photography called after you as you exited the studio, but you paid no attention to him.

safe inside your car, you opened the article. you also had a slew of texts and missed calls from your husband, but you didn't have the patience for him right now. the article was crudely written, at best. red sun times had been losing subscribers and readers lately, and this seemed like a last ditch effort to get their subscriptions up again. it didn't make sense to you, however. neither you nor nanami were a-lister names in the celebrity world. nanami didn't even consider himself a celebrity. sure, you both had a hefty fan base, but it was nothing compared to some of the other celebrities of japan, like the model gojo satoru or the mma fighter fushiguro toji.

it didn't matter, anyways. it wasn't the words of the article that hurt. it was the pictures. all them were of you with nanami on your latest outing. your anniversary was coming up, and nanami always got really sweet around that time, taking you out on dates on the days leading up to your anniversary. your anniversary was in three days, and a couple of days ago, nanami had taken you to a strawberry farm where you each filled a bucket's worth of strawberries, that were then all eaten on the picnic following the farm. the picnic spot was the riverside where he had proposed about seven years ago. you had an amazing time, and fell a little bit more in love with your caring husband. his sensible attention to detail, his doting words, his thoughtful actions, all of it made the date, and your relationship, perfect. now this article and its malicious pictures tainted that saccharine memory.

. . . THE IMAGES HAD CLEARLY BEEN EDITED. that's what your logical brain was trying to scream at you, but your emotions weren't listening. a small bump had been added to your stomach in each photo, your hips had been wider, and in a couple, your breasts had even been adjusted, as though they were full with milk. you felt sick. it was so hard to tell the difference between what was edited and what wasn't. did you really look like that? did red sun times even have to adjust these photos? "you look so skinny, i couldn't even tell!" the words of your makeup artist bounced around your pounding head. if you were so skinny, why did she still assume you were pregnant?

you had tried so hard that day to look pretty for your husband, wearing his favorite yellow sundress of yours, with the sweetheart neckline and puffy sleeves. nanami always said he preferred your natural look, but you had still glossed your lips, tinted your cheeks a faint pink and dusted your nose with highlighter. you had tied your hair up with a soft yellow ribbon, curling the loose strands. you had checked your reflection at least fifteen times before deeming yourself fit for the day. you had looked good in the mirror, so why didn't you look like that in these photos?

tears threatened at your eyes, but you swallowed them with the lump in your throat. you were almost home now, and you were sure that nanami had seen the article. he loved the red sun times because they didn't do stupid stuff like this. guess they just lost another reader.

"darling?" nanami's voice rang out as you entered your home. he walked into your vision, looking worried. you hadn't answered your phone at all, hadn't even read any of his texts. "oh, koibito..." his voice softened as you raised your head to meet his gaze.

you look so despondent with your watery eyes, and sullen posture. you hadn't even removed your shoes before he had scooped you into his arms and you were sobbing into his shoulder. you don't know how long you stood there in the foyer of your home, everything silent except for your choked breathing. there was a dark blemish on his wool sweater now, but nanami waved it off when you tried to apologize.

he guided you to the living room, helping you sit on the grey sofa that you had bought together six years ago. nanami worked wordlessly as he removed your shoes and coat; he took your phone and bag, placing them on the stand by the front door. a high pitched whistle echoed from the kitchen, and moments later he returned with a cup of steaming sencha, your favorite kind of tea. you felt so pathetic, sitting there sniffling while your husband tended to you.

when he returned for the final time, nanami had changed into a black t-shirt, and sat on the leather ottoman opposite from you. his elbows rested on his knees as nanami watched you sip the tea he had made you. he didn't speak, but only because he couldn't find the right words.

nanami prided himself on his syntax and vocabulary. he was the type of person who always said the right thing at the right time, it's why being an author was the only career option he cared for. but here, you sat in a stifled silence. he knew he should say something, but what? what were you were supposed to say in a situation like this? you were clearly distressed, and it was nanami's role as your husband to offer you words of encouragement, but his tongue was dry.

if nanami was honest, he almost wanted there to be some truth to the article. you hadn't exactly been trying for kids, but you hadn't not been trying. kids was something you both knew you wanted, but you hadn't discussed it in further detail. reading further into the article and viewing the photos made it clear that it wasn't true, at all. nanami knew almost immediately that when you saw this, you were going to breakdown, and he would be there to pick you up. so he ordered your favorite ramen, made your favorite tea and held you in his arms until you had calmed down.

nanami knew that you would believe the edits, that you would see yourself like that. despite how much he praised your body, you hated it, and he hated that. anytime you made some side comment about your stomach or thighs, it almost started a fight. he loathed the way you saw yourself, and nothing he argued stuck with you.

in the last few months, however, nanami was starting to see some progress. you stared less in the mirror with your meticulous eyes, pinching flaps of your skin between your fingers. you began to buy less healthier foods, and stopped mentioning the stupid diet you had placed yourself on. you wore clothes that you specifically avoided unless you had nothing else to wear, because of the way they displayed your figure. he knew that this article had erased all of that progress.

"i'm sorry, nani" you croaked, curling your knees into your chest.

"shh, no, koibito," nanami disregarded your apology. "you don't ever have to apologize about your emotions, especially not to me." he moved from the ottoman to take the spot next to you, pulling your small frame into his. one hand held yours while the other stroked your hair amorously. "the article was cruel, and any person with a heart would be reacting the same as you. don't worry, i've already called their editor and he said he doesn't know why the piece was published when it wasn't supposed to. it's being removed as we speak."

your heart welled at his words. he was so patient and understanding. moments like these made you love nanami more. and it gave you the confidence to tell him the truth.

"kento," you began, pulling away from him slowly. you used his given name over your nickname, nani, for him. you only used it during fights or confessions. he immediately perked up. "i..." you sighed. words were always nanami's thing, not yours. "i'm not upset about the photos."

"oh?"

"okay, well, i am, but for a different reason than you think."

"and what reason is that, koibito?" his tone was emotionless, as if he hadn't decided how to respond yet.

"i know you think it's because i'm always stressing about my body and the way it looks, and you're worried because i haven't been fretting over how i look as much, right? well, that's because i was pregnant, and i decided i couldn't care about that when i had bigger concerns, like the tiny life in my stomach." it became harder to speak, your sentences broken by tears and sobs.

"...was?" nanami's voice cracked, and his misty eyes matched yours.

you nodded, "was. i... i had a miscarriage."

"w-when?"

"about a week ago. i was about a month and a half along."

"you mean that time you canceled girl's night because you were sick? you told me that it was just your period, and you sent me out to get you stuff from the store." nanami's brows furrowed.

"yeah, that's.. that's right." you took a breath to steady yourself. "there was just blood everywhere, and i was a wreck and i didn't have the courage to tell you. i know how badly you want kids of our own, and i just didn't want to hurt you."

"hurt me? baby, you were the one hurting, and i just played it off like it was normal. i feel terrible."

"you couldn't have known," you reassured him. "but that article, and those photos, it just tore me apart all over again. that's how i should look, that's how i want to look, but i lost that part of me, that part of us."

nanami didn't respond at first, just reached back out for you. you both sat there, quiet sniffles and crying the only sound in your home. he continued to comfort you, even though you felt like you should be offering him comfort. after all, nanami is learning that you were pregnant and now no longer pregnant all at once.

"koibito," he murmured after a while. "i want you to know that i love you no matter what. i don't care how you look or how you don't look. you're my wife, and i didn't marry you because of your body and figure. i married you because i fell in love with your laugh, your smile, your unpredictable personality, and all the other beautiful things about you. i'm always going to support you and love you. and if you want to be pregnant, then i'm happy to oblige."

you laughed despite your sadness, swatting at him playfully, which elicited a "what? i'm serious!" from nanami.

"shut up," you muttered, still chuckling. he smiled, happy to see that you were laughing along with him. nanami pressed a kiss to your temple, humming an "i love you" against your skin.

you snuggled deeper into him, craning your neck to meet his eyes. "i wanna be a mom, nani."

he wrapped both arms around you, meeting your gaze. "then a mom you shall be, my koibito."

[fanlore-wiki]

Featured Article: No Beta We Die Like Men

You may have seen today's Featured Article tagged on fics, but what does No Beta We Die Like Men mean?

No Beta We Die Like Men is a humorous phase used in the tags or notes of a fic to let the readers know that a fic hasn't been checked by a Beta reader, a person who proofreads a fic in advance it of being published. Thus, letting readers know that the fic may not be polished and might include minor errors like grammar or spelling mistakes.

The phase has its origins on tumblr, and was based off a popular meme that was circulating in 2016. Many fandoms will change the phase to make it fandom specific, like Star Trek fandom's "no beta we die like redshirts" or Naruto's "no beta we die like Ninja".

Not all fans are a fan of the tag, and may avoid works that include it, feeling the author is using it to brag or as an excuse not to put in the work to complete the fic well. Some also dislike the fandom specific variants finding them too meta, or dislike the fact that they reference the deaths of characters.

Curious to learn more? Or do you want to see other fandom variations? Check out the Fanlore page!

------

We value every contribution to our shared fandom history. If you’re new to editing Fanlore or wikis in general, visit our New Visitor Portal to get started or ask us questions here!

[differentcoloredcontacts]

Hey! I saw your master list and noticed you make headcanons for individual characters.

Would it be cool if you share your headcanons about Manga? Thanks

Not proofread we die like men

For each of his classmates birthdays he makes fan art of them in their hero costumes.

Anytime anyone hes close too draws something he keeps it. His drawers are more full of drawings from his friends than actual clothes and important stuff lmao

When he becomes a pro hero he encourages his fans to bring him their drawing so he can hang them up. He frames that shit and puts it on his wall.

He has bad memory but if he has a physical item (including pictures) of things that happened he will remember it forever. (Or at least he will suddenly remember it in great detail when he sees the picture or whatever he kept from it)

He has no idea whats going on in the world around him most of the time. No, he does not know about jojo siwas re-brand his social media is full of art and cats edited into car chases.

Him and pony are really the only ones that canonically watch anime yk? So they probably have a lot of inside jokes depending on which shows they watch and such.

He spends more time doodling in class than actually studying. So hes barely passing his classes and id think hes the worst at math

Not a headcanon but his head is 2d right? So how does he eat food and stuff?

Anyways he really likes pasta. Both making and eating its fun for him. Making all the little pasta shapes and stuff not to mention it'll taste good because all pasta <3 <3 <3 <3

Anyways he thinks salt is spicy.

Gif anime - boku no pico