I’m A Strange Individual

Give me violent, painful, monstrous transformations. And when they change back, let it be just as gruesome and heartbreaking as the initial change. I want them shivering on the floor, muscles smasming as their body puts itself back together, fever making their bruised skin flush an ugly red as they sweat and it’s so hot maybe they’re steaming. I want them barely-conscious, exhausted to the bone, desperate for something to drink, and feeling so, so hungry. In the aftermath of the more extreme transformations, they’ve burned up so much body fat and maybe even muscle mass that they’re nearly skeletal. Give them someone to take care of them, to murmur soothingly as they’re cleaned up and tucked into bed, someone who holds them up while they sip at some broth and water, or who holds their hands while IVs are inserted, to replenish lost blood and fluids. They need someone to talk them through the horror of the transformation, to reassure them that they’re still loved and wanted. Give me gross transformations and tender, gentle, heartbreakinkingly sweet aftercare.

I think I’m gonna write just that 👀