#having a fluid state of being and if anyone sees you in a form which makes present your godliness they are mentally

[39472034658449305249465224devils]

for those who forget who these 2 are...

yesepher

rising sun

winter and spring (and the ashen season)

morning from the night

the gathering of people

to suffer (mainly for a extensive period of time) and to be freed

to love and lose

to be unable to use ones plentiful skill

connection to godliness (complicated. god is not a 'person', it is a complicated culturally regarded as both unbeing, thinking individual, and unthinking material, for example, time, a person and water. a really old mountain harnesses godliness, godliness can pool into places on the earth, flows and cycles and fills a persons body, but godliness can also create things and make decisions, but is not necessarily conscious so it cant be bartered with. individual figures may be regarded as 'gods' as well, but are considered lesser to godliness and are simply beings with incredibility high concentrations of godliness. godliness is the absence of animal nature and person nature, it stands above both of them on the triad. as such it knows itself unlike animals, but can do no wrong as it cannot do, unlike people.)

cycles (generally regarding abuse, torment, insanity.)

to create one's own gain (usually from a poor situation / to suffer for nothing, so to create something. sunk cost god)

the animal nature (to know no evil, and thus commit no evil.)

violence and dominion (sexually) (culturally sexual violence is seen as physical violence, they are not divided in categories. furthermore, 'dominion' refers to hierarchy, and as social higher figures may strike someone lower than them as a punishment, sexual punishment may also be used, though generally does not involve penetration.)

iionei

setting sun

summer and autumn (and the rainy season)

evening into night

solitude

to face suffering after a long period of kindness

to never have known (and to mourn unknowing)

to need skills one does not have / be demanded of something one does not have

connection to the common person

doing something new / breaking cycles / rebirth

to resign to lack (rather, to not seek out gain.)

the person nature (to know evil, to persecute evil.)

violence and domination (nonsexual) (so like beating your servant for being a war traitor or whatever. or likewise partaking in a war at all.)

yesepher as a coiled serpent and iionei as a outstretched eagle with a triad sun

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

2: UNWELCOME DISTANCE

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Dinner with Bucky didn't go as well as you planned and now you're suffering from the outcome of being ditched in an autumn thunderstorm.

Word count: 3.2k

Warning: feelings of betrayal, shitty communications skills, illness (upper respiratory tract infection) description, Coney Island and cotton candy, jealousy, Bucky... Barnes is a warning

The following morning, you woke up feeling a little worse for wear. You buried your face in your pillow willing the tickle in your throat and at the back of your nose to disappear. A small groan left your lips as your attempt to sleep in was thwarted by the aching throughout your body. Sitting up did little to make you feel better, other than shifting the balance of mucus in your sinuses, making you sneeze and worsening the scratchiness of your throat. You looked up at the clock, you’d missed the breakfast time that you were expected to attend, but there weren’t any messages on your phone expressing concern from your friends.

A throb of self pity and doubt flashed through your mind. Did any of them even care? You had lost Bucky to another woman, but clearly none of your other friends had noticed your absence. You weren’t special, you’d only been invited to join the Avengers Initiative because of your powers. The thoughts were just forming, your mind ready to spiral into a storm of insecurity, when there was a knock at your door. Each movement felt like wading through molasses, and even sitting up seemed like an insurmountable task.

"Cricket?" Steve’s voice permeated into the room.

"Coming!" At least that was what you tried to say, your voice coming out as a small croak. You padded over to the door barefoot and opened the door to find Steve’s kind face looking down at you.

His concern was etched across his features as he took in your disheveled appearance. Dark circles clung to your eyes, and your skin had lost its usual healthy hue.

"Hey there, sunshine," he greeted, his voice gentle. "How’re you feeling?"

There was only one word that would succinctly sum up your emotional and physical state in that moment. "Shit," you mumbled, sniffing at the fluid that was threatening to leak from your nose.

He reached out, his hand cool against your feverish skin. His touch was comforting, grounding you in the midst of your misery. "You definitely have a fever," he confirmed.

As if to affirm his observation, your body pitched forwards in a violent sneeze, which you barely had the time to catch with the inside of your elbow. You ended the outburst with a pained groan, as the back of your throat burned.

Steve’s concern deepened. "You need rest," he said firmly, steering you back into bed. "I’ll make you some tea."

You followed his instructions without protest, not having the energy to argue. It would be best for you to stay in bed, you’d get better quicker with rest, and it was a great excuse to avoid seeing your best friend and his girlfriend. The practical side of you would use the excuse that you didn’t want to expose anyone to your germs. At least Steve would be protected by the serum, so you didn’t need to worry about him hanging around. So with a clear conscience, you snuggled back under your covers to wait for Steve’s return.

As he disappeared towards the kitchen, you sank back into your pillows. Maybe losing Bucky wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe having a friend like Steve was enough—a warm presence in the midst of your feverish chaos. And as the wind whistled outside, you realized that sometimes, friendship was the best medicine of all.

Little did you know that on his way to the kitchen, Steve ran into Bucky as he was leaving your room.

"Steve?" Bucky called after his friend.

"Hey, Buck."

"What’re you doing?" The real question he wanted to ask was ‘why are you leaving Cricket’s room?’.

"Just grabbing some things for Cricket. She isn’t feeling very well."

"What?" Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. "She was fine yesterday!"

"Well if you hadn’t left her alone to get drenched in that storm, she probably wouldn’t be so miserable." Steve hadn’t meant to be so harsh with his words, but you had interrupted his beauty sleep the previous night and he was feeling rather disgruntled.

"What’re you trying to say, Steve?

"You shouldn’t have left it so long to tell her." Steve was referring to Priya and how long he'd kept his relationship with her private.

"That’s my decision, Steve." Bucky countered, defensively.

"I know. But maybe you should think about why you were so ready to tell me, but not Cricket."

Bucky clicked his tongue against the roof of mouth, dismissing Steve's comments. "I'm gonna go and see her."

Steve thought about objecting, but decided against it, opting to fetch the things he had promised you.

Bucky’s footsteps echoed down the narrow hallway, each one a heavy reminder of his own recklessness. The storm had raged outside, rain pelting against the window panes like a thousand tiny fists. But he hadn’t been there to shield you from it. Instead, he’d left you alone, vulnerable, and now guilt gnawed at him like a persistent rat.

Your room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn shut against the gray morning. Bucky hesitated at the threshold, his knuckles grazing the wooden doorframe. He’d never been good with words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. But he had to try.

"Cricket?" His voice was soft, almost tentative. He stepped inside, the floorboards creaking under his weight. There you were, cocooned in blankets, your face pale against the pillows. The storm had taken its toll on you, and he cursed himself for not being there.

You stirred, eyelashes fluttering open. "Bucky?" Your voice was a whisper, fragile like a spider’s silk. "What’re you doing here?"

He crossed the room in two strides, perching on the edge of your bed. "I… I heard you weren’t feeling well." His fingers brushed against your forehead, checking for fever. "Steve told me."

You managed a weak smile. "Steve’s a tattletale."

"He cares about you," Bucky said gruffly. "We both do."

"I feel bad for dragging him out of bed last night."

"Cricket, why didn't you tell me you didn't have any way to get back home. I would have brought a car instead of my bike."

You shrugged, “I didn’t think I had to.”

He had been so caught up in his plans to introduce you to Priya that he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you might need a ride home. He had assumed you would find your own way, and he was just starting to realize how selfish that had been. He should have been more attentive, more caring. He laid a hand on your arm, “I’m sorry, Cricket. I should have been more thoughtful. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Cricket, please, let me make it up to you. I was looking for you this morning. I made your favorite pancakes," Bucky continued. "Thought you could come and have breakfast with me and Priya, before I take her home."

"Sorry," you shrugged, hating this conversation more and more. Why was Steve taking so long to return?

"I was going to spend the day with her, but if you want, I can come back and we can watch some movies."

"Don't cancel your plans on my account." You rolled over, facing away from Bucky.

Your behavior stung, but he couldn't blame you for being angry. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. "I’m sorry," he whispered. "For leaving you out there."

"See you later," you mumbled and Bucky knew he had been dismissed. 

Bucky couldn't shake the guilt that weighed heavily on his chest as he walked away. He had always been a good friend, someone who looked out for others and made sure they were taken care of. But in his excitement to introduce you to Priya, he had neglected to consider your needs.

As he walked away, Bucky couldn't stop replaying the conversation in his head. He had let you down, and he wanted to make things right.

Steve appeared a few moments after his departure, his arms laden with homely remedies and a bowl of soup which smelled incredible. Your stomach rumbled hungrily in response, making you blush.

"Here, take this first," Steve shoved a bottle of DayQuil under your nose.

Begrudgingly, you accepted the painkiller gratefully and then proceeded to slurp up the soup. "This is delicious," you hummed in approval.

"Hey, when you're feeling a bit better, I was thinking I could take you out somewhere… cheer you up a little." Steve stuttered towards the end as he saw surprise on your face. 

You swallowed your mouthful of soup before cracking a smile. “Steve, I'd like that.”

Steve smiled back at you. But suddenly, he reached out, grabbing the bowI in your hands, having noticed the slight hitch in your breath. A sneeze rocked your body forcefully and you groaned.

“Thanks,” you accepted the bowl back from Steve.

"No problem. Don't want to make a mess."

“No,” you sighed, finishing the soup in a sad silence.

“Want me to stay?”

“No, it's okay. I'm just going to go back to sleep.”

Steve took the empty dishes and kissed your forehead, glad that it didn't feel as warm as it had earlier. “Feel better, champ.”

You sure hoped you would.

*

A few days later, you were back in fighting form. But much to Bucky's chagrin, he could never seem to catch your attention for more than a passing nod or wave. He wanted to make things right with you. He missed you, he wasn’t used to being so close to you but not being able to talk to you properly. He had the sneaking suspicion that your distance might not just be ill-timed schedules. Were you avoiding him? He wondered if you were still angry at him for not giving you a ride back home after your dinner with Priya. A feeling of melancholy settled over him as he speculated on all the things he could have done that made you take a step away from him. Every reason under the sun spiraled through Bucky’s mind except the real reason for your withdrawal.

Bucky had hoped that meeting someone else, someone who was interested in him would help him push away the feelings he had for you. Closure. That’s what they called it in the movies these days. But this didn’t seem like it was going quite the way he had anticipated. In fact, rather than feeling happier, he felt more tortured than he had before. Maybe going out with Priya would take his mind off things, so he decided to give her a call and schedule a date, she had a way of soothing his turbulent thoughts. Not as well as you did, no one understood him quite like you did.

*

Steve was true to his word, and had whipped up a surprise plan for the two of you to spend the day together. He had chosen a Wednesday, explaining that it was a good time as the place would be less busy. He made sure you had dressed warmly, in spite of the sunny weather. 

"Don’t want you getting ill again," he smiled as you got into the car with him.

"Is that why we’re not taking the bike?"

Steve shook his head, knowing how much you loved riding motorcycles.

"So where are you taking me?" you asked. You’d been trying to get Steve to tell you for the last few days, but the tight lipped Captain had resisted all your wily techniques at information extraction.

"Coney Island."

"Ohh!" you exclaimed. "I haven’t been there for years!" You laughed before a thought popped into your head, a memory. "Are you sure you want to go there, Steve?"

"Why wouldn’t I want to go to Coney Island?"

"Well, I heard about… the… Cyclone Incident."

Steve blushed. "Bucky telling everyone that story, huh?"

"Afraid so." Your smile was soured slightly by the shadow casted by Bucky’s name and you turned to stare out of the window, letting Steve drive in silence.

Steve shook his head. He wanted nothing more than for both his best friends to be happy, and for the two of you to be happy together was the ultimate goal. He hoped that one day both of you would come to your senses, but until then, he would do his best to support you both.

The weather turned out to be fine and you had shed your top layer before even leaving the car.

"Oh come on! Stop being such a dad! We can always come back to the car if it gets chilly!" you responded to Steve’s disapproval.

"Come on then!"

It was a beautiful day filled with laughter and joy between you and Steve. He was glued to your side, treating you to all the rides, indulging you when you wanted to ride the Cyclone repeatedly. Every time you got to the end of the ride, you’d turn to him and make sure he wouldn’t spill his guts. Steve rolled his eyes dramatically as you laughed hysterically.

"What next?" Steve asked. "And don’t tell me we’re doing that again."

"Come on, the girl letting people in definitely has a crush on you! Why do you think we got on for free the last two times?"

Steve grabbed your wrist, "Come on!" He led you away from the rides, over to a cotton candy kiosk, dropping a few notes into the vendor's hand and selecting two cones. You took the liberty of grabbing the blue one from his hand and tucking into it before he had the chance to object.

"Bet I can eat this faster than you can!" Steve suggested slyly.

"Oh, bring it, Rogers!" You tore the stick out of the candy cloud and scrunched it up into a tiny ball, sticking it in your mouth and letting the sugar dissolve on its own.

Steve, who had taken several large bites, looked up in confusion and awe. He eyed your empty hands, then put his finger on your bottom lip, pushing it down and peering into your mouth. 

You indulged his disbelief, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. "See, all gone! I win!" you smile with glee.

"Wow!"

"You forget, I was the youngest of five! I had to learn to eat fast or I’d lose out." 

Steve chortled quietly at your story. "Fine, what do you want as your prize?" He waved around at all the game stalls, letting you pick your prize.

You gazed around, contemplating your options when you spotted a giant stuffed wolf. "That one!"

Steve was true to his word and threw every bean bag with perfect aim and you pointed at a white plushie which looked a little different to the others. 

"Why don’t you take this one?" the vendor tried to shove a dark gray wolf into your arms, but you declined.

"No thank you, I’d like that one please." You selected one which had been stuffed on a high shelf, away from the others of its kind.

"Honey, this one’s going in the garbage, look at him, white body with one gray leg. It’s a defective product, they made a mistake in the factory. Happens from time to time."

But you were adamant, you wanted the white wolf with the transplanted leg.

"Whatever you want, miss." The vendor handed you the soft toy, which you hugged to your chest. There was something about him that you wanted to keep safe.

Unbeknownst to you, you had been spotted by someone unexpected. Bucky had had a similar thought to Steve, he had brought Priya to the ‘island’ on a quiet weekday for some harmless fun.

"Jamie, look!" Priya tugged at his sleeve. "Isn't that Cricket and Steve?"

Bucky's head whipped around so fast, he almost had empathy for whiplash sufferers. He frowned, eye searching the crowd in the direction of Priya’s outstretched hand. He couldn't believe that you would come here with Steve. He had often suggested a trip to Coney Island to you, but you'd never managed to make the time for it. So seeing you here with Steve made his insides burn with jealousy. Another part of him, his guilt-ridden conscience told him that he didn't deserve you. Naturally, you'd choose the classical hero, Steve. He was the golden boy, even when they'd been kids, Steve was the trouble maker, but somehow Bucky was the one his parents mistrusted. 

"Yeah," he grumbled.

"Let's go over and say hi!"

"I'm sure they don't want us to interrupt them." Bucky vetoed the suggestion with a sulky expression.

"Fair, I mean I wouldn't want anyone interrupting our date either." Priya smiled, taking Bucky's hand, leading him away. Bucky stole one last glance at his two best friends, a deep ache settling inside him as Priya dragged him away from you. 

*

Over the next week, you and Bucky drifted through the compound, both longing for the other but not quite able to find it within yourselves to seek the other out. For you, it was a simple matter of avoidance. You'd made the mistake of touching the flame and now you suffered the burn. But for Bucky it was different. He couldn't understand your absence and he knew nothing of your pain.

He could feel the frustration building up inside him, until one day he caught you returning to your room. And every one of his thoughts and accusations came pouring out.

"What is it? Why’re you upset with me?" Bucky demanded.

"I’m not upset… it’s not- I’m hurt. You hurt me. It’s not that you did something wrong. In fact you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just that I thought you’d share something big, like dating, with me. But you kept it secret. For four months! I thought we told each other everything. I … I just expected-" you shrugged. "And that’s the problem here. My expectations were wrong, and I’m ashamed. But you didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to apologize for. But somehow I feel like I’m going to lose you."

"You’ll never lose me, Cricket."

"But Buck, I already have. Like she said… she’s your best friend now." Bucky opened his mouth to interrupt, but you put your hand out to stop him talking. "I just need some time to deal with that. Is that okay?"

"I didn’t mean to hurt you," he mumbled. The sincerity evident in his tone and face.

"I know, Buck," you sighed. "I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. Please, I want you to be happy. I’m happy for you."

"Please, let me make this up to you." Bucky grabbed your wrist, desperately.

"You can do that by making sure you take care of yourself. I’m always going to be with you, on missions and stuff, partner," you patted his upper arm. "I just think that our friendship’s going to change a little… and I just need some time to get used to that."

"Is this because of Steve?"

"Steve?" you repeated after him, feeling confused by the change in topic. "What does Steve have to do with this?"

"Are you together?"

"What? No! Bucky, why would you think that?"

"I just…" He shrugged, not quite able to bring up seeing you at Coney Island, or the moment of closeness you had had with Steve the night he had introduced you to Priya.

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Tag list: @samodivaa @scoonsalicious @literaryavenger @noonespecial90 @browneyedgrli @vicmc624 @cjand10 @capswife @julvrs @ordelixx @sashaisready @sebastians-love @thealloveru2 @belleofthebooks

[fallenhunnyapple]

*aims gun* you better share those Adam body dysmorphia headcannons right now

(please 🥺)

Oh no a gun is pointed at me whatever shall I do 😩

I guess I'll just have to give in to your demands 😏

Okay these are HCs I share with @fallenguitarhero

So basically, Adam is Just A Guy. He has always been Just A Guy. When his helmet is broken, you can see just how much A Guy he is, his proportions are Completely human.

Meanwhile when he has his helmet, he's a lot more fluid, his size and shape changes at will basically. He can eat and drink through his helmet. When he's in the safety of Heaven, even when Lute is maskless, he's still wearing his Helmet. Clearly he feel More Comfortable with that than with his actual face.

He's the first Human Soul in Heaven, but he's not Just a Winner, he has Angelic Powers, he can create portals, he can look into Hell at will, he has Holy Light powers. He's an Angel but he's still Human. And he Looks Human. Especially at the beginning, he was the only thing that Looks like him. All the other Angels are ethereal in their appearance, they can have multiple forms. He's just... A human with Wings. Sure his wings are Unique, but that's the only thing that's special about him. It's not Him that's special.

The Helmet gives him the ability to change his form in little ways, it separates him from being Just A Guy, his face is something Different, something he can control. There's no way his Helmet wasn't specially made with all the abilities it has. No LED masks allows you to eat and drink through it. It was made specifically to allow him to keep it on at all times.

Without the Mask, his face is More Expressive, as cartoony and silly his Mask can be, his natural face's expressions are pushed even further.* And when his Helmet is Destroyed and he's just Him, he's Smaller than he was with the Helmet on. So if that's not his Natural state, then that means he's done it On Purpose consciously or not. He feels Smaller with his Helmet gone.

And then we kinda lean into it more in our AUs, especially our Sinner AU. Adam feels so insecure without his Mask, which had been destroyed during Extermination Day, so he hates people staring or even just looking at his face. His face is the thing he's most sensitive about but he can't hide it anymore and it weighs on him. The only person he allowed to see him without his mask Voluntarily was Lute because he trusted her more than anyone. (qpr guardrock is so important to me). But piercings and tattoos etc help because it allows him to take control of his appearance

In AUs other than Sinner AU, it takes a while for Adam to be comfortable taking his helmet off around Lucifer, Lucifer hadn't seen his face since Eden. And it takes Adam quite a while before he's willing to accept that Lucifer - especially Lucifer, the one once considered to be The Most Beautiful Angel - could find him attractive.

* Edit: Forgot to add that Because of how Expressive he is naturally, the mask also helps him control how he's being perceived. He can show As Much of his true feelings as he wants, or as Little. Its literally Masking his emotions

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

PREV ASK ANON HERE

I absolutely adore the idea of them being so completely unaware and dazed that they’re just happy to be there dearly. the only discomfort they’d be aware of is how cold they are in comparison to their temperature controlled tank. whumpee’s emaciated body would not be able to control their own temperature, and also factoring in the minimal clothes they’re wearing, leaves a whumpee with chattering teeth and no sense of what’s wrong.

also the act of caring for a god as a sense of devotion?? I’m kicking my feet and giggling I love it sm. I’d imagine as well in any scenario when whumpee is being manhandled they’re responsive to any stimulus, being that they’ve been deprived of anything but water for months, so any brush of the skin that whumper allowed would be responded to by a startle, groan, twitch, etc which in diff situation w diff whumper’s can yield different reactions. disgust, adoration, a sick sense of satisfaction, etc.

oooooohhgh and the aftermath. chefs kiss.

you’re right so so right ohmygod. whumpee would almost rather have been tortured or physically hurt to be able to say they “survived something” rather than just been completely and totally dehumanized to the point of complete and utter unawareness and shut down of higher cognitive functions. IM EATING IT UPPP.

Anyways,,whumper probably talked to them through the tank like someone would talk to a pet goldfish.

-🪣 anon (cause i dump all my ideas on ppl)

Oh my lord, the imagery. I just can’t help but imagine when Caretaker first finds Whumpee. They expect a cell, chains and bars. Instead, they find Whumpee suspended in a glass tube, body submerged in fluid. Their body limp, hair flowing like a halo around their head. They look like a sleeping god. They look like a trophy. It makes Caretaker sick.

Just… Whumpee is worshiped like a god, but contained like a monster. Contained so totally and then displayed like a prized possession. I know you see the vision.

And you’re so right! Sticking with the ‘worshiper’ Whumper cause we’re both vibing with it, I just imagine Whumper finding deep satisfaction in getting such an unguarded, vulnerable response from their ‘god’ with a simple touch. They’re the only one allowed to touch them. It only helps to strengthen Whumper’s posessiveness, their confidence that they’re the one worthy of protecting Whumpee and harnessing their power.

Also! Also! I really like your point of Whumpee only being aware enough to feel their discomfort. Their awareness has been successfully restricted to their immediate senses, because Whumper has taken control of all their other needs. I love the fact that in that state, Whumpee would seek that simple comfort from anyone, body instinctually leaning into any source of warmth. Is it Caretaker, gripping them with shaking hands, horrified of what was done to them? Is it Whumper, smiling down at Whumpee, gliding a hand through their dripping hair?

Plus, you’re totally onto something with the ‘talking to Whumpee like a goldfish’ thing! Cooing unwanted comforts as Whumpee is dragged under the drug’s effects for the first time. Smiling as Whumpee’s limp body twitches underneath their gentle touch. Giving updates on their work to Whumpee’s peaceful, sleeping form.

Whumpee never responds. They can’t. For as much as Whumper worships Whumpee, they’re not particularly interested in Whumpee’s opinions.

And the recovery!! I feel like it’d be so, so horrible for Whumpee, because it shares one key element with their captivity: helplessness. Even now they’re trapped, confined to a hospital bed with a body too weak for even the most simple of activities. They’re being dotted on again, bombarded by countless pitying looks.

Whumpee wants to brush them away, insist on standing on their own feet, and walk out of the hospital. But their hands shake when they try to bring a glass to their lips, their legs crumble beneath them when they try to stand unaided. Their complaints and frustrations have nothing behind them, and it only earns them more pity.

[sirenixspook]

The Service Axis: Pisces + Virgo

****** ᖭི༏ᖫྀ***** ᖭི༏ᖫྀ***** ᖭི༏ᖫྀ***** ᖭི༏ᖫྀ***** ᖭི༏ᖫྀ******

“The fluid, sensitive, temperament in Pisces – mediumistic and psychically polarized – must be stabilized in Virgo, in which sign mental introspection and critical analysis become possible and serve to arrest the fluidity of Pisces. These two signs balance each other.”  – Alice Bailey

I find the Pisces + Virgo axis in the circle as the most sensitive axis. There is something airy and detached about the energy these two possess, they come together when their gifts are of need. Pisces represents the mystification of the ego into an all-encompassing, whole, dissolved state. The flow of Pisces is infinite and all at once like a ripple effect caused by a single drop of water. Virgo, the opposite end of Pisces is aware of the what, the when, as it's presented in the now. If Pisces is a bubbly ocean Virgo is the sailor above the water, the eagle's eye view, the sharpened point that guides the mist.

Virgo - service and health oriented, they are extremely sensitive to physical changes in their environment. They stay ordered within the bare truth, sticking to simplicity. Virgin-like and self sacrificial, they have this purity about the world that allows them to tap into quite high vibes.

Low vibrational Virgo is over critical, too cold, foolishly over relying on objectivity rather than seeing higher ground. The perfectionist that gets lost in the practical details instead of taking a breath to allow their creativity to flow.

High vibrational Virgo finds order in helping others and being a reliable pillar. Their put together demeanor calms anyone around them- their polar twin Pisces helps them to think outside of the box.

Pisces - dreamy, intuitive and detached, their scales soak in a pool of zen. The most spiritual sign, they can appear aloof sometimes but it is because they are always acting in a state of general compassion and collective awareness of everything around them.

Low-vibrational Pisces is people pleasing, acting like a martyr, lost in a fantasy, and almost every Piscean/12th houser can tell you about escapism- they feel too much the vastness of the world's interconnectivity and numb their pain through drinking, shopping, etc.

High vibrational Pisces is called by a higher purpose and knows where humanity needs their spirit. Their idealistic vision guides others to a spiritual path- their polar twin Virgo can help organize themselves.

It is truly magical looking at how the pairs of signs interact with each other to form a full picture of a spectrum of energy. It’s like looking at an enemies to lovers trope lmao

-Ari 🔱

****** ᖭི༏ᖫྀ***** ᖭི༏ᖫྀ***** ᖭི༏ᖫྀ***** ᖭི༏ᖫྀ***** ᖭི༏ᖫྀ******

[cardiagf]

Makoto is Makoto

I don't really like engaging into cis or trans character debates especially when it's characters who are gnc/androgynous bc a lot of people especially in twt gets worked up ab these said characters are read as trans, which is completely harmless btw, it just rubs me the wrong way when some people are too insistent about a character being cis

and so I want to talk about makoto and how he is not cis, but is nb/transfem in more ways than just him being a femboy/crossdresser.

Disclaimer: I will be using he/she/they pronouns for makoto in this post just bc i think makoto will be cool with that

and for the record, i finished reading the main series but i have not read the middle school specials, yet.

im also someone who really likes otokonoko and onee characters so yes i am aware of the cultural nuances but this would be just me speaking a queer nb person who loves this series and how i perceive makoto as one

also spoiler warning!

first and foremost, I want to say that gender identity, gender expression and sexuality are all wholly fluid, it's a big spectrum that only you, yourself can figure out. And i think as queer people we're allowed to relate, reflect and see ourselves into the experience and struggles of a fictional character.

while i also don't mind it too much if we think ab how makoto dresses is just her gender expression and that even a cis guy should be able to be feminine and like feminine stuffs with without them being trans / or yk anyone can be gnc but i think as someone who went from being gnc to trans/nb pipeline, it is incredibly hard to not draw a line within queerness or being lgbt with makoto's OWN identity and queerness.

I mean makoto literally uses the "Atashi" 'I' pronoun for themself in which is, by the way, a jp 'I' prn most commonly used by girls when they're dressed as girl while she uses "Boku" when she's not crossdressing

(not to mention both saki and ryuji usually refers to makoto with gender neutral pronouns/referral, with saki always calling him "senpai" and ryuji just having the default gender neutral "Aitsu" pronoun for everyone)

and yeah i know it's also because he's an "otokonoko" but in retrospect, when we read further into the manga we learned that by high school, makoto had transferred to a school that lets them dress however she wants and had been living in said school for ALMOST A YEAR (until he was outed) and he clearly doesn't mind being perceived as a girl.

in fact, as shown in early chapters makoto was so happy when someone made a pass at her because that stranger thought they were a girl and he was so happy when he passed AS a girl.

him being an otokonoko or crossdressing only becomes a problem for them when other people are involved, i.e. when someone confesses to him or when she gets close enough with others, as I believe he sees it as a form of deception/don't want to disappoint them.

either way makoto is makoto, yes this is also a form of expression but i think it's also more of an identity, she doesn't have be locked down by the gender binary

not to mention how makoto hides his true identity to his mom is just something a lot of queer, and especially trans people can really relate to. she literally has to lock a huge part of herself inside a locker when they have to go home bc they cannot be themself in said home, it can clearly be read as someone who is closeted

now onto the spoilers regarding this, makoto coming out properly to his family and most specifically his mom really encapsulated the nb feeling really well

and yes i know she states that "he's a guy who happens to like girly things" (just give him a few years /j) but the point still stands: makoto is makoto. they don't want to live neither as a boy or just a girl. it didn't have to be "one or the other," they chose to be themself and this scene really spoke to me as someone who is nonbinary and how i didn't want to perceive as just my agab...i just want to be myself and i want to be true to myself and that was makoto's answer as well.

i honestly don't want to engage in the debate regarding makoto's gender/gender expression and yes it's canon that he's cis but his own experience and the queer experience especially at her age are just very much parallel to each other.

i know a lot of other trans people will be able to see themselves in makoto and I just don't like how people fight ab androgynous/otokonoko characters being cis only when queer readings regarding these character are completely valid and came from a place that reflects on their own experiences, we can't just lock the fluidity of gender identity of someone in one place, much less for a fictional character. they're queer, they're trans in some way and that is completely okay.

[brookebeebe-blog]

July 21st - Independent Excursion, Tai Chi and Meditation

This morning I woke up still sick. I mostly have a sore throat, so it’s not the worst but it’s still a bit annoying. Still, I am an academic weapon, so an illness could not stop me. I got up at 5 am because when we got here I remembered seeing people doing Tai Chi super early in the morning. I knew this was what I wanted to talk about for my independent excursion blog post, so I woke up extremely early in order to make it to a park and get to witness it. I walked to the first park next to the hotel, but unfortunately, no one was there. I ended up walking about half a mile to a bigger park when I found people doing Tai Chi and meditating. I will expand more on this in the academic reflection portion of the blog, but I sat here for about 2 hours and just enjoyed the nature and the scenery and observed the Tai Chi and meditation taking place. I also ended up talking to my friends in the park because it was about 8 pm for them. I hadn’t talked to them in a while, so it was really nice to catch up. Then, I walked back, but it was some poor planning on my part. I wore sweatpants because I figured it wouldn’t be too hot super early in the morning. I underestimated how long I would be staying in the park, so by the time I was walking back, I was sweating like crazy. I stopped at a 7/11 for some food and Super Supau (which is my new favorite drink and I am going to crave it when I go back to the States). When I finally got back to the hotel, I ate my food and then fell back asleep. I hadn’t gotten the best sleep because I’ve been sick and I want to get as much rest as I can on this free day so I am ready for the activities tomorrow (I am so excited for the zoo). For the rest of the day I plan on getting some food, finishing a bunch of assignments, and resting so I can get better as quickly as possible. 

Academic Reflection

Tai Chi is a Chinese form of martial art. It is a low-impact, slow-motion exercise. Not only does it focus on movement, but it also centers breathing as well. Because of this, it is popular among older people because it is an exercise that is extremely good for you and will not lead to injury or take your breath away. It is also extremely good for physical well-being, but since I am majoring in psychology, I will be focusing on the mental benefits that can arise from the practice of Tai Chi. I found an interesting scientific study on how Tai Chi affects mental well-being. According to the study, Tai Chi interventions show reductions in depression and anxiety (Sani, Yusoff, Norhayati, Zainudin, 2023). Not only do they reduce these mental ailments, but they improve general mental and physical well-being. Tai Chi could be utilized as a treatment for depression, along with therapy and health education. Tai Chi is extremely popular in Taiwan, especially early in the morning. It is hard to miss it. The fluid movements and centered activity could catch anyone’s attention. The earliest reference to Tai Chi is from the T’ang Dynasty (618-960 AD). When reflecting on how this is similar to my culture, Americans also partake in exercise to stimulate mental well-being. In fact, most therapists and psychologists strongly recommend it. Most Americans go to the gym, run, or play sports in order to feel mentally and physically healthy. It is definitely also different in a way though too. Unlike the American exercises, Tai Chi is low impact, which means it can be carried on to old age. Also, Tai Chi focuses on centering breathing and focusing on bodily sensations, which is not something incredibly common in most American practices. We do have yoga, which is probably the most similar exercise we share with Tai Chi, but one last major difference is the popularity. It is easy to find someone doing Tai Chi in Taiwan, especially in parks and areas where reconnecting with nature is no problem. It is much more rare to find Americans practicing yoga in a normal park. We have an obesity problem in the United States, in fact, we have more than double the obesity rate compared to Taiwan, and it has a good amount to do with the different cultures. They put an emphasis on working out and meditation, while Americans put it on the back burner. I chose this for my independent excursion because mental and physical health is important to me. As a psychology major, I care about my own mental health and the mental health of others. I firmly believe physical exercise is extremely beneficial for humans, which is constantly backed up by scientific studies. I not only admire Tai Chi, but I also admire Taiwanese culture for putting an emphasis on it. I will attach pictures of the Tai Chi I saw, but the faces of the people partaking in it will not be included to protect their privacy. 

Citations

Sani, N. A., Yusoff, S. S. M., Norhayati, M. N., & Zainudin, A. M. (2023). Tai Chi Exercise for Mental and Physical Well-Being in Patients with Depressive Symptoms: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 20(4), 2828. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph20042828

https://www.health.harvard.edu/staying-healthy/the-health-benefits-of-tai-chi

[sli-writes]

Essay: Picture vs Painting

Johannes Vermeer. Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window.  c. 1657–1659. 

For Francis Bacon, painting was “mysterious because the very substance of the paint, when used in this way (of idea and technique being inseparable), can make such a direct assault upon the nervous system; continuous because the medium is so fluid and subtle that every change that is made loses what is already there in the hope of making a fresh gain.”

Material is everything, the energy and emotions associated with the material all the more important. One of my teachers, Lorna Ferguson was so pleased with me getting paint on any and everything (much to my personal dislike at times as I valued some of the objects I had ruined to create something); for a while I could not understand the marvel, as I thought; ‘well, what other way is there to work with said substance.’ It never occurred to me, at least in the way of the artists mind, that painterly was being concerned with making the idea and technique of painting inseparable. I won’t speaking on being (an artist) - hard as it may be, but I’ve covered that in my previous article - but focus on the idea and the substance.

Michelangelo. David. c. 1501 – 1504.

Another one of my teachers, Ricky Burnett spoke of the ‘history of a painting’; which I interpreted as the realm of the invisible. I believe the object has to take up space in a way that it too exudes an energy, an idea that is made more complex when there are sentients in the space, it ultimately speaks to its power, of which is the result of its creator, involuntary or not. I have an issue when the objects is of nothingness, static and unimaginative. Minimalism is a great example of this, namely in the art of architecture, photography to painting itself. How can it be said that an object carries any sort of character if it is pristine, wherein it’s function has no interest in the material as forming part of its function and results in its being fixed and changeless. It is a result of such functionality, or rather, lack thereof that the object carries no sense of presence in that it becomes just another object in space disconnected from its surroundings, thus ultimately alienating itself from humanity.

Ricky Burnett. Troubled with Goya 3. 

Ricky Burnett. High Windows 2. 

The makings and process of the objects should in themselves be studied, understood and appreciated in their materiality, most importantly in a way that they take into account the service to humanity and its relationship with time, history and ultimately the heritage of mankind’s culture. I believe that with this approach, humanity serves the object too resulting in a relationship that is ultimately symbiotic. The concept of symbiosis is one some artists and a larger group of designers have let go of, it makes the work easier, quicker and at no real cost to produce as it cares not of what it is in service of or to whom and as a result of its innate purpose.

The realm of invisible is learning to make these connections, meaningful ones with all that is around us and we’ll begin to feel, most importantly, interpret in the way of our individual being. Because you see I believe that the process is reflected in life of the painting/object - take for instance a Vermeer who layered multiple layers on thin glazes of paint each carrying their unique emotional state of the artists or Michelangelo labouring for just over 3 years on his David sculpture). The lack of such connected process results in an art that does not appear to show signs of time or even care for it; objects lose identity as they disconnect themselves from their creator and, most importantly, the generations they are a result of, leading to a worthlessness to the object. Such worthlessness is dangerous because objects lose any sense of importance, as having nothing to say to anyone or reflect on anything, a disconnect that dismisses their desire to be preserved;  this is how a people are erased from history.  Minimalism is now a job for artificial intelligence, the insentient.

King Koi Konboro. Great Mosque of Djenné. Thirteenth century

 Donald Judd, 15 Untitled Works in Concrete, 1980-1984.

Sir Giles Gilbert Scott. K6 (Kiosk No. 6). 1935.

[geronimomo-spd]

ok now that i finished my "absolotly canon because i can now put my love for him into cold canon facts that i observed"

its time for things i know about the Eighth doctor that i know because i headcanon them and so they are real TO ME 😭 (you are more then welcome to adot any of these of course, if anyone will want to)

- an old one that i still think is true: MY GUY IS A MUSICAL NERD, he absolotly listens to some bops as he is flying the tardis around, confusing Charley as he bops to Naughty (because he would LOVE Matilda come on) he defenetly listen to A LOT OF THEM in the beginning of his adventures, Everybody's talking about Jamie, beetlejuice and so on. (and this is also me projecting of course but like, what other doctor but him?? he would have dance paries all the time)

but serosly, the guy littiraly lives Matilda, listens once to Quiet and he is like "i have never heard something more relatable in my life", Charley adores Six and he honestly can't blame her, a fan of Everyone's talking about Jamie and beetlejuice for sure he is as well!

even before Charley gets into it, he will drop quotes and little melodies and Charley would have to be like ??? oh he is at it again (i will expand upon this headcanon because i have a lot to say about it hehe)

- has panic attacks!! i think he has a lot of problems with emotinal regulation post movie, recovering from fucking attempted body snatching, so i think in the first couple of episodes he would have a lot of trouble balancing his overexcitment and his more dark and almost emotinaless anger states so i think it makes sense that he would have a lot of issues with regulating from the fucking traumatic shit he is going through with Charley, i think in the beginning its more prominante and he gets a little better about it, ie btter with handeling them and hiding them, and i also think that Charley also gets hem which is why it makes sense they sort of have to help each other through it his shutdowns (which i also headcanon he has) go through a jouney is also fasinating to me, like, i headcanon him having trouble to being able to contain meltdown because fuck i am distressing everyone else fuck- so through time he ends up having extreme shutdowns instead, the kind that he just instently drops to the floor expressionless and just... stayes there for a while (i might a bunch of drabbles about it too fghfddfg) ALSO SCHERZO IS BASICALLY HIM REALISING A LOT OF HIS PENT UP EMOTIONS AND HE IS TRYING TO REPSESS WHAT HE IS FEELING BUT THEN HE HAS NOCHOISE AND JUST EXPLODES

- the reason he gets amnesiac a lot is because of the events of the movie, basically having the master try and dissconect his mind from his body so close to his regenaration basically makes his brain to be a lot more frail then other doctor's brains and it tends to slip away from him a lot because of this!!

- NON BINERY TO THE MAX, the dude might be genderfluid, i see people headcanoning 8 as genderfluid and i get it, as a genderfluid guy who loves to project on peopel who it loves, would usually make my fave genderfluid but he is also just so!!! genderfuck idk, defenetly expreses his gender in the most fluid way possible tough!! when someone asks him what his pronouns today are he is just like "hmmm i am quite happy today i think :)" and sometimes "i can't think today!!" or "hehehe hohoho i am sad, what is gender", defenetly uses they/them pronouns most of the time!!, he/they sometimes, the experiments go on!! (also i wrote down these headcanons before i saw some qoutes from the EDAs and JESUS OMG YES ITS SO NICE TO KNOW SOME FORM OF CANON RECOGNIZES THE GENDER ENERGY OF THIS VICTORIAN DANDY)

- some sort of physically disabled!! i personally headcanon all of the doctors to be physically disabled of some kind, but espeshelly 8! to have what is arguably concidered the most enthusiastic and energetic Doctor to be the one that needs a mobility aid makes my disabled heart so happy. its too early to tell when he discoves this, but to me he was BORN with aching legs and slight chronic pain, he just didn't notice it because ya know... the littiral medical wire that was stuck inside his chest... and of course other more urgent matter of potincial body stealing, he just thought it was pretty normal!! then through the Charley arc its slwly gets worse, at the end of the day he does concider a crutch or a cane because why not!

ok yes this is a basic list (and i can goall out about most othese ecae i love them so much)

(ALSO i do wanna add stuff from the EDAs is just the dylesixa will be a problem with reading those but im working on it 😤😤)

[hislittleraincloud]

"rpf is honestly no different than just thinking about someone in a scenario. me thinking about going on dates with a friend and being close with them is no different than writing about those same things. the only difference is that one is in visible words"

It's a HUGE and ESSENTIAL fucking difference.

It is one thing to think about a celebrity, or even write your fantasies in your own private blog (like we all did back in the day when we had paper diaries). It's a whole different story when we live in an age of social media and connectivity where said celebrity, their friends, and their family can see/read/access it.

But people like you, @buni-gutz , don't care about that because you're simply and purely objectifying the celebrity. They don't exist as a human with agency or their own desires and actions in the world to you. They exist as an ideal — your ideal, patched together by their artistic works and media presence — that you wanna fuck ten times through Sunday AND you have this weird exhibitionist desire that compels you to take the massive chance that said celebrity will see/read your fantasies about them. What you would hope to accomplish by that is something beyond anyone's comprehension, but that is the absolute risk you take when you publish RPF or self-insert/Mary Sue RPF, etc. The y/n-ers are guilty of the same, perpetuating a genre that spoonfeeds storyline instead of stimulating the imagination of the reader to be able to empathize with characters better, but that's another post altogether.

So, I agree with 🍒☕556. RPF is probably the only thing you can consider me ✨anti✨, but I'm not going to say that you can't write it. I just don't think it should be shared where it's accessible to these peoples' friends/siblings/parents/etc. That's a problem in our age of connectivity. I really cannot imagine the kind of horrible razzing/teasing that Jenna Ortega could be getting from anyone in her life about the Pacific Ocean's worth of fluids spilt on her fics alone.

And yes, not supporting RPF being published could be construed as a form of censorship, and me being anti-censorship could be construed as hypocritical (though as also stated, I do support political RPF, since politicians are there for us to create wicked and wild satire about...it's been done for centuries). Howeverrrrrrr...even under our great liberties here in the U.S. with our First Amendment right to free speech, we're not entirely free to say just anything, especially about a person or entity. You can't make shit up about them. You can't present a photo of them and say it's something it's not (the photo manipulated candid shots of Ortega 'holding hands' with Emma Myers at Chappell Roan is an example of this; the Photoshopped "that is a homosexual" Instagram exchange between 'Jenna' and 'Emma' is another). You can be sued for defamation, because defamatory speech isn't protected by 1A; neither is presenting someone in a false light. If she had the will to do so, Ortega could pick out one or a handful of writers to send Cease & Desist letters to (under the threat of lawsuit); we know she more than likely won't, but it is an option for her OR any other celebrity to do so, here in the U.S.

And because it is an option clearly tells you which side of the law you're treading on.

It's not the same with fiction about the fictional characters. Fictional characters can't sue you. Their family members can't tease or judge them because they too are fictional characters. They don't exist. Everything they do doesn't exist. They're impressions (fan fic/art) of impressions (actors'/writers' works). They are true stories of the imagination, and sometimes they're just stories, some meant to elicit thought, shock, or visceral reaction, not meant to hold a standard or moral lesson. That's the difference that the current fresh-facers in fandom need to understand.

That includes the people like Smokey above who have the gall to even write the phrase "stories that are harmful across the board". The only stories that are potentially harmful and disruptive to real people are RPFs for the reasons I just stated, but generally we should not be striving to dictate to authors that their fictional pairings (and what they do with each other) are morally objectionable. In most cases, the authors already know that. "Harm" is entirely subjective when it comes to fiction.

The only ones who have complained about this in the past have been conservatives...but newbs to fandom culture are proving horseshoe theory correct.

no but how much audacity and sheer entitlement do you have to have to tell people they need to stop posting their darkfic and porn fic and any other fic you don’t like to ao3 so you can have a safe space when ao3 was literally created as a safe space for writers to post their content without fear of it being randomly wiped out by pro-censorship assholes with an agenda like what has happened to plenty of other fic archives before?

“but a lot of us see ao3 as a safe space to get away from that kind of nasty content” - lol you can see the middle of a busy interstate as a safe space all you want too but that doesn’t mean that you get to walk into the road and scream at all the cars going by that they’re the ones infringing on your safe space either

ao3 is not, has never been, and will never be a site meant for nothing but children’s stories. you can “see it” like that as much as you want but there’s a difference between fiction and reality and that view of what ao3 is like is as fictional as the stories posted on it.

[datauthorress]

The Monster in Her Eyes [Chapter 11]

pairing: alucard / original female character / alexander anderson

summary: years after the death of integra hellsing, a young woman moves into the hellsing estate to start a new life after events happened in her home country. a new butler has been appointed to take care of the estate, which includes the monsters that have been dormant since integra’s death. but her will states that the new owner of the hellsing estate also owns everything belonging to hellsing, including the vampires that lay within.

A/N: Softer chapter with some fluff.

He was on the hunt.

His master had given him an order. Search and destroy. Search for anything left and destroy it without any mercy.

His master was strong. Not many humans could survive what she had survived, being kidnapped, and tortured without screaming and crying like a sniveling fool. Shelby reminded him of Integra in many ways and while Shelby never treated Alucard like a simple tool, she was firm in her commands. Though gentler than Integra.

Truth be told, Alucard had been glad that Anderson was with her, able to give her the push that had to be needed to get rid of the threat that threatened to consume Shelby’s life.

And she killed her very first human.

Granted, it was self-defense, but she still killed a human.

Alucard chuckled to himself.

“She’s proved herself worthy from the very start.” He hummed.

Alucard soon reached the mansion where Shelby had been taken and while he didn’t find anyone else inside, he did, however, follow the scent of humans that had seemingly escaped into the woods surrounding the mansion. He inhaled deeply, following the scent until he heard the sound of voices talking.

“What the hell are we gonna do now?” a male human’s voice asked. “Grimm is dead. We’re not getting our money now.”

“Fuck that, dude. We’re lucky we were able to get out of there before that freak vampire caught us.” Another said. “He gunned down the rest of the others.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have agreed to kidnapping that girl.”

“We should probably head out.”

“And where exactly do you think you are going?”

The men, a group of six, gasped and raised their gun’s as bright red eyes gleamed in the darkness of the woods around them. Alucard chuckled darkly as he came out of the shadows, unnerving gaze observing the men before him.

“I-it’s him!” one of the men yelped.

“It will never cease to amaze me how far some humans will go to retrieve paper.” Alucard mused. “Kidnapping another human and subjecting them to torture….”

“W-we were being paid!”

“Yeah, we didn’t have a choice!”

“Oh, you had a choice, men.” Alucard sneered as he reached into his coat, pulling out his two intimidating guns. “And you chose the wrong one.”

“P-please, we….” They whimpered, slowly moving backwards.

“You kidnapped my master. And now, you’ll suffer the consequences for it.”

Alucard lunged, fingers on the trigger.

And the screams of the men were heard in the air as they were slaughtered by the very vampire they feared.

~

He phased through the wall that led into his master’s hospital room; his entrance silent as he arrived. His red irises locked onto his master, and he was amused to see Anderson resting in the large, comfortable recliner, Shelby resting against him with his coat over her smaller form. The rolling pole that had her hooked up to fluids was next to the chair.

How adorable.

Anderson certainly had taken a liking to her.

The priest could deny it all he wanted, but actions spoke louder than words.

Alucard approached them, a hand reaching out to gently brush away some of his master’s short locks away from her eyes. She stirred slightly, but remained asleep and buried her face further into the priest’s chest.

Anderson stirred, green eyes popping open. They landed on Alucard, and he relaxed somewhat, reaching up to rub the grogginess from his eyes.

“Alucard,” he said softly.

“If I knew how to use a phone, this would be picture-worthy.” Alucard grinned.

Anderson groaned, glaring at him slightly. “Well, vampire?”

“It’s finished. Some soldiers managed to escape through the woods, but I found them.” he replied.

“You slaughtered them, didn’t you?”

“They kidnapped our master. That’s enough reason for them to be slaughtered like the worthless dogs they are.” Alucard said.

Anderson sighed softly, shaking his head.

“She had nightmares,” Anderson said quietly, so he wouldn’t disturb Shelby. “Couldn’t fall back asleep, so…. figured this was the only option.”

“You just wanted an excuse to have her on top of you,” Alucard laughed.

Anderson’s cheeks flushed brightly. “Shut up, vampire.”

“Oh, spare me the lies, Judas Priest.” Alucard said, leaning down slightly. “You’re falling for our master and don’t deny it.”

“You’re such an ass,” Anderson grumbled.

“You’re not disagreeing with me,” the vampire rumbled.

Anderson sighed softly and glanced down at Shelby, reaching up to adjust the collar of his coat around her neck. She mumbled softly, mostly nonsensically. “I make a fair effort of keeping myself in control, Alucard. Unlike yourself.”

“We haven’t had sex, yet.” Alucard said, emphasizing on the ‘yet’ part. “All on our master’s terms.”

“She’s far too young for me, Alucard.”

“I’m five times older than you, priest.” Alucard pointed out.

“Ugh, you have a point.” he muttered. “Now’s not the time. She needs time to rest and recover.”

Alucard glanced down at his master for a moment before his form grew smaller and smaller, shapeshifting into that of a black cat with red irises. Anderson blinked as the now cat-form of Alucard jumped onto his lap, kneading his powerful thighs before finally circling a few times and then laying down on Anderson’s thighs.

“You’re lucky you’re cute in this form.” Anderson grumbled.

~

Two days later, Shelby was discharged from the hospital with strict instructions from the doctors to rest for at least two weeks before doing anything strenuous. As soon as she got home, she took a bath with Alucard’s help and dressed in comfortable shorts and a long tunic tank sleep shirt. She spent the next week mostly sleeping and resting until the next Monday came along, to which she met with the Round Table in order to verify everything.

“Sir Hellsing,” Sir Irons spoke, standing up as she walked into the conference room, leaning heavily on her cane.

Anderson pulled the tall chair back from the table and held out a gloved hand, to which Shelby placed her smaller hand in his and took his support as she sat down in the chair slowly, to which he pushed it in for her before standing beside and just slightly back from the chair.

Shelby still looked quite rough, as her bruises were still healing along with the lacerations. Her left hand was bandaged to keep the stub of her finger clean. Sir Irons’ gaze softened slightly.

“We are so incredibly sorry that we did not do further investigation on Grimm,” he began, his voice sincere. “We did not expect for him to abduct you and Father Anderson.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Shelby said, shaking her head. She sounded absolutely exhausted. “Although I had been suspicious that he would try something, but not to that of great lengths.”

“Were you able to gather any intel on what he desired?” Sir Angus, an older man with graying hair and tired green eyes asked.

“Alucard was able to get information from one of the men Grimm had hired,” Shelby began. “Grimm’s plan had been to murder me and gain Anderson on his side, thus he would also be able to take over as head of the Hellsing Organization and therefore, control Alucard to do his dirty work.”

Some of the men exchanged glances with each other before Sir Angus spoke again. “And has everything been taken care of?”

“Yes. Alucard made sure nothing was left.” She replied.

“How are your injuries?” Sir Irons asked.

“My left hand was already damaged from being broken before, but with a finger being cut off, I now have nerve damage. I can feel my hand somewhat, but not much. I start physical therapy this week to try and get some strength in my hand back, but the doctors are certain the damage is permanent.” Shelby explained.

“If there’s anything we can do to correct this situation-,”

“There’s nothing you can do, Sir Irons.” Shelby interrupted, shaking her head. “The damage is already done. However, I would like you and the rest of the Round Table to be more cautious when inviting others into the Round Table. I’d like to prevent this from happening again.”

“Of course, Sir Hellsing. That will be our top priority.” He nodded.

“There’s another issue at hand we have to discuss,” she said.

“What is it?”

“I want Anderson to be pardoned of all crimes against Hellsing and the British Government, as well as for him to be freed from Maxwell’s crimes.” Shelby replied.

There were some murmurs among the men of the Round Table and even Anderson glanced down at her with surprise.

“I trust Anderson with my life,” Shelby spoke. “He has proven time and time again that despite his differences with Alucard and the Hellsing Organization before, he has proved himself to be an excellent man.”

Sir Irons couldn’t help but smile softly and he chuckled. “Very well. Alexander Anderson, I hereby pardon you for all crimes against Hellsing and the British government, as well as the freedom from Maxwell’s crimes as well. You are free to do as you wish.”

“I….thank you, sir.” Anderson said, surprise in his voice. “I would like to stay under Sir Hellsing’s jurisdiction. I have found my place here.”

“So it shall be.” Sir Irons nodded.

The meeting concluded and Shelby stood up with a soft grunt as the men made their way back up to the helipad.

“Sir..” Shelby heard Anderson speak and she turned to him. “I….I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said softly, reaching out with her bandaged hand and gently taking his larger one in hers. “You’ve proven yourself time and time again. You belong here, with us.”

“I agree,” Alucard rumbled from behind Shelby.

“No matter what you decide to do, you’ll always have a home here.” Shelby said softly, giving Anderson’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Anderson was quiet for a moment, as if the wheels in his head were turning a thousand times a second. He seemed very taken aback by her words. Shelby was miles different from Integra, but she held a very strong will that even surprised Anderson, given everything she had been through. “I want to stay here,”

“Then you shall,” Shelby smiled tenderly. “Welcome home, Alexander.”

~

Later that night, Shelby invited both Alucard and Anderson up to her bedroom. She was tired and honestly ready for bed, but she wanted to spend some time with them. She had changed into a pair of comfortable sleep shorts and a long tunic tank, scrolling through her emails until she heard the door open, and she glanced up with a soft smile as Alucard and Anderson entered.

“Master,” Alucard purred, immediately going over to her side. He kneeled in front of her, gloved hands resting on her knees.

Shelby gently stroked his pale cheek with her thumb, and she glanced up at the other man, before patting the bed next to her. “Come sit,”

Anderson approached the bed and sat down next to her. Green eyes observed her frame, noting that while she looked tired, she looked relaxed.

“Alucard has told me that you two have come to an….understanding, of sorts.” she spoke.

“Yes. Alucard is still my rival, but…. we’ve agreed on not fighting unless we’re both feeling the need for some sparring.” Anderson nodded.

“I see,” she said. “He also said that you two have been intimate.”

The priest’s cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment, and he rubbed the back of his neck, a new side of him appearing. “I….”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Shelby said, a soft smile on her pale features. “And I’m all for it. However, if you’re willing….”

Alucard grinned, his red irises glowing softly as he locked his gaze on Anderson.

“I would like to be apart of that as well,” Shelby said, a slight tint of red on her own cheeks. Anderson’s cheeks darkened further, and he stammered, taken aback. “I’m not normally a forward person, or brave in terms of admitting attraction, but I am attracted to you. I think you’re incredibly handsome and you’ve done so much for me, more than I could ask for. And don’t think you’re ‘too old’ for me. I’m almost 30 and Alucard is far older than the both of us.”

Anderson blinked once, twice, almost as if he was confused before that confusion turned into…something that Shelby couldn’t really describe. Relief? Adoration…?

“I’ve been trying to keep myself away from those emotions.” he said, after a moment.

“Well, you don’t need to pretend anymore.” she said with a soft smile.

“And neither do you, master.” Alucard hummed.

“True,” Shelby said with a soft chuckle, before turning her attention back to the larger man. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to kiss you.”

The priest bit down on his bottom lip for a second before he took a deep breath and nodded. Shelby smiled softly and scooted closer to him, before she reached up with her good hand and cupped his scruffy cheek, to which he shuddered, but didn’t pull away from her. She leaned up towards his face, to which he had to lean down towards hers, so she didn’t have to crane her neck so much.

Shelby smiled softly up at him and met him the rest of the way, gently pressing her lips against his. The large man seemed to be tense, but when she gently stroked her thumb across the rough surface of his scar, he seemed to relax a bit. She hummed softly and tilted her head a bit, better fitting their lips together. It felt different kissing Anderson than Alucard. Alucard’s lips were cold and silky soft, Anderson’s were warm and a bit rougher, but still in very good shape. It seemed to be such a simple kiss, but even the simplest of kisses meant everything to Shelby.

And she was sure they met more to Anderson than he let on.

After a brief moment, Shelby pulled back with a soft smile. “How did that feel?”

His cheeks flushed slightly, and he cleared his throat. “Your lips taste like strawberry..”

“My chapstick,” She answered with a soft chuckle. “I don’t like wearing lipstick or lip gloss, so I stick with chapstick.”

“It’s nice,” he mumbled.

Shelby had a hunch it was going to take him a while to get used to being with two people. And that was alright. She was going to have to get used to it too. She had never expected to be in a serious relationship, let alone one with multiple people.

“Will you both stay with me tonight?” she asked.

“Yes, master.” Alucard grinned softly.

“Well come on then, time for bed.”

[dreamsandroots]

Oh No – Xiu Xiu (2021)

The word ‘iconoclasm’ relates roughly to the crashing of an icon into its presumed reality.

There’s a certain breathless cadence to the whisper of childhood secrets. Something you’re hesitant to have emerge from your lips, because there’s inevitably some form of lingering shame or doubt in the way your world fell into itself and came together.

World views puddle over from the secretions of ideation in such a happenstance way: it was never possible for you to have a hold of anything, let alone everything. The piles of dust that gather as we speak them. There are often eyes watching you even though you can’t see them in the black. A strange insinuation: Oh no! Your skin is a rigid barrier. What you feel inside is so fluid, what you imagine they see so caricature.

But then there’s also, often, a drastic release, a freefall when you dissolve into the other, the one who doesn’t mind so much. There are still secrets that remain but they seem less of an issue and more like a source of fascination: these contrasting patterns in which mindsets grow and flourish. You can float like clouds together, avoiding the clash in favour of a merger. You can forget about the worry and the fear for a while and just exist in proximity, worshipping eye to eye.

Oh No is packed full of these tiny voices that emerge on the precipice of hysterical despair and resigned bonhomie.

I found myself reminded of a tight cycle of self deprecation and release. Anyone who has ever smoked cigarettes to excess would know the feeling. Or maybe the confines of some recurring dream in which you’re restricted in a tight space and the claustrophobic emptiness of nihilistic boredom builds and slowly trickles through. Chemical waves lapping gently until they crash with a bang

I am simultaneously a child and a grandpa. I creep around an abandoned family home, the walls full of holes, plaster littering linoleum floors that are peeling, and look with curiosity (or nostalgia?) at yesterday’s futures and tomorrow’s lost trousers. The way they keep on falling down, being forgotten, blending into the other. I am given to soliloquies about the lives not yet lived and the lives that have eluded my grasp for generations.

Perhaps what was suppressed crashes through sometimes and it doesn’t matter so much if it dissipates or blends into the whole: for a while everyone can just breathe.  Let the chemicals build back up. 

Vibrating despair peaks in a gurgling sound, reverberations of anxiety dribbling, dripping underwater, as if waiting for the final death blow, the definitive fall into a solid state: a ‘true self’, defined finally.

The smothering frustration of a phone notification, stirring you from meditation.

Too many medications, you could get lost in this pharmacopoeia. 

Consciousness like a butterfly flapping in a still room.

Aphorisms spoken softly to a closed door, your bedding and bed clothes strewn across the floor, the dust settling after the big crash.

[transqueeneli]

A Bottle of Wishes.

Item type: Magical

Level of power: Range falls between extremely minor to full local rewrite of reality. See information below for detail.

Appearance: A sixteen case of twenty-eight fluid oz. sport drinks. The label reads "Wish" and the bottles are all different colors, save for the logo in which the word "Wish" is written in a stylized cursive. The bottles themselves are plastic, clear with a shining liquid with a golden appearance. The case has been opened, with three bottles removed, with thirteen remaining.

Incident report: Our detection wards sensed minimal to massive alterations to the fabric of reality. When I arrived to the town nothing seemed off. When visiting a nearby gas station it was busy and apparently where high school students hung out. I noticed in one of the girl's hand was a bottle of the "Wish", one of the three missing from the case in custody. I noticed its glow right away, but before anything could be done she had taken a drink of the liquid. It shined through her into her belly before without warning my breasts, and every other woman's breasts shrank to A and B cups, with the drinker being an exception with all that breast was added to her own, her clothes magically adjusting to the new fit. You could visible see muscles form and develop so she could support them.

My charm protected me from the obliviousness of the changes. Immediately I pushed to the register, ordering for any of the "Wish" to be turn over to me due to a recall, acting as representative for the producer. The girl, likely because she is the one who drank the liquid, was aware of her changes and hearing me ran away. Out of sight it is assumed she used another wish to escape, as she was never found, though more reality was distorted for a week after till it stopped assuming she had finished the bottle. Its my hope she is alright, and that there are no victims harmed in the wake of inappropriate wishing.

On my demand for the remaining case, the store manager looked over their delivery log. I stated the drinks would have arrived two weeks before. Finding no records of it, they chose to allow me to take it. Fourteen bottles were there at time of recovery. Returned to the vault, utilizing a body transforming item to return my own breasts to their original proportions. End Report.

Uses: Drinking from the bottle after verbally declaring a wish will have said wish granted to a varying scale. The decider is the total amount of the liquid drunk from the bottle. Only the wisher, and anyone like myself with a charm to protect from memory alterations from Reality distortions will notice any changes, no matter how major. For now they will be placed in a sealed container, and hidden in the deeper parts of the vault.

Testing: One bottle was removed from the case for some personal testing. I decided on a single wish to test in three different ways. Three plushies, Each based on Edelgard, Dorothea, and Bernadetta were used. The wish would be for them to increase in size.

Test one, Edelgard. I wished for the plushy to be bigger, taking a sip. It tasted highly of lime, and though from a fridge, went down warm. The plushy doubled in size, keeping its overall appearance.

Test two, Dorothea. Once more a wish for increased size, this time with three gulps. The plushy not only grew, it changed form, becoming a proportional, though stuffed version. A life size version of the Dorothea.

Test three, Bernadetta. The final wish, with a little over two-thirds of the bottle remaining I chugged it down. Empty, I felt it pulse in me, before the plushy vanished. Then a a minor Earthquake shaking the building. Outside I couldn't believe it. While physically proportional, the plus had grown to be bigger than three houses.

Since most of my witchy neighbors and helpers have memory protection charms, they noticed the giant stuffed version of my favorite gal. It appeared the wishes power doesn't prevent other magics to work, and as such we were able to get the plushy, or at this point, stuff doll down to a proper size. She lays in my bed, with Dorothea to be found a place later. The now foot tall Edelgard plush returns to her place , now a size larger than her friends.

Magical Girl and Archivist Elizabeth signing off.

Side note: After all the women in the town has their breasts reduced, the town became famous for its women being known to having the smallest breasts in the world. Due to the nature of how things happened, and considering the proportional reaction "Wish" has there is no way to possibly reverse the effects safely at this time. Should an item be found that can, it will be used to undo the reality warping damage.

[allyrunshermouth]

struggling with identities.

hello! for my fourth blog post, i will be discussing another somewhat personal topic. as a queer black woman living in our current society, i often feel the need to conform to a certain standard. i use they/she pronouns and would love to proudly say i am non-binary, but the fact that i will not be perceived as such outside of queer spaces is invalidating. not only because i want to be perceived for who i know i am, but also because i feel as if i am betraying my black womanhood and my sense of self as a whole. having lived the majority of my life as a cis black woman, there have been experiences that i can not distance myself from or just erase. there is no undoing sitting in between my mom’s legs for hours on end getting my hair braided or being dragged to church on sundays with my entire family. this feeling is polarizing, but while doing some research, i realized that i am not the only one dealing with this feeling. it’s actually quite common amongst people like me. i found two articles that helped me feel better about this internal battle i’ve been having, and i am excited to discuss it further in today’s post.

one of the reasons why i feel as if i would be abandoning my experience as a black woman if i did come out as non-binary is due to how different it is from being a woman within any other race. now, i have not lived my life as any other race, it's simply not possible, nor am i diminishing anyone’s experience (they are entirely valid). but, me, along with other black women, have had to live our lives conforming to societal standards in order to survive, and even then that doesn’t always work. black women are hypersexualized and masculinized on a daily basis, making some of us have to be hyperfeminine or dim ourselves down to prove our worthiness and not cause problems. we have to look, talk, and behave in a certain way in an attempt to avoid these things and be accepted in society. but then, we look at social media and see things that have been deemed “ghetto” for us be seen as “cool and trendy” on women of other races. is our way of womanhood not acceptable enough for the current belief of what it is? or is it only acceptable when exhibited by other women? writers zee monteiro and mare leon answered this question in their works: the current idea of womanhood is not something that is granted to black women, which is why we had to create our own experience.

another reason for all of this is the fact that the gender binary is rooted in racism. the ideas behind what is considered feminine and masculine are all centered around whiteness, making it so those who fall outside of that lens are treated differently if they do not adhere to those standards. there is a different standard placed on black women, and it is a standard that is rooted in racist stereotypes. this is the reason why you will often see groups of us together. we created our own form of womanhood because we are all aware of this standard, which leads us to flock together in an effort to feel that sense of belongingness that we are denied. however, this just feels like more reason to leave the gender binary. yes, things like misogynoir bring black women together, but leaving this gendered idea will not remove those experiences no matter what we do. mare leon touches on this in their work and stated, “i can value and share the love and adoration of black womanhood within the limitations and celebrations of black womanhood and still not be within the binary. my ability to be fluid is simply being human.”

overall, i do not think that this will ever stop being an internal conflict within myself, but it does bring me peace to know that i am not the only one who feels the same way. but, one thing i will remind myself of when i am feeling doubtful is a quote from monteiro’s article in which they stated, “i cannot let the western societal norms, which have also been taken over by many black individuals, tell me how to move within my own body.” i deserve to live a life of happiness no matter how i identify, all that matters is that i stay true to myself.

[farnese0]

@lovetosstuff I find your comment pretty useless to the discourse as a whole, because all you do is shift the focus on other matters that have nothing to do with what we're talking about here.

- You can still have Guts feel rage and pain while conveying Casca's own feelings of pain and rage. Like what happens in Kaze to ki no Uta. Again, not making it ENTIRELY about Guts. He is a SA victim too, so his pain is completely understandable and realistic, but Casca is a victim as well and she doesn't get to say or feel a single thing about it. The focus is always Guts, thus she's used as a narrative tool to inflict pain, not a character.

- Graphic doesn't equate great storytelling. Being too graphic can cheapen a story sometimes, making it too much or even making you laugh by how edgy it is. You need balance to convey something, especially with gore and such. Take the anime "Another" and "Corpse Party" as an example (you can see a death compilation on YouTube for both) the death scenes try to be so realistic, grusome and detailed that they fail on doing what they're supposed to do, that is, make you scared and uneasy. Instead, you laugh at the overly realistic characters' expressions and over the top deaths. What's the difference between a non-con hentai and a rape scene drawn in a normal manga ? It's in how it's framed and drawn.

These are a rape scene from Shamo and one from Baki :

This is Casca's : (removed it because it got flagged)

My question is, why does it need to be this graphic ? (And these are not even the worst panels) Not to have a great impact. Guts rape fade to black too, we don't see his blushy, moaning, panting face and a realistic depiction of his body being raped, we don't have a close up of his ass, his sex or Donovan entering, yet it has an impact on the reader. Why does this specific one require "more graphic representation" ? Because, in the narrative, Casca is an object. The focus is on the sexual act, her body and there's an emphasis on the bodily fluids. It looks more like an hentai than a heart wrecking scene, like it is supposed to be. I'm sick of the "it needs to be realistic" bullshit, because you can be realistic in a respectful way, something that this scene, unlike the many others in Berserk, lack. Miura himself stated in an interview that he regretted even writing it.

- "The same thing happens with Guts in the entire series" When. Literally, when does Guts get depicted like this during a rape. Point it out to me and I will shut up.

- The point about women wanting to be Casca make no sense whatsoever. Some women say those things. SO ? How is this my concern ? How does this make my point invalid ? How am I blowing things out of proportion when the scene is there and visible for everyone ? I'm not making things up. The scene is drawn that way. I'm not horny nor I want to condemn Miura. I'm making a normal criticism about a manga I love, because nothing is perfect and everything can always be improved. I'm not attacking anyone, and I don't understand why you're being so defensive.

- No, the same thing doesn't happen to Guts in any way, shape or form. Again, point to me a rape scene in which Guts body and reactions are portrayed like that and I will shut up. Also, why divert the discourse onto sexualization when I was talking specifically about depiction of rape ? As long as they're flashed out, I don't really care about characters being sexualized sometimes. But you need to draw a line between "appropriate" and "inappropriate" for the context. Guts nor Griffith where ever sexualized and objectified like that during a rape scene, Casca was. I would have the same criticism if Guts was depicted the same way as Casca during something like that, but he's not. He never was.

- I never said or implied objectifying a man to that degree is fine.

- I never said the author is a rapist

- I never said there are pages upon pages of just rape

- I don't lack context because Berserk is one of my favorite manga. I own the volumes, I've reread it multiple times both in English and Italian. Again, I'm criticizing something I love. Berserk isn't a Bible, Miura wasn't a prophet and his work isn't the flawless work of a God.

- I don't know why you're so fixated on male fanservice and fanservice in general/normal occasions when I never talked about it, but ok.

At this point you're making up an argument in your mind to project your anger for these random people onto me, when I never said more than half the things you responded to.

I cannot emphasize enough how much I hate the treatment Casca gets as a character after The Golden Age (I have some problems even with her characterization after she fell for Guts during that same arc, but those are minor complaints compared to the state of current Casca).

The first complaint would absolutely be the treatment of her situation as an SA survivor. I don't think her trauma is ever explored on a deeper note, nor her actual pain for the whole situation she got trapped in. The focus of her rape isn't on her, it's always on Guts' pain and Guts' feelings about it, backed up by actual interviews in which Miura stated he made the rape scene just for the eclipse to be more painful for Guts. The rape itself is drawn in a way that makes it extremely uncomfortable to witness, not for its brutality nor because you feel the pain she's feeling, but because it's drawn as if it was a non-con hentai, something that always disturbed me. How come the same person who put so much heart and genuine care into realistically depict Guts' trauma as a survivor could do something so distasteful ?

That event would curse her character into becoming a complete tool for the story and its male characters to use. During the eclipse her body serves as a mere object for Griffith to project his pain onto Guts, the same Guts that thinks about raping her as a way to get closer to Griffith. The same Guts that on a lot of occasions thinks about abandoning her to chase after Griffith, and that a lot of times treat her as an inconvenience. Even after getting her sanity back, she can do nothing but become a narrative tool to give Guts' a reason to chase after Griffith again.

During the Golden Age she was interesting, but she's always been "a girl in love", always pining for some guys. Griffith didn't want her so she got with Guts instead, to cure their mutual obsession with the man. I hope the manga doesn't end with Casca staying romantically involved with Guts, because to me their relationship never felt genuine. Casca in the narrative is something Guts use to delude himself into thinking he would ever be able to just let go of Griffith and forget all that happened.

In the current arc, after being kidnapped, she's getting dressed in fancy clothes, dreaming and sleeping, while Guts is more concerned about his sword than he is for her. I don't think she would ever recover from this character assassination, but I do hope she gets a bit of autonomy in the end.

[mellowwillowy]

- Specimen Girl -

Yan!Dottore×Fem Reader

Dead Dove : Do Not Eat

Yes, it's all based off the lyrics to Specimen Girl's song lol. Also I aint a medical student so let's just pretend what Dottore does is scientifically true lol

Gore description (maybe), delusional Dottore, reader got kidnapped and 'operated' by Dottore (eyes gouged, arms and legs numbed down), necrophilia but you can almost ignore it if you stick with Dottore's delusions, cannibalism (eating your heart), suicide (you and Dottore)

some comfort: Sandrone tried to avenge you but Dottore said bye-bye first lol (don't worry she'll dishonor Dottore's death with Columbina for you instead). I've also toned down lots of things and scenes so yeah, I've warned you so don't come at me

Will mention reader's past a bit near the end of the story.

Word Counts 4.1k

01・Let’s gouge out your eyes

00・that way, you won’t look at anyone else

Dottore's finger dances on your face, his thumb slowly caressing the skin around your left eye. You try to break free from your restraint but fail nonetheless. Bruises formed on both your wrist and ankle, burning from the friction of the restraints whenever you struggle. Your eyes dilate in fear and pain as Dottore presses his scalpel on your lower eyelid.

"Say, Senior, why did you stare at that bastard so lovingly?"

He presses the blade even deeper now, drawing out blood from the cut. You scream from the burning sensation, writhing under his restraint which earns a chiding from Dottore.

"Ah ah ah. If you won't stop wriggling, the operation will not be neat anymore" he chides you as he brings his palm to your tear-stained cheek, blowing wind to your eyes as though he's mocking your pitiful state.

"W-why, wh-why me? Lo-lord Ha-Ha-Harb-Harbinger, I-I have ne-never even o-once shown a-any-"

Dottore shushes you down. He knows what you were trying to say. That you have been nothing but a good citizen. That you have never even once disregarded Tsaritsa nor opposed her rule.

"Like I said earlier, this," Dottore presses the scalpel inside your eye socket, cutting down the nerves of your eyes as you scream in pain "is only your punishment because you've been giving your attention to someone that's not me"

Each second feels like you are being skinned alive, flapping like how a fish would be on the ground. Dottore slowly circles the scalpel around your eyeball, cutting every nerves it can find. Your left eye has already lost its sight the moment the blade cuts one of the nerves, blood flowing out like a waterfall.

"Aw! Don't leave me just yet! What's the point of this punishment if you are not here with me?" Dottore bites your lip, drawing out blood from it. You can feel the steel taste of it and it makes you feel sick. Your stomach can't even tie any knots anymore at this rate.

Dottore humms down a tune as though he is trying to calm you down. It's the tune you used to hum during your study in ʏɿoƚimɿob and almost everyone knows that it's your little song that you'll use to ease people down.

And not for a maniac humming it.

Dottore pulls out your left eyeball easily, observing it closely before he kisses it and shoves it for you to see. Better remember how it looks like before you can no longer see anymore right?

"Go on, observe how beautiful your eye is Senior. Oh? Maybe you should also..." Dottore places your eyeball right next to his beautiful ruby eyes "remember how your Junior's eyes look like" Dottore grins maniacally.

Without being said, you've long memorized your captor's appearance. Ruby eyes, teal hair, and visible sharp pointed teeth whenever he talks or grins.

And how red his tongue is as he licks your eyeball.

Time's up and all you see next is how Dottore places your eyeball into a container with fluids in it. Probably to preserve your eyeball. And what about the other jars? Oh god no. Why did you think about the other jar when you were trying to-

"I won't allow you to avert your thoughts away, Senior" Dottore kisses your right eye, slightly licking it as though your eyes are nothing but sweet candies for him. Again, the scalpel comes into sight and

"So please bear with it, Senior ♡"

The last thing you tried to focus on was his pointed teeth that were revealed as he grinned.

You scream atop of your lungs and drowned into oblivion after that.

04・Let’s cut off your hands and feet

00・that way, you won’t touch anyone else

You might not be able to see anymore but even you can make out where you are right now. A bed. You can feel something tight wrapping around your eyes. Bringing your shaky hands toward your eyes, you can feel just how empty your eye sockets are now.

It hurts.

You cry out but what comes out was not crystal clear tears but instead, blood.

Why must you feel this pain again even in this world?

What had you done wrong to him? You knew he was a harbinger and you had never even once insulted him, right? You cry to yourself before realizing that you are no longer restrained. Run.

And so you run, bumping toward everything but still manage to reach the door. You frantically turn the door knob and swing the door open, running toward the empty hall despite bumping into lots of things.

And you bump into a man. It's not him right? Judging from their groans, it's probably someone else.

"H-help! Help me! P-pl-please! I- I, so-someone" your hands frantically try to find their way toward the man's, looking for support.

Oh if only you were still able to see, you could have seen how the pale the man was as he shook in fear. Even so, the man stayed silent and

Splat

You feel something... gushes toward your face. Some kind of fluid. It doesn't take long for you to identify what it was after the fluids find their way toward your tongue.

The man's body slumped down and you threw yourself backward. What just happened? You don't know, you can't see anything!

Losing your own balance, you fell down on your butt. Still in shock, you frantically feel the blood on your face. Realization hits you and you realize, the man has been killed in front of you. You scream in horror as you wipe your face frantically, smearing the blood even more. It's getting harder to distinguish which is yours and which is his.

"Senior"

Dottore's voice cut your mind in half immediately. You twitch in fear, this man is still here with you. You can feel him walking toward you, his footsteps are not heavy but sharp nonetheless. He stops in front of you, crouching down, he yanks you by your ankle toward him.

"Come to think of it..." his fingers slowly caressing your ankle "I haven't punished your feet too hm?" Horrors shot inside your body. No no no. You have enough of being blind, now to become an immobile porcelain doll altogether? You shook your head vigorously, a bunch of incoherent babbles of begging won't stop him.

"And this hand..." you cry even louder as he yanks you up to your feet "I shouldn't allow it to touch anybody else anymore right?" He gives the back of your palm a kiss "Mmh, let's proceed with it now"

He drags you toward somewhere you don't even wish to know. Smells of antiseptics and blood invade your nose. It's your biggest nightmare now. You thrash under his grip but it barely does anything, especially with how weak your pitiful state is now.

He lays you down on a chair this time, your hands and legs taped onto something plushy. Dottore hums the tune again. Instead of making you feel better, it only makes your stomach churn in fear again. Clinking noises, pokings, and pricking your skin, you feel how the foreign fluids enter your body.

It's not anesthesia to your demise.

Left wrist, right wrist, left ankle, right ankle.

You feel your whole body boiling in pain. Your scream never bothers him as it's much more regarded as music for his ear instead. Your eyes wound reopen as you cry, blood flowing out like a waterfall.

It didn't take long for you to finally choke on your own sobs, how you can no longer feel your arms and legs.

How you no longer wriggle in pain and fear.

Dottore kisses your sweating forehead as he wipes all the blood off your face.

"You did great, Senior ♡"

01・Why did you, although I am here,

00・sleep with other men?

Dottore's eyes did not leave your side even once. Watching every movement like how a predator would. His gaze lingered on your half-exposed chest. Dottore didn't like you showing your skin but he had to admit that your dress did a great job with it.

Your face remained beautiful in his eyes even with the mask covering half of it. You did notice how he was gazing over you despite having his eyes covered by his mask but you brushed it off. Besides, you had a better thing to care for, which was the company in front of you. Oh, how his arm found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him as you two whispered to each other seductively.

The alcohol definitely helps you two loosen up to each other, sharing kisses before making your way to any chamber available.

What you thought to be a private moment with the man was shattered down. Dottore was in fact, there, inside the room. His eyes were redder than usual, watching you two in fuming rage. Where he was is none of your concern, what matters is that he was there.

A few days after that, the man was announced missing. His mutilated remnants were soon found floating by the river.

03・That’s the punishment for the crime you committed

00・I’m not letting you go anywhere anymore

But he can't do that to you. Instead, he'll break down anything of yours instead of blowing a death to you directly. Yes, your punishment would be way easier than theirs. He wants you to be with him after all.

― ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐʸ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵐᵉⁿ ―

00・I'll drive a picket into your chest

00・and put you inside a case with a glass door

But, even so, the temptation to learn your heart remains there. No matter how many years it has been, he still wishes to learn how your heart works. What makes you skip? What makes it beat so fast? How does it pump your blood? You wouldn't mind him poking it every now and then right? He'll just pull your heart out and learn it for a moment before returning it back to its respective place.

00・I’ll place that in my room

00・and observe you every day

There has never been a moment where no one sees him without you next to him. Either on a wheelchair or carried by him or his clones. Isn't that nice? This way, you two will never be separated anymore!

He will never be bored observing you who was sitting motionless. Oh, you are the most beautiful doll he has ever seen! Even Sandrone furrowed her eyebrows as though envying his precious creation while Columbina spins out curses toward him because of how she would never be able to match your beauty.

03・Each time I look at you, I feel shivers

00・and the blood in this body boils

Even today too, you can feel Dottore's gazes linger all over you. How he loves to move your hands or legs, how he loves to kiss your cheek while lightly biting it with his sharp teeth. To draw out noises from you, that's all he's asking for. For someone who can't move or see, you surely survived longer than he expected to.

Not like you can do anything after all

04・You are already only mine

06・Yes, you are my Specimen Girl

On some occasions, Dottore will cover your face with a veil, only allowing him to lift it and observe your eternal beauty. Your bandages used to be drenched in red wine but it seems like you have finally accepted everything.

The bandage is pristine white, meaning you are no longer dwelling on your past traumas, reopening the wounds with your tears.

00・That’s right, I’ll preserve you in that liquid

11・That way, you won’t rot away

But this is weird, you've been awfully quiet recently. It's not weird for you to stay silent for almost a whole day but even so, he would never fail in earning a groan from you. He also notices how your skin started to crack up like how an old porcelain doll would.

He places his head on your chest, listening to any kind of heartbeats or it pumping blood. Not a single beat was heard. And you, on the other hand, start to crack even more. Are you a human, or a doll?

Have you ever been a human in the first place?

No human would have their skin cracking like this, and yet your flesh and heart are real. What and who are you? Dottore ponders to himself before deciding to craft some kind of potion for you. One that a living one should never be exposed to.

"Don't worry Senior, this will help you"

00・Silent as the grave, that unique scent

00・arouses me once more

You are as silent as a porcelain doll would be. Some kind of sick, familiar scent is now all over you. And yet, he does not make any complaints at all, instead, he... loves it. The mixture of something rotten and the foreign fluids inside your guts and on your skin, he never has enough of it. It's sickening as much as it is addicting. Sandrone and Columbina's distaste grows more and more even though they can't do anything about it.

As much as they hate his treatment toward you, they have to agree that your beauty was in fact, preserved as how it used to be. Flawless if they discount the small cracks on your skin.

They hate him but what can they do? They have promised you and one should never break their promise. Never.

00・Your now unmoving body

00・I defile without paying any price

You didn't move but he could hear you coming to life again. Has he succeeded in bringing you back to life? Have you finally found your will to live again? Countless nights of learning your heart and brain are finally paid off.

The blood doesn't taste like it used to anymore but who is he to judge? As long as it's you...

Dottore hugs you tightly, his hands traveling to somewhere he shouldn't be. His kisses are greedy and rough, teeth ripping your lip as he tastes your blood in his mouth.

He intertwines his fingers with yours as he pushes his kisses deeper into you. His tongue explores your mouth, clashing with something familiar. Has your tongue always been like this?

―ₐₐₕ, ₙₒw ᵢ fₑₑₗ ₗᵢₖₑ ₑₐₜᵢₙg yₒᵤ ᵤₚ―

The frilly dress is ripped open as his eyes won't stop devouring every inch of your body. Your heart is beating, for him, for him, for him!

Angelic moans can be heard as his finger traces your delicate skin before resting inside your lacy panties. Just because you have found your will to live again doesn't mean you have also gotten yourself a new body. In fact, you still couldn't move at all. Even so, Dottore still tries his best to earn any kind of reaction from you, how your head twitches in pleasure as he teases that one spongy spot inside you.

Oh if only you still have control of your arms and legs, you would probably trap him with your leg and choke him to death.

He has to feel what you felt and yet to your own dismay, all he's doing right now is pleasuring you. Hell knows you wouldn't want him to feel the same pleasure.

His lips found their way again, to your cold lips, neck, shoulder, chest, tummy, and...

"The night is still long Senior, so please bear with it okay?"

00・Your body gone cold

00・when I touch it with my hands I feel shivers

You lay there next to him with the moonlight illuminating all the bruises he made. He can't help it, to pull you closer and closer to him as he pumps himself in and out inside of you. He will always love the sensation of adjusting your limbs to him, giving him a sense of control toward you as he brings your hand to his neck. He knew you wanted to choke him. Judging by you would occasionally clench your jaw and brought your head close to his neck, trying your best to bite the spot where his vein is connected. You wanted to kill him.

And that is your new resolve to live again.

10・I cut open your chest with a knife

00・I take out your heart and eat it

But this is getting into nerves more than he thought it would.

You've been sitting quietly with an unhinged smile plastered on your face. You who didn't really care for your appearance ask him to dress you up beautifully every day now. How you want to wear frilly puffy dresses, how you want a beautiful lacy blindfold instead of plain white bandages, how you want to wear a long white stocking with frills and bows, how you want him to ornate your head with accessories.

And how you ask him to eat your heart out so that he can just kill you right then and there.

"Cut my chest open and eat my heart out" you lean toward Dottore's ears, whispering of what he had long wanted to do to you.

This is in fact, nothing but just a green light for him to pluck your heart out and eat it on a silver platter now.

Eating it all up as though it's his last meal, drinking up all the blood like it's the world's finest wine to ever exist. Oh how Sandrone and Columbina wished they could just behead Dottore's head and offer it to you.

In the end, not a single bits of your heart remained on the plate. It's all in his guts now.

00・With this, your heart is now mine

06・you won’t be able to love anyone but me

He has done it. He has taken your most important thing which is your heart. Your heart is all his now. Without your heart, you can no longer love anyone nor see the truth. Without your heart, you can no longer feel what it's like to be alive.

Your heart is inside his guts now. The feeling of your heart being one with him is addicting. It's proof that you now are only able to love him and him alone. No one will be able to take your heart away anymore, be it literally or figuratively.

00・I return the rest to the case

00・I place it again by my side

Your heartless body remains beautiful. While you start to crack more and more, he'll always know a way to put a stop to it. But even so, he starts to feel paranoid about you.

Every now and then, he can see you strolling with those flimsy long white gowns around the palace all by yourself, humming the old tune from the Akademiya days.

No matter how many times he breaks your leg, you'll always be seen strolling around the palace.

No matter how many times he cut your vocal chord, you won't stop humming the same tune for others to hear.

He hates it. Your voice is only for him to hear. It's reserved for him and him only. Even so, whenever you lay on the operation table while having your vocal chord destroyed by him, you could still chuckle at him creepily. Sometimes, strings of curses can be heard as well.

Dottore will always receive complaints from the other fellow harbingers, about how the maniacal laughter and curses never end. How footsteps can be heard ringing in the middle of the night, how the tune will be hummed in an eerie way, and how the trickle of blood won't stop dirtying the floor.

And so, he sealed your body inside a crystal glass box. This way, you can no longer roam freely and will forever be sealed next to him, for him to be the only one to see you.

00・I won’t let you go for as long as I live

00・after all, you are my

"Senior," Dottore's fingers dances on your glass box, "You will always be my Senior no matter what"

→・―It’s unforgivable―・→

00・From inside the case

06・Look only at me

00・until I die

No matter how tight he ties your blindfold, he will always feel as though it's loosening up. What will happen if the blindfold is taken off? Will you be looking at someone else with that empty eye socket of yours? He can't allow you to look at anyone else other than him! You are only entitled to look at him until he dies.

No, even after he dies, he will never allow you to look at anyone else. Dottore who feels the knot in his stomach tied even tighter than ever decides to untie it. To untie your blindfold and

00・Aah, but you

00・no longer have eyes

02・After all, that is

―because I gouged them out...―

Therefore, he is greeted by your empty eye sockets. Is it delusion? Dottore slowly inserts his finger inside your eye socket as much as he wishes he doesn't want to. Empty. Ah, he really did gouge it out. The proofs are still in his chamber, placed on his nightstand. That way, he can just take the jar and observe it as he tries to drift himself to sleep. Your beautiful eyes never fail to mesmerize him.

B̶̨̨̳̭͎̝́̒̅̂̄͐͠͝u̷̢͉̼̭̗̎̐͒́̓̍̈̎̽͝ț̶̫̬͓̌̽̀̏̍̓͑̿̉͝ ̴̗̯͇̗̜̟̙͇̗̄́̃ȟ̶̯͐̀̎o̵̻̺̬̦͙̘͑͆͌̅̑̒̔́͘͘w̷̱̗͂̉́͊̎͝ ̶̳̹͕͖͎͖͉̩̱̎̽̈́͛ả̴̝͇͇͍͍̙͇̩͙̯́̋̔̽́̔̚͝b̴̨̛̦̲̩̰̣̲̦̻̆̉̀̀͊̊̎͐̽ọ̸̢̨̡͔͔̮̜͖̀̄́̈́̕ͅu̵̡͖̥̬̤͕̺̓̓͋̈̌͆͋͑̐̚ͅẗ̴͉͚́͐̄ ̶̡̢͉̪͕̥̝͐̄͐͜a̴̛̳̭͔̰̠̎̄̑͛̏͑͝͠ ̵̭͆͑̍ṕ̴̧̥̥̜͖̭̞͇͉̾̀̿̉͐͗͂̒ą̷̨̲̱͈̹̣̘͈͗̔̎͋̀͠i̴͚̜̎͆ŗ̴͙͈͖̝͉͔͙̭̲̀͐̉́ ̶̢͓͍͙̩̺͍͊̈͛̅o̴��͕̞̩͓͑͒̈́̊͋̓͐͌̏̕͜f̶͔̜̫͔͍̥̓̑̋͘ ̴̧̧͕̞̮̭̠͐͌͆̽̇̍̒̈́͊ȅ̵̤͔̘̥̳̤͓̘̇̋͠y̵̨̱͒̇̍̾è̷̠͉͋́̏̆́̽s̶̹͚̟͕̣̓̑̐́̀̓̏͋͝ ̵̢͕̜͓̩̠̠͙̆͗̈́́͑͂̀̀̒̕ṫ̸̙̣̫̪̜̫͊̌̓h̵̩͊͂a̴̟̯̤̣̼̪͎̠͆̋́̇t̶̨̞͓̤̮̀̽̾̊ ̵̗̜̹̱͔̲͖̙̼̗̆́̅̒͠͠ĺ̴͉͙̀͘o̶̥̟̦͖̯̱͖͌̍̑͐̅ǒ̸̢̞͎̹̜̗̥̱̰͌͌k̸̡̹̮̀s̷̡̪͕͖̭͉͉͈̞̀̀̔̈́̎̾́͋̉̋ ̴̨͍͙̥̰̮̂̃͋̆̕͝ͅļ̶̛͌͌͗̉̄͌̒͜ị̷͚̫̈̕ķ̶̛̳̠̹̳̯̣͙̤̰́̑̓̒͆́̓͝͠ê̷͉̺̘͓̻̜͖͜ͅ ̴̺̳̭̳̫̱̌̓̌̌̃͜ͅh̷̛͚̜̞̬̲̥̪̅̄i̷͎̿̀̆̔̚͜͝͝s̸̜̩̞̣̝̓͆̑̌̄̚͜͠͝?̸̹̲̝͙̞̝̟̌͜

00・I’ll put glass beads in your eyes

02・Let’s make you new eyes

09・What eye color should I choose?

02・That’s right, a red like blood would be fine

But to use some kind of fake eyes would be boring no? And so, a clone of his was burnt down in the incinerator with empty eye sockets.

01・With those beautiful eyes

00・look only at me always

This way, he can feel you staring at him again. No, he will never recreate your eyes even though he can. It'll never be able to match the real one after all. He won't even bother looking for someone to take their eyes because he doesn't want someone else's eyes staring at him and even worse, inside your eye sockets.

04・Only you from now on and always

01・I won’t let you go from my side

He won't repeat the same mistake anymore. To be weak and hopeless as he watched you leave the Akademiya in humiliation, all to the way of being exiled out of Sumeru without anyone protecting you.

You didn't do it. He knew you didn't do it. And yet, no one would believe in you two as though they had been blinded by something. To make things even worse, your little friend was absent during your exile. If only she was there, perhaps she could shield you from the crazy citizens throwing you pebbles and rocks. Maybe that way, you wouldn't trip down from the cliff and be pronounced dead from concussion.

Maybe people wouldn't gawk at your dead body and broken limbs as though you were nothing but an animal. For them to step on your off-positioned limbs, your splattered brains, and your body altogether.

How did you come back to life? He'll never know it. Maybe Sandrone truly had something to do with it after all.

But for now, what matters is that you are here with him.

07・After all, you are mine

09・From now on and always mine

02・Until this body rots away

00・Yes, you are my

『Specimen Girl』

Sandrone's voice rings.

―Only mine―

―Only mine―

Sandrone places the gun on the back of Dottore's head. She had had enough of this farce already. She no longer cares about the promise she made to you. She wouldn't mind being selfish for this is her only wish. She will avenge your death by shooting his brains out.

『Only mine』

What she didn't expect is that Dottore would be the one shooting his own jaw, splattering his brains all over Sandrone's pristine dress. His body slumped forward with a thud. He ends his own farce in the end. Is it out of guilt or realization? Did his madness and delusions finally swallow him whole? Even so, Sandrone wastes no time in spitting Dottore's body before stomping and dragging his body to be experimented on in the most inhumane way possible. Columbina too will be there to lend Sandrone her hand.

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

There is another fic (and possibly more in the future) about Dottore x Senior but it might be different than what's mentioned in reader's past

Zandik's Memories, Dormitory (TBA, WIP)

Zandik's Diaries (TBA)

Senior (different but similar nonetheless)

As if for Sandrone's and Columbina's, I don't think I'll be writing for them until there's a request coming in for them lol

Inhumane (TBA)

Dormitory's Lullaby (TBA)

All these fics will be extreme OOC in both lore-wise and characters so proceed with caution.