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breadinanutshell · 1 year

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I made a list of Halsin facts for my own entertainment a while back but forgot to post it. Dunno if anyone would find this interesting but in case here it is, enjoy~ o/

ACT1

-He writes in tight scribbles, smokes the pipe and loves reading (likely non-fiction). He’s the studious sort, considering his unprompted interest in the parasites and his hunger for knowledge. This aspect of him was more defined in Early Access but sadly got lost during full release. It also briefly comes up during one of his banters in later chapters.

-He rarely drinks: he’s a lightweight and gets overly affectionate when drunk. He also sings when drunk. Badly, per his word.

-Is an actual Disney princess (he has birds scouting and reporting back to him).

-He has a strong sense of duty, so much so he will stop paying attention to other aspects of his life in the pursuit of it. At least in one instance, this has been depicted as a flaw (when he abandons the grove looking for the Nightsong).

-He enjoys spending time in his bear form, and appears to have been the main caretaker for the bears in the grove. Ormn in particular acts heartbroken that Halsin is missing.

-When given the chance, he’s eager to give up his position as archdruid, as he felt it was too draining and confining. Despite his insecurities in his ability as a leader, he’s more shrewd and wise than he lets on: he can play politics when necessary. And people around him have been more than happy to rely on him. He cares about those under his protection. A lot. “The grove is everything to me”.

-He doesn’t shy away from violence when provoked.

-He feels responsible for the shadow curse, and is compelled by the need to fix everything.

-This is a relic from Early Access but you’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands: in the grove there used to be a fanfic titled “Shadow’s Kiss” written by the druid Roan that featured a certain “Balsin”. At the end of it a written entry by Halsin would threaten to feed Roan to Ormn if he ever saw the name “Balsin” again.

ACT2

-He likes open spaces, reading and whittling utensils and ornaments (ducks in particular). He’s got a sweet tooth and a fondness for honey. He finds it hurtful when he's made fun of for his interests: he admits people tend to underestimate his sensitivity.

-He’s a very religious man and invokes Silvanus any chance he gets. Even so he doesn’t believe in blind faith and chides Shadowheart for not questioning Shar’s teachings.

-He’s 350 years old.

-He has no mercy for goblins, to the point where he disapproves if you spare them in Moonrise. A bit funny, considering there’s a banter later on with Karlach where he insists that “mercy costs us nothing”.

-His scars were caused by a bear who didn’t appreciate being spurned during mating season.

-He’s a veteran who served in the battle against Ketheric Thorm in Reithwin, where eventually the druids and Harpers won. At the time he was likely second to the archdruid that led him into battle. When the shadow curse started spreading, said archdruid died, leaving Halsin in charge. He immediately evacuated the survivors. He still feels guilty for not being able to help more that day. From one of his party banters it’s clear Halsin suffers from survivor’s guilt. He’s lost many friends to the curse, so many in fact that “it would take a day and a night to recite the names of the fallen”.

-Considering how obsessed he’s been with the curse ravaging the land for the past 100 years, it’s unlikely he had any intimate connections during this period of time. He also claims that more good has been done since meeting Tav than in the 100 years before their meeting.

-His family is dead and buried at the foot of the Grandfather Tree in High Forest.

-He seems used to changing environments and affiliations. Once recruited, he’s quick to call Tav his new family.

-He remains polite in the face of scorn and ridicule. Right when he joins if you suggest all he’s good for is cleaning camp he responds with an awkward chuckle and a “wherever you need me”. Later in Act 3 his affections can be brusquely turned down by comparing him to a deep rothé, to which he calmly responds “a simple no would have sufficed”.

-As a child he befriended Thaniel, a spirit of nature, and ever since then he felt a higher calling. Thaniel appears to be as fond of Halsin as Halsin is of Thaniel, mentioning him often to Fist Art Cullagh during their imprisonment in the Shadowfell.

-He is the only expert of shadow curse alive, and if killed in Act 1 the curse cannot be lifted.

ACT3

-He believes himself, or at the very least aims to be, a protector. Any failure (or perceived failure) in fulfilling said role leads him to spirals of self doubt and insecurity. His self worth is heavily dependent on how useful he can be, and without a big purpose or mission to fulfill, he appears lost. In the same vein he seems incapable of staying still and relax, he always needs something to focus on.

-In true druid spirit, he considers cities to be intruding on nature’s realm. On his arrival to Baldur’s Gate, he's appalled and disgusted by the class inequality encountered in the city. He’s disturbed by the suffering of children, in particular.

-When called naive for his dream of a better future he mentions he gave up cynicism when he was 200 years old.

-He’s all for heckling Dribbles’ corny jokes.

-He sees his body as a vessel and his physical prowess as a tool. He takes no pride in it.

-He admits that he didn’t realize how much his responsibilities had been weighting on him until Tav showed up and took that burden away.

-He’s polyamorous, and pretty lax when it comes to sex and relationships: he has no qualms in taking pleasure where “desire finds purchase”. He mentions that he had many lovers in the past and that his heart doesn’t stir lightly. This might imply he’s laid with many, but cared for few. He also doesn’t appear thrilled by the prospect of marriage/tying yourself forever to someone. For a man so against putting a relationship into words, he acts incredibly smitten when romanced and showers his partner in all kinds of sweet praises.

-He’s so attuned to his wildshape that he tends to lose control of his transformations when overcome by strong emotions (i.e. anger, arousal). He appears embarrassed when this accidentally happens in an intimate situation. He does enjoy wildshape during intercourse though, as he even proposes it himself during an interaction with Shadowheart. Per his word, he doesn’t discriminate against any type: in an interaction with Lae'zel he implies he slept with a chimera.

-He considers lust to be the most essential of impulses and feels it’s only natural to be guided by it.

-He’s travelled far and wide. Where we do not know, unfortunately. He mentions he’s been to the Underdark many times and possibly the Nelanther Isles. In his youth he ventured into the Underdark to sate his own wanderlust, where he got captured, enslaved and sexually abused by drows for 3 years.

-He’s self aware of his obsession with nature. When Jaheira warns him not to fall into druid stereotypes, he comments that he does think about other topics such as high art and politics, but to him nothing compares to a tree.

-When speaking of his past, he comments that people seem to focus on the more “salacious chapters” and disregard his years of study. When confronted about it, he seems perfectly content with a life spent studying, meditating, counselling, fighting, training and fucking.

-He used to hibernate as a bear and mentions he spent at least 100 years of his life sleeping. It’s unclear if he’s still in the habit.

-At the end of the campaign he sets out to create a new community in Reithwin with the victims of war and refugees that were turned away from the city. The children of this soon-to-be-founded community refer to him as “daddy Halsin”.

-He considers himself an exceedingly patient man.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #bg3 spoilers #long post #brainrot be real #i might have missed stuff #but i tried to be as thorough as i could #if you want confirmation feel free to ask

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luxthestrange · 4 months

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BNHA Incorrect quotes#25 Feral-

What No one could have predicted was...You be kidnapped by the LoV...seeing as you denied working with Overhaul they thought...you be with them...they...they...They were so wrong-

Villain!Y/n*In one of Mr. Compress's marvels...yet still able...somehow to speak to the villains*-SPINELESS LITTLE PARASITES WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE IM GONNA WRITE MY FUDGING MERMOIRS IN YOUR MOTHERS BLOOD!?

Mr.Compress*Looking shock at the marbel that is actively shacking in his palm* K-kurogiri -KUROGIRI!WHAT DO WE DO? I CAN ALREADY FEEL THE MARBLE BREAK INSIDE-

Kurogiri*Slowly backing away and making a portal* Alright alright-Everything is gonna be fine I have a plan...

Mr.Compress: O-o-okay it on me...

Kurogiri:...Im gonna go-

Mr.Compress: I HATE THIS PLAN!?!?-

Kurogiri: No no it's fine, Let me just go get the boss-He'll know what to do with...all of...this

Villain!Y/n*Feral growling intensifies*RAWRARA-I WAS SUPPOSE TO MEET MY BOYFRIENDS KIDS TODAY-RAWWWWW!?!

Mr.Compress: NO KUROGIRI NO-DONT YOU DARE LEAVE ME WITH THEM!?

Kurogiri*Already out and made it through his portal* YOU GOT THIS!

Mr.Compress*Watches in horror as the portal disappears and when he looks back...the marble is no more*...

Villain!Y/n*Behind him, puts hand on his shoulder*Heeey Atsuuuro~

Mr.Compress*Tears up and whines,shaking in fear*...

Part 5 of:

The kids...Kirishima and Tamaki-

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justlemmeadoreyou · 5 months

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curves*

a plus-size!y/n fic

words: 3k

warnings: mentions of insecurities and bullying, smut, p in v sex, daddy-kink, creampie, kissing, dirty talk.

The mirror taunts you as you stand before it, clad in just your underwear. Your eyes trace the soft curves that spill over your bra, the swell of your belly, the fullness of your thighs. A familiar lump forms in your throat as those old insecurities threaten to resurface.

You can still hear the echoes of cruel laughter from your school days. The harsh whispers of "fatty" and "whale" bounce around in your mind like shards of broken glass. For so long, you believed those hurtful words, letting them shape your self-perception.

But then Harry came into your life, like a soothing balm on those deep-seeded wounds.

"Y/N? Baby, you in here?"

His warm voice summons you back to the present, and you quickly grab your robe, wrapping it around your body as a shield. "Y-Yeah, just getting ready," you call back, averting your eyes from the judgmental mirror.

The bathroom door opens, and Harry steps in, his brows furrowed with concern. "Hey, what's wrong? You've been in here a while."

You open your mouth, but the words get tangled in your throat. How can you explain this recurring battle, the one you thought you'd won long ago? The feelings of inadequacy still linger like a parasite.

But then Harry's arms encircle you from behind, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, emerald eyes finding yours in the mirror. "Talk to me, love."

A shaky exhale escapes your lips as you instinctively lean back into his solid embrace. "I was just...thinking about the past. The names I got called, the way I got treated because of my body."

Harry's reflection tightens his jaw, and you know he's picturing all the ignorant arseholes who ever made you feel less-than. His large hand settles on your stomach, warm and reassuring.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N. Every delicious curve of you." His voice is a deep, gravelly rumble against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "And anyone who couldn't see that can fuck right off."

A watery laugh bubbles up from your chest at his blunt words. Only Harry can make you feel so cherished and Protected one moment, and turn around and cuss like a sailor the next. You turn in his arms to face him properly, looping your own around his neck.

"I know, babe. You've helped me see myself differently, to appreciate this body instead of hating it. I've come so far in loving myself." You shake your head minutely, chasing away those last tendrils of doubt. "Most days, I do feel confident and sexy as hell. But sometimes..."

"...sometimes those shitty voices from the past still echo a little too loudly," Harry finishes for you with a sad, knowing smile.

You nod, fresh tears pricking the corners or your eyes. "Yeah...Exactly."

His large hands come up to cradle your face, calloused thumbs brushing away the stray tears. "Oh, my sweet, radiant girl. You're the most gorgeous, vibrant woman I've ever laid eyes on." His intense gaze bores into you, willing you to believe his words.

"You say that now, but what if -?"

"Stop," Harry cuts you off firmly. "Don't even go there, yeah? My feelings for you, the way I look at you and desire you, that's not gonna change. Whether you gain weight, lose weight, stay exactly the same. I don't give a fuck, because you'll always be the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

His passionate declaration sends a fresh wave of affection swirling through your veins. You tilt your face up, seeking the solace of his lips in a slow, smoldering kiss.

Harry groans into your mouth, big hands skimming down your sides to pull you flush against his body. The hard planes of his chest press against the soft swell of your breasts through the thin robe.

"Feel that?" He husks out in a gravelly tone as he grinds his rapidly growing arousal against your lower belly. "That's what you do to me, baby. Just existing in all your glory does that."

You whimper at the heated promise in his words, at the undisguised lust simmering in those bright emerald irises. Harry loves and worships every lush inch of you, and you bask in the affirmation.

Looping your fingers through his lustrous chestnut locks, you angle your head for another drugging kiss. Maybe later you'll be able to see your beauty and sexiness reflected in the mirror, too. But for now, Harry's adoring gaze is more than enough.

***

A few nights later, you wake up in a tangle of sheets, your nude form deliciously intertwined with Harry's. Soft morning light filters through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a warm, hazy glow.

Even in sleep, Harry's arm is curled protectively around your waist, fingertips splayed possessively over the dip of your lower back. His handsome face is smoothed in peaceful slumber, those pink lips parted around quiet snores.

Unable to resist, you nuzzle closer and brush a feather-light kiss to the sharp line of his jaw.

Harry stirs at the gentle caress, emerald eyes fluttering open in a sleepy squint as a lazy grin tugs at his lips. "Mmm, good morning to you too, beautiful."

"Hi," you murmur, ducking your head shyly as your cheeks warm.

Even after all this time together, after all the layers of yourself you've peeled back for this man, his open adoration and unguarded desire still manage to fluster you. One look from those searing green eyes has your heart racing like a smitten teenager.

With a quiet chuckle, Harry hooks a finger under your chin to tilt your face up towards his own. His smile softens into something so tender, so reverent, it makes your chest ache sweetly.

"Why're you blushin' so pretty, my girl?"

You nibble on your lower lip, suddenly bashful under his intense yet worshipful scrutiny. Your eyes rake over the cut lines of Harry's face, tracing the barely-there sprinkling of chest hair that tapers down his toned abdomen. Even sleep-rumpled and unguarded, he looks like some kind of mythic forest god come to life.

"Just admiring the view, I s'pose." Somehow, your self-consciousness evaporates the longer Harry gazes at you with open longing and love. You feel powerful and whole and sexy while naked beneath his stare.

Harry exhales a low noise of approval, skimming his knuckles along the soft curve of your cheek. "Is that so? Well, don't let me stop you then, princess."

He stretches languidly beside you, all lean muscle and sun-kissed skin and tousled bedroom hair. Like a lion awakening from an afternoon nap - regal and rugged and irresistible.

You swallow thickly against a spike of renewed arousal watching those lithe muscles flex and bunch under his tanned skin. Emboldened, you take your time visually drinking in every hard line and sinuous dip of his bare form, from broad shoulders to narrow hips and muscular thighs you love having clamped around your own.

But soon your own curves demand equal ogling rights.

Harry's heated viridian stare tracks hungrily down to your full breasts, sides spilling over ever so slightly as you stretch back against the pillows. His tongue instinctively swipes out to wet his lips at the sight of you.

Your hand drifts down to palm over one shapely globe, squeezing lightly while holding Harry's rapt gaze. You watch his pupils dilate further as you pluck at the tight bud, rolling the pert nipple between your fingertips until it furls into a stiff peak.

"Like what you see, daddy?"

A guttural rumble vibrates from deep in Harry's chest at your mewled words, like he's a big cat about to pounce. His broad hand suddenly cups around the side of your other breast, kneading and plumping the heavy weight of it.

"Fuckin' love what I see," he rumbles, gravelly tone dripping with pure sin. "Such a gorgeous girl you are, princess. Plump and soft and perfect for your daddy."

Your breath hitches sharply at his praise, arousal thrumming through your veins. Harry's hand maps an exploratory path across your ribs and lower, caressing over the gentle swell of your tummy before spanning wide over the curve of your hips.

"Built so sweet for me, hmm?" Harry croons, rutting his rapidly stiffening length against the plush swell of your outer thigh. "Such lush curves to grab onto while I fuck up into that greedy little cunt."

You whine high in your throat at his filthy words, legs instinctively falling open in silent invitation. Harry takes the hint, shifting to blanket your body with his solid weight as he settles in the cradle of your hips. His prominent arousal now notches snugly against your clothed core, providing a delicious tease of friction.

"You see what you do to me, baby girl?" he growls against the heated skin of your neck. "Get me so fuckin' hard just existing in all your glory."

Another whimpery plea spills past your parted lips as Harry grinds down with purpose. You can already feel the insistent ridge of his cock leaving a damp smear through the thin lace of your knickers.

Tangling your fingers into his wild chestnut tresses, you yank Harry's mouth up to crash against your own in a messy, desperate kiss. He groans deep in his chest, hips picking up a heavy circling rhythm to rut his thick length between your molten folds.

"Jesus, you're so wet already," Harry hisses out in approval as his hand trails down to cup your mound. "Such a messy girl for daddy."

Cheeks flushed and chest heaving, you hook one leg high over his powerful thighs to grant him better access. Harry doesn't hesitate before plunging two thick digits into your drenched entrance with one smooth stroke.

"Oh fuck!" The broken cry tears from your throat as he immediately sets a punishing pace, calloused fingertips expertly massaging your striated inner walls.

"That's it, let daddy hear how good he makes you feel," Harry groans against the swell of your parted lips, kissing you hungrily. His palm grinds perfectly against your neglected clit with each measured pump into your fluttering channel.

You whine into his mouth, hips rolling shamelessly to meet each inward glide of his fingers in a filthy grind. This is Harry's favorite way to make love to you - lavishing attention on every soft, lush inch with his hands and mouth and reverent words until you're a boneless, whimpering mess in his arms.

You cry out sharply when his thumb grazes your throbbing bundle of nerves, thighs tensing around Harry's pumping fist. But he slows his strokes to just short teasing thrusts, barely breaching your entrance now.

"Nu-uh, none of that just yet, princess." He tutts with a devilish grin. Harry loves to take you right to the brink before pulling you back onto sweet, delicious simmer. "Not until I'm buried so deep inside that perfect pussy."

Your heavy-lidded gaze meets his, all dark lust and wanton need. With a strained whine, you snake one hand down between your bodies to curl around the velvet steel of his achingly hard prick. Harry groans brokenly, pumping into your tight fist in tandem with his shallow thrusts into your core.

"Want you inside me so bad, daddy," you whimper, hooking your ankles high around his flexing backside to urge him closer. You can feel the slick, swollen tip of him catching against your entrance on each tortuously brief inward glide. "Need your big cock splitting me open."

A ragged growl rumbles in Harry's throat, fingers stilling inside your dripping channel. His large frame tenses above you, emerald eyes blazing down at where your smaller hand works his straining shaft with languorous pulls.

"Such a filthy little mouth, princess. Gonna make daddy fuck it so good..."

With one deft tug, he rips away the tiny scrap of lace barely clinging between your thighs, leaving you completely nude and splayed open for his hungry perusal. Harry pumps his glistening fingers in and out a few times more, drinking in the way your body arches and whimpers at the welcome intrusion.

Then, with an obscene squelch, he pulls his digits free of your clutching heat, leaving you clenching around empty air. You keen softly at the loss, thighs squeezing around his hips in silent pleading.

But Harry just smirks wickedly and brings his drenched fingers up to circle your puffy lower lip. When you automatically part your mouth with a wrecked groan, he presses the thick digits inside, letting you suckle your own tangy essence from his calloused skin

"There's a good girl," he praises in a thick, husky rasp. "Get that clever little mouth all warmed up for me, hmm?"

You swirl your tongue enthusiastically around the welcome intrusion, eyelashes fluttering as you savor your musky tart taste clinging to Harry's fingers. He watches you with ravenous dark eyes, hips twitching unconsciously like he's battling the urge to sink into your drenched heat.

Finally though, Harry drags his digits free with a slick pop, leaving your lips spit-slick and kiss-swollen. Without preamble, he palms his impressive length, giving himself a few firm tugs before notching the swollen head right against your fluttering entrance.

The thick blunt pressure makes you gasp out a broken moan, all thoughts fleeing as your eyes roll back. Harry rocks his powerful hips forward in one sinuous grind until he's fully sheathed inside your velvet depths. You both groan in unison, bodies flushed skin-to-skin as he sinks deeper and deeper until he's bottomed out completely.

"Fuck, always so fucking tight 'round me," Harry grits out through a clenched jaw.

You shift your hips restlessly, inner muscles fluttering around the ribbed intrusion spearing you open so exquisitely. A sense of completeness settles over you, every nerve ending thrumming with euphoric fullness.

"Move, please...need you to move," you beg breathily, fingertips digging into the taut muscles of Harry's lower back.

He growls in compliance, pulling almost all the way out with one long torturous glide before slamming back home. The brutal stroke punches the air from your lungs in one harsh gasp. Above you, Harry plants his palms on either side of your head, framed by bulging biceps as he sets a piston-rhythm sure to have you crying out his name soon enough.

Your hands find purchase gripping the globes of his arse, fingertips digging divots in the muscular flesh as you urge his thick cock even deeper inside with every frantic snap of his hips.

"So good, so good, please don't stop..." The litany spills unheeded from your slick lips, words tangling together along with broken moans and whines. Your world narrows to just the unbearably sinuous glide of his thick shaft as it splits you open over and over, your soft body jolting with the force of each collision.

Sweat soon sheens both your bodies as you strain and cling to one another, the steady creaking of the bedframe echoing through the room. Harry's forehead slams against your own, panted breaths mingling hotly in the scant space between you.

"Look at me, baby girl." His grit-rough tone commands your heavy-lidded gaze back to his searing emerald stare. "Look how fuckin' perfect and delicious you are, taking every inch like a sweet lil' angel."

His words alone are enough to send your vision whiting out for a dizzying moment, every muscle convulsing around the penetrating shaft buried so deeply inside. A wild keening punches out of your throat, your orgasm cresting and shattering over you sudden and explosive. Harry snarls like a savage beast, hips jackhammering harder and faster as your convulsing inner walls clasp around him in fluttering waves of ecstasy.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Harry tenses fully above you, powerful frame locking up as his own rapture overtakes him. You cry out again at the feeling of his essence flooding your spasming depths, scalding heat spreading through your very core.

It's always like this with Harry, your passion igniting a wildfire that consumes every rational thought until you're both rendered to pure id and physicality. Dimly, you're aware of his arms trembling violently to keep from crushing you beneath his solid weight as you both slowly float back down to earth, one quivering boned creature.

Eventually, Harry's hips still against the cradle of your thighs, buried balls-deep as you milk the very last pulses of heat from his spurting cock, hips twitching in the aftershocks as he released his load inside you. He sighs against your damp neck, his curls sticking to his own forehead as his lips leave a trail of kisses over your steadying pulse.

***

Y/N's gaze drifted over to the mirror, once again, but this time no self-doubt or criticism was clouding her vision. Cocooned in Harry's strong arms, she felt powerful, beautiful, and truly at peace with herself. His love was like a radiant force protecting her from lingering insecurities.

She turned her face up towards Harry's, drinking in the open adoration shining in his bright eyes. A contented smile tugged at her lips as she traced the line of his chiseled jaw. "Thank you," she murmured softly. "For always seeing the real me."

Harry's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer until their foreheads pressed together. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you, baby." His deep voice was thick with emotion. "You help me find peace too, y'know."

They stayed that way for long, quiet moments, simply basking in the profound intimacy and deep love surrounding them like a warm blanket. The outside world seemed to fade away as Y/N melted further into Harry's embrace.

Eventually, he brushed a feather-light kiss to the tip of her nose, emerald eyes sparkling with pure joy. "C'mon, let's get cleaned up and I'll make us some breakfast, gorgeous."

As they moved around the bedroom, trading gentle caresses and soft laughter, Y/N felt lighter than she had in years. Harry's unwavering love acted as a beacon, guiding her out of the shadows of her past. She knew there might still be difficult days ahead, but she also knew Harry would be by her side through all of it.

Pulling on one of his oversized shirts, she sent him a radiant smile. "I love you, Har. More than I can ever say."

Harry's answering grin was blindingly bright as he gathered her into his arms once more, holding her like something infinitely precious. "I love you too, my radiant girl. Always and forever."

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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d3nt4l-d4m4g3 · 1 year

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a story of one fake penis, 39 surgeries and counting.

This story I found through this post. don't click it unless you want to see frankendick. Frankly, the phalloplasty looks okay (only compared to most I've seen and I've seen too many. too... too many doing this work) besides the enormous scars and color mismatch. It's a low bar. But I was interested to see the user's progression.

That post, of surgery results the user admits took three years to achieve (""), is from two years ago. According to the user's more recent post history, it's been downhill from there.

11 months ago, the user's erectile implant began pushing through the skin, requiring surgery. Three months later, after the revision, the complication repeated. In this post from r/Everythingphallo 4 months ago, called "Is there anyone here who has had a phalloplasty reconstruction?"— the user states:

Initially, everything was perfect – it looked aesthetically pleasing, had great functionality, and the sensation was at 100%. However, over the past 3 years, I have had 15-20 surgeries due to complications and issues. The appearance is now completely deteriorated, and my functionality is greatly limited. The scars are contracting more and more, causing a loss of 4 cm in length, which wouldn't be so bad if it still looked good and functioned properly.

in the comments, the user clarifies a major reason for the many revision surgeries was problems with the constructed urethra. Multiple surgical revisions to the urethra caused stiffening, hardening, constricting scar tissue. A bacterial infection was additionally overlooked for "several years" which worsened the damage, and no doubt put the user at severe risk of bladder and kidney infection.

As indicated by the post's title, the user does not want to stop surgery, but instead wants to entirely reconstruct the phallus using the same technique, radial free flap phalloplasty, as performed the first time. This would mean she would have massive scars and limited mobility/strength in both of her arms and hands.

In this post from two months ago, things are somehow worse. (How..?!!)

user states:

Recently, I lost all sensation (previously 100%), can no longer experience orgasms, and suffered a 50% reduction in length due to a parasite that damaged the tissue. Furthermore, I am scheduled for an emergency surgery because my ED has once again resulted in the skin breaking, marking the 5th or 6th time in a year. In general this is my 39 surgery and I’m so tired.

Parasite?!? Which apparently doctors missed for OVER TWO YEARS?? Jesus Christ, if she was playing medical bingo she'd have won years ago. But of course, she's lost everything.

All that the first phalloplasty got her was 39 surgeries, urethral strictures, loss of all sexual sensation, bacterial infections, parasites, she still wants another one.

Don't you dare say this is life-saving surgery in any capacity. It is life-ending, mentally, physically, figuratively, literally.

#medical malpractice #phalloplasty #trans healthcare #ftm

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sleepinginmygrave · 3 months

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guys i finally finished my star crochet rug!!! (the end are not weaved in but shhh they're at the back) turns out when i ironed it it became so so so soft, like Too Soft for a simple rug, so my mum told me to give it to my baby niece instead lol so i may have lost a rug but she won a cool blanket

also size reference with my toa book under the cut

its so so so soft hjjlghjhlhlhhh so so so proud of how this came out!!! it was my biggest project yet i'm pretty sure

i'll definitely use the star pattern more!!

tagging!!: @starmanbutitsregulusblack @aesthetic-writer18 @parasite-2 @holdmyteaplease @daydream-of-a-wallflower

#also YES i am aware the last row is not finished i ran out of yarn😭 it's okay it's not that noticeable......#james do crochetˋ ࿐ྂ #crochet #crochetblr #fiber art #yarnblr #crocheting #yarn crafts #yarnaddict #yarn #yay!!!

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nando161mando · 8 months

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strangelittlestories · 2 years

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It was in the 6th year of the Wars of the Real that the anti-magicians and their Realis project (that all should act in accordance with certain physical laws) were truly challenged. This was due in no small part due to a singular invention from a family of forest witches.

Their discovery was as ingenious as it was stupid. And it radically changed what a disparate collective was able to accomplish in the face of both overwhelming force and abstract certainty.

It also caused a truly historic amount of epic shitfuckery.

From “I Fought the Spore and the Spore Won: a history of Realis and Resistance”

- - -

“So, you’re the new recruit, huh?” The woman who spoke wore strange armour that looked like it had been grown out of wood. The helmet alone glinted with metal spikes.

“I … uh, I guess? Sorry, I’m kinda new to this whole ‘magical kingdom’ deal you’ve got going on here…” The recruit in question was wearing dull red overalls and a ‘what-the-fuck’ expression.

“No worries, kid. We put out a multiversal call for aid - so anybody with a latent magical destiny or a strong subconscious hero fantasy got pulled in. Very much a ‘To Whom It May Concern’ type of spell.”

She patted him on the shoulder. Up close he could see that the spikes on her helmet were actually the shards of a broken crown.

“So, uh, do I get any kind of training?”

“You already did, buddy. The spell should’ve planted a ‘potential seed’ inside you. When you’re exposed to trauma, then just in the nick of time it’ll suddenly sprout into the skills you need to survive. Very dramatic.” She paused for a second. “Or you’ll die. Also very dramatic.”

“So … either I’ll be awesome or I’ll die?”

“Well, you would die … unless you have one of these.” She threw him a small vial. He fumbled the catch, but grabbed it on the second try. Inside the vial swirled a glowing grey-green mist. “You catch a mortal wound, drink it. Or smash it on the injury. The fungus inside will patch you up.”

“Fungus?” The man was a pretty even split of horrified and fascinated. He simultaneously wanted to throw the vial away like poison, or guzzle it like forbidden candy.

“Yeah, you ever hear of ‘ophiocordyceps unilateralis’?”

“The weird zombie ant mushroom? Yeah, I saw it on a documentary!”

“Well, a family of witch-mycologists - real wyrd scientist types - they brewed up this variant in their forest. They turned it from a parasite to a symbiote. If it knows who you are, it’ll heal your wounds, get your heart pumping, even move your limbs for you.”

“How do I get it to know who I am?”

“You feed it.” She grinned ghoulishly. “Chuck in some hair, some blood, whatever bits of you are going spare. Anything to sync it up to your DNA. Think of it as your very own cannibal sourdough starter.”

“And people actually use this?”

“Oh yeah. Folks swear by the stuff. They even had an argument over what nickname it should have. The winner was the truly cursed phrase ‘resurrection juice’.”

“...really?”

“Oh yeah. The juice brigade are pretty smug it caught on. Some smart alec tried to give it a mushroom name, but they got one-upped by the juice thing.”

“I’m not sure I’m a fan of sharing my body with a fungus.” He tried to find the right words to articulate the niggling philosophical nuances of the idea and failed. “It feels like, I dunno, a bad idea?”

“Oh, it’s a terrible idea. A real crock of stupid. Pure idiot-fuel. But sometimes, when the world’s against you, the truly bad idea is the only one you have.”

“But, I mean, once the fungus takes over … would I still even be me?” The urge to gobble up the taboo canape had begun to be edged out by the existential dread.

“Look at it this way: you’d be mushroom food anyways, right? Why not let it be mushrooms who think they’re you? I think it’s kinda comforting that when the time comes, I can just relax and let fungus take the wheel.”

The man paused for a second, pondering the nature of life, decay, and resurrection.

“Anyways, they’ll be summoning the portal to pipe us out on our first mission soon. So best get ready.” The princess (for that’s what she was) thought for a second, then asked: “By the way … what did you do before you got sucked up into this particular asscrack, anyhow?”

The man gulped.

“I was a plumber.” He said.

#a long one but hopefully worth it #writing #flash fiction #I realised halfway through writing that this read like a grimdark mario bros fic and I just leant into that #still contains at least two puns for those keeping count

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alteredsilicone · 6 months

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If you find Dante's Prex (it's in the Leverian on the podium where Dante himself would be displayed, you can find it once you've acquired Dante and got him to rank 30), you get his real story:

"You... found him, Friend. And Dante's tale deserves to be known. So... allow me to relate it, as he passes it to me.

Dante... ventured... to the... deafeningly... silenced halls of the... doomed... Entrati lineage, encountering... automated defenses, gone senile and violent, chanting in an... unright dialect that slurred thought and... annihilated... hope. That wrongtongued language invaded Dante's mind - infecting it with the one thing he was defenseless against: the promise of knowledge.

It may be said that a parasite is life from without the body fighting to exist within the body, despite the body, even as it risks the body. What, then, do we call knowledge from beyond our reality demanding to be let in?

Poor Dante. If only he had recited to me sooner the wrongtongued words he had heard. I could have told him, you know, that I had heard that language before. Once. Long ago. From the lips of Parvos Granum.

Dante found it, you see. Dante found The Book.

The Dante I knew was many things, but he was not weak. He struggled, fought, refused its knowledge. There was a moment, I knew, when that chill Indifference felt it had won. In those moments I was with him, wrestling the foul thing he had unlocked. Impossibly, though it cost him dearly, he was winning. But miserably, I knew the equation was not so simple as that.

I told him: Dante, what you have found can never be brought forth. Parvos must never know of this.

I felt the chill, the awful loneliness, of understanding wash through him.

I sensed the moment he chose, and I felt Dante give up. When he died, I almost died with him.

But the Book, the word, did not permit Dante to die. The violent diplomacy which ensued rewrit the very fabric of who he was. I understood things, learned things, on that journey with my old friend, from night to day. Things which could not survive in this world, but forever made a lie, to me, of science.

What became of him, and what stars he may have traveled to, is unknown to me. What that wrongtongued Voice may murmur in his mind, on long nights, I'm not sure I would want to know. It teaches because it longs to be known, and in being known it exists. And in existing, it survives."

---

Dante found the Grimoire and it corrupted and killed him.

More importantly:

Parvos Granum is looking for the Grimoire. Not only that, he has found the Grimoire before and knows of Voidtongue.

#wf tag #warframe spoilers #warframe dante #dante unbound #warframe #wf lore

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yaekiss · 2 months

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okay. the will wood song as vampire childe. a reverse of that oh so beloved fic based off a lil ask of mine.

the way he loves your pure, unadulterated humanity as you breathe down his neck when you’re on top of him. you’d have him squeeze his scarred thighs together if they weren’t pinned open from your pounding into his pretty and greedy hole.

he begs for your attention either way. his bratty words as he tries to set you off, wanting to drain you of your blood to have you even a part of his body. he begs and begs, taking in every careful breath of yours between his own moans of pure bliss and his sucking of your blood. the way he looks on with dazed eyes as your own roll back when you tell him to detach… but no　♡︎　he’s not doing that.

vampire childe who is just your silly little parasite! despite his expensive tastes, he likes it when you drag him to some seedy club’s bathroom and take him in the stall where anyone can hear him. his tab’s forgotten as he makes up for pissing you off from letting others ogle at him, such lecherous monsters he’s much better than, at least, that’s what he says as he’s holding onto the dirty mirror, seeing the possessiveness in your gaze as you surely leave bruises on his hips and ass.

IHDSWJHD I can't believe I wrote so much for Bloodied Fangs... something about exploring the different dynamics of vamps I guess idk what came over me. I think your asks just do something to the writing part of my brain. Hmm. Rambling under the cut again, I think I'm losing it

On a side note, if anyone reading this would like a full fic based on a prompt/request you might have, do check out my ongoing event!!

ANYWAYS! sorry I have worldbuilding(?) brainworms I have to get out first b4 everything else as usual sigh. I think a vamp!Childe is bloodthirsty in ever sense of the word. If we're going by the more popular vampire tropes, he might enjoy the boost to his abilities (i.e. heightened senses, supernatural strength) although I am curious to see how it would affect the use of his delusion and his Foul Legacy state.

Would additional vampiric features manifest themselves in the Foul Legacy state? Sharpened fangs, torn and roughed up bat-like wings?? Would mixing the powers from the delusion and vampirism produce any backlash? If the delusion draws from the user's life force, what would happen to a vampire who's immortal? One can only speculate.

Perhaps it's the genuine concern combined with natural curiosity in your expression when you pose these questions to him that continues to draw him closer and closer to you. How sweet of you to worry over him, he swears he can almost feel his now non-functioning heart skip a beat when your warm hand cups his face. He drinks in your warmth, constantly clinging to your side like some leech.

Which is why he loves it when he managed to rile you up, the contrast you show him is addicting. He knows what he's doing when he licks at the salt rim of his glass, shooting you a coy look as he consciously ignores the way the other patrons of the club are eyeing him. He knows he's won when you're dragging him off to the bathroom, a possessive glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, Childe is beaming when some customers whistle at the spectacle.

You sure that those outside can definitely hear his moans over the trashy upbeat music the club is blasting on the speakers but the man before you doesn't seem to care at all. His fangs sinking into your skin, the familiar taste of your blood settling on his tongue. The flavour is intoxicating, heady, rich. Infinitely better than whatever that drink he ordered just now was, how could it even compare?

He feels you yanking at his hair, trying to drag him off you and saying something along the lines of, "C'mon detach already, haven't you had enough?" The answer could not be more clear to him, how could such a small taste of you ever be enough?

If he drains you of everything, doesn't that mean your entirety will be a part of him for all eternity?

Bonus!! can't really figure out how to link it to everything I wrote above but I think he'd really like it if he could drink your blood while you're fucking him. Something about lapping away at your neck/wherever he chose to bite, acutely aware of your heartrate speeding up when he clenches down on you, your blood laced with the sharp sweet taste of bliss and arousal. He could simply drown in it all.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a full fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

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