#know that the entire time i typed this out i was in AGONY thinking about the kof xiii ending. not over it EVER.

[susiephone]

wtf is dracula daily?

i’ve seen a couple people ask this question on my posts about it, so i thought i’d go ahead and clear it up here!

ok so, the classic horror novel “dracula” is an epistolary novel - that means it’s told via letters, diary entries, ship logs, and news articles. (technically the term “epistolary novel” refers to works told solely through letters or emails, but many have expanded it to mean any work that is told via in-universe documents, hence why diaries and logs often get included as well. “frankenstein” is another classic example; the whole framing device is robert walton is recounting the story he heard from victor to his sister via letter. a modern example would be “several people are typing,” which is told via slack messages, or “the perks of being a wallflower,” which is told via letters from charlie to his anonymous pen pal, which is functionally more like you’re reading his diary.)

because of the nature of the narrative, we actually know the exact day nearly everything in dracula happens - the letters, news articles, diary entries, etc. are all dated.

“dracula daily” is a substack project where the novel is broken up into parts, with people who are subscribed to the project getting emails every day something in dracula happens - for example, the novel opens with jonathan harker’s journal entry on may 3, so on may 3, subscribers are emailed that entry. the action of dracula takes place from may 3 - november 6, plus an epilogue set some years later. the project started in 2021 (i think), but fucking BLEW UP in 2022, and they’re doing it again this year! lots of us are very excited - especially people like me who fell behind last time.

why not just read the book?

valid! due to some parts of dracula being told out of chronological order, dracula daily does reorder some things. for example, the first section of dracula is told entirely from jonathan harker’s pov, then the second section switches the pov to mina murray. their sections have some overlap in the timeline, so dracula daily jumps back and forth between their perspectives.

if you want to read the book as bram stoker intended, dracula daily may not be for you. but for a lot of people (myself included!), it breaks up a very long text into easily digestible chunks (....mostly. there is one entry that is 10k words), and the fact that it’s a big project means there are a lot of people reading along with you.

i think there’s also something valuable about experience the slow revelation of wtf is going on along with the characters. the book which you might otherwise get through in a few days is stretched out into months of suspense and agony as you wait for the other shoe to drop, and it’s great.

plus, the whiplash between “jonathan harker’s neverending horror” vs “lucy is basically on the bachelorette” that you get in dracula daily is very very funny.

how do i sign up?

right here! and if you sign up and fall behind in the emails, no worries - the dracula daily website posts past entries so you can catch up.

what if i prefer audiobooks?

have i got great news for you!

like i mentioned before, i couldn’t keep up with the emails last year. part of it is that it is much easier for me to focus on an audiobook or keep up with a podcast than it is for me to sit down and read, especially with longer entries.

this year, there is going to be a podcast titled “re: dracula” that was inspired by dracula daily. every episode will be a dracula daily entry, with a full voice cast! (seriously, if you listen to british podcasts, you will recognize some of these names. the magnus archives and wooden overcoats girlies are WINNING.) you can find that here.

there is also a podcast called “cryptic canticles” that has an already-completed audiodrama of dracula that i’m told is also extremely good, and was also broken up by date. you can find that here.

why do i keep hearing about paprika/the boyfriend squad/lizard fashion/cowboys?

you’ll see.

oh god am i gonna hear about this nerd shit for the rest of the year

yes. sorry.

[dizzyjaden]

hihihi soooo. I want this to involve Kaeya, Xiao, and Dottore (heheh) if that’s okay. Pick whoever u want if only one ! But anyways

What if you’re a member of the armed forces (a knight of Favonius, a member of the millelith, and a fatui agent respectively). And you get injured on the job. Like, injured enough to warrant a hospital stay. Pretty *badly* hurt. What are those three doing, yknow? How do they react? Are they helping? How so? That type of stuff

✦ GENSHIN MEN WHEN YOU GET HURT ✦

Thank you for asking, let's find out.

Pairings: Kaeya, Xiao, Dottore x gn! Reader

♤ Summary: You got hurt and need medical assistance.

♤ Warnings: Severe injury (abdominal stab wound, broken arm, various bruises and cuts), slight yummy angst, soft Dottore

♤ A/N: I know this isn't exactly a request but I'm treating it like a request because I wanna get stuff posted. I'm also really not the best at Kaeya, so forgive me in advance if he's fugly. Enjoy!

Kaeya:

As a knight, you know that when an issue arises in Mondstadt, you’re going to stand on the frontlines for your city. It’s what is expected of you, and what you have accepted for yourself. You don’t mind it, your city is important to you. Your job is important to you. It’s actually how you met your boyfriend, Kaeya, who is also very important to you. Perhaps that’s why when the two of you were out fighting off abyss mages to protect a group of civilians, you threw yourself right in front of him as a shard of ice, summoned by a cryo abyss mage, was sent flying straight towards his chest. Instead of his chest, it impaled you in your stomach, right beneath your ribcage.

It takes him a moment to process what just happened, in an instant everything pauses and he’s focused entirely on you. Needless to say, when he sees you fall to your knees, holding your stomach in agony, he practically rips the remaining mages apart and hurries to tend to you.

Thankfully the wound is not horrifically deep, the distance between you and the mage prevented it from flying fast enough, but you are still bleeding from your stomach, which is rather alarming. He hides his panic though, not wanting to upset you further when you’re already injured. He ties his belt tightly around the wound and picks you up, you’ve never been stabbed before so obviously you’re quite concerned with your injury, because of this he chooses to gaslight you while he rushes to get you back to the city. “It’s fine, I’ve seen way worse! You worry too much.” 

Kaeya wants to remain by your side when he does finally get you to a doctor, he is quite irritable when he can’t go back with you but ultimately waits, impatiently so. When you’re all patched up he rushes into the room and gives you a tight, slightly painful hug. When you remind him that you’re freshly injured his face falls and a hurried apology leaves his lips.

The two of you spend the rest of the day laughing and teasing each other about the unfortunate incident, Kaeya is glad it’s already something you can laugh about, but he truthfully feels guilty he let that happen to you when it was such an easy fight. He’ll get you whatever you need until you’re fully recovered.

Xiao:

Honestly, Xiao would just prefer if you called his name before you fought anything. Yes, he knows you’re trained. Yes, he knows you’re strong. But he’s an adeptus and he’s willing to protect you. Why won’t you just utilize that and not put yourself at risk? He doesn’t understand. But he doesn’t ask any questions when he’s called by you in your time of need. He teleports straight to your location, where he finds you gravely injured with multiple gashes and bruises on your body, and a small crowd of ruin guards encircling your fallen figure. He quickly stands in front of you, calculates how much time he has based on the severity of your injuries, and then tears them all to shreds. 

As he fights he counts each second that passes, thinking about your blood loss. He manages to defeat them in thirty-one seconds, but he was planning on thirty. He teleports back to you, picks you up, and then teleports you to the nearest hospital. You’re too weak at this point to really register anything so he hands you over to the doctors wordlessly and then leaves you there.

When you’re fixed up and a bit more conscious, you quickly call his name and he meekly appears with a bouquet of flowers he’d gathered while you were getting treated. “For the single second that I let you bleed.” He explains his intention behind the small gift. He’s convinced you’ve probably been irritated at him since you got to the hospital, but you are entirely unsure of what he means. Xiao is such a perfectionist when it comes to keeping you safe, but you’re just grateful he came at all. When you take his gift, you express this and he isn’t sure what to make of it, but he doesn’t wish to make it a bigger deal than he already has so he simply nods and then lectures you for nearly an hour about not calling sooner.

Dottore:

When Dottore hears from an associate that you’ve been injured while out on a mission, he is right on it. He doesn’t ask any questions about your condition, he can figure that out when he finds you. And when he does, he is livid. Whatever opponent you faced completely broke your arm! It doesn’t matter if you were already about to receive treatment, he trusts nobody but himself to help you. As a harbinger, what he says goes so he’s going to take care of it. 

While he’s fixing your arm he’s asking you questions about who did this to you. He’s disappointed to hear you already managed to defeat them. He was hoping to have the opportunity to make their death so much longer than the merciful quick bullet you gave them. But, at least they aren’t alive anymore.

Once that’s out of the way, he gives you gentle kisses and hushed words of comfort to take care of you. Really, it’s not that big of a deal to a fatui soldier like yourself and you find his reaction dramatic, but he likes taking care of you and he just has to smother you right now so, tough luck I guess.

He makes sure you take it easy for a while, not allowing you to do anything strenuous. If you happen to argue with him about it, he’ll simply order you to stay home and rest. He’s a harbinger, remember?

[longhardtransitionreturns]

Author's note: This is birth and medical fiction. It's all fake, just a fantasy. Of course I don't want this to happen to me or anyone in real life.

I'd like to have a high risk twin pregnancy. The type where I have to fight my obstetrician to let me try to give birth vaginally and then they try to insist I have an epidural so they can cut into me without delay if something goes wrong. I'll finally get them to agree to let me try it natural if I am invasively monitored throughout and I understand I'm going under general anesthesia the second things go south.

When the day comes for me to be induced, I change into a hospital gown & follow nurses instructions as they put IV ports in both of my wrists. I'm catheterized -- a situation that isn't made any more pleasant by the twinges already squeezing my middle -- and by the time I'm being strapped into the stirrups for the doctor to swipe my membranes, I'm so trussed up I can barely move.

It's my first pregnancy & I didn't expect it to hurt so much just to be pregnant. My hips have been sore practically the whole nine months, in part because of how heavy and low I am carrying the twins. Baby A practically lodged himself between my hips last week and the pressure has been slowly increasing. My breasts are cumbersome and it's painful to even feel the hospital gown brush against my areolas. By the time the doctor is settling between my legs to start my labor, I'm eager to face whatever delivery holds for me to make this pregnancy end.

I'm singing a whole different tune 16 hours later. Or rather, screaming one at the top of my lungs. I am in the throes of transition and suffering the pinnacle of a truly agonizing labor. Baby A is posterior and the pain in my back has me at the edge of my sanity, especially now that the contractions are lasting for 90 seconds, with barely a minute in between.

I'm incoherent at this point. I'm in so much pain I'm only able to think about surviving the second I am living. I'm minimally aware when the nurses move my aching body back into the stirrups so I can push my son into the world. I bear down at their direction and it feels like my ass is gonna bust when his head plunges down.

What actually happens is his precious posterior facial features lodge against my clit as a desperate push shoves him just past crowning and my poor little nub starts to sting. It feels like it's being ripped off and I'm humiliated to find I'm begging my doctor to save my clitoris while I'm straining a massive baby out of me.

I don't know how long I howl a about the pain in my clitoris but the next thing I know the doctor is roughly pulling the shoulders and then the body out of my hole, tearing me more in the process.

I'm aware that my aching canal is empty for the moment. I don't realize I am gaped so badly my asshole is almost inverted. It stings something fierce as birth fluids continue to pour out of my loose, sopping cunt. I start to cry when I realize I am still going to have to push Baby B through my ruined pussy.

I drift in and out of consciousness, occasionally aware of the sharp stab of a contraction. I wake fully to a nurse tapping my cheek to see if I've passed out. When I force my eyes open, she informs me Baby B isn't face down anymore and the doctor is about to perform an internal version. She tells me to brace myself because it will be uncomfortable.

I didn't fully realize the medical actuality of an internal version was for a grown man to stick his entire grown man hand through my cervix and into my uterus. I'm in such utter agony I barely register that the nurses are holding me down by my arms and where my thighs are not strapped to the stirrups. I am experiencing the most pain I have experienced up to this point in my life and it seems to last forever.

I never stop screaming, even when they put a mask pumping gas over my face to try to give me some relief, but the tenor of my yell changes when something shifts and then I feel something rip deep inside of me.

Suddenly all the pain that has come before pales in comparison to what I am suddenly feeling in my abdomen. It is indescribable burning combined with a sudden sense of dread that takes over my body. I am 100% certain that my reproductive organs just gave way with my daughter trapped inside me and I am going to die if something isn't done very, very soon.

It must only be minutes, maybe not even that long, that I lay there while the medical team catches up to the realization that me and my baby are in mortal danger. Time slows down and I feel the rip in my uterus expanding as the contractions, one on top of another now, injure me more by the second. Despite no medical knowledge, I know instinctively that the renewed flood out of my pussy is blood and I am hemorrhaging, possibly to death.

I am utterly helpless now. Strapped down in stirrups, paralyzed by pain, my strength seeping from me as fast as the blood flowing between my legs. I faintly register the monitors start to alarm as I lose the battle with consciousness and my world goes dark.

*******

I wake up groggy and disoriented on a stretcher being wheeled somewhere. I immediately start to panic because there is a tube down my throat and I am really, brutally aware of a long, deep vertical incision that extends from above my belly button down to my public bone. I swear I can feel the layers upon layers they sliced through to deliver my baby. I won't know until later about the battle the surgeons waged, first to save my life and then to save my fertility.

Right now I am only aware of how much it hurts to be jostled on a stretcher with a massive cut down my middle. When the two male nurses move me into the bed, I plead for unconsciousness as my body is roughly transferred to a bed. My tailbone hits the mattress and reverberates in the form of a sharp pain through my pussy. I've still got a catheter and I feel like every inch down there has been stitched up.

I hope one of these nurses will realize I am aware and therefore in indescribable pain but it seems like the paralytic they gave me before intubating me is the only drug of the cocktail still in effect. I suffer as they lift my hips and put a pillow under my butt. Then they start taking off my hospital gown completely.

My confusion quickly turns to fear as one gloved hand on each side grabs one of my fat titties and starts tugging. Breast pumps are whipped out and the men make quick work of shoving as much of my massive milkers in to each before turning them on simultaneously.

My uterus, even after the brutal surgical repair, still tries to respond to my milk suddenly dropping. The pain of contracting after uterine repair and a cesarean combined with the sudden gush of warm pressure on my aching tits brings tears to my eyes. I must be a strange sight: intubated and naked, massive breasts attached to pumps, with my deflated belly sporting a huge incision hanging above a pussy so bruised and stitched it looks entirely purple.

The elder nurse pats my naked thigh just before he makes to leave. It jostles everything and our eyes meet as I wince at the pain it causes me. A chill runs through my body as I realize he knows I am awake and feeling way more than I should be.

He looks at me the entire time he lubes his gloved fist, a sinister smile on his face. He settles between my legs and pauses to look up at me again.

"I bet you wish you'd had that epidural, huh, dear?"

My vision goes white as I feel his whole fist plunge into my pussy with a force absolutely intended to cause me a fatal amount of pain. My vision goes white and I feel pressure building in my chest as the stitches holding my cervix together start ripping. The last thought I have before I go into cardiac arrest is how I don't want to my last memory to be of being brutally fisted in my obliterated, post-birth pussy while my heart explodes in my chest.

[auguryofjellyfish]

my chap 4 death predictions as of day 26. i made this a few days ago and surprisingly, it stayed entirely the same even after the motive drop.

this is more vibes-based than anything. would ojima make sense as a killer? ....maybe? i don't know how though. i guess that he could be the victim and yanagi the killer, i think it could be either-or. my reasoning for this order specifically:

three words- maximizing tragedy factor.

hirojima and/or hayashigeki ain't surviving. one, or both pairs are gonna get broken up now.

ojima dislikes yanagi and actively holds a grudge against him for hurting hiroaki.

ojima was in absolute awe when he heard hayashi killed her abuser, he wished he could be stronger and able to fight back too.

ojima has said many times that he would never kill, so being pushed to murder/or killing by accident would be tragic as hell. pure drama.

i thought about mai as a victim for a second, but i don't see how ojima, or anyone could make a drop on her, plus they have their solidarity thing going on.

yanagi's death would be devastating for mai. here he was, always worried about her safety, when she should have cared more about his all along?

ojima's been a victim his entire life. him dying as a victim would be fitting and devastating, but also...eh. eeeehhh. i guess if he killed by accident/unwittingly, it would also make him a victim of circumstance.

yanagi's self-sacrificial to a fault. if you live to be of service to others, could you say that you would never die for someone?

i'm not too certain about ojima killer, i don't know how it could be compelling AND well-written. woah, an abuse victim being a killer, so original. he can't kill while he's dissociating, that would be bad and stupid. he also wouldn't kill on purpose because he simply dislikes someone. what i feel is just... ojima killer would bring a different kind of devastation than ojima victim. he's a very kind and caring person, the idea of him going against who he is like that hurts so bad. there would be an undertone of betrayal there. like, et tu, ojima? especially if hiroaki carries the trial again, and as he's putting the pieces together, he realizes that he has doomed ojima to death. that, to me, would be an entirely different type of agony than the one of ojima getting murdered. not to say that hiroaki wouldn't also be completely incapacitated by ojima dying as a first thing.

also, i thought about a scene like, hiroaki thinks the 'but i wouldn't do it!' argument is always invalid and never lets it slide. so, it would be quite funny if someone accused ojima in the trial and hiroaki was like '??? uhhhh, are you stupid? ojima wouldn't do it, he can hardly tell his left from his right' and ojima's like haaahhh yeah. anyway, i'm putting a pin in it, i dunno. i'm still very fond of the idea that someone will try to kill hiroaki and they will get killed by ojima instead. (thanks bronze-ocs!)

however, yanagi is DEAD dead. deadady-dead-dead-dead. i'm certain. my man's just gone. he's been going above and beyond this chapter, stretching himself thin to support many people and keeping up morale. and so far he's the only one who sort-of kind-of believes in monomoko. or at least, that she might be imprisoned and coerced, just like them. i can't see how he could make it to chapter 5. for him, either scenario works. him being a killer, after all the good he's done for so many people, after he's been trying his hardest to redeem himself and make up for his mistakes? especially killing someone as beloved as ojima? oof. unforgivable. ESPECIALLY because of his knight's vow. he was supposed to protect others, that is what he lives for, and ending someone's life...honestly, now that i think about it, yanagi killer might just give himself up immediately out of pure guilt.

yanagi victim works for the same reasons, he's been trying so hard, struggling, growing, devoting himself to hayashi, wada, and tamba, and he gets killed for it. pure tragedy. it's just fucked. either way, i strongly feel that he's not going to survive.

briefly about some others:

mai: i feel like she might be a goner too, but i'm not sure. i don't see either ojima or yanagi killing her, or vice versa. wellllllllll... anything can happen if it's an accident.....?

tamba: maybe? either she's dying here, or she's a survivor. i just don't feel very strongly about the possibility of her dying.

hiroaki: as substitute for ojima. but i don't think he will, he had JUST tried to kill himself. plus, there's a hell of a lot more evidence for ojima dying rn than him. and my biggest reason...ojima's death would devastate him more than his would devastate ojima. but still, i'm not ruling it out completely.

watari's worrying me, but i think there's a big likelihood she'll survive. i saw the hama killer theories, it would be unexpected and tragic ig, but i dunno. ken and wada are surviving. and that's about it, for now, i'll see how it changes in the upcoming weeks.

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 4 - MONTH 3 - GROWING PAINS

First - Prev - Next

Everything hurts.

I started noticing it about two weeks after my first dose. It felt like a dull headache at first, but over the next month it spread to pretty much my entire body.

I had to start working from home, and eventually it got bad enough that I could only put in a few hours of work each day. My boss is a reasonable enough guy, but he wasn't going to pay a full time salary for part time hours, so I had to take a salary cut.

Luckily, my partner is around to take care of daily errands, not to mention being there to reassure and comfort me when the pain gets bad. They've been thinking about seeing if Lindwurm HRT is a thing, but they don't want to get the process started until I'm in the clear and can take care of myself again.

Gods I love them.

The reason the pain is happening, as best I can tell, is that my skeletal structure is already changing. I've gotten at least an inch taller, and my face has been reshaping into a feline muzzle. My teeth are getting sharper, and I'm developing proper fangs. I also noticed a little while ago that my fingernails and toenails had receded into their respective digits, which sucks for two reasons - I can't paint fingernails I don't have, and they are sore as HELL when I put any amount of pressure on them. I have to be REALLY careful with how I type to not inflict agony on myself. I'm also feeling my tail growing in, and even if it hurts, it's euphoric as HELL. A tail was always the part I wanted most out of this.

It's weird, the skeletal changes weren't supposed to happen this early. I've been trying to reach Dr. Erian about it, but he's constantly busy, probably because of the sudden surge of people looking for Humanity Removal Therapy.

Other than that, I've been getting areas of white and black fur coming in - mostly on my arms and legs, but a little bit on my face and ears - ears that are gradually reshaping and migrating. Nothing to report on hearing sensitivity, but I think my night vision is getting better.

I did a little bit of looking around for anyone with similar pain experiences. I got my hopes up when I found a girl, Antonina, who had a painful experience with Cat HRT, but it turns out it's because she took the rumoured Fifteen Minute version. She described the pain as "like bathing in an active volcano".

It leaves me wondering whether I would have preferred a 15-minute lava bath over a months-long full-body headache.

I ended up reaching out to her anyway, just because I wanted to know what I was in for in the endgame and feline HRT is rarer than I thought it would be. Sounds like the prey drive is the real deal - she keeps feeling the urge to bite this one girl who's on mouse HRT.

We've been spending some time comparing notes and getting to know each other. It's nice to know someone else who's going through this thing, even if our experiences aren't exactly one-to-one.

I also talked to my mother for the first time in nearly a year. I went No Contact with her a while back because she was only getting more obnoxious and combative about me being trans, but I figured changing my species is a big enough deal that I should keep her in the loop.

Besides, my savings had nearly dried up and I needed to ask her for money.

It… did not go well. She hadn't heard of therian HRT before, and once I explained it, she started panicking about how I'm "mutilating my body" with "untested treatments". I think I also heard her cry something about how her "son" is "killing himself", which is just multiple layers of insensitive.

At least she sent me some money. Hopefully it'll be enough to last until my transformation stops being agonizing and I can go back to work, and then I can go right back to pretending my family doesn't exist.

At roughly the three-month mark, I have a check-in video call with Dr. Erian. From the moment his face appears on screen, though, I can tell something is wrong. He seems… older, somehow.

"Hello, Miss Alexis.", he offers. He sounds tired. Sorrowful, even.

"Hey, doc." I have to ask about it. "Everything okay? You seem a bit tired."

"Nothing to worry about Miss Alexis, just the ordinary stresses of daily life."

Liar. I know I'm not entitled to details of your personal life, much less your professional secrets, but I know when something is eating at someone.

"…Does the word 'crossroads' mean anything to you, Miss Alexis?"

Huh? That came a bit out of left field. "I've… heard some other therian HRT patients use the term, but I don't know much of the details. Something about a point of no return?"

"Something of the sort." He lowers his head and seems to go from sorrowful to downright grim. "There will come a time, Miss Alexis, when you will have to make a very important decision in your care, and I ask that you do so with great consideration for the consequences."

I recoil a little in my seat. "Yeah… Of course I will. Any decision I make, even reaching out to you in the first place, I don't take it lightly."

"Good… That's good." His demeanor shifts back to his stoic, clinical self. I don't know what just happened, but he went somewhere for a moment there.

"Now then, I did receive your messages, I apologize for not getting back to you. You mentioned you were experiencing persistent and debilitating whole-body soreness?"

"Yeah. I can't even leave the apartment most days, it hurts so much."

"Odd… You are taking the treatment as directed, yes?"

"Of course. One tablespoon a week, just like it says on the bottle."

I see his eyes twitch behind his glasses. Did I say something wrong?

"…Teaspoon."

I cock my head to the side. "Say again?"

"You mean one TEASPOON a week, yes?"

I feel my heart sink. The dark smear on the dosage information… I could have sworn it said '1 tbsp/week'.

"…Could you hold on a second please?" I mute the mic and call out to my partner to bring the bottle of tiger HRT over. When they do, I unmute and hold it up to the webcam. I hear Dr. Erian take a sharp intake of breath as he notices the obscured instructions.

I set the bottle aside and the two of us share an awkward silence.

"So…", I begin. "…How bad is it?"

"The good news", he offers slowly, "is that you have only been taking three times the prescribed dose. An increased dose imbalances the growth rate of the different parts of your body, hence your pain and persistent weakness, but it could have been much worse."

I think back to the so-called Fifteen Minute version, and Antonina's description of it - like bathing in an active volcano.

Dr. Erian continues. "Assuming you return to a CORRECT dose, your growth rates will gradually level out over the course of the next month or so. It is my medical opinion that you should maintain a low-activity lifestyle until then, but you will eventually be able to return to your typical activity level, and you will also find that the physical effects become more… consistent."

"That's… reassuring. Thank you, doctor." I pause. Something I noticed a little while ago has been weighing on my mind. "There's one thing, though - do the treatments have… I guess you'd call them restorative or regenerative effects? I've noticed some old wounds aren't there anymore."

The doctor clicks his pen and brings up his notepad. "Interesting. Do go on, Miss Alexis."

"Well… I used to get lower back pain from a car crash injury I got a little over a year ago, but I haven't noticed it at all lately. Pretty much the only part that DOESN'T hurt… There also used to be some marks on my arm from a cat biting me when I was little." I give a slight smile. "The cat's name was Tiger, go figure."

Dr. Erian is writing the whole time I'm talking. "Yes, that is to be expected. Minor persistent injuries will fade over time as your body re-forms itself to a new baseline, even severe chronic symptoms may fade. If there are no other concerns…"

"Just one… Most of the other therian HRT patients I've talked to have gotten their meds as pills, so what's with the potion bottle?"

Dr. Erian pauses, and adjusts his glasses nervously, as if he's been caught out on something he doesn't want to admit to. "Well… advances in the field are occurring rapidly, and you are one of the more recent patients, so a more… streamlined option was available to you. I took the liberty of choosing the most compatible option based on your medical records, and that bottle is it."

"Okay… But what's IN it?"

"The active ingredients are antihominidone, which is your humanity-blocker, and a specialized formula of felistrogen, infused with white tiger genetic material. The rest of the fluid is a suspension used to dilute the effects, without which you would be looking at a short, but excruciating and potentially lethal process."

The Fifteen Minute version, I think to myself. I'm taking diluted Fifteen Minute meds. There's no WAY this isn't experimental, and I'M the experiment. I despise saying it, but maybe my mother was right to worry.

"But I'm afraid I really do have to go, Miss Alexis, my next appointment is waiting."

"G-gotcha. See ya, doctor."

---

Special thanks to @paintedbytosia for letting me write her in, and shoutout to @megamoonerjenny for coming up with 'antihominidone'

[tetsutits]

𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐒 — kakucho x fem!reader.

# kantou manji kaku, three deities aftermath, established relationship, relationship angst, hurt/comfort, suggestive (making out), injury/blood. (wc. ~2k) barely edited im sorry :(

In the quiet streets of late-night Kanto, Japan, where the bars are closing down, and the harsh winds speak hushed whispers into cold skin, you sit on a worn out couch in a worn out building with a first-aid kit in your lap.

Even with the box being as little as a jewelry one, it almost feels like a bag of bricks with how your worry adds to the weight.

“kaku’...” you whisper, scared to break the little bubble of tension in the room, a little furrow in your brow, “I’m worried about you.”

his eyes flicker between the wooden floors and his hands in his lap, pinned in hyperfocus as he worries his lower lip between his teeth.

“you don’t need to,” he says, voice low, “I don't want you to carry any extra weight… especially if it's me.”

as soon as the words leave his mouth, your eyes can’t help but well up in tears, threatening to fall and wet your cheeks.

you suck in a harsh breath, as if it would do anything to calm the surge of emotions in your heart, “h-how can I not?”

kakucho furrows his brows, squeezing and unsqueezing his fist, watching the blood on his knuckles ooze out from the deep cuts. It doesn’t hurt him anymore, he thinks nothing could at this point. If you break a finger, you can heal it, if you break a leg, you can heal that too, if you get shot, chances are you will survive.

he throws his entire body in fights with no regard to his physical health — he knows the consequences wouldn’t hurt him much anyway.

but you?

It hurts you to see him like this. It hurts you more than it hurts him. the type of hurt that can’t just heal overnight. the type of hurt that will bleed over and over no matter how many times it's healed and scarred over. and he thinks he could never get over the look of pure agony in your eyes at first glance – which is why he sits here, in this dark room, with you by his side aiding his wounds and his eyes glued to the floor, trying to tell you that he’s not worth your tears or your worry.

he can’t meet your eyes.

he feels a warm palm against his cheek, a little wet from what he assumes are your tears.

“please, just look at me,” you voice breaks. at this point the lump in his throat feels like he’s swallowed an entire rock. he doesn’t dare say another word, but he complies, moving his head to the side to look at your achingly beautiful face.

his heart squeezes in his chest. it hurts him to see you like this — more than you’d ever know. he doesn’t know how to handle being genuinely cared for, being loved, but you? you’ve loved him like it was breathing. you’ve cared for him like it was second nature.

and he doesn’t know how to handle it, how could he? when he’s been raised with no parents, no siblings, no family and no friends and no one to look after him, even after izana died. If anything, the guilt he feels inside him could consume him. he doesn’t deserve you. and you shouldn’t be here, staying up late at night, just so you could patch him up.

It's always fight after fight, after fight.

and it’s all the same. and you’re always there. as stubborn as you are, nothing he says to you will get you to leave him. and he just can’t understand why you’re still here.

“i… don’t want you to cry.” he manages, “you don’t deserve this. you deserve so much better.”

—than what I'm giving, he wants to say. but the words never make it across to you.

you stroke his bruised cheek so softly, so calmly, he thinks he could stay here with you forever. just savoring the way your fingertips leak love into his damaged skin. and sometimes, he thinks it’s a problem. that you have too much love. so much that it overflows inside you and seeps from your soft fingers.

and he soaks it up as if he can never get enough of it — enough of you. there’s love in everything you do, and he finds himself being swept up with the way you leave your love everywhere you go. when you touch him, he can feel it deep within his soul. like the damage inside him can only be ever healed by you, like you’re the only remedy to the deep cuts he has inside him.

“I'm here because I love you.” you whisper. “there’s no ‘better’, kaku. there’s only you.”

you set the kit down on the coffee table, and make your way back to him, now holding his face in both your palms so you could look straight at him.

“I don't want anyone else, but you.”

he feels a thick thump in his throat, blocking and sealing it shut so that he doesn’t dare speak. no matter how much he swallows down the guilt and pain, it resurfaces ten times stronger. tilting his head, he leans into your touch and closes his eyes, savoring the way you hold him like delicate glass.

“i don’t understand why you’re doing this…” he says, voice sullen. “you keep hurting yourself by being here and…. i keep hurting you.”

the atmosphere surrounding you both is soft, melancholy; but you don’t comment about it. he feels you breathe in, sniffing back your tears and trying yourself to keep yourself together before your tears start to fall once more.

“well you’re not trying to hurt me, are you?”

he snaps his head up, furrowing his brows, “i, no, of course not, i would nev-“

“kakucho,” you say, wiping your eyes with a little smile on your lips, “i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again,”

he watches as you move while you speak, settling over his thighs and on his lap, the little skirt you wear rides up and he quickly pins his gaze back to you.

“i’m here because i want to be here.” you whisper, still cradling his face in your hands. “you don’t have to do this alone... let me carry your pain with you.”

he looks up at you like a lost puppy, and then hurriedly buries his face into your chest to hide the watering of his eyes. his heart burns in his chest, and he has no idea what to do with himself anymore. he thanks the gods above for the blessing that is you, for he doesn’t know what he’s ever done in his life to earn something as gentle and caring as you are.

“i don’ know what i did t’deserve you.” he speaks, but the words are muffled by your shirt. “a fuckin’ angel on earth, god.”

you giggle, sniffing away the last of your tears. you hold him like this, for who knows how long. just stroking the back of his head and letting him rest against your chest. you feel his strong arms wrap around you like a cage, like he wants to keep you safe from all the evil and harm in the world. he pins you to him and you let him, just sitting in silence and finding comfort in each others hold.

the two of you don’t speak for a while. just soaking in the warmth of each other, and you feel him tilt his head up so he can breathe deep into the crook of your neck, skimming his nose over the soft skin like a prized cat showering their owner in love.

“kaku,” you whisper, lifting his face with two fingers.

“yes, baby?” he hums, a deep sound resonating within, looking up at you with half lidded eyes. you lean closer to him, nudging the tip of his nose with yours and massaging the firm muscles of his shoulders.

you plant one, two, three soft kisses on his lips. another on the dark bruise forming over his cheekbone, one more on his eyebrow, and lastly one on his forehead like it would heal the open wound.

you giggle, “you look like you’re enjoying this too much.”

he smiles and his eyes fall shut, “‘cant get enough.”

“yeah?” you kiss him once more on the lips, this time deeper and with more passion, “good thing we have all night.”

he groans into your mouth, chasing your sweet lips every time you pull away. you loop your arms around his neck while he grips your behind to yank you even closer to him, letting his thighs spread apart further.

and he really means it when he says he can’t get enough, greedily sucking your lower lip and swiping his tongue over it. one hand comes up to hold you softly by the jaw, a small command, yet leaves you lightheaded at the fact that he always craves control with you.

moving his thumb to your chin, he lightly pulls down so your plush lips drop open, giving his tongue better access to tangle with yours. his other arm is rooted in place, wrapped around you so he could keep you near him at all times.

“fuck,” he groans, “you drive me insane.”

the ache in your core is undeniable, and you feel him just as needy as you are with the tent forming in his pants. it’s all too much — your whimpers are swallowed up by his mouth, all while his hips cant up into yours. if he pushes up just a little more, with a little more force, and grips you a tiny bit harder you think you’ll—

“god, get a fucking room.”

you pull away from him with a gasp, slapping a hand over your mouth.

“what the fuck are you —“

“you didn’t hear the door open, dumbass,” ran rolls his eyes, “too busy sucking face.”

kakucho lowers you down on the couch next to him and stands up, anger building behind his eyes. “who the fuck said you could come in?”

“i told you i was coming,”

“a-and you don’t knock?!” you pipe up, heat crawling up your face all the way to your ears.

ran pushes the door fully open and walks in like he owns the damn place. “sorry, sweetheart. didn’t know you were here,” he winks at you.

“yeah? well she is. you can leave now, by the way. don’t forget to close the door on your way out, too.”

you hide your embarrassed smile behind your hand, seeing that the older haitani scans your form up and down with a smirk on his face gets your boyfriend heated like nothing else. they always manage to get on his nerves, especially when it comes to you.

“alright, alright! i’m leaving, damn,” ran says as soon as kakucho starts to push him out of the room, “you treat your guests like shit, kakucho.”

“when they barge in like you.”

ran stops right at the door to peek his head in one last time, “you enjoy your night, darling.”

his words have you looking away in embarrassment, finding the double-meaning behind his words. you hide your face in your hands.

“we will. now get out.”

[bardic-tales]

Sephiroth xReader: A brief respite

So, I have been either laid up in bed or on my computer watching cat videos and the like since I have been diagnosis with RSV days ago. Last night was the first day I felt well-enough to interact with anyone, but being stuck in bed is boring. So, I wrote this.

Please excuse any typos or tense changes, as my temp was like 101.8F when I wrote this: from a fevered dream I had and a scribbled note on it in my dream journal. Setting is some time during SOLDIER. Reader (who is me lol) is his love interest and sick as a dog. But it can work for anyone. I try to leave it genderless and raceless so everyone who is or might be sick can feel some sense of comfort. If you ignore the mention of my actual illness in the first paragraph, I am sure it could work with a cold or flu?

Rated: General. There are mentions of illness

Pairing: Sephiroth x genderless reader

The faint glow of the bedside lamp illuminates the room, casting soft shadows across the wall and resembled monsters with endless wings. You lie there: bored and sore. Your chest is tight and throat raw. Your breath comes in shallow, labored wheezes. The oppressive weight of RSV - Respiratory Syncytial Virus - lingers in your lungs and every movement feels like a monumental effort.

Sephiroth sits nearby in a simple wooden chair. His long silvery-grey hair cascades over his shoulders and down his back, pooling off the furniture. The dim light catches the metallic sheen of his pauldrons, and the faint reflection of green materia - healing materia - glimmers on his belt. His bright cyan eyes are focused entirely on you. Their cat-like pupils narrowed slightly with concern and a bit of frustration.

You have refused to let him heal you with his magic: or even take the edge of the pain. You view it as abnormal and wanted a more natural way of healing. So, you lay there. Sweat covered your body in a fine sheen.

"You need to drink more water," he says. His voice is calm and steady with the usual softness that he used with those he cared about. He reached out, offering you a cool glass of water.

You nod -- a weak nod as the simple act of sipping is exhausting -- but it was a nod, non-the-less. He watches you closely, your silent sentinel. The professional he's known for in SOLDIER is tempered here by something more tender, and dare you think more personal.

"I made something for you while you were asleep," Sephiroth says after a moment. He stands. His coat flows behind him as he crosses the small space to the table under the window. When he returns, he's holding a steaming bowl.

Pumpkin soup.

The rich orange color is inviting. As the aroma wafts towards you. It was comforting and familiar. He never really explains to you the reason he loved this type of soup. He only mentions that it had something to do with his mother, but you are always so curious of him and never press him beyond that.

Sephiroth's expression remains stoic, but you know him well enough to see the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes: a desire to help ease your symptoms. He kneels beside the bed, cradling the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"It's too thick," you rasp, managing a faint smile as your back ached from the movement. Coughing created tight, painful bands of agony across the middle of your back. Each movement felt like your back was on fire.

For a moment, he looks almost sheepish and boyish -- a rare sight, indeed. "I can thin it out," he says. This time his voice is quiet and resolute. But instead of leaving immediately, he sets the bowl aside and reaches out. His fingers brushed against your cheek.

"You're warm," he continues. His hand lingers for a moment before he stands, returning to the kitchen area to adjust the soup.

As he works, you watch him: the strong lines of his back, the fluidity of his movements. It's hard to reconcile the man in front of you with the stories you heard of his exploits in SOLDIER. He's so much more than warrior and the Living Legend the world sees. To you, he's Sephiroth: the man who makes pumpkin soup when you're sick, the man who sits by your bedside, refusing missions that his other 1st comrades are going on, and will not leave until you are feeling better.

When he returns, the soup is thinner and more manageable. He offers a spoonful. Even here, his movements careful and precise. You take a small sip, the warmth spreading through you and your system like a comfortable embrace.

"It's good," you whisper. However, you can barely manage more than a taste.

He doesn't respond immediately, but you could see a subtle shift in his expression: a flicker of relief. He sets the bowl aside again. this time, he is content to just sit by your side.

As the night wore on, your breathing remains strained, but Sephiroth is a constant presence. He reads quietly from a book, the soft timbre of his voice soothing, even if you are too tired to catch all of the words. Every so often, he reaches out to adjust your blanket -- a silver and black blanket with the Shinra emblem stitched in the corner -- or offer you a drink of the cool water.

Eventually, he stands. You hear the soft clink of his pauldrons as he removes them, setting them on the nearby dresser. Opening your eyes slightly, you see him standing there with his long coat brushing the floor as he slips out of it and drapes it over the back of the chair. He is left standing in his black trousers, the leather pad with the Shinra emblem over his stomach, and, of course, the crossed suspenders over his chest.

Sephiroth climbs into bed beside you, careful not to jostle you too much. His arms encircles you gently, pulling you against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear is a balm against the fever ravaging your body and the discomfort that still lingers.

"You'll feel better soon," he murmurs. His breath stirs tiny wisps of your hair. "I'll make sure of it."

His warmth surrounds you: a steady and unyielding presence against the disease that threatens you. You let yourself relax into the safety of his embrace. Despite the heaviness in your lungs, you feel a small spark of comfort being with this man, knowing that no matter how difficult the night becomes, Sephiroth will be there, holding you close until the morning light.

[titsthedamnseason]

Why are u a Charlie hater? Perhaps I just sympathise with him too much but I really feel as though it takes a certain type of person to get him yk?

Also this isn't me hating on your opinion or anything bc obv it's yours I just like to know details, also lmk if you're ever down to talk more in depth about the series?

i’m not a charlie hater 🤷‍♀️ i’m sure i have used that phrase before but i definitely mean it more like im giving off negative vibes / opinions as in im being a hater but not that i hate charlie. sorry if that makes no sense im insane. what i mean is that yes i guess im a charlie hater but that does not mean i hate charlie or dont like anything about his character or think he’s entirely irredeemable.

also, please talk to me about this series literally ANY time! it’s basically my full time job outside of my actual full time job. there is nothing i enjoy more 🥰 literally any time, any topic i am here for the in depth conversations. you just lmk and im there (also this is making me want to reread the entire like us series which is unfortunate because i am NOT supposed to do that this year)

i just relate to connor a lot more as a character and i don’t get really what there is to sympathize with charlie over. i only bring up connor because everyone is so determined to make charlie out to be another “version” of connor but they are so different to me. kbr paint charlie as SOOOOOO TORTURED but it’s like dude be for real you have a great life. and whatever mental issues he’s battling that sucks…but i do NOT sympathize with his treatment of the people around him especially his family

making disparaging comments about lily and lo’s addictions TO THE PUBLIC, calling them weak to their children, literally EVERYTHING he has EVER said to sulli (which i’ll admit is sometimes super funny but still MEAN AS HELL)…..these things can’t be excused. we don’t really know a lot about his inner workings which is why i’m excited to get into his head but i doubt anything could justify his general behavior towards the people around him. everyone has problems, no one else is a massive dick and uses the fact that they are too smart (????) that it makes their life agony to justify it

get real. charlie is a LOSERRRRRR who has no capacity for managing his feelings despite the infinite resources he could utilize to learn how to do so

also i’m cranky as hell today if it isn’t obvious but when you said “it takes a certain type of person to get him yk” i didn’t like your tone! i mean that lightheartedly 🫶🏻 i promise and i would be very interested in hearing why you DO like charlie and what you find sympathetic about his character and what i am apparently lacking in that makes me unable to do so…

before i close this out i just remembered something else that really bothers me about him is the way he has always treated moffy. you can be sympathetic to his feelings about that whole situation and their dynamic but i find it VERY hard to sympathize with his response. he is immature as hell and never once actually tried to talk to moffy or explain his frustrations and he used moffy as a sounding board for his negative feelings about SO MANY aspects of the world it wasn’t fair at all. it’s sort of the same with his behavior towards sulli like we all have family members we don’t like or problems with people but they aren’t supposed to KNOW that…how come everyone else in the world learns this lesson from childhood but charlie gets a free pass to be rude just because he’s charlie?

and again, it’s annoying because i really do think charlie is often quite funny (like when he threw that book at maximoff’s head? and farrow got so mad because moffy hadn’t slept in days? that was objectively TERRIBLE but his determination to be a menace just HAS to make you laugh i’m so sorry maximoff you did not deserve that king 💚)

[orkbutch]

Okay! time to add my accompanying essays with each image from this set of work about why I assigned which types of play to each set of characters, and how Baldur's Gate III supports these in the text of the game. Because I thought about all of this way too much im not joking

First, Context:

All of these are drawings of consensual play happening between these characters after they have put aside any active conflicts between each other. Nonetheless, they utilise the dynamics and emotional conflicts of these characters. Each of these characters are in some way violent people, deeply stressed out by their circumstances, and craving pleasure and connection. Sometimes you need a little pinch and squeal before the end of the world just to get through the night, you know?

Knife play; Shadowheart (D) / Lae'zel (S)

This is definitely the best supported concept in the text of the game because we literally see this happen, though in a significantly different context. I'd say most of us thought it was hot, whether we realised it or not, and I think Shadowheart and Lae'zel probably agreed once they weren't worried about dying! I think its the perfect encapsulation of the tension between SH and LZ both early on and as it resolves. It also expresses both their personalities very succinctly and accurately. SH is absolutely an edgy, paranoid goth, and LZ would love the thrill.

For all the early game SH sees LZ as ruthless and dangerous to her, and resents Gith for the death of her peers. LZ is a threat she wants to neutralize or at least control. At the same time, SH is someone who prefers to avoid conflict and subtly occupy power/advantage in most situations she finds herself in. She has little concern for honour, pride or fairness.

Lae'zel absolutely does. She is a very straight forward and efficient person. For her, SH starts as an inconveniently racist coworker, but at the reveal of the artifact SH becomes more than that; not only has she insulted LZ's people, she's revealed herself to be untrustworthy, very willing to lie and play dirty. Not only does SH seem to hate her, but SH has rules and intentions that are entirely unknown to LZ, and that is obviously frightening.

AND SO I JUST THINK... that potent history would be very hot background for fear based play, which knife play is all about. The heart-racing threat of the point of a dangerous object held at your most tender areas - throats, armpits, mouths, bellies... and the depth of trust and submission to let that occur, to sit in the fear and really enjoy the rush of danger and helplessness, knowing you will be safe. It shows a profound growth in their regard for eachother, a true and total overcoming of old resentments and conflicts.

This is not only a position I think SH would relish - to reduce someone as deadly as LZ to being at her mercy, and to feel deeply trusted with someone's life and pleasure - but also a rare delight for LZ. To take the heart-thumping threat of a battlefield, which she absolutely thrives in, and to toy with and explore that mental space. To be truly stripped back and placed in anothers hands. For that to be an enemy who has become someone she feels so completely safe with.

Beneath this I think there is also a thread of empathy and shared idiosyncratic communication between them. They were both cruelly broken into roles that made it difficult for them to connect to others. Violence is a language both of them understand very well, in different ways, and even after they each turn on their cruel masters, violence retains meaning for them.

For SH, violence is to be enacted and more often endured as a sign of devotion. It's something that carries wisdom, the agony of lessons learned and knowledge that is uncomfortable but ultimately good for you. I don't think this is something she decides is wrong. I think what disillusioned her (beyond the betrayal of being lied to) was how Shar was revealed to have misused her pain. Shar's pain was not a gift, it had no loving measure or purpose. It was a spiteful, excessive control tactic.

I like to imagine SH learning a new way to use her affinity with pain, which I think is a very normal affinity for people to have. To learn how to use pain the way she had wanted it to be used and had come to admire. To make pain bespoke from Shar, her own gift to give and recieve on her own terms.

For LZ, violence is to be mastered for survival and superiority. Pain was only endured to prove you could endure it better than others. Violence is a hammer in a world where all beings are nails, except you and the few other hammers. All else was forsaken for this mastery. Even in sex violence and superiority are key. Vulnerability is terrifying, to make yourself a nail made to be driven by hammers who are certain of their purpose.

What else could be a greater liberating thrill, a more profound sign of trust for LZ? Willing submission to the violence of another. Those she comes to truly love become the source of her bruises. In submission to violence LZ embraces true vulnerability, untethered by tradition, opening herself to another person and trusting them to handle her with care.

In conclusion: These bitches love knife play, it gets them super hot and they feel rly connected after and share wine and cheese and maybe a massage if they have energy as aftercare. LZ will be cuddled but only if SH doesn't ask and just does it. LZ always makes sure to tell SH she admires her skill and had fun. Its very sweet

[eldritch-spouse]

Any Dusknoir related thoughts?

Fucking love em my favorite Pokémon

[Eyyy, they're probably my favorite too right now.]

I mean, if you've seen my Twitter then you know I have some "thoughts" on Dusknoir, lmao. A somewhat more anthro Dusknoir, but still.

And they're not related to Mystery Dungeon, because I don't think I've ever played those games for more than two seconds before getting bored.

I just really enjoy the thought of a dusknoir getting the hots for you and sort of demanding to become a part of your life.

Let me ramble, I guess...

Maybe you're swallowed into that huge hot mouth and you think it's the end, you're pretty sure he's going to eat your soul and spit your corpse out like a piece of food stuck between someone's teeth- But no, he just had to put you in his mouth because the cuteness aggression he was struck with at the sight of you was irresistible!

You're spat out gross and definitely half-molested by a lewd and very interested tongue, but you still have your soul.

And he's just staring at you, beside himself with infatuation...

Everyone else looks at this dusknoir and they see the most stone-faced, intimidating pokemon out there, but that's not at all what you specifically are greeted with.

Your entire team can see the way he changes like a light switch, and they try to warn you in their own ways that you're in danger, but all their attempts are thwarted when a certain ghost type keeps looming around, shooting them pointed stares that gaze straight to the soul.

One day you might just find one of them lying soulless on the ground, misery and agony etched on their face.

Dusknoir thinks he's being very patient with you, not insisting when you push him away, when you hold his tongue at bay, tell him to tone down the affection in public, weasel away as soon as he gently tries to corall you into your bedroom -Because that's where humans do their mating, right?- But even he has his limits.

Trying to plant suggestions in your mind isn't enough, being the most powerful pokemon at your disposal isn't enough, getting rid of the useless teammates that try to meddle isn't enough-

What is he supposed to do when you keep rejecting him?

The second time he stuffs you into his mouth, he knows exactly what he' doing, it very much wasn't an impulse, it was pre-mediated and guilty. But he couldn't take it anymore and the opportunity reared its ugly head at just the right moment.

He's making the most out of it.

Licking you from top to bottom, weaseling his tongue absolutely everywhere, tasting the sweat on your skin, the tears running down your face, your saliva, the peaks of your tits and the slick of your cunt. It'd be easier to list the spots he isn't running his tongue over...

All the while, one big hand holds his mouth securely closed, the other coils around his cock and pumps hard enough to make him see stars.

He doesn't think about how you'll react or how wrong what he's doing is. Dusknoir only thinks about how heavenly you feel inside him and focuses on what'll probably be the most intense orgasm of his life.

[sankakuto]

I have a lot of thoughts about the first Pyramid Head cutscene (in remake and OG) and I feel like I need to get them out. bare with me.

I'm going to be talking about the first Pyramid Head cutscene and whether or not it is implying SA so heres a TW for discussion of SA

I am a die-hard OG fan, and have been for a decade. I have been in this discussion for so long, and I feel like my take on this might be the less popular take for some reason? but honestly I believe that a player's individual interpretation of the scene is the one that is the most true. in the most simple words - if you see the scene as being s*xual or implying s*xual violence, then that is valid and is just how youve analyzed the scene based on the context you've been given or the life experience you have.

I KNOW Masahiro Ito has said that the scene involves nothing like that, no assault, just Pyramid Head trying to kill some mannequins... but is the creator's canon events of the scene really that important when as a player we see a sexualized monster being brutalized by a bigger, more imposing monster and are made to feel like we're a voyeur to something we shouldn't be watching?

and that feeling has to be entirely intentional as well, considering the scene is actually inspired by a movie called Blue Velvet (directed by David Lynch). the scene in the movie involves the character hiding in a closet while watching someone be SA'd, watching through the gaps in the door. and at the end of the movie, even shoots the perpetrator from the same spot in the closet. the cutscene in the game is a direct reference to this movie, and after watching the movie I can say it has some other influences on the game as well.

but even that is almost completely irrelevant, because as a first time player that doesn't have any context about the inspirations behind the game, and doesn't know about the things that the devs have stated are canon or not, we see something that is raw and uncomfortable and invokes a feeling of disgust. we are not given any other context besides what's directly in front of us. we see a creature that is all legs writhing in pain or agony in front of a thrusting Pyramid Head, who is desperately trying to hold the mannequin in place. and as we view this scene and hide, the Red Pyramid Thing turns his focus to us, and makes James feel like he has intruded upon something he wasn't supposed to see. there is a voyeuristic quality to the scene that adds to the feeling of unease and gives us this idea that something s*xual in nature has happened.

I think that video games are art, especially games like this, and an artist can definitely have a clear or direct implication of the message they are sending (and they can even tell you how it's supposed to be viewed), but ultimately the person consuming the art is going to analyze themes in their own way and find their own interpretation of the idea presented to them. in some way some might consider this type of interpretation to be "headcanon" because the actual canon of the game differs based on Ito's statements, but in my own opinion I do believe this sort of interpretation is just the player coming to a natural conclusion based on the context presented to them.

in other words, I think that it's completely fair to take Masahiro Ito at face value and trust his input that the scene is NOT at all s*xual, but at the same time it is presented in a way that can imply that it is and someone drawing that conclusion instead is also completely valid.

[void-chara]

@mcytblrholidayexchange gift for @irrealisms !! you had lots of prompt ideas for writing, but not for art, so i hope you're happy with eclipse federation misery and agony compilation, plus song lyrics

lyric credits: Temporary - Chase Petra / Stranger - The Mechanisms / Easier - The Crane Wives (appears four times) / Two Birds - Regina Spektor / Little Soldiers - The Crane Wives (appears twice) / Heretic Pride - The Mountain Goats

feel free to ask if you want me to adjust some text to make it more readable or something, i think it looks fine but i know different peoples eyes and devices are different, and if i had more time i would definitely have spent more time messing with the colors on everything

speaking. of time. im really sorry i took so long ._. i kind of suck at estimating how long projects will take and how much time i have. thanks for being so patient!!

oh, also, some lyrics and drawings have story reasons for being grouped together, and some went where they looked good. uh. ideally id make sure everything had reason for its location, but this is one area where i did correctly estimate my time, instead of getting stuck in the planning phase.

also in the process of typing all this ive already gone back twice to change stuff in the images and re-add them to the post lol

OH also!! the part where vitalasy jumps off to his death! is as far as i can tell NOT canon accurate!! all the footage shows him jumping off the prison, since thats where he respawns. i didnt think to check this until after id already drawn most of the stuff, and already had the prison drawn, and i didnt want to reorganize the drawing. im telling myself that we only see a few of the later deaths and so theoretically the first one could have been jumping off a grassy ledge somewhere but its still bothering me and i needed to mention it.

anyway yeah really hope you like it i tried some new stuff with this one im not sure how well it turned out and thanks again for being so patient!!

EDITING TO ADD SOME MORE WORDS!!! i love talking about my art! so first, all the text on signs and stuff i did go back and look at videos and vods to make sure was entirely accurate, and i wrote all the words entirely by myself. for the lyrics and other text(death message and DELIVERANCE), i used a text tool first to make sure the words would be neat and where i needed them, and then traced over that on a new layer and deleted the original text layer. my handwritting fucking sucks always no matter what, this was a very necessary step. also! this is officially the first thing i have drawn entirely on my phone, rather than on my ipad like i used to do! also i dont use a stylus of any type i just draw with my finger lol.

[dozing-marshmallow]

could i maybe request some yandere!chris mclean headcanons if thats alright with you? (bonus points if its with a reader that lowkey fears him)

ps love ur work, you're one of the very small amount of people that write for my man chris

Helloo, and of course it’s alright!! Thank you for the request, I hope these headcanons below are good enough, and aw thank you, I appreciate that! 💗 (Don’t worry, I plan on posting Chris McLean content for a long time ;).) YANDERE!CHRIS MCLEAN HEADCANONS 

Chris didn’t know what to do. He had never cared so much about another living person before.

But here he was, hiring a private investigator to find out everything he could about you.

For someone who was meant to be his personal assistant, you noticed he was way too proud to showcase you to the public and showered you with more gifts than you had received your entire childhood.

Because of this uncontrollable hearts for eyes he had for you, he had an internal conflict pulling him from both sides of his head. Should he use you as a punching bag for laughs or should he reserve your body as its natural state?

Nahh he already had those moronic teenagers to feed his sadism- Alright, but imagine how good it’ll feel to see you cry...and hear your pleads...for him to stop...

Such that human life was too cheap for him.

Don’t worry, Chris isn’t the type of yandere to tie you down in a dark basement whenever he has to leave for extended periods: instead, he was more than happy to still have you on the show, as long as you played along for the cameras. Now that you knew the full truth behind his continuous gift showering and sweeter treatment, hearing him hide the lovesickness in his voice everyday to the others made you nauseous.

Another day of agony led you to his same heavenly bed.

Nothing was as enjoyable as it used to be.

At least the guy was loyal- he gave up on attending parties and social events, unless he arranged his own with you, and was immune to alternative admiration.

That doesn’t mean it got better. Occasionally, Chris appears to have let his darker conscience win, seeing how he would stick his saliva into your wounds with his tongue where your warm blood cried, or caught it to use as an ingredient for his coffee.

One day, he must have wondered what it’d look like for the roles to be reversed, openly admitting it as you drank your hot chocolate that he had mixed some of his blood in it so that “you could always have a piece of me inside of you.”

“How...can you give me something with your blood in it to drink!?” You spluttered horrified, wiping your mouth.

For a second, it’s like he gained a realising glimpse at what he’s done, but then happily turns it into a milestone,“Haha okay, I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t think about how messed up that was until I heard you say it. Soooo, I might be a bit of a masochist? Whoo! Love really does teach you things you never knew about yourself, doesn’t it, my love, (Y/N)? I love that name, by the way. (Y/N). It suits you reaaaaaaally well!”

Yeah and thanks to him, you grew to hate it.

It spirals to the sickening point where Chris didn’t even want anyone else to look at you, whether it was from the screen or in person. How did he ensure this? Simple. You were going to make one final appearance on Total Drama to bid your departure from show business so nobody would suspect your absence in future episodes.

Well, it worked. So authentic that no one thought of anything more when you started sobbing right there and then or how Chris came to escort you away.

Albeit your friends and family weren’t deceived for long when they never heard from you again.

And it’s going to stay that way, for Chris paid the police department situated in Ontario to ignore, close, reject all reports filed in your name. He may as well have removed your citizenship.

The frightening power of the bourgeoisie.

Now you were truly prohibited from leaving his grounds.

“Why the long face, (Y/N)? Aren’t you happy?”

“No...” You tremble,“I... I want to go home...so badly.”

“Home?” He twirls you around, hands gripped on your shoulders in true puzzlement,“This is your home.”

“No, it’s...not. I...don’t belong here... You scare me.”

“Huh? Me? Scare you? (Y/N), whatever do you mean? Everything I’ve been doing so far...is for you! Now that we don’t have to worry about the police, it’s way easier for us to be together in peace! See how thoughtful I am, (Y/N)? No need to thank me.”

“Chris I’m sorry, but...” you wince, knowing such bold answer may trigger a dangerous reaction,“I can’t...reciprocate. See, I didn’t know th...there was something else you wanted from me other than me working for you... I...think you’d be better off spending your time and love on someone else.”

“Oh (Y/N),” he chuckles darkly, sprinkling your disbelieved face with kisses,“It’s all these well meaning, pure hearted things you say that has me falling more and more in love with you... I’m not worried you don’t feel the same. In fact, I honestly couldn’t care less. As long as I can hear you breathe...”

He could hear it alright. Just the same in his sleep... Perfect.

[princelylove]

Part two of my interpretations of la squadra esecuzioni. 

Ghiaccio is like a smaller Risotto. He doesn’t have a very distinct waist. He’s so picky with his food that it’s a wonder he even got that much distinct muscle- or maybe it isn’t, cutting is effective (in moderation, starving will only set you back on your progress). He mainly works out for his job, Ghiaccio doesn’t really care what he looks like. 

He has a strong nose, and although his lips are small they aren’t quite in the thin category, he has really nice bone structure… He just doesn’t realize it because he’s horribly insecure and feels inferior. He copes by not trying, so he can always rely on the ‘Well if I actually tried it’d be better’ type of logic. Once a year Prosciutto gets to wax his eyebrows. 

Not only does he know what mogging is but he knows where it originated. Because he was there. I’m dying on the hill that Ghiaccio knows what green text is. He’s appealed countless bans that all sounded like “I’ve never even fucking been on /mu/ you stupid fucks” (that all got approved the night of). He fills his mind with toxic masculinity, but isn’t into alpha male bullshit. Somehow he thinks hunter eyes are a thing but he draws the line at “smooth brained jock bullshit.” 

I cap Ghiaccio’s height at 5’9” or 175 cm. 5’10” or 177 cm with his shoes on. He’s got fantastic posture for someone that sits at a computer all day. Ghiaccio’s sensitive about it, teasing him about his height is a death sentence. What a good way to end up in a freezer. 

While he has a horrible temper, he cools off the second he gets it out of his system. Just moves on after smacking the shit out of his designated rage pillow like nothing happened. At least he’s coping. Not well, but an outlet is an outlet. It’s the same when you piss him off- he gets upset, says things he doesn’t mean, and then moves on. He apologizes like a father would- none at all, but brings you a snack or buys you something you’ve been asking for. He’s a big fan of the “Check if there’s mail.” approach. He genuinely does feel bad, but he’s not a little bitch that’s gonna tuck his tail in between his legs because he made his darling a little sad. 

He smells like absolutely nothing at all. It’s actually a bit frightening. Zero smell presence. 

Melone keeps every medicine known to mankind in his room, under his bed. He’s a great person to befriend if you find yourself in the hands of one of his roommates, but to be entirely honest with you, he’s selfish. He doesn’t really care about your agony because it’s got nothing to do with him, how does it benefit him to give you meds when he doesn’t even know you? (He budges if you belong to Prosciutto or Ris- he’s not pissing off his pseudo mom and dad.)

Melone is thin and mainly gets his exercise from running. His stand takes care of hits for him, he just needs to worry about the set up, so it isn’t really an issue. There’s no need for him to lift heavy, or really lift at all. Doesn’t really matter if he’s stronger, he just needs to be faster than you are. Sure, bash his head in, pick him up, aren’t you getting tired, though? Real sleepy? Go to sleep, it’s gonna be ok. 

Mel’s stand is possessing an actual computer he modified. He runs tests consistently with the blood samples he’s managed to store in his room- he knows the best combinations to get him what the boss wants, and as long as he’s got ample blood left over, what’s wrong with killing a few juniors off in the name of science? 

I classify Melone as apathetic and a bit mean. He’s an asshole. He gets a lot better once he’s comfortable with you, look at how much he plays with the rest of his ‘family.’ It’s just that he doesn’t know you, and doesn’t want to waste time on you if you’re going to get in his way long term. When you do spark his interest, of course, he gets obsessed and oh-so-curious. 

He’s still very playful- Melone likes to hang off of Formaggio’s shoulders and tease Ghiaccio, but he’s calm. He’s not very smiley, he’s not very giggly, he just can’t force himself to react in the ‘correct’ way most of the time, but he’s totally having fun! Melone loves you a lot, he just doesn’t look like he’s having fun most of the time. It’s hard for him to care about things, but you quickly rotted his brain- isn’t that testament enough? 

His seemingly cold nature makes it hard for him to form genuine bonds. Melone thrives with other difficult types- he shares a room with Ghiaccio (alternatively Formaggio) because they’re short on space and Prosciutto won’t share a room since The Incident they get along surprisingly well. 

In the beginning of your new life, it isn’t uncommon to hear Formaggio gently push Melone in the right direction. “Come on, Mel, you’re scarin’ the poor thing. Smile a little.”  (Which is normally met with “I’m running tests, go away, Formaggiooo…”) Melone’s shy- he’ll just stay off to the side, and speaks to you in a very formal manner. You might feel like you’re being tested on by a medical student. Which is wrong! Melone doesn’t have any medical experience! I mean, he’s taken classes, but he’s a genetics student. Oh, yeah, he’s in university. 

Once he gets used to you, he falls into his normal, playful routine. He still doesn’t smile too much, but he’ll speak more openly, which… is it better to not know what the iv in your arm is, or to fully understand? Melone’s quite the talker, and is happy to (over) explain. 

Melone doesn’t hide you like the others would- it isn’t shameful to him to kidnap a whole person, and he needs them to keep you here when he isn’t. Morals aside, you need to be socialized. It isn’t good to keep someone isolated and cramped in a room they don’t like. If you don’t want to talk to him, talk to anyone else. You’ve got options. Maybe not Prosciutto, or Illuso, they’re not going to play host as easily… (Although Prosciutto might ask what Melone’s “little friend” is gonna be having for dinner)

Formaggio’s body type is similar to Guido’s. He’s fairly bulky. Formaggio spends all of his free time playing whatever sport he can think of, neglecting to do his chores (You’re starting to think he likes Prosciutto yelling at him), annoying Melone, and blowing your phone up. He spends a lot of time working out, but he considers that to be more of a daily ritual than a hobby. 

Since his only real responsibility is taking care of his cat and his job, he’s not stressed at all. He’d be a lot more stressed if he had to cook, and clean, and, I don’t fucking know, be an adult or whatever- like the shit Pro and Ris do all day!

If you ever ask him about it, he’ll go “I mean, it sucks that Boss is watching us and all, but to be honest, who cares? You don’t like being on camera? It loooves you.” and leaves it at that. 

His psychology is a bit odd. He seems like a typical, immature guy- the type of guy you meet at college that does sports and seemingly nothing else. No interest in philosophy, religion, general culture, etc. While I think that his personality is close to a casual type like Guido or Squalo, he seemingly lacks any depth at all. There’s no “Oh, he’s actually very smart!” thing going on here, Formaggio is painfully average. There’s no reason for him to be a mafioso other than bad timing and a lack of drive to get away from it.

He’s actually pretty simple. He’s just a guy that wants to relax and have a little fun- who doesn’t like fun? But Formaggio is crazy insecure. He takes almost every negative reaction as a jab- neutral ones, too. If you’re not into his lifestyle, what, he isn’t fuckin’ good enough? Huh? You think he’s some fuckin’ nobody that doesn’t have the real talent it takes to be where he is? 

You can calm Formaggio by stroking his ego, and by that, I mean stroking him. He’ll forget about any transgression if he finishes a few times. 

He only speaks italian, and will “Huh?” you to death if you do not. He’ll buy you an italian-english dictionary to help you understand him, but won’t make any real effort to learn english.  

Formaggio’s kitty was a stray before he snatched her up. She’ll try to comfort you while Formaggio is gone- but she’ll abandon you if he comes back. Little traitor. He calls her a ridiculous amount of pet names- sometimes he’ll reuse whatever name he calls you on her, and will pretend he’s always called her it. Awww, my little pwincess, my cuuuutie, my baby, my angeelllll. He treats her very well- she’s a bit pampered.  While Formaggio’s cat is able to relax fully in his arms, you probably will not, unless you’re a masochist. He loves good, old fashioned sadism- no prissy mind games or punishments, he does it for absolutely no reason other than how funny your reactions are. He’s like that asshole boyfriend that throws a basketball into your face and laughs when you groan. Come on, it’s just a ball, don’t be such a baby. It’s just a joke. Aw, your face stings? You want some ice? Hey, that’s a great idea, why don’t you go get him something from the fridge?

[thegildedbee]

Sherlock Fic Recs: Christmas Edition {2023}

❄️ Gather ~ ☃️ ☃️ ☃️ ~ 'round and 🎉 make 🎷merry🍹, all ye fic-loving fandom elves -- 'tis the season to shine a spotlight🕯️on Sherlockian Christmas fics!!! Here are some of my favorites -- I tried to pick ones that I haven't seen mentioned in recent lists that have been in my tumblr stream. Whether they're new to you, or just a reminder to re-visit faves, enjoy!!! ❄️ [In order of the year they were published.] ........................................................... 1. I'm Not His Date [2014] by objetpetita [ 17,029 words / T ] :: It all starts in a Boston coffee shop, where English professor Sherlock Holmes upends a visiting John Watson in a clever and fun "meet cute" (or "meet irritating-pompous-insufferable") in a whirlwind of Sherlockian proportions, and we're off to the races. There is a snowfight on the Common, Death Driving Miss Daisy: Lacan and Popular Culture, a Harry & Clara Christmas Eve wedding, witches, and a very boozy department party. It's as adorable as my favorite Christmas rom-com film, The Holiday. And it starts off with a corker of a first sentence: "It was morning, it was zero bloody degrees, everything around him was unfamiliar and American and cold, and John Watson was right on that inhuman precipice between still drunk and terribly hung over."

2. 5,687 (Approximately) [2015] by prettysailorsoldier [ 6,771 words / T ] :: Just a few years post-uni, Sherlock is enduring the agonies of a long-distance relationship with his boyfriend, who is on deployment in Afghanistan. During those times when John's on leave, the last people Sherlock wants to see are the idiots at the Met, so they've never caught sight of John and think he is a figment of Sherlock's imagination -- especially since he can't get home that Christmas. The set-up is sketched out with delightful fic flair, and the ending is not only sweet, but satisfyingly punitive [ c/o a very bamf John ]. The text messaging is some of my favorite writing in the Sherlock fandom -- their relationship in all of its multi-dimensionality comes through beautifully.

3. The 12 Truths of Christmas [2016] by @breath4soul [ 3,321 words / T ] :: This is a fic that has at its core the surfacing of unspoken emotional attraction betweenJohn and Sherlock via a very fun concept: “In place of some appalling or imbecilic gift inflicted upon me in the name of tradition on Christmas day, I propose that you provide me with one previously unknown fact about you for each day leading up to Christmas. 12 in total, John.” #9 has all the feels, and is a tour de force -- every time I re-read it it makes me break out in a smile, even though I know what's coming. Sherlock breaks out somewhat more: "Sherlock feels a flood of heat in several places at once. He stands up quickly and walks to his violin. He plays wild, erratic snaps of quick-paced music." The author has a whimsical and entirely understandable note to add: "You may fall in love with John reading this - I did." 4. The Romance Was There [2017] by @apliddell [ 4,011 words / G ] :: The author deserves an award for this being one of the best uses of Harry Watson in a fic, and of HW by Sherlock in a fic :-) 221B has never been cozier, Sherlock has never been more winsome, and John is a species type model of John in all of his clueless Johnness. The narrative dances along and sparkles and shines as seduction evolves, and Sherlock's rogueish charm is on full display. There's a poignant and endearing confessional letter, plus there's a Sherlock/Jeremy Brett reference that is absolute perfection in serving its role in helping the narrative quickstep the night away. 5. The Man in Aisle Ten [2020] by @blogstandbygo [ 1395 words / G ] :: Sherlock has several mysteries to unravel in the midst of Harrod's on Christmas Eve: what is the perfect gift for John? why is he having so much trouble identifying the perfect gift for John? and, incidentally, along the way to solving those, a local one. Luckily, Sherlock has Moira, master department store sleuth, to lead him to the solution. This fic is a small, perfect gift -- rather like the story's denouement --and is as witty as all of SBG's fics are. This is a veritable Peppermint Schnapps Hot Chocolate of a fic, warm, rich, sweet, delicious, tingly, and you'll find you reach the last bit much too fast, immediately requiring a refill. [ And there's a splendid podfic by @podfixx ! ]

..........................

*fic repost recruits, perhaps??? ❤️ @totallysilvergirl, @7-percent, @discordantwords, @helloliriels, @elwinglyre, @mydogwatson

[orcelito]

ok I don't think we as a fandom talk about the way Vash cries blood enough

we only see it once or twice from what I remember, the one definite time being here ^ when the puppet attack first begins & he's dealing with the emotional agony of seeing so many of his family turn into puppets.

so it's clearly something that comes out only when he's in severe emotional distress.

the interesting thing is that Wolfwood is fucking TERRIFIED of him bc of it.

whatever this moment is, Vash is giving off the same sort of oppressive energy that Wolfwood's experienced with Knives. it's the first time during their travels that he's really been forced to recognize What Vash Is. he knew it of course, saw him in Jeneora, but he's such a goofy guy it's easy to forget.

but whatever Vash is doing here, it makes Wolfwood Incredibly aware of what he is.

so the real question i think is What exactly is going on here? is it unintentional? is it simply a response to the emotional agony?

Vash isn't the type to indiscriminately terrify everyone in the vicinity on purpose. he wouldn't be doing this purposefully out of anger while Wolfwood's there. no, in this moment, he's not even angry at all. he's Distraught.

going from This

to this

in just a moment.

yeah. that's some fucking emotional agony. i dont think Vash is doing this entirely on purpose.

but THEN...

as both Leonof and Wolfwood stare at him in fear, Both feeling his oppressive energy, Vash then lets out some sort of blast that blows against everything between him and Leonof. it doesn't destroy anything, doesn't even injure him, but it's a physically tangible effect that scares the Shit out of Leonof & spurs him into motion.

there may be some anger involved in this moment, but it's not the hair-trigger rage you would expect from seeing his family turned into puppets. it's something Quiet, something almost cold. he's distraught, Resigned, & retaliating just because he has to.

Vash hates all of this. he doesn't want to fight him. he fucking Knows this guy too, knew him as a kid, & none of this makes sense. but he knows that he needs to fight him, & doesn't have any kind of choice.

but he's not happy about it. not in the slightest.