celestiashifts
celestiashifts
celestia
68 posts
i don’t play about zoro
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celestiashifts · 5 hours ago
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𝙓 . 𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙀𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙉𝙀
⋆.˚ TAROT DECK EVENT
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hogwarts and philosophical rambles , it was 3 in the morning , i'm sleep-deprived
fortune , in its literal sense , does not always refer to money , galleons or bills one would possess . most people will use the term as that . in fact , it would be wrong to say that wealth hasn't become the center of our world . overtime , people have given fortune a new meaning , one that equates with happiness and a sense of freedom . this peculiar association has led people astray from the truth , they could see it for themselves if they looked closely .
why has this belief made the world so miserable ? why then , if everyone has the supposed answer to all their prayers and the solution to their life long problems , why do they still remain trapped in melancholy bound to eternal insatisfaction and resentment ? because ambition and shrewdness do not come with a magical sense of fulfillment nor a rulebook for the endless shadow that scarcity casts , like it waits for you to find refuge in at any sign of that so-called happiness . they do not bring an instant awareness of abundance . and maybe , that would be harder to detect under an avalanche of misery and maybe that would even be too convenient for them . but they would be looking for the wrong thing ...
if you asked me , money was never the point , neither was fortune . or maybe it is but another kind . it's abundance . it's everywhere , in every place you go , every connection you make , it has followed you since your first seconds on this earth because the world has so many blessings to gift , so many beautiful things that surround us each day and fail to notice . life is a museum of memories that are yet to be engraved on our minds .
everything in life is either about love or the absence of love .
. . .
maternal influence that irrevocably changed me as a person . my mother regina , without whom i wouldn't be who i am today . my affection for her could be described in multiple ways , anywhere , anytime but no matter the small corner of the infinite universe we found ourselves in , her presence in my life is one thing i feel immense gratitude for . and oh my god , we have seen it all . from separation to poverty , reunion and heartbreak , through it all , she remained the person i could hold on to .
well known raconteurs will tell her story with aversion and a certain disapproval of her character and to be fair , they wouldn't be totally wrong . others will paint her as a love led astray , a diamond-filled soul too heavy for anyone to carry , so heavy that they let it slip out of their fingers. and there she was on the ground , broken and shattered , like she had forgotten her everlasting nature .
this went on for years and years . there is only so much suffering one can take and sometimes , the alternative path looks appealing . and by this i mean , she had , quite literally , darkened her heart .
now!!!! i know anyone couldn't or possibly wouldn't understand why i would have so much love for someone like that but , i guess me entering her life and everything that followed the tragedy of my father getting sent to azkaban was like a uhh necessity for the character development . what i want to say is , she is someone who feels things very very deeply and so much love to give the world . sometimes i wish i could hand her my heart on a platter so maybe then she'd finally understand how much love i have for her and how i truly believe she is deserving of it .
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celestiashifts · 5 hours ago
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LOCAL GWENY FOUND DEAD BY HER PHONE !!!!!!!!!!!!
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so what if combust into flames, then what, huh?
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celestiashifts · 2 days ago
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     𝔱he 𝒂nti — 𝒎ethod
the anti - method uses questions your brain can't falsify. you throw it prompts that have zero available disproof from the senses or memory cache: what if i already shifted?, what if i'm in my dr and forgot?, what if i have my desire and just forgot?, how would i even know?, what if this is identical on purpose?, what if this is post - shift amnesia?, what if i'm hunting for signs in a place i already live? those live in a zone the brain can't close with evidence, because there is no test it can run that proves no. so the pattern engine stalls, and once it stalls, it stops policing.
your brain runs on prediction and continuity.
it prefers one story that stays put. when you keep dropping unfalsifiable questions, you weaken the grip of the current story without starting a debate.
pressure against the continuity habit until it cracks. the brain hates unresolved tickets, so it reassigns the ticket to the simplest resolution available: okay, then we're in the dr.
these questions are here to remove the brain's favourite toy: certainty about the current frame.
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why does this work? you may ask me, and i say, great question!   here's why :
the questions are asymmetrical, as one what if i already shifted? cannot be killed by a glance at your room. sensory input literally cannot answer metaphysical scope, and so the mismatch disarms the checking reflex.
prediction models update by exposure, you keep presenting the same unfalsifiable angle and the model stops betting hard on the old baseline.
once checking loses teeth, awareness stops bouncing. the brain isn't throwing you back to verify, so your attention stays where you’ve placed it. aka . . . your dr. or the void. or your desire. or whatever.
you deauthorise seeing equals truth – the brain can no longer use eyesight as the judge because the questions don't accept that court's jurisdiction.
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               ⊹  ︶︶  ୨୧  ︶︶  ⊹
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  step i ,  𝒔ettle lie down or sit still. you don't have to empty your mind or feel zen.  
the point is : stop trying to even do anything. you claim it. when you stop micromanaging, you stop feeding the part of your brain that thinks shifting requires effort.
               ┊ 
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  step ii ,  𝒑lant 𝒕he 𝒔eed ask a question your brain cannot disprove :  
what if i already shifted and just forgot? what if i've been here the whole time and didn't notice? how would i even know this isn't it?
not am i in my dr? (that invites debate). not how do i get there? (that assumes distance). you're only introducing an unfalsifiable thought.
your brain runs on pattern confirmation. if it can't disprove something, it has to consider it. keep feeding it questions it can't shut down.
               ┊ 
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  step iii ,  𝒍et 𝒕he 𝒔hit 𝒔tart your mind will pull receipts - your room, your body, your routine. fine. whatever. let it scream. but don't argue and don't check. arguing strengthens the cr narrative. repetition without argument wears it down.  
  keep dropping the thought :
i already shifted, i just forgot. i've been here all along.
               ┊ 
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  step iv ,  𝒍e 𝒄lick eventually, the brain runs out of proof. there's simply nothing left for it to point to that cancels the thought. that's when it gives way, and your awareness slides.  
awareness settles where resistance drops.
               ┊ 
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  step v ,  𝒂fter 𝒕he 𝒂ffirmations do not pause waiting for signs and don't open your eyes expecting a reveal. instead, do one tiny thing as if you're already there. reach for your blanket as if it's from your dr. signify the occupancy that you've already decided.  
this prevents the but nothing changed crash out.
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   𝒘ith 𝒕he 𝒗oid with the void, use the same pattern but swap the questions :  
what if this is already the void? how do i know it isn't? what if i just forgot?
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           ‧    ₊   ˚    ⋅
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   𝒘ith 𝒎anifesting instead of affirming i will get x or even i have x, you ask the questions your brain can't argue with :    
what if i already have it? what if this has been true all along? what if i just forgot? what if i'm only noticing it now?
maybe your brain tries to pull proof. it says, no, look, we don't see it yet, but that won't disprove the question. if it can't prove you wrong, what else can it do? what's left is the assumption standing by itself.
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et voila. the anti - method is about refusing to keep yourself out. once you've asked the questions, let the objections die out, and if you live even one second from the position of i already shifted, you're golden.
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celestiashifts · 5 days ago
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a note on my writing, the ai panic, and what i actually do here
i write my own posts.
that's the whole of it and also, alright, the beginning of it, because i do think there's a bigger, weirder thing happening in our corner of the internet where any sentence that isn't beige, or, god forbid, bad, gets stamped ai. somewhere along the way this doesn't sound like her turned into this can't be human, and honestly i don't know how to explain to people that reading a lot makes you sound like you've read a lot.
for anyone who doesn't know me beyond a post or two: i've said a thousand times that i read. i mean really read. i'm going out to say this, and if it sounds like a brag, then so be it, but i've read 120+ books in 2024, plays, essays, novels that should come with a health warning, films with long credits i actually sit through, the whole buffet.
i skipped two years of high school and graduated at sixteen, and i even posted the photos because i was proud of one of the only things that have held me up in life – intellect.
i've put well over ten thousand words of stories and essays into the world under my own name, sometimes to friends who watched me write my stories in chats in live, sometimes to the wolves who didn't see my editing process, and i've talked about my brain and my life and how shifting has kept me here when other things didn't
in my drs i've held two paid writing jobs, i know how to write because i've literally lived off writing. people who follow me long term can spot my tics or the way i drag a sentence.
on the accusations specifically:
she deleted my comment / she blocked me. i moderate, which is because my blog and my tiktok are my own spaces. i don't host accusations in my comments and i don't let my replies become a courtroom, and i don't owe anyone access to me. blocking is a boundary. sometimes i delete because it derails the conversation for people who are actually here to talk about shifting and, you know, shift.
the metaphors are obscure so it must be ai. or i know how to craft a metaphor, i make jokes like penguinz0 and sometimes i talk like a succession character because that is how i speak like. i like niche references because i consume a frankly embarrassing amount of media and i enjoy sounding like a person who consumes a frankly embarrassing amount of media.
the next post sounded more human. tone changes when you're irritated, or tired, or trying something new. creators experiment.
ai is bad for the environment. the climate matters, and here's the part that should end that line of thought: i'm not using ai to write my posts. if i ever play with a tool, spellcheck, transcript, outline, for anything public facing, i will label it. this blog is my handwriting, even with typos and all.
and since we're here, a small ask to the community i genuinely and wholeheartedly, hand on my heart and on the bible, care about: can we breathe before we dogpile about fake shifting stories. there's room for many ways of writing about the same thing, there's also room to just scroll past what isn't your flavour.
if you like my work, thank you, i'll keep writing the way i write, long lines with soft joints, references in because they make me happy, practical posts about shifting because i actually do it and it actually helps me live my life. if you don't like it or you don't believe me, that's fine too.
no brigades on my behalf, and don't harass the person who posted about me.
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celestiashifts · 6 days ago
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thank you for the tags chaai, ida, and gaia !!!
ONE PIECE DR
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i don’t know who to tag LOL so if anyone sees this, you’re free to join in !
bored……shifting community, let's play a @ game .
post two pictures that remind you of your dr self & a quote & two pictures that remind you of your dr lifestyle.
HUNTRESS DR : PREACHER'S DAUGHTER GONE WILD!
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tags…..but it's open to everybody. @velvetbeeez @lyraxnova @bravobitch @chaaistained @courtdove @venusianbarbiedoll @marrowborne @sweetnmay @deepinthegroves @eddieisashifter @ladyrohann @l22na4
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celestiashifts · 7 days ago
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ᒪIᑎᗩ EᐯEᖇᗰᑌᑎᗪ ᗷᒪᗩᑕK
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𝒍𝒍. 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑯𝑰𝑮𝑯 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑺𝑺 ˎˊ˗ TAROT DECK EVENT
lina evermund black . born march 4th 1971 on a winter morning . sirius black's daughter and adopted by the evermund family , direct descendants of merlin . ask anyone about her, and they would say she's well-known : the sharp-minded slytherin brunette spotted at ungodly hours in the library , losing herself in novels as though to escape reality , yet somehow always present at every festivity . the life of the party . she mostly keeps to herself – except when she's wandering the castle alongside that blonde hufflepuff sunshine boy , the one with constellations of freckles across his face , and a laugh too angelic that only lina seemed to truly notice and be utterly captivated by .
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celestiashifts · 8 days ago
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I don't understand how you can be a shifter and homophobic. Like girl, you probably eating out pussy in earth 987 right now 😭✌️
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celestiashifts · 8 days ago
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being fed mhmmhmhm
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@chaaistained ILY ILY ILY MWAH
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celestiashifts · 8 days ago
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pinterest search : chaai’s dr’s (main)
ib the wonderful @rrezshifts via their tiktok !!
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.
.
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super self explanatory so i didn’t feel any need to add some flowery descriptions — this post is more visual :3
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celestiashifts · 8 days ago
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coremma merch exclusively at my kiosk and also in all balenciaga stores, where logic goes to die: hoodie=hat. $99,99 each
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celestiashifts · 8 days ago
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TOOOO CUTE I LOVE
ᴠʟ . ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ . . .
ˎˊ˗ TAROT DECK EVENT
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╰┈➤ never let me go - florence + the machine * ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| |၊၊||၊|။||||၊၊||၊|။|||| |
𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 (/’ē-thər-bôrn/; αἰθήρ in ancient greek meaning "upper air" or "pure sky"). aether for divine sky. borne, not just born, but carried. as if the fairies themselves held him gently and set him down among mortals. well, that is actually what happened.
prince and son of a mortal king and a fairy, though stripped of any tangible sorcery. if it isn't his smile. that could literally summon warmth in the coldest hearts. or the way his eyes bend into crescent moons, illuminating his constellation of freckles that i want to trace and yearn for. in the most poetic way.
at least that's how i've always seen him. my love for him is.. as old as time. if you were to ask me my favorite thing about him, i would probably say it is not one simple thing. perhaps i would begin with his ability to brighten any place and room he enters. the angelic resonance stitched into his very movements, as if every gesture were another dialect of love only he was fluent in. he has the natural ability in himself to heal others by the simple touch of a hand. his heart expands to accomodate the weight of everyone's love, every person he's ever met. and if that seems too immense to grasp, i could just tell you about the heart-shaped freckle tucked beneath his left eye.
he's art. he is the love people write songs about, the poem that forgot it wasn't meant to be alive, a verse that wandered off the page and into the world, the fine line between dream and reality. you get the idea ... so many metaphors i own to define this kind of beauty, and i could go on and on and on ( and i will !!!!! )
if you asked me about how we met in that reality, here is how i would set the scene–spring night. lanterns rising into the firmament .. unintentional flynn ryder reference .. a festival annually thrown by the kingdom he grew up in. i wasn't meant to be there, yet here i was. i had heard about them so i had to see it for myself, unbeknownst to my mother who'd forbidden it. broke the rules, as one does.
i wanted a better view, sneaked into the palace, stumbled on the balcony he had claimed as his refuge at the time. he never called anyone on me, didn't ask for me to leave. it ended up being a night of chaos, mischief and tapestry stitched with whimsey. today he is my closest best friend in the world. in the near future ?.... that is most definitely going to change.
he is everything. and i do not mean this in the diluted sense of the word but in its most relenting, merciless form. in other words ; i am hopelessly infatuated with him. i love the way i don't have to ask him for anything. he already knows. i love that he will never allow me to go home by myself in a pouring rain, but insists on walking beside me with a single umbrella. i love the depth of our conversations at night. i love that he is the absolute worst cook. seriously. give him only one simple task, he will find a way to ruin the simplest dish with a reckless flick of his wrist and dump a fist of salt in the meal you so carefully made with love. ( and then he will backhug you and give you the softest kiss as an apology..... this is too much for me. )
i love his heart. i love his presence. i love that while he looks handcrafted by aphrodite herself, there is much more to him than meets the eye.
how can one convey such intense and strong love for someone into simple words ? when there isn't anything simple about him. ... i can't. i've come to the conclusion his love is meant to be felt, and not explained. he exists beyond the reach of language. and that is what makes him so devastatingly and beautifully human . . .
more rambles incoming . . .
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celestiashifts · 9 days ago
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peak productivity (updating all my drs pinterest boards)
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celestiashifts · 10 days ago
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Best thing about shifting is no one can take it away from you. It's not phone that you can confiscate, it's not wifi that u can Disconnect, even if you get grounded you can still shift. YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO GETS TO DECIDE TO SHIFT OR NOT.
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celestiashifts · 10 days ago
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anime/manga shifters unite 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️💥🔥🔥🔥
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one piece, bleach, a fagrant flower blooms with dignity, Pokémon XY & Z, and Naruto are my main anime-based drs.
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celestiashifts · 13 days ago
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(She bites God in the wrist)
or. ida auclair's first hunt.
When your emptied veins yield to hunger, who will you choose to feed on?
The first man Ida Auclair ever feeds from is nobody worth remembering. A married electrician, his jacket smelling faintly of cheap perfume that did not belong to his wife and to someone younger and newer, walking home across the dark spill of Parisian cobblestone, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and tainting his breath. Unaware that in a few heartbeats (and how strange it is, to think in heartbeats when hers no longer moves) he will be a corpse.
She kissed his throat before her mouth closed over the fragile column of his human throat — and it was not romance, or sacred — she did not even feel guilt. It was simply what had felt right before taking his life. And the bright and shocking chorus of blood in her mouth rushed to greet her like it had been pumping through that mans body just to meet her fate. The man’s blood was acidic and stale — laced with the bitterness of his deceit; Louis called it dirty later, and Armand apologized for it, murmuring that her first should have been sweeter and nectar-like. Ida, drunk on the sour blood, turned to him with flushed cheeks and blown out pupils and told him he was being ridiculous, and to shut up, or else, though her voice was blurred with something between laughter and trembling. He only smiled in response and cupped her chin, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth, wiping away the blood like it was spilled wine.
She remembers how the world had become an instrument as she had fed from the man. Her veins that became taut strings which were plucked in urgent succession by each pulse she swallowed. She couldn’t stop drinking, and her body had arched into it helpless and starved. Her hands had knotted into the fabric of the man’s coat as if she could anchor herself in her new hunger, as if she could sink deeper into him until there was nothing left but the joined shape of the newly-born predator and prey. Her moans were half-sob half-ecstasy, low and guttural in the night air, as her body relearned itself anew.
She remembers Armand’s hand had held up her head, steadying her like a mother would do to a baby sucking on her breast, lifting her just enough so the spill of blood wouldn’t stain her collar. And she remembers how she couldn’t see but so clearly feel Louis, the presence he made at the edge of the dark alley, eyes simmering with that eternal fire, watching her feed as if he had waited a decades for this singular night.
It was only after the man’s heart faltered, skipped, and stilled beneath her mouth that she had felt the absence of that lifelong beat in herself mirrored in him. No beat, no breath, only the deep and unnatural quiet of the dead — she was truly among them now. She had looked up from the dead man’s neck, lips slick with blood, chest heaving from the shock of it all despite not needing it, and her first thoughts had been panic: “What have I done?”, “What am I now?” and Louis had appeared then, his hand closing around hers, firm and cold. He hadn’t told her to not be afraid; he had stood beside her in the hush, letting her hear the shared silence, before kissing her like absolution.
His fingers had been in her hair, his mouth tasting the blood she had taken and claiming it too. He had whispered my girl against her lips like it was a spell, and her heart had started to beat once more. Armand had been kissing her neck, and his voice had been velvet whilst he had told her that she’d done beautifully. And the three of them had been bound together in a rhythm that exists only when they are touching.
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The night had started as tenderly as it ended — her small apartment on the first floor smelling faintly of jasmine tea Ida had brewed, though she knew they would never get to drink it. And past her apartment, The Seine was silver in the dark and the air was heavy in the November damp. The three of them had walked as they always do, her hands tangled in theirs, her steps quick to match their longer strides.
Louis and Armand had led her away from the bright and civilized part of the city and into its dimmer veins: the streets where laughter was sharp and dangerous and the smell of bodies and spilled drinks mingled in the air.
They had moved like twin shadows beside her, directing her gently — a subtle turn of the wrist there and a murmured word there — toward the lowlifes, the drunkards, the men with lies for tongues and restless hands. They had spoken to her without speaking as their bodies had told her where to look and where to linger.
When they found the electrician, Louis had pressed her hand once, a touch of reassurance, and Armand had leaned in to breathe against her ear that this one will not be missed. The hunger inside her had risen and swelled until her limbs trembled.
And after the blood, she fell into the dizzying high that made the world glitter as if varnished in gold leaf — she had staggered between her husbands, laughing sweetly at nothing, and Paris had felt unbearably alive, with every cobblestone and street lamp singing in her vision. She had felt her Armand and her Louis’ sweet blood mix with the sour blood of the electrician, and had thought of how the blood moved underneath her skin as her heart pumped it in her — powered by the touch of them.
Armand had murmured that dawn would be soon — the slow rising sun which meant nothing but certain death or quiet, dark rooms she would return to with her newly-wedded husbands. This first night, she was new. And she is theirs for eternity.
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celestiashifts · 13 days ago
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ah yes, the duality of shiftblr
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first thing i saw when i opened the app too damn
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celestiashifts · 14 days ago
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im so glad that i didn't let the skeptical opinions of others deter me from forming my own thoughts on shifting
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