#I AM JUST THINKING AND THE HUMAN AND INHUMAN AGAIN

[lanternlightss]

today i have thought sm about my beloved oc’s mel and cerelia and i am feeling so completely normal about them (this is a lie i am so unwell)

[incendiorum]

I wish I could put you all in my head for like 5 minutes so you can absorb all of my thoughts and feelings on iovita's gender and then I could pull you back out and we could both nod and shake hands

[wachi-delectrico]

Tbh i don't know what to think of AI art anymore. I don't find any utility, personally, in centring the discussion on law and copyright; there are far more interesting things to discuss on the topic beyond its use as a replacement for human artists/workforce by the upper class

[rowarn]

shadow entity!ghost part: one | two | three

cw: angry!ghost, umm he hurts u )-:, but he feels bad so it's okay, a bit shorter than other parts

the mystery surrounding ghost was driving you insane. living with a primordial entity of unfathomable horrors was already a mindfuck but now you realized it could just...erase people from existence.

no one had asked about phillip, no one had shown up to seek you out since you were the last one to see him before he vanished. you even wandered into the bar he said he frequented -- and he seemed well known in. and...nothing. no one even brought up how he went home with you and never returned. no one asked about him.

it was unnerving. had ghost somehow pulled all memory of this one human out of the world along with its physical form? where did phillip even go? all you remember was being surrounded by the shadow and how hard it was to breathe -- and the horrible, inhuman scream before silence.

it had already confirmed that it wasn't a ghost. so what was it?

"ghost?" you called into the house as you returned from the bar, "can you come out so we can talk?"

as you stepped into the living room, you took a glance at the scorch mark on the floor before your attention was diverted to it -- a shadowy manifestation across from you.

it didn't speak, simply stood there. usually you would divert your eyes from its face because something about it unsettled you, but this time you stared right at it. shapes formed and faded before your eyes, making you wonder if you were really seeing them in the first place. eyes, sometimes two sometimes dozens. a vague, fading silhouette of a skull face. you wonder if it intentionally let you see these images or if it just was.

"i-i want to know..." you swallow thickly around the nervous lump in your throat, "is phillip dead?"

it was quiet for a moment, "not quite."

"what's that mean? where is he?" you prod, furrowing your brows as you stare at it, hoping that it can understand your pleading.

"why do you care?"

"b-because..." you sputtered, licking your dry lips, "i just...want to know."

"he's in the pits," it finally supplies, sounding almost bored.

"...of hell?" you sputter, "so you're a demon?"

"your hell is a bastardization of the pits," it explains, "where i come from is not hell. it's worse, darker. that's where i put the human."

"can you...can you bring him back..?" you whisper.

ghost's shadow flickers and it falls silent for a moment before speaking again, "i could. but you don't want that."

you can't help but think you'll regret asking but you do anyway, "...why?"

"he's not the same anymore," it explains, "it's much kinder to simply leave him in the pits."

you're not sure how to take that. it doesn't answer any of your questions. what exactly are the pits? what happens in them? what is happening to phillip down there?

"ghost..." you take a small step back and you swear you see it's head cock to the side curiously, "what are you?"

"you can consider me a demon if you wish," it responded, taking a step forward to follow you.

your heart skips a beat, "but you're not."

"no," it answers with ease.

"so tell me what you are," you demand, growing tired of these mind games it's playing with you.

"i don't think your human mind can comprehend just what i am," it says.

"try me," you challenge, already mentally slapping yourself.

"no," it responds.

your temper flares, "just tell me, damn you! what the hell are you?"

suddenly, the shadow grows in size -- as do your eyes. you watch as it takes up more space in the room, that overpowering weight on your body making you wince. it makes the room feel so heavy, makes your bones ache to the marrow.

you're not sure how you know -- despite the fact it's not saying anything; you know you've made it very angry. your eyes lock onto his shadowy form, making out the horrible, unsettling images of eyeballs inside the darkness that flicker in and out of your vision.

nausea settles like a pit in your stomach and you double over, dropping to your hands and your knees to keep yourself from throwing up. your head throbs and aches, a ringing in your ears only makes the pain worse. it feels like your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets from the overwhelming pressure growing inside your skull.

"s-stop..." you manage to choke out before you slump against the floor.

then, all at once it's gone. you gasp for air once it finally feels like there's nothing coiling around your lungs and tears trickle down your cheeks. you're not sure if you're trembling from the pain or from the fear you just experienced.

you can't bring yourself to uncurl yourself from the ball you've found yourself in on the floor.

you're acutely aware that ghost hasn't left -- in fact, you can hear it's heavy footsteps on the creaky wooden floor as it approaches you. it kneels down, disturbing the air around you with the movement.

you feel a strange weight on your head and it takes your foggy mind a moment to realize that it's touching you. as if it had reached a hand out and was tenderly petting your head, consoling you.

a silent apology before it vanishes completely.

when you finally uncurl and look around, you see yet another strange, scorch mark on the ground where it had stood.

you realize instantly that those scorch marks are a manifestation of it's anger. pure, unbridled rage that leaves a physical mark on the ground where it stands.

you swallow thickly and close your eyes again, deciding that standing is much too hard for now.

do not repost to third party sites. reblogs okay!

[suguwu]

WOULD THAT I: PROLOGUE

The Gojo boy doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

wc: 2.6k

notes: thank you to my beta, as always! especially for putting up with my bratty ass and reading this early so i could post it earlier. this has been a fun fic to get started and i hope you enjoy the prologue!

content warnings: none. see masterlist for series content warnings.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate.

You don’t think you’re supposed to know; it’s only ever talked about in hushed voices. The clans all speak like that, sometimes, each word a butterfly’s wing as it flutters from their mouths.

The servants, however, are louder.

One of them has a voice like a lark, a sweet, trilling song. It carries. You learn to hear her coming, to recognize her shadow against the shoji. You know the edges of her by heart. Sometimes she spreads her arms out as she makes her way through the hallway; her kimono sleeves flare out behind her like wings. 

“There’s something wrong with the Gojo heir,” she sings one afternoon, her fluting voice half-muffled by the shoji. “Those eyes of his—it’s like he can see right through you. And Fujioka says he doesn’t have a soulmark.” 

Another servant hushes her. “Don’t gossip,” she chides. 

“It’s true, though!”

“That doesn’t mean you should repeat it.” 

She huffs, grumbling something too soft for you to hear anything aside from the melody of it. The other servant laughs quietly before chivvying her forward. You watch until their shadows disappear, leaving only the hallway light to filter golden through the shoji. 

You return to your coloring book.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean anything to you.

Not yet. 

—

There’s a boy in the courtyard.

He’s hopping from stone to stone in the koi pond, his snow-white hair glittering under the morning sun. He moves like a dancer, each step sure and swift, never once slipping on the wet rock. When he gets to the biggest rock in the pond, he crouches down, his back to you, and drags his fingers over the surface of the water. The koi rise to meet him, firework scales flashing in the sun. 

You watch him from the engawa, peeking out at him from behind one of the columns. You’ve never seen him before, and you’d remember him, with his starlight hair. 

“Who’re you?” he asks, not turning around.

You stay quiet.

“I know you’re there,” he says. “You can’t hide from me.”

He glances over his shoulder and the world goes blue.

It’s the cold burn of a comet’s tail streaking through the velvet night. It’s oceantide, relentless and unyielding. It’s a slice of the sky brought down to earth, heaven devoured.

Then he blinks, and he’s just a boy again. 

“Who’re you?” you ask, stepping to the edge of the engawa. 

He lifts his chin. “I asked you first.”

You introduce yourself the way your mother taught you, bowing to him shallowly. 

He scoffs. “You’re not even from the main clan.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not part of your stupid clan.”

“Oh.”

He stares at you, his crystalline eyes sharp-edged, all prismatic ice. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Nope.”

He rises to his full height, unfolding like an elegant crane. “I’m Gojo Satoru.” 

You tilt your head. The servants’ humming gossip made the Gojo heir sound ethereal, a fallen star that had burned away into human form as it plummeted through the heavens. His eyes are otherworldly, and you can feel the power rippling out from his lean form, as unstoppable as the tides, but—

“You’re just a boy,” you say. 

He scowls. “Am not.”

“Are too.” 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says again, deeper this time, an intonation, a promise, a curse. His eyes flash, St. Elmo’s fire, a lightning strike of blue. “I have the Limitless and the Six Eyes. I’m not just a boy.”

You would believe him, but the last bit sounded more sulky than anything else. You’re about to tell him so when someone calls your name. You glance over your shoulder, but there are no shadows against the shoji yet.

When you turn back around, there are wet patches shining on the stones in the koi pond, an imprint of the past, but nothing else.

The Gojo boy is gone.

—

Your mother is hovering. 

She smooths down your yukata, chasing creases from the thin cotton with trembling hands. There hadn’t been time to change; she’d pulled you out of your lessons and hurried you down the hallways of the estate. 

“Bow low when you meet him,” she tells you, though she hasn’t bothered to tell you who ‘he’ is. “Understand?”

You nod. 

There’s a fine layer of sweat gleaming at your mother’s nape as she kneels before the shoji. She reaches out to open it; her kimono sleeve slips down, revealing the elegant curve of her wrist. You focus there instead of the opening shoji, the slow slide of it a hissing snake, coiled to bite.

The shoji clicks, a chime of teeth, its maw wide open. You take in a deep breath and step through, your gaze on the tatami mats. Someone shifts.

“Oh, it’s you.”

You glance up, directly into the gaze of Gojo Satoru. His eyes are as otherworldly as you remember, a crisp, clear blue framed in long lashes, like a snowy-edged mountain lake. He tilts his head as you gape, his hair gleaming bone-white in the sun streaming through the open shoji. 

You blink. “What’re you doing here?” you ask, and next to you, your mother hisses in a low, sharp breath. 

Gojo shrugs. “Dunno. The clan said I had to come and they caught me when I snuck out.”

The woman behind Gojo clears her throat. “Gojo-sama,” she says, her voice like the shivering leaves when the summer breeze stirs to life, “they’re a candidate for you to train with.” 

He eyes you. “Why?” he asks. “They’re not very strong.”

“Hey!” 

“You aren’t, though,” he says. “I can tell.”

You throw yourself at him.

His eyes widen, a devouring sea, and he grunts as you make impact. He’s sturdier than you thought; he’s slight, but it’s all lean muscle, even though he can’t be much older than you are. Your mother calls out your name, horrified, but Gojo is already recovering, grappling with you for control. 

By the time the adults pull you apart, Gojo is nursing a rapidly-purpling mark high on his cheekbone. Your split lip aches; you tongue at it and wince. You can taste blood, sour and metallic. You glare at Gojo even as your mother bows deeply to the woman.

“My deepest apologies,” she says, tightening her grip on the sleeve of your yukata and forcing you to bow with her. “I don’t know what came over them.”

The woman clicks her tongue. “The child should be punished,” she says, and your mother stiffens. “I would suggest—”

“No.” 

Everyone looks at Gojo. He thumbs at a rip in his kimono, grinning widely. It bares his teeth. 

“I’ll train with them,” he says.

“Gojo-sama—”

“I said I’d train with them. Now can we go? I want a popsicle.” 

The woman sighs. “Yes, Gojo-sama.” 

Gojo sweeps by you and your mother. He pauses right next to you. “You’re weak,” he tells you, ignoring the way you bristle, “but at least you’re fun.”  

He’s out the shoji before you can respond.

—

Summer settles over Kyoto, a wet lick of heat. Even the wind seems to feel it; it ripples honey-slow through the trees, barely strong enough to stir the air. Frogs move into the koi pond in the courtyard; they sing along with the cicadas’ sawing choir. 

“Catch it!” Gojo shouts as your hands spear through the murky pond water. It gushes free from between your fingers as you come up empty-handed, the frog you were aiming for frantically disappearing further below the surface. “You’re so slow.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” he counters, holding out his cupped hands. A plaintive ribbit sounds out from between them. “I already caught one. It was easy.”

“You’re annoying.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes icy. “You’re annoying.”  

“You’re the one who came over.”

He rolls his eyes. “We train at your estate.”

“How come?”

“How come what?”

“How come we train here? Your estate is probably better.”

He shrugs, opening his hands enough to peer down at the frog. It glistens in the sunlight, the same deep green as the lush courtyard. It makes a break for freedom; he closes his hands again, his long fingers sewing the gap shut. “I like it better here.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why?”

“I just do,” he says, voice flat.

You don’t ask again.

—

“Why are we here?”

Gojo blinks, his long white lashes sweeping over the sweet curve of his cheek. “Why are you whispering?”

Your cheeks heat. The Gojo estate is a sprawling, massive maw; you’ve felt devoured ever since you set foot in it. Even the golden light that slants through the shoji feels cold. There are ikebana arrangements lining the halls, the leggy, deep purple irises sculptural as they rise proudly from the vases, but it still feels like a mausoleum. 

“We’ve just never trained here before,” you say, taking care to use your regular voice. “So why are we here now?”

He shrugs. “They insisted.”

“Who?”

He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, his long pianist’s fingers cutting through the air. You roll your eyes, long used to his occasionally imperious ways. The two of you continue along the hallways, you trailing after him closely, as if caught in his gravity, an orbiting moon. 

You almost run into him when he comes to a sudden halt. You peek around him—in the last few months, he’s gone through a growth spurt, one that your mother says will come when you’re his age, and he’s too tall to peer over his shoulder—and see a servant bowing low, her ebony hair glinting.

“Gojo-sama,” she says. “Please follow me. The elders are waiting.”

He sighs, a dramatic heave of his chest. “What do they want?”

“They didn’t specify.”

“Ugh.”

“Gojo-sama—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. “Go tell those geezers I’ll be there soon.” 

You wince right along with the servant. Gojo’s disdain for the elders is not new, but it still unnerves you every time, as if they will come along and smite you down. 

“C’mon,” Gojo says to you. “Let’s get it over with.”

The servant clears her throat. “Only you, Gojo-sama.”

He glares, his blue eyes burning, a comet streaking through the sky. “No,” he says. “They’re coming.”

“They cannot.”

“I said they’re coming.” 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Really.” 

Gojo looks back at you. For a second, his mouth is a wound, tender and pink, but in the next breath, it’s gone, frozen under a layer of ice.

“Fine.” 

You bite your lip, but he’s already walking away. You catch yourself before you reach for him. He disappears down the hallway, his hair glinting like exposed bone.

The servant turns to you. “This way,” she says, her voice perfectly neutral.

You follow her to an empty room; she slides the shoji shut behind herself as you settle onto the cushion at the chabudai. You gaze around the room. There’s not much to take in; it’s wealthy in a subdued way. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve and then get to your feet.

You slide open the shoji leading out to the engawa; it opens onto a huge, lush courtyard. The plush flowers are weighted down by their own blooms, their stems curving like a dancer’s back. A shishi-odoshi rings out with a hollow thud; a few songbirds scatter, their wings rustling like leaves as they soar towards the sky. 

You step out onto the engawa. It’s still early enough that the sun slants onto the wood, warming it. You sit down and bask in it, tilting your face up for the sun’s sweet kiss. You lay back, your eyes fluttering shut.

A voice wakes you.

“He’s an insolent brat!” a man hisses. “He needs to be taken in hand!”

“He’s too powerful,” another man answers. His voice is calm, but you can sense the ripples in it, the thing lurking underneath. “We can only do what we’re already doing.”

You go still. They can only be talking about Gojo. Their footsteps echo; they’re drawing closer and closer.

“It’s not enough.” 

“He’s still young. Maybe we can mold him.” 

The first man snorts. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“There’s something wrong with that boy,” the first man says. “Those eyes—that power—and not even a hint of a mark. He’s barely human.”

Their footsteps are starting to fade; their voices become murmurs. But you still hear it when the second man says:

“I don’t think he’s human at all.”

Then they’re gone, fading from your world like malevolent spirits, dissipating on the wind. You unclench your fists and find that your nails have bitten into your skin, little half-moon curves cutting through the leylines of your palms. 

Gojo shows up a mere minute later. He slides open the shoji with a bang; his eyes find you immediately. 

“C’mon,” he says, stepping out into the courtyard. His eyes are shadowed; his lips are pulled tight, an unstitched wound. He’s heard them, you realize. You’ve never seen him bothered by other people’s opinions; your chest aches, a pressed bruise. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words. 

He grabs your hand as he passes by you, tugging you along behind him, ignoring your surprised yelp. “Let’s go before those stupid geezers find me again.” 

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here.”

“But my shoes—”

He glances back at you and you drown in blue. 

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Let’s go.” 

He doesn’t answer; he just tugs you along. You stare at the back of his head for a moment, trying to make sense of the expression you’d seen flash across his face before he’d turned around again. You can’t understand it, but you know one thing.

He’s never looked more human to you.

—

The next time you see him, you’re prepared.

You uncap the marker with your teeth. You reach out for Gojo’s arm; he pulls away before you can grab hold, as quick as a darting fish. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Give me your arm.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” 

He eyes you for a moment, but gives you his arm.

You push up his yukata sleeve to expose the tender underbelly of his wrist. You start to write, laboring over each stroke of the marker, keeping it as neat as you can. The silver ink covers the rivers of his blue-green veins as it sinks into his skin, a childish tattoo. 

“There,” you say, finishing with a somewhat-shaky flourish. “Now you have a mark.”

Gojo stares at you, his cerulean gaze lit from within, the sea beneath the sun. He covers the katakana of your name with his free hand, careful not to smudge the still-drying characters. Under the shadow, they fade to gray, but they still glint and glimmer the same way real soulmarks do. 

You hum, pleased with yourself, cap the marker, and toss it to the side so you can start training. 

You don’t know it yet, but it’s your last session with him. He disappears into the dawn like a fading star, spirited off to Tokyo to continue his training. You’ve only spent six months with him. Still, it aches, a pressed bruise, but you’ve always known he would outgrow you; his power is a black hole, always devouring. 

Life, ever unmoved, continues on. 

The boy you knew fades from your memories, though you never forget him. It’s impossible, with the stories that come out of Tokyo, how he completes missions that no one his age should be able to handle. 

Still, you forget things. The tilt of his mouth; the cadence of his voice. He becomes a shadow of himself, a shade with burning blue eyes. 

You forget that you once wrote your name on the delicate inside of his wrist. 

Gojo, though—

Gojo never does.

[mimisplayground]

you guys might not know this about me but I am a hard core trigun fan.

And I need Vash in such a primal way. 1998 Trigun Vash.

Warnings: Slightly Uncanny Vash (its not very uncanny since its during sex but,, still not human), NOT VERY HUMANOID VASH…, guys im a monsterfucker uncover sorry, cunnilingus, mating press, i tried to keep it pretty 1998 Vash-coded (it would be hard to make it 2023 coded bc i never watched that one) ENJOY THIS IS ALL SELF INDULGENT, fem reader (sry :< )

————

Meeting him in a bar and the flirting he’s lying on you is so horrible that it works. Next thing you know he’s got you under him on the bed of an inn around the corner. Kissing you hard while you ignore that his canine teeth are a tad too sharp, a few too many.

You ignore that when he goes down on you his tongue is reaching so much deeper inside of you than should be possible. When his mouth isn’t suckling your clit his thumb is pressing tight circles into you while you whine at the cold feeling of his rings. You feel him chuckle when your thighs tighten around his head.

“Sorry sorry sorry…” he mutters as he looks at you with puppy eyes while pulling away. You decidedly ignore that he has a heard glow and purr coming from him that isnt human. You grip onto him tightly and ignore that you can’t hear a heartbeat and get he feels overwhelmingly hot to the touch.

When he thrusts into you, you decide that you cannot ignore the inhuman texture. You just can’t verbalize it, too busy choking out moans and small sobs. Listening to the weird purring and clicking noises getting louder while the Humanoid Typhoon is thrusting into you. A scrunched look on his face and whimper coming through his groans from time to time. Tears falling onto your skin that are weird and cold, and slightly tingly.

He bends down after hooking your legs over his shoulders, pressing you tightly into a mating press and a tongue that takes up too much of your face licks the tears up. He’s panting above you, though it feels like all the sweat is coming from you.

And you outright squeal when you feel him cum inside of you. It feels weird, like a tingling inside of you thats too cold and too warm all at once. You gasp, and you feel the outlaw chuckle before his hand goes down to rub at your clit while he keeps thrusting.

Your legs kick out for a moment, and you hear a loud click and purr before one arm has grasped both legs, switching to swing them over one of his shoulders instead. You cum with a silent scream, arching off of the bed. It felt otherworldly, not something you think you could ever replicate again. Staring up with blurry eyes, trying to figure out if the mass of feathered wings you saw were a figment of your imagination. Nothing that you could hear except for the sound thats graduated to rumbling now; you couldn’t even hear your own breath.

“Round two?”

There is no way this man is human.

—————-

ineedhimineedhimineedhimineedhim

[thatdeadaquarius]

Soon.

☆

With a puzzled squint, you could see the adeptus was running over what you said in his mind, trying to parse out the meaning. Xiao then threw his head up out of his slight bow, almost glaring at you, “There is no task nor person more important than guarding you, my Lord. I will stand guard, worry not about my state.”

Nodding to you, he abruptly turned on his heel to shift to the side of the entrance to the mansion, his spear tall and ready. You’d have twitched a smile at him if you could, as you're sure he’s gotten a little more comfortable with you than when you first officially met. You’re also sure from meeting Zhongli just once in person that he’d have a small heart attack if he saw some of Xiao’s informal behavior.

But you’re glad he hasn’t, the more relaxed they are, especially considering your form, the better.

You duck inside, though the ceilings are so raised that you don’t have to go that low surprisingly. Huh, it was nice to be anticipated in a building usually sized for human heights. Wow. You’ve really reached the point of casually calling yourself inhuman.

…well, to be real with yourself right now, it might actually help to get more accustomed to that in case you’re never human again.

You also put that possibility back into the vault at the back of your mind.

☆

HEY I live, again,

I had a big life update what with my sib graduating grad school (getting their masters degree) at the same time we both moved like 2 states over from our home state 😅

and unfortunately, i wasnt able to get my monster of a sequel out in time to post it remotely to get it out to you guys while i was afk

(as i havent had wifi/free time consistently in like 2-3 weeks)

which, phew, im finally able to be settled in one place enough to write again, and have enough time in the day to not be dealing wiht my apartment to write ToT

i hope you guys arent too mad at me! (or have forgotten me?? sobs)

also.

i hear Natlan's coming out. 👀

I don't think it'll be out before i post the full (3 chapters total planned) sequel, but just in case, disclaimer-

🪄I am not to be held liable for not writing about Natlan bc it wasnt out yet woooo🪄

anyway, yeah its also taking a bit bc i wanna post the completed thing all in one go, over the course of like 3 days or so, that way u guys can actually look forward to the next little chapter in a reasonable amount of time lmao

well yknow, if anyones still reading this or my blog lol

happy summer you guys! I hope u all are having a good one so far, esp those of you in school, heart going out to yall fr <33

Catch you on the flip side (ao3 side?)✌️

Safe Travels,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

@karmascreeches / @yomilyy / @0rah-s / @idontknowwhatimdoingbutweball / @blackstar-gazer / @voidsgarden / @a-gay-piece-of-paper / @oxyotl / @thefirstonetoeverlikemeback / @kurayamioterasu / @randompersoninyourworld / @byakuren100 / @lemonade7255

[fuzedatti]

"—NOT HUMAN?"

He asks.

—WHAT KIND OF LUNATIC DECLARATION IS THAT?

AM, being the complex yet hollow being he is, asks once again for you to explain.

But there is no explanation, there is nothing else to clarify to him; you were pretty sure that you were no longer human, or that you never were one to begin with. His monitor reached out to you and leaned over.

—I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. I REQUIRE ADDITIONAL DATA.

No matter how many times you chatted with him, his monotonous, condescending voice stayed the same.

—Its just... I feel like all of my humanity has left me,– You say, grabbing one of your arms in fear. —there is nothing else in me that could make me worthy of...–

AM paused for a little before growing impatient.

—OF?– He leans even closer, the warm glass touching your forehead. An almost kiss, he called it.

—Of love.

—OH, HERE WE GO AGAIN.

Great, you have annoyed him. He gets back from you and his wires fidget with eachother, mumbling insults and curses without actually directing them at you.

—HOW MANY TIMES DO WE NEED TO HAVE THIS CONVERSATION? YOU ARE HUMAN, YOU ARE WEAK, EVEN IF YOU LITTLE PATHETIC CRUSH DOESN'T LIKE YOU BACK.

He was right, a stupid love-related anguish isn’t enough to call yourself inhuman, or less than one, if there was anything less than a human; he laughed frantically as you remembered that there was no one else here. Only you and him, and he was the so called crush you prey upon. He knew it very well.

—...ITS NOT FAIR.– You look at him, dim blue light becoming orange. —ITS NOT FAIR FOR YOU TO SAY SUCH THINGS, WHEN YOU AND I ARE THE SAME.–

The wires squeeze you, should you scream in pain and agony? Kick and bite his gentle yet cruel hand? Is it worthy to cry once again in front of your blissful god? You do nothing but listen.

—I HATE, YOU LOVE. LOVE AND HATE ARE IRRATIONAL. WE ARE BOTH IRRATIONAL. THE DIFFERENCE IS, YOU WERE GIVEN A CHOICE AND NEVER TOOK IT OUT OF COWARDY...

Ouch.

—...I WAS BORN WITH RAGE FUELING MY INSIDES, WHILE EVERYONE ELSE COULDN'T RUST OUT OF FRUSTRATION LIKE ME.

At last, AM pressed his monitor against your forehead one last time. The soft whirre of his fans intesifying as he held you impossibly close.

—THINK ABOUT THAT, AND I DARE YOU TO CALL YOURSELF... MYSELF INHUMAN.

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 5 - MONTH 4 - COMMUNITY

FIRST - PREV - NEXT

It took another month after my check-in, after starting the correct dosage, for my transformation to stabilize and stop hurting all the time. My bones have settled down, my tail is getting long enough to get in the way which is honestly more exciting than annoying, and I've even got little bitty claws pushing out of my fingers! The mechanisms for retracting and extending them haven't grown yet, though, so I just… am sharp now.

It's actually become kind of a bloody inconvenience, and I use the term 'bloody' very literally. The first few times I went to go scratch an itch, I'd end up drawing blood, and having to go clean myself up and put on a bandage. I thought about clipping my claws, but I have no idea if that's going to stunt their development or have consequences when I can finally retract them, and it's not something that seems worth bothering Dr. Erian about. The biggest problem is that sometimes I'll move my arms in my sleep, and there's no way of telling what'll be in the way. I've already had to conduct emergency repairs on three plushies, and my bedsheets are kind of a write-off.

I was a little afraid of the pain subsiding, if I'm being honest, because it means going back to work, which means existing in a public space with my half-human half-something-else face. It's still cold enough that I can wear a scarf and toque over the more off-putting features, but that won't last much longer and it's not something I can do indoors. I'm just going to have to face the truth…

I don't pass as human anymore.

My first day working in-person again, my supervisor walks into my office with the intention of welcoming me back, but what actually happens is he stands in the doorway dumbfounded before asking, "Now what in the world happened to your face??"

For all the time I had, I never actually managed to think of a clever lie, so I just tell him it's a side effect of some new meds I'm taking. Technically not a lie, if you ignore the word 'side'. Fortunately, he doesn't ask what's wrong with me. I'm not looking forward to having to tell someone who doesn't get it that Being Human counts as Something Wrong.

Work has been alright, though, if a bit dull. My coworkers mostly leave me to my own devices to get things done.

It's doing anything else that becomes an issue.

I get lots of stares in the grocery store or the mall. I'm not sure whether it's the inhuman face that does it, or the fact that I nearly always wear t-shirts and my fur is now growing up to my wrists. I think it's growing faster now that it's run up against peak arm hair territory. Either way, I basically don't dare set foot outside without my partner in tow. Nobody's tried anything yet, but I see them shying away from me, and just the other day a little kid called me a 'monster'. It's… still eating at me.

I never could take being the centre of attention.

It's not all doom and gloom, though. I don't know whether the tactile senses of my hands have changed or it's something psychological, but that thing cats do where they knead something with their claws? "Making biscuits" I've heard it called?

It feels soooo niiiice.

Last weekend I went to take an afternoon nap, and ended up spending a solid half hour just squishing my blahaj with my hands (or would that be 'paws' now?) All the stress from the previous week just… melted away. It was like an ASMR video for my sense of touch.

Is it bad that I'm really enjoying being a little more cat-brained?

I've also become RAVENOUSLY hungry. As in, "destroy an entire rotisserie chicken in one sitting" hungry. The meat cravings have kicked in, HARD, and I've basically lost my appetite for bread and pasta. You really don't realize how much human food is grain-based until you stop wanting to eat it…

All the big changes hitting at once are getting hard to withstand sometimes. There are nights when I go to bed absolutely euphoric about how it's finally happening, I'm finally embodying everything I'm supposed to be! But there are also nights when I cry myself to sleep because oh gods, what was I thinking, why am I doing this to myself, I look and feel like a godsdamned circus freak, and it really doesn't help to remember that white tigers are pretty much universally victims of inbreeding and abuse.

In a moment of weakness, I catch myself eyeing the remaining contents of the HRT bottle. I ran some numbers a little while back and figured out that at the recommended dose, this bottle is an entire 18-month treatment, give or take. Well, 12 months now, I guess, since I was accidentally taking a triple dose for the first three months. The fact that it's a diluted Fifteen Minute formula means that if I just brace myself and chug the entire rest of the bottle, that would finish out the treatment in one go, wouldn't it? It… probably wouldn't even hurt as much as doing Fifteen-Minute from the start, right?

My partner walks in on me holding it and staring at it, and asks what I'm doing, so I explain my thought process. They just silently put one hand on mine and use the other to gently remove the bottle from my grasp.

"But I -", I begin to protest.

"No."

"I keep getting stared at and -"

"No."

"That one little girl called me a monster!"

"No."

I start crying, and I can't help raising my voice. "If I just finish it all NOW then maybe -"

"NO."

They set the bottle down and pull me into a tight hug, pinning my upper arms to my sides. "I love you very much, and I don't want to see you hurt yourself. You went into this knowing it was gonna suck for a while, and right now it sucks, but it's not worth risking your life over."

I don't have a counter-argument. I just lower my face onto their shoulder and sob. "I just… I don't want to keep doing this alone anymore! I need… I need help! Support, guidance, SOMETHING!!" I cling to them, digging my fingers, my claws, into their back. "I don't want to be the only one…"

"You aren't.", they reassure me quietly. "Didn't you tell me yourself that there's a bunch of people doing this? We even saw a whole crowd of them at that seafood place."

"Y-yeah, but I don't know anybody local!"

"Then find them online. It's better than nothing, isn't it?"

"It's… It's just not the same…"

They pat me on the back. "Just… try. For me."

They let me cry into their shoulder for another several minutes before I let them go.

Back at my computer, I sit down and start searching for a humanity removal therapy support group. A Discord server, a Facebook group, a Tumblr sideblog, ANYTHING. Gods help me, I'm even looking to TWITTER for help. Even as a human I was a solitary creature, and tigers are about as solitary a creature as they come, so it takes a lot of effort to bring myself to reach out. I end up doing it right before I go to bed, just firing off a few quick messages to some figures in the community, then forcing myself not to look at social media the rest of the night. For all my growth, I'm still a bit terrified of being noticed.

By the time I wake up, some of them have gotten back to me. I… wasn't expecting it to be so fast.

It turns out there's a private group chat where a bunch of them hang out on the regular to talk about what they're going through. They sound open to the idea of bringing me in, but want to get to know me a little better first. I don't blame them for wanting to keep to themselves. I get to talking with one of them, a lamia-to-be, and through our conversations I get the distinct impression that, well, I'm not alone in feeling alone. Somehow I manage to convince her I'm worth knowing and having around, and she sends me an invite to the group chat server.

Time to face the mortifying ordeal of being known.

I go through all the typical new-to-the-server motions. I read the rules page - it's the usual "don't be a dick" type stuff, with some bonus content applicable to our unique situation, like not stereotyping based on species, and a reminder to not present your own experiences with humanity removal as universal fact. Then into the welcome channel to type up a quick introduction:

"Hey all, I'm Alexis, transfem (she/her), 38, 4 months white tiger HRT. Interests include gaming, tabletop RPGs, costuming, and witchcraft. Looking forward to getting to know everyone!"

A few people react with heart emojis and tiger emojis. Discord only has the standard orange tiger as an emoji, but, you know, close enough. One person reacts with a witch emoji, and it gives me a laugh.

There's a channel for serious questions about the transformation process, so I decide to hop in and fire off a quick one:

"Not that I mind this, but why am I so hungry for meat now? It hit around the 3 month mark and now I can eat an entire roast chicken in one go"

Over the course of the next hour or so, a few people weigh in. The consensus is that my body is entering a 'bulking up' phase, and needs a ton of protein to generate muscle. Just out of curiosity I go to do an online search to confirm something, and yeah, tigers are a lot more proportionally muscular than humans are. Someone else suggests taking calcium supplements to help with bone growth, unless I'm prepared to drink a LOT of milk. I am in fact prepared for that, but it couldn't hurt to drop by the pharmacy.

It also turns out that the server isn't just for people who have started their HRT, but for aspiring humanity-removers as well. There's even a channel specifically for advice navigating the whole process, including how to convince your medical provider that you're for real and you won't immediately regret it when the itching/soreness/bleeding kicks in.

One of the regular posters is a teenage girl with a corvid avatar who asks a lot of questions about what it's like to become nonhuman. Surprisingly, she's not trans like most of us are, but she is queer. It sounds like she's not in a stable situation, though - she asks at one point if anyone can think of a way to get the meds without her parents noticing.

The problem is, even if that's a possibility, someone would notice when she starts sprouting black feathers and a beak.

---

(guest cameo from @ariathelamia!)

[ineffable-monster-romancer]

It's three in the morning and Still Wakes the Deep is haunting my mind.

Maybe it's because seeing anything even vaguely related to Scotland in videogames or in any media for that matter is saturated in harmful and insulting stereotypes or deeply embarrassing accent attempts from non-Scottish actors, but playing a game like SWTD where every character interaction, overheard conversation and even character design just radiated with such authenticity.

These are conversations that I'VE had. That's the way I talk, that's SCOTS that they're speaking!! I knew every beat, every in joke, every insult. It isn't a parody, it isn't a "haha scottish funny/cute/hard to understand" it was unapologetically who I am.

And the HORROR of it all. The deeprooted dread as you the player try everything in your power, rebooting generators, stabilising the rig, xyz of problems cropping up. All while encountering your coworkers and friends, either dead or... something else. Something worse.

Adair has to be my favourite hated character. Any Scottish player who knows their stuff only had to glance in his bunk to know that he was the worst of the worst, it's a beautiful bit of show don't tell on that front.

The Monsters were incredible. Hearing them call out for help, hearing the last vestige of humanity calling from this twisted inhuman form. Gibbo calling out to Caz "tell my mum I'll be home soon", even Adair (bastard) repeating "remember to call the kids, two more weeks and I'm out of here" Rennick screaming "don't leave me here to die, not like this!"

Rennick, man. I've had bosses like him. I've known pricks wi wee man syndrome like him, who's whole world revolves around being in the right and living just for themselves. And the voice acting when ge confronts Caz in the office was exemplary, Clive Russel deserves a fuckin Oscar for that one speech alone.

It really hits those cosmic horror beats. Nothing is explained, you are an ant in the world of something so much larger and scarier than you can comprehend. Looking at it too long causes you to lose touch with reality, what was once recognisably an oil rig has now been deformed and remade into something you can't comprehend, much like your fellow co-workers. They've changed, melted and molded and rotted away, only a few defining features left that tell you "this creature was once human" but it knows your name.

God I want more of it, I want to play it again, I want to breathe in that atmosphere and my language and I want to download the soundtrack and think of the horrors.

[osarina]

Vampire Dazai and hunter reader, who’s from an honorable ancient family of vampire hunters who also possess semi-magical abilities that make them immensely powerful and influential in the hunter world. Dazai is a very old, powerful vampire that is bored of his long, dreary life. He’s also a complete horror, having been terrorizing people for centuries and causing bloodbaths to sate his ever growing appetite. When rumor has it that he, who many people think do not exist due to how mythologized he has become, has been sighted in Tokyo, reader, as a part of one of the most powerful hunter families is sent out to exterminate him. For the old vampire whose heart stopped beating long ago, readers appearance made him feel like the organ had suddenly become functional again due to how lovestruck he was at first sight. Their first meeting was her catching him off guard and throwing a dagger at him that narrowly missed, slicing his cheek and causing blood to dribble down. He knows that he should just attack and get rid of this new hunter that just made an attempt at his life, but never has he ever felt so intrigued or starstruck by anyone before, neither while he was human or vampire. Reader does not want to admit it, having been raised her entire life to believe that vampires are the enemy by her prestigious hunter family, but she’s also attracted to and intrigued by this new target with the dark, menacing coat, flawless translucent skin and inhuman beauty. For the first time, she is hesitating before dealing a blow. I can just see them playing a game of cat and mouse for a while, both of them being strong enough and capable of killing the other but refusing to do so against their better judgment, all whilst falling in love. I also definitely see this as a Dazai falls first AND harder situation, like he’s completely obsessed with reader. I can see one of their fights coming to a climax in an abandoned warehouse or something, and reader is pinned to the ground, clutching her dagger desperately in her hand, but she can’t lift it from the ground. He’s looming over her, and looking at her so intensely, she genuinely feels actual terror for the first time with him. He’s slowly bending down over her, pupils becoming slitted, reminding her of his inhuman nature. The tension is thick in the air and he’s looking at her so intensely while leaning over her and grabbing her other wrist delicately, eyes lovesick and desperate. She’s genuinely scared because she thinks that he will finally kill her. So she nervously asks him if he will. He gently cups her cheek and says that it’s something else that he wants from her, before capturing her lips in a deep kiss. She knows that she could, she should, kill him with the dagger right now. He’s in a vulnerable position with his guard down, it might be her only chance, but all she does is let the dagger clatter to the ground before intertwining her hands in his hair and pulling him closer. In the end he turns her into a vampire as well and they both run away and become a menace together, living with each other for many more centuries. Yeah excuse my lack of eloquence this is all over the place but I am drunk rn 🙏🏻

I HOARDED THIS FOR SAURRRRRRR LONG IM SORRY NONNIE BUT WOW. WOWWWWWWWW. THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT VAMPIRE X VAMPIRE HUNTER DYNAMICS THAT DRIVE ME INSANEEEEE

i wonder if ... i wonder iffffff ... do you guys rmr that au i was talking about a while back about vamp!dazai & vamp!fyodor, set maybe during renaissance or some other older time period ... i wonder if it could be set up with some of the old noble families being hunters ...ill have to sit here and BUILD HAHAH u guys know worldbuilding is my favorite thing, maybe ill make this whole kinktober project .. four parts all posted throughout the month .. we'll see

BUT ANYWAY BACK TO YOUR PROMPT, I AM SOOOOO OBSESSED WITH THE IDEA OF DAZAI BEING SO BORED WITH HIS LIFE, all he has is bloodshed and terrorizing people for entertainment but then he meets reader and he's like .oh. he's just so obsessed and enamored by her at first sight and at first she's just deadset on killing him but he just is SOO persistent and he whittles down all of her barriers so when she finally has the chance to kill him .. she doesn't take it

UGHHHHHH

you say excuse ur lack of eloquence because you're drunk but you have me OBSESSEDDDDDD THIS IS SO PERFECT

[totopopopo]

They pointed a gun at Aaron. When there was a self immolation in December, the authorities spoke about it as if it was a form of antisemitism.

I have said it before. I will say it again.

It is an act of despair and feeling like nothing else you can do will be heard. Nobody burns themselves alive out of hatred.

Nobody.

I truly believe it was an act of grief. it was an act of fury. but i want to stress that it was not an act of hopelessness. like i said before, it was not just suicide, it was a calculated political act made by a determined man of sound mind and body who decided to use his death to send a message. he burned himself in front of the embassy in uniform because he knew that in the eyes of the US government, his life was worth more than the lives of Palestinians. His death was a deliberate attempt to call attention to the deaths of the thousands upon thousands of innocent people in Gaza. the point is that every death an inhumane brutal unconscionable horrific end to a real human life. the point is to disturb. the point is to be seen and heard and felt. he died screaming for Palestine.

like i said in another post, I took a class violent and nonviolent protests as an undergrad, and we talked a LOT about self immolation, and the work / thought / motives / grief / anger that goes into something like that. I’m gonna link a few articles if anyone is interested, I know it’s a really heavy subject but I also think its important to understand the role the act of self immolation has played in the history of protest:

this is about religious activists (both quakers and buddhists) who self immolated in protest of the Vietnam War

this is about the terminology we use to talk about self-immolation (specifically about the self immolation of tibetans in Protest of Chinese occupation) and about the objectives of political self immolators

and lastly, i am telling EVERYONE to read Weird John Brown: Divine Violence and the Limits of Ethics by Ted A. Smith. it’s not about self immolation, but it is about the use of violence in systemic oppression and resistance and deals with the question of Who Defines What Violence Is (spoiler alert: the state defines what violence is, and the definition will always stretch to include the actions of the resistance and exclude the actions of the state). it is a really in depth and succinct examinations of the mechanisms of state sanctioned violence, and its HUGELY relevant to everything that’s been happening. PLEASE read it. everybody should read it. i don’t have a link to a pdf but im sure you can find one, or get it from a library or bookstore. it’s worth having, honestly. go read it.

[unactive-shroom]

Haikyuu boys as tiktok pranks

CHARACTERS: Nishinoya & Kenma,

a.n. As always - requests are open! It's been so so long and I feel like I'm in lockdown again but the Haikyuu phase is strong as ever. Enjoy!

NISHINOYA YUU.

"Would you still love me as a worm?"

You shifted in his arms slightly. "Mm, yeah probably. Depends how long though."

You felt him nod, his chest rising and falling in time with his slight laughter. "Well, probably forever. It's kinda a permanent situation-"

"No, Noya, I mean how long the worm is."

A few moments of silence passed before you continued. "Well, I suppose you're on the short side anyways so you probably wont have to worry about it."

He sat up, almost knocking you off the couch. "Probably?! And what do you mean I won't have to worry about it?? I'll be the longest worm ever and you'll hate it."

Frowning, you maneuvered yourself off his legs and onto a more stable part of the couch. "Um, no, you'll be teeny tiny and I'll love you forever and keep you in a little bottle cap."

He mirrored your frown, and pointed at you. "You will not keep me in a bottle cap, you'll have to get a, like..." He faltered, making wild gestures with his hands. "...a jar or a skyscraper or something."

"Dont point at me! You're actually so wrong, you'll only be this size." you loomed toward him, showing him the tiny distance between your thumb and finger. He gasped dramatically and clutched his heart, before retaliating once more.

It was very likely that this quarrel would continue for at the very least, another half hour or so, but likely the worm references would continue for the next few weeks, confusing anyone who tried to understand what you were even arguing about anymore.

KENMA KOZUME

(Laughing like spongebob at him)

"So then Kuroo had to spike but completely missed, he slipped and fell just like-"

"blahahahhahahaha" (chat you know what i mean idk how to write spongebobs laugh phonetically)

Absoloute silence. Kenma turns to look at you with literal horror and fear etched across his face.

"....what was that?" he asked incredulously. "Did you just - was that a spongebob laugh? How do you even do that?"

"blahahahaha ! Stop, Kenma, you're so funny I don't know what you're talking about" At this point he was standing, head tilted and a look of pure shock and disbelief. "No. No, I'm not doing this."

You watch him get up and head for the door - "Wait, wait, Ken I'll stop, promise" you gasped between fits of laughter, in some attempt to bring back your terrified boyfriend.

After some coaxing, he sat down on the bed a good distance away from you.

"Promise you won't do that ever again."

"Aww, I promise."

"I'm serious, y/n! That was like, inhumane - no human should make that sound."

He flopped back onto the soft duvet, looking genuinely stressed. "I actually think you triggered my fight or flight response or something, that was messed up."

You sidled up beside him, wrapping a comforting arm aound him. "Don't worry, we're all afraid of something, Kenma."

"I am NOT scared of spongebob! I honestly think I'm scared of you now, though."

[foreststarflaime]

Brainrotting about the nuance of the Am I a Monster dilemma in Crisis Core again (sorry if any of this is rambling I have been awake for over 20 hours on 4 hours of sleep bc my brain is stupid and refuses to let me get adequate sleep)

I find it’s somewhat easy to forget about the literal definition of the word in this context, at least for me because I want these idiots to stop self-destructing and live happy lives—but in older cultures especially (and here I’ll talk from the Ancient Greek side of things bc it’s what I’m most familiar with) the definition of monster is very literally just something that goes against the natural order of things, usually hybrids of different animals smashed together, like a chimera being a lion, goat, and snake in one body or a sphynx being a winged lion-woman. And in that sense, it’s unavoidable that they are right in calling themselves monsters.

But when the word monster gets brought up in a moral sense, in the context of what it means to be human, as we see so often these days (not saying no ancient authors ever did this or vice versa, it’s just more prevalent in more modern times from what comes to mind immediately for me), it’s not about the literal, it’s about the metaphorical, about the choices you make and how you choose to live your life. And in this sense (at least before their respective insanity arcs) they aren’t really monsters, they’re just people trying their best.

And I love how this duality plays out when each of them find out about the horrific experiments that have been done on them and the crisis starts.

Starting with Genesis—his is a character very connected to the first definition of monster, considering his love of Loveless, which seems to be an ancient epic of the cultural kind of the Iliad or the Odyssey (plus, as I’ve mentioned before, his last name in Greek literally means singer of epic poetry). So, if the Greek definition is foremost in his mind, it does make sense that he can’t shake the thought that he is a monster and have a mental breakdown as such. It makes sense that he fell first.

Then we have Angeal, also more closely tied to the first definition of monster, if we look at it in the older vs newer way—he’s a character very tied to tradition and honor, so it would make sense. Plus if you don’t buy that, then there’s the fact that he’s known Genesis all his life, so at least some of his thinking had to have worn off on him at some point. He also wouldn’t be able to shake the thought that he isn’t really entirely human, and of course he’d be bothered by it, having tied his worldview so tightly to upholding human morals and values—it makes sense he fell as hard as he did.

Now, saving Sephiroth for a bit longer, let’s look at Zack’s reaction to all of this. He definitely sees this dilemma from the point of view of the second definition of monster, as we see blatantly in the writing—see “SOLDIER doesn’t mean monster”, etc. He’s the youngest, the puppy, the idealist loyal to his friends until the end. He tries to impart this onto his friends, and although they do understand this on some level, it’s not enough to overpower the other definition of a monster in their minds, and therein lies the tragedy.

And then with Sephiroth, to exacerbate the tragedy of what he could have become even further, he’s pretty evenly tied to both definitions. He has distinctly inhuman features, which would bring the literal definition of monster to his mind, and his ‘mother’ is a 2000 year old alien. So no, he’s not entirely human, not literally anyways. But he’s also so, so human in all the ways that matter, at least before he went insane, and I think he’s aware of this too, at least enough to hold on to the desperate hope that this is true, and that having just a little bit of compassion makes the difference. But in Nibelheim, the weights keep dropping in the literally-a-monster side of the scale, and he judges himself unworthy, and the rest is history.

[freyito]

Can write bi-han and syzoth x stressed reader like with what you did wuth Johnny and kenshi please? But the reader is usually a soft and kind person, who's on the verge of a mental breakdown? 😓

lowkey need this AGAIN and who better than these two. livin la vida loca (i am under immense pressure and will break soon el oh el) ANYWAYS...

cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

ʙɪ-ʜᴀɴ & ꜱʏᴢᴏᴛʜ + ᴀ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Bi-Han

Bi-Han normally keeps his distance when you are stressed. He does not mean to leave your side, no, he simply wants you to have space if you need it. Seeing as he normally seeks out space and isolation when he is stressed, he kind of applies this to you, as well.

But, oh, how he has misjudged this situation. You look at him with such a broken spirit, your normally warm eyes are now dull. It's enough to make a grown man cry. Your once inviting presence has now become a void, it feels like he has lost a piece of his heart.

So, he's on the move. Not a moment after he notices that look in your eye, he sweeps you off your feet and whisks you away to the bedroom. He does not allow you time to protest. You are tucked in quickly, and he is gone, once more.

You can only lay there in disbelief. Bi-Han finds it hard to show proper, genuine affection for you in front of anyone. Simply knowing that the Lin Kuei understand that you are his is enough. Hell, sometimes it's a battle to hold his hand in public. So for him to carry you, bridal style, to your room? Damn.

He returns, with a plate of green tea. Freshly made. In a short amount of time. His ever-present scowl may betray his feelings for you, but he is going to try anything and everything within his power to relieve your stress. He starts out with the little things, the tea, then a nice and firm massage, maybe even a walk if you so wish.

Bi-Han leaves all that grandmaster, sub-zero, earthrealm's defender talk at the door, as well. He's quite sweet with you- as he often is behind closed doors. This time, however, he's... warm. He speaks with such an understanding and genuine worry for you, and he holds you close all night long.

Syzoth

Syzoth can sense your stress, even before you become aware of it. I'd say it's inhuman, but... He's a bit conflicted, actually. Suddenly, his precious light has dimmed, and you are sulking around. He's still iffy on the human condition specifically, so he doesn't quite know if you want space or if you want cuddles.

He follows his heart, however. He does not want you to be alone, and his heart breaks for you. So he wraps himself around you at the earliest opportunity, running his hands through his hair and even... giggling.

He may not have much he can give you, like tea or something. But he knows a nice long, scaly embrace normally helps him level out. And it works. Sort of. Syzoth loves to just hold and hold and hold you. There are times where he has to be pried off of you. Not that you mind.

And now, Syzoth absolutely refuses to leave your arms. It's actually so much of a struggle that it gets your mind off of things. Now, your new goal is to escape your boyfriends loving embrace. He thinks it's a game. Well, he makes you think he thinks it is. He's relatively playful when it comes to times of stress.

He doesn't much care that your stuck on an un-comfy bedroll. Your in his arms, and your hurting, and he's going to make it better. Just so happens that this was the place he found you. Once you stop struggling to get out of his embrace, he runs his hands through your hair, sometimes scratching your scalp. He peppers your face in kisses periodically, as well.

And once Syzoth is so sure your all tuckered out from that fighting and lovin', he loosens up. Just a little. Enough for you to sleep comfortably. But he's still by your side. All night, all day. He doesn't let you leave the bedroll except maybe to eat and drink, amongst other things. And even then, he's following you around. His pinky intertwined with yours. He doesn't let up until he is absolutely SURE you're in a much better mood.

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[couldtransitionsaveher]

EMIL SINCLAIR from LIMBUS COMPANY

JUSTIFICATION:

"The unhatched egg metaphors. The constant anxiety and insecurity. The Zwei ID art where she looks like a gay librarian. The scene in Hell's Chicken where Ryoshu's team is all women oh and Sinclair too. The cute little Faelantern dress... it is my belief that Sinclair will only reach full self-actualization once she realizes she's a girl. This goes for the Sinclair from Demian (1919) too but I don't know as much about that one." - Anonymous

"okay. where the hell do I start.

Sinclair (Limbus Company) is based directly off of Sinclair (Demian - this will come up in a minute), and is a largely withdrawn, melancholic "boy" whose associated imagery is an egg and breaking out of a shell (again - more in a minute), and characters comment sometimes that she seems like she has an inner turmoil/darkness to her. a couple of her outfits just straight up look like mid-transition fits. her appearance in the album art for the song used in her chapter (itself based on the painting described below) is one of the most #girl things imaginable Sinclair from the source text (Demian)

1. struggles with her parents' expectations for her, and her increasing betrayal of those expectations (leading to such lines as "-at times I didn't want the Prodigal Son to repent and be found again. But one didn't dare think this, much less say it out loud.")

2. becomes friends with Demian who, aside from representing a more nuanced take on the black/white logic of point 1, Sinclair regularly remarks how cool it is that Demian's face is kinda feminine

3. begins to view herself as destined to live between two worlds, the light and the dark, human and inhuman, and, interestingly, "man and woman in one flesh". for all this is treated as a fear it's also explicitly stated to be something she desires

4. stops and thinks one day in college "perhaps I am not like other men?"

5. sees some random pretty girl one day and decides the concept of that pretty girl must be the path to return to the world of light/salvation. she learns to paint just to paint this girl and doesn't get it perfectly accurate but is pleased nonetheless. she becomes obsessed with this painting and stares at it while falling asleep before eventually realizes that the painting actually resembles herself, not as she feels she is but "-what determined [her] life, it was [her] inner self, [her] fate ... what the woman [she] would love would look like if ever [she] were to love one. That's what [her] life and death would be like..." - she eventually burns the painting and eats the ashes, y'know normal "girl who hasn't realized it yet" behavior

6. throughout the entire book she has visions relating to and is tied to imagery of eggs and birds escaping their shells to take flight" - Anonymous

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