#Somatic Tracking

[bsahely]

Healing from Wholeness: An Integral Nondual Practitioner Guide | ChatGPT4o

[Download Full Document (PDF)] Healing from Wholeness: An Integral Nondual Practitioner Guide offers a transformative framework for healing grounded in the understanding that reality is already whole — and that illness is not an error, but a sacred signal of disconnection from that wholeness. Rooted in the wisdom of Integral Theory, nondual metaphysics, and a life-value-centered approach, this…

[unicornachos2]

Do you ever think about how Fitz, Nighteyes, and Beloved are a thematic tryptich of the past, the present, and the future

[adviceformefromme]

A deeper dive into relationships because that’s a HUGE blocker for a lot of perpetually single women because the moment you start to catch feels is the moment you tune into the frequency of survival. When you’re in survival you get tunnel vision, you’re over analysing, you’re over communicating to create a sense of safety in yourself, you become hyper vigilant of what you say, how you say it, what he says, when he was last online. Imagine an animal in the wild looking over its shoulder, eyes wide open. That is literally you! The moment you start to feel. And this is because when you feel, you’re opening a buried hatchet of all your past pains, and traumas and your body is sensing danger. You can no longer think straight, you’re not sleeping properly and your focus is on him because unconsciously he has become a THREAT. Of course you don’t see him as a threat, you see him as potentially the ‘one’, even though he may be starting to pull away, because that survival energy you don’t realise you’re in is actually REPELLING. 

So how do you get out of this survival energy when you are dating a guy? 

You need to practise creating safety in your nervous system. 

Daily practise, yes these might sounds stupid and redundant but you need to do daily exercises that create a healthy relationship between you and your nervous system that reinforce safety. This might look like daily somatic shaking for 5 mins (literally shaking out your whole body to a Missy Elliot track), and/ or humming for 5 mins this tunes your body to safety, or or try bilateral tapping (butterfly tap your upper arms). This is what you can start today as your daily practise. It’s literally 5 mins priming your body to safety. You’re allowing your body to feel safe BEFORE an event happens.

When the fire alarms go off, create a note in your phone with your tool box. Important to connect with your inner child during this time, ask yourself ‘what part of me is afraid? How old does she feel? What does she need right now? And you handle and deal with this like a loving inner parent, you create a dialogue that reaffirms safety. Yes again may sounds stupid but it actually works, think how a parent can reassure a child to safety, you have that ability within you. ‘You’re safe with me. You don’t have to handle this alone, I’m here, what do you need’

You want to expose your nervous system to gently feel safe to be desired and loved by a powerful man. Imagine how it feels the moment that switch goes off in you from being the fun loving gal, to being overwhelmed with anxiety intense emotions. You want to visualise, feeling safe at that point. Start visualising having feelings AND feeling grounded, AND feeling safe to lean back and let him come forward. FEEL safe not having to attach yourself to him, go slowly. By putting in the actual work to visualise this is going to create a shift, this is something you do every night before bed.

[lup-ines]

astrology observations (part ???, i lost track)

by lup-ines

° people with a mix of leo and virgo in their chart are hardwired to be a little snide, also prone to narcissism

° all water sign risings share the trait of their most prominent feature being their eyes, cancer risings are doe-eyed, pisces risings are sleepy-eyed, and scorpio rising have intense eyes that stare right through your soul

° venus in taurus men love to play loyal but they can often be overpowered by their love of beautiful things which leads to a wandering eye

° jupiter in the 3rd/9th transit is a great time to publish things

° this doesn’t happen in all cases, but in my experience I have noticed that siblings often share the same moon sign with their father

° mercury ruled people/gemini and virgo placements should make it a life practice to find healthy ways to release their anxieties, their brains are constantly on go mode and activities like writing, meditation, and somatic therapy can help lessen the edge (honourable mention to anyone with moon in the 6th/8th as well)

° air sign mercuries = thought daughter

[harloqui]

What I've Been Saying!

I know there was discourse a while back about p-shifters and "why don't they call themselves delusional" and "is the idea of p-shifting itself harmful" and the like. A new paper came out by Dr. Jan Dirk Blom (a clinical lycanthropy expert, he's talked about otherkin before) about clinical therianthropy and a comparison to non-clinical therianthropic and otherkin groups. What he's saying seems fairly relevant to the current discourse:

"Misdiagnosis of clinical therianthropy can also be made in terms of overpathologizing certain individuals who report strong identification with animals. In order to avoid this possibility, certain terms and group memberships will be discussed. However, in reviewing the professional and online literatures, there seems to be an unavoidable degree of fuzziness or overlap in current definitions (Plante et al., 2016) and, at least at present, a definitive definitional guide seems lacking."

"Another relevant group, already alluded to, is called therians. Therians overlap with furries to a degree, but the identification of these people with animals (or rather as animals) seems to be far stronger. This could range from a strong perceived connection to their fursona to a firmly held conviction that they are less than 100 % human or would even prefer not to be human (Grivell, 2014). Reviewing the literature, people may identify themselves as therians on psychological, behavioral, spiritual, metaphorical, or existential grounds (Scribner, 2012)."

"We would argue that misdiagnoses can be avoided by focusing on i) the nature of the animal identification, ii) the presence or absence of a belief in actual transformation, iii) one’s overall level of reality-testing, and iv) the presence of clinically significant distress and impairment."

"The notion of zoomorphism has such a long and impressive track record in the history of humankind that it is probably safe to say that it has always been around. It has been part and parcel of many cultures, and individuals may have felt attracted to the belief that human-to-animal transformations are possible under the influence of psychological, social, religious, philosophical, chemical, and cultural influences."

"That the number of published cases of clinical therianthropy is so modest is probably due to underdiagnosis, but it may also indicate that zoomorphism in its numerous different forms is a harmless trait that only leads to excesses in relatively rare cases where people feel misunderstood, become socially isolated, and start showing grossly erratic behavior."

"First, and consistent with prior reports, clinical therianthropy rarely occurs on its own, but far more frequently in the context of other serious psychiatric or somatic conditions and occasionally intoxications. It may therefore be a useful additional diagnosis or diagnostic qualifier with no assumption of it becoming a ‘standalone’ diagnosis. Second, we advise against applying this additional diagnosis or qualifier to nonclinical cases (i.e., to situations where people fulfill one or more criteria of zoomorphism in the absence of clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning). We thus hope to prevent a spurious epidemic of nonclinical or ‘minor’ cases of therianthropy, as well as to protect people who enjoy their perceived non-human animal characteristics - or perhaps simply tolerate them - from seeing their ideas and sensations being pathologized."

(bolding mine)

He also went into some interesting questions regarding clinical therianthropy (like if a person claims to turn into a mythical creature, are they still a clinical therianthrope? Probably not) as well as the -anthrope names for some common and uncommon animal transformations.

[theshipsong]

basil hawkins x f!reader, explicit, cw: breeding kink. established relationship; reader is an astrologer, the grudge dolph's navigator, and implicitly racialized.

⸺

Hawkins didn't usually hover while you shot your evening sights of Venus and Polaris, but your captain's eyes had been glued to you all day, and really for most of the week despite each of you being quite busy while the Grudge Dolph traced along the Calm Belt. You were trying your best not to direct the ship into the jaws of some sea king, while Hawkins was, for the most part, utterly immersed in his cards or sparring with some of the more combative crewmen, usually on deck and in your line of sight. At first you wrote off his proximity as a ship's close quarters, but it was most obvious when he joined-but-didn't-join you for your multiple coffees. He'd lope into the galley kitchen a moment later and linger a while longer, make himself a tea, talk to someone else, but he was always there.

It'd been nearly two months since you, still to your embarrassment, explicitly called Hawkins your partner, and for the most part you were perfectly cordial in mixed company. You spent most nights in his bed, though this last week you were so exhausted you crawled into yours, dead to the world until habit woke you up before dawn. This wasn't unusual, either: you'd stir slightly as Hawkins wished you good night, anyway, with a chaste kiss to your forehead or your hair that you pretended to be asleep for but still anticipated.

Not so lately. You'd even heard the creak of the timber outside your door a few times as he hesitated before turning on his heel toward his own room.

What the hell was his problem?

You meant to say as much as you hopped off the ladder to the berthing deck, but to you surprise, Hawkins caged you with his hands on the rails higher than yours, your feet still two rungs off the floor, and you gasped feeling his hard cock against your back. You turned your head over your shoulder to look back at him, and he caught you in a kiss so hungry the awkward angle didn't matter. He broke it with a rough, low, "The moon's waxing."

"Yeah...?" Any seaman worth their salt kept track of the moon, for nighttime visibility and the tide. It was part of why Faust was more or less your co-navigator, because even though he had no training in his Sulong form, he was still somatically aware of it, and what the hell was your problem, thinking of tides when your man was so mad with want you were afraid (hopeful) he'd take you right there?

Hawkins' cheeks colored, and he mumbled something more into your neck.

"What was that?"

"...youshouldbedoneovulating."

Surely you misheard.

"What?"

He let his forehead drag down to your shoulder. "You had your period two weeks ago. The full moon."

Oh my god. "Hawkins," you said patiently. "A cycle is rarely exactly 28 days." But you were lightheaded at the thought of him watching you, wanting you but waiting, because... "You don't want to breed me?" you teased.

"B-breed?" he repeated, raising his head.

You turned, leaning back against the ladder, a kind of pirouette that risked you falling, but he'd never let you. You were almost as tall as him like this, and his eyes were wide and incredulous. "You like cumming in me, don't you, captain?"

"You're shameless."

You smiled, pleased as a cat with cream as his neck and cheeks turned red.

"I like it too," you whispered in his ear. "I think we'd make such pretty babies."

Hawkins almost stepped back in shock before remembering the precarity of your position, and instead of helping you down, he scooped you into his arms.

"Tell me," he almost growled as he tried not to bash your head into the narrow bulkheads.

"About our kids? You've never struck me as paternal." Nor were you maternal.

"Tell me what you want."

You clung to his neck. "I want your cum. Please."

You almost certainly passed an open cabin door or two on your way to his room, but both of you were beyond caring. He practically kicked his door open and had you pinned under his weight in an instant, peeling your clothes off you and dragging the cups of your bra down, not ungently, but you winced.

"Sorry—" he said, but you shook your head.

"They're just sensitive, keep going—"

The muscles of your thighs burned as he folded you, his silken hair falling like curtains around and over your face. You'd yet to get the hang of this with your awkward heights, but Hawkins seemed determined to look into your eyes tonight. You found your head barely in his pillows while he braced his strong arms wide on the mattress, too far to kiss but still somehow more intimate than you'd ever been as he guided his leaking tip where you needed it. You both moaned as he sank in deep.

"What did you say?" Hawkins huffed. "Breed? Like cattle?"

You whimpered at the stretch. "Uh-huh. Breed me, captain. Fill me up."

He grit his teeth. "So vulgar."

"You like it," you gloated.

"I didn't say otherwise."

"Come on," you gasped as he started fucking you up the bed, and you groped for the rails of his headboard, out of your reach until they weren't. "Tell me you want to. Tell me you're gonna."

Hawkins didn't respond, focused on the cant of his hips into yours, and you momentarily forgot your own request, whining at the feeling of him rubbing the deepest parts of you until he spoke.

"...get you pregnant? Make you a mother on my ship? Is that what you want?"

You groaned.

"And everyone would know. The crew but everyone, the Navy, once they saw a little family aboard that you're mine. Hmm?"

"Oh god, Hawkins—"

"My—Empress," he groaned, and you could have laughed at his one-track mind if the image on the Major Arcana wasn't suddenly so erotic to you: a queen heavy with child, breasts heavy with milk, barefoot, flesh-and-blood.

"You freak," you said, "All that waiting, all that being careful, and—oh—!"

For that cheek, he nearly pulled out before thrusting back in sharply, and you bit your lip to keep from screaming.

You knew Hawkins was tired if he didn't immediately herd you away for a shared bath, and you hummed an idle tune as you half laid on his chest and traced patterns on his pale skin, your legs feeling like jelly with a mess of shared fluids between them. He was just as boneless and breathless as you.

"You're a true witch, you know? Putting such images in my head..."

"They're already there," you said. "The Empress, the Emperor. Emperor of the Sea?"

Hawkins combed his fingers through your hair. "Don't tempt fate."

You smiled. "You know how I feel about that."

"Synchronicity, then."

You planted your chin on his pectoral and studied his face. He was perfect to you, the only man you wanted to be with as long as you lived. You knew that was your youth speaking, and the two of you were far too young to even joke about having a family, but sometimes your affection overwhelmed you and you either wanted to run away or shove him into the sea—of course you'd fish him out again, like you always had—and something like tonight came dangerously close to satiation, how close you wanted to be to him, how much you wanted him to be part of you.

"What?" Hawkins said.

"Those kids of ours," you lied.

"Interesting. Who do they take after?"

"Well, you've seen my mixed cousins. Me."

He made a face that said of course. "Probably for the best."

"Hey."

"I just mean their eyebrows."

"...Okay." You still pouted, resisting the urge to scold him since you liked his eyebrows. "And we'll have their birth times to the second. I hope one of them's a Gemini."

"Hmm." Hawkins seemed to think seriously. "We'd have to plan for September or October."

"Of course. The Virgo or Libra new moon."

His brow furrowed. "You said..."

"I'm joking. You know, last time my period ended while the moon was waning, so you're talking about a four-to-seven-day window for both menstruation and ovulation."

Hawkins sighed. "Quarter phases it is."

"And," you said, finally, "I am on birth control."

He looked at you with the most long-suffering glare you'd ever seen.

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

Transcript of Shelby's Video:

CW: Abuse

:readmore:

Hello! I don't know if you can even hear it, I put on, like, light jazz in the background because it seemed awkward being quiet, but I don't think you can hear it, so I'm just gonna turn it off. Um, hello! Um, welcome! We are in emote only because I'm just gonna be talking today, and then I'm gonna go! I'm gonna go!

Um, yeah, it was very, very low. There's, there's no need. I just, it felt weird leaving you in silence, but I'm here, so — Hello! Um, I want to talk about something today that, um, very nervous. I feel sweaty. I had a sweater on, I had to take it off. Um, I'm gonna try and just, I wrote down pretty much everything I think that I want to say to keep track of, sort of all the points that I want to make sure I don't forget anything. So I will be reading from something, um, a good portion of the time, but not 100 percent of the time. Um, and I just wanted to make sure I got all of my thoughts down in words ahead of time. I'm, I really like writing down my thoughts. So I did that.

Um, oh, hold on. Can I turn ads off? I think that maybe we turn ads off today. How do I make that happen for just today? Um. Shoulda had that already. I shoulda had that already. I actually don't even know how to make that happen. You know what? That's just gonna have to be that way. I'm so sorry.

Um. I'm all good. Um, yeah, okay. Today's just gonna be talking. Uh, I'm just gonna start reading from what I wrote, and go from there.

I have a really big coffee, I'm gonna take a swig. And I have my water, and I'm gonna take a swig of that.

I have always liked telling my different experiences that I've had, um, in dating because it feels important to me to share what I've learned and maybe help other people to not make the same mistakes that I have before. I'm 30. I've dated a lot. I've gone on a lot of dates. I keep trying, um, and it's unfortunate that a lot of my dating history, uh, there were a lot of bad people that tried to manipulate or control me, um, but that's not to say that every person that I've dated has treated me poorly. Um, some people just weren't the right people.

Um, and speaking out about my bad experiences has never felt as important as it does right now because silence has always brought me peace. And this time it feels like my silence is not keeping my peace. It's only keeping somebody else's peace. Um, and I never thought that I could be the kind of person to end up in a situation like I did. I'd never thought that could happen to me.

And so for me, this is important because it could help anybody else see the signs sooner than I did. Um, or hopefully avoid a similar situation entirely. Because the, the truth is it was dangerous. Um, there were a lot of things wrong in this relationship that, um, I endured some pretty terrible treatment. Um, and I might touch on some things here and there about that. But, um, if I feel like it's important to the overall context. But what I want to stay focused on is this specific issue, um, and the things that happened matter-of-factly and the things that people saw and witnessed in our circle.

Um, it took me 10 months after to heal. And I spoke with multiple therapists and tried different forms of therapy. Um, I tried somatic therapy. That one was actually really good for me. Um, because that one actually helped me release a lot of, um, built up anger I was having over the last year. Um, but the anger that I was feeling was for myself because, um, I felt like I should have known better.

I felt so stupid at myself for, um, sort of just staying through all of this. Um, and I shared my story with a lot of friends after I started talking to therapists and I was like "So, this thing happened ... and I wasn't really sure ... It just seems weird now to me looking back," and all of them told me exactly what was happening in the words that I was too afraid to use.

Um, and I was being hurt in my last relationship. And it took me all of that time to see it through that lens. Um, I even posted an anonymous story to Reddit that I have now deleted with an anonymous account. But in posting that, I found a dozen other stories that were exactly like mine, exactly the same way. Um, and all of the comments said exactly the same thing.

Um, and I was so mad at myself because I was lying to, um, at a certain point to protect this person, because I knew that if I told my friends the truth, it'd make him look really bad. Um, I didn't think that I would cry and I practiced saying all of this and I didn't cry, but it's easier to practice it when no one is listening.

Um, but he always cared more about how it looked and that was really important, not what was true. Um, and it was really subtle. When I hear about, um, when I hear about physical abuse, I think of hitting. I think of hitting and punching, um, so I thought that this wasn't violent enough, um, to be abuse. Uh, I thought that it was just like a constant accident that he kept hurting me. Um, but he's not hitting me and it didn't start as something that he did to hurt me.

Uh, he had this habit of biting, which is so weird to me now, but he said that he had had this habit since he was a kid. And even his mom said that that was true. And he said it was just affectionate and that that might have been — I mean, I think that that might have been true, maybe, at the start, but I also feel that I have good reason to believe that every part of it was a lie, but that's just my personal opinion, um, and I had no problem with just biting, that isn't even the most uncommon thing, um, but he did mention something early that I should have taken as a red flag, um, and he wanted to make sure that I was okay with him biting me because he didn't want me to come back later and say that he abused me. Which I thought was really weird considering he had never hurt me before. And so why would I call it abuse? And why was he thinking about that? And I thought he was being sweet, checking on me to make sure that I was still comfortable. Um, but of course I was because he hadn't hurt me. And why would I think he ever would?

Um, and then he did, for the first time, by accident, uh, and I don't specifically remember the actual first time that he bit me too hard by accident, because I didn't think that it would be significant, um, I thought that it would only happen once, and he started biting me more and more over a period of time, sort of throughout the whole relationship, and accidents of him biting too hard and really hurting me happened more and more frequently, um, but he always seemed genuinely sorry, and he decided that he didn't want to keep accidentally hurting me, um, so we were gonna use a safe word, um, so he could learn where my limit was, where my pain tolerance ended.

Uh, and saying that out loud now doesn't sound — Like, that's not very sound logic. Um, but at the time, I thought he cared about not hurting me. But in reality, it's like, why are you biting so hard? And why do you have to bite so hard? And it shouldn't be that hard of a problem to stop. Um, that shouldn't be that hard.

And he disguised it as this really quirky part of our relationship and was so comfortable sharing it with his friends to the point that he would do it in front of them. He thought it was this really funny story to tell and a good bit to take my arm and bite me in front of everybody until I literally shout in pain. Um, and then I have to laugh it off because I'm so embarrassed and I don't want to cause a scene in front of all of our friends and I'm sure everyone was a little bit uncomfortable, but as long as I was saying that it was fine, nobody really felt like they needed to be concerned and that's not anybody's fault because I was lying. I was lying and it wasn't fine because I would go home later and I'd tell him how uncomfortable I was. How much I didn't like being hurt all the time and I needed him to really stop biting so hard. I didn't like it and I tried telling him over and over again because he wasn't actually trying at all to not hurt me, um, but he said he would try, at first, and then he started saying things like it was my pain tolerance that was too low, or I'm exaggerating how much it actually hurts. He's not even biting that hard. I'm, I'm being dramatic. Um, but his biting escalated to a point where I was covered in bruises all over my arms and they hurt and he would poke at them for fun. And he even felt so comfortable showing off my bruises that he had caused to our friends because he would bite me so hard by accident, "by accident." He would even joke that it looked like he abused me. Um, and eventually he did acknowledge how bad it looked that I was covered in bruises all the time. So he stopped, um, biting my arms as often. And he started biting my legs instead. Um, and it was in the last couple of months of the relationship that every time he bit me, it was until I needed to use this safe word. Um, it had become his benchmark for when to stop.

Only once I was definitely hurt, um, which meant I was being hurt every single day, um, multiple times a day, uh, for all of the days that we spent together in person. And when I asked him to stop again, this time he said, "This is who he is. He isn't going to change." Those were his words. And I remember a lot of, specifically his words about certain things, especially at the end.

Um, because I'm good at remembering words and especially his wording. I became really good at remembering because he was constantly contradicting himself. And I would notice, but most of the time it wasn't worth picking a fight over. And — But he would fight me on it sometimes 'cause I would po- I would point it out and, uh, he would insist that he had never said the thing that he said, he definitely did say. And then he would say something like, "How are you so sure you're remembering correctly? Why are you always right?" Um, and he definitely said the things that I heard him say and other people heard him say.

So, he had, now at this point, weaponized the safe word and was using it to ensure that I was hurt and on a constant basis. And he wasn't sorry anymore. Um, I couldn't even tell you the last time he had apologized for doing it anymore because now sometimes he would bite me and I would yell out the safe word because it hurts so bad and he'd clamp down even harder and, just for a second, just for good measure, before letting go and sometimes I'd say the safe word and he'd grind his teeth down on my skin and sometimes he'd smile after, um, like a gloating grin?

And during this time I was filled with so much anxiety all the time that I was constantly nauseous. Gagging daily, um, on occasion throwing up because of the pit that was in my stomach. I never told him about that though. I was going and running away quietly to throw up in the toilet and rejoin our group of friends.

Um, but I felt so unwanted and ignored. Um, and I would tell him that and then he would reassure me that he wanted to be together and he loved me. He loved me more than I loved him, even. He would always insist that that was true, like the, "I love you." "I love you more," but he was like, really serious about it.

Um, and looking back, I do believe that the way I was swept off my feet at the beginning of this relationship was 100 percent love bombing. Um, and we were friends for a time. Um, at least people would have thought that, actually, but I use the word friend very loosely because, um, we had actually never spoke to each other outside of group chats we were in together when, like a handful of times throughout the, the whole time that we knew each other, um, but did not talk to each other.

So I wouldn't have even called him my friend until he found out I was single, waited a few weeks to reach out, and then we started a friendship and then that friendship turned romantic and then he made these huge romantic gestures. He wrote me the most beautiful love letter that I had ever read. Um, he called me his soulmate. He talked about "forever" one month in. He told me he hadn't been in a relationship in five years. He thought he could never find love again before he met me. He said he wanted someone to grow with. He wanted to be a dad. He had all his names picked out and I didn't have a preference because I — My feeling of it is that the timing is right and with the right person, I could, um, but if that doesn't work out in time or the time, you know, I, I'm not super pressed about it. Um, but I started opening my mind up to the idea with him because it seemed so important to him. And I kept trying to talk to him to figure out where he was, later on, when I could tell things like, were declining.

And, um, now all of a sudden he's telling me he's not sure he wants kids at all. In fact, he has never been attached to the idea of kids. Um, and I told him that isn't what he said before, and he said he's allowed to change his mind. And I'm of the opinion that in a relationship, there are a few things that you are not actually allowed to change your mind without letting your partner know.

I think that kids is one of them. It wasn't even important to me. Um, and I think marriage is one of them, so I brought that up next. And I asked if he still wanted marriage. He said he wanted to marry me. And then he said, now, "I'm not the co-" quote, "I'm not the commitment guy. You know that."

I didn't know that.

Why are you dating me?

In fact, he was telling me the exact opposite every day. Uh, he would tell me he still wanted to be together. He wanted to work on all of the problems. He wanted to, like, he wanted me at the end of everything. He did not want to break up. He made that very clear. And uh, I have though, caught him in lies before, but usually it was small stuff and I, again, I didn't want to, it wasn't anything that ever seemed worth rocking the boat over, uh, which isn't normal for me.

I hate lies. Um, and yet I ended up lying for him. So, uh, but he had lied about big things and he had also been caught lying by his friends numerous times. So this is something that he feels is acceptable to do. And everything reached a breaking point when he was about to leave for an extended period of time.

We were not going to see each other very much, a few days out of every few months, um, and now suddenly he is dumping all of these problems that he has been having feelings about all of this time later. Um, at one point he said he's been feeling this way a couple of months. At another point, he says he's been feeling this way for six months, immediately contradicting him- contradicting himself in the same conversation.

And with no time to do anything about it. I arrived — the one of — Never mind. I'm gonna get to something later, but I literally arrived for three days for this conversation to happen and then leave. Um, my cat just woke up and she's not usually awake right now — Hi, my love. It's really close to her dinner time. I should have fed her early.

Um, so no time to fix any of the problems all the sudden because there are three days before he leaves and he insisted he did not want to break up. He, and so, he was expecting me to have a solution somehow, magically, and I gave a number of solutions that would have a way forward for us to be together, but he refused to make any compromise, um, whatsoever.

And he said that "the relationship was starting to feel like a responsibility," towards the end. Also his words. Um, so it wasn't a responsibility the whole rest of the time to him. And he was at this point, basically flaunting that he would never prioritize me over anything. Um — she's eating my laundry. Please don't cause problems. — Um, and I wasn't even asking for literally even the bare minimum. I was asking for so little and he — I was watching him give exactly what I was needing in the relationship all over the place to anybody else who, who just happened to ask and just wasn't me. So, um, and he also, he was never going to prioritize me over anything that would give him more fame or money.

In fact, he said that himself. He, uh, that was exactly why he was not going to compromise at all for a solution for us to be together. Because he said he wanted to see how much fame and money he could get. Um, and I just thought we wanted to be together. I thought that's what we both wanted, because that's what he was still saying he wanted to.

Um, but then he also admitted to me that he had grown resent- uh, he had grown to resent me. And I have to be thankful that he said that bit out loud. A lot of these bits he said out loud. Because that was the last push that I needed to get myself out.

He had grown resentful, which I also pointed out that there was no reason. Like, there was no reason to feel that way and he admitted that there was no reason for him to feel that way either. I think that it was because I'm someone who can communicate how I feel. Um, but, I don't know, I think, there, I have a lot of theories and reasons why I believe things happen the way that they did and why he was lying all of the time.

Um, but, he was "resentful" of me, was causing me physical harm every day, multiple times a day, despite me telling him over and over again to stop. He wasn't going to change, and he wasn't going to end the relationship. He was going to keep hurting me, and it was possibly going to escalate even further. So I broke up with him.

And I didn't even want to. Um, because I couldn't even see for such a long time after, um, what it really was that had happened. That he had abused me. And, in fact, we left things as, we want to be friends, and he can never imagine not speaking to me again. Um, and then he never spoke to me again. Uh, outside of like a couple of exchanges where I needed to ask for my clothes to be shipped, um, so at least I got my clothes back, uh, I had a whole closet full.

However, uh, he did throw away all of my other things, uh, without saying a word to me about it. Hundreds of dollars of things from my office were trashed without a word, and I didn't block him till ten months later because I wanted an open door still. I really thought I wanted to be his friend. Um, but, uh, I don't feel that way anymore.

I do believe he was bottling up so many emotions, uh, and he would never talk about how he felt. Um, I, I think he even, I mean, he did admit that he felt like he couldn't say it any sooner. Like, there was just no possible way to say how he was feeling sooner than the absolute last possible chance. Like, not even a chance, because three days before he left, that was actually a lie too, also.

He didn't leave for another week after I left. He, he brought me in, had this three day conversation, he was supposed to leave, and then he stayed for another week before he left, uh, with all of the friends that I was also meant to see, but he had lied to me about the dates too.

Um, but I do believe that there, uh, that he was bottling up so many emotions that he was taking it out on me physically. I believe there was a moment where he knew that he didn't want to be in the relationship anymore and instead of just ending it, he tried to push me away any way he knew would hurt me. And he knew all of the ways that would hurt me the most. And he knew he was hurting me. There was no way that he didn't know because of the safe word that he made.

Uh, and he just didn't care. He was hurting me and he didn't care. And even looked like he was enjoying it, sometimes. Um, and I can look back now and I can see all these instances that were really major red flags. Um, there was this one time that he pinned me down and asked me to try my absolute hardest to get him off of me.

And I couldn't do it, obviously. And he said something to make the point that he was so much stronger than me that I wouldn't be able to fight him back. Fight back against what? What do you mean? You don't say shit like that to people? That's insane. Um, and I was also sexually assaulted by my first boyfriend, and he knew that.

Um, he had stopped giving anything to the relationship, and he said that why was because he "was just waiting for things to change on their own." Um, he said he also "didn't have the time or energy anyway to do the things that I was asking for." Um, but then would constantly make any bit of time and energy for anybody and anything but me.

Uh, and he would say he wanted more quality time, so then I would try to arrange things for us to do online because we were, uh, long distance, but then he would complain that he doesn't want to spend all of his time on the computer anymore. Uh, and then we'd be there in person and all he wants to do is stay inside, play games on his computer, watch movies. He doesn't want to go out.

Um, and I'm not saying any of this next part to be mean, um, he lived in filth like I have never seen, and I've seen filth. This was the worst. Uh, he would spill things on the floor and never, literally never clean them up. Uh, he got an ant infestation once, um, and wasn't going to do anything about it because he said, he said "Bugs are normal in British houses," um, so I had to buy Antkiller. And he wouldn't clean his bathroom for months, and months, and months, but would constantly complain about how bad it smelled, and I would tell him, that's mould. It's mould. He complained about being tired all the time too, which I don't know if that was a lie or not, but mould will do that too.

But he would insist that it wasn't, somehow, without having cleaned in months. But it's not mould. Um, when I met him, he was washing his clothes without detergent. Um, just, he wasn't using that at all, and I don't know for how long before I met him. He was just running it with water and then hanging it on his filthy kitchen cabinets.

Um, and I felt bad. I felt bad because I felt like he needed someone to help him learn how to be cleaner. I thought he just didn't know how and I listened to all of the struggles of his upbringing and I was like, "He just doesn't know how. Someone just needs to show him." Um, and then I found out that he said he doesn't clean at all when I'm not there because he just waits for me to get there to do it.

Um, and I only found out about that after we broke up because he said it behind my back. Uh, I was doing all of the cleaning and laundry for him. Also, I had a separate bathroom. I want to make that clear. I wasn't using that bathroom. I had a separate bathroom that I cleaned for myself. I had cleaning supplies. I don't think he even actually knew I had cleaning supplies in there. Um, but I had my own bathroom.

Um, all the, all the cleaning, all the laundry. All of it. I was paying for. All of the, um, like paper towels, like soap, all of that only stayed in the house so long as I was buying it. Um, I would arrive and there would just not be toilet paper in the whole house. There were paper towels instead. And who knows for how long, too.

Um, I was paying for food more than half the time. Uh, because he would often push me into ordering food for us even if I had paid for the last meal, or the meal before that. Um, and I'm of the opinion now that I shouldn't have been paying for any food. Um, none at all, but I wanted to at least, I thought I was being equal by at least doing like a back and forth. Um, but, uh, I ended up paying for food more often than just going back and forth anyway. And he would do this to his friends all the time too. Um, but I was also paying for every plane ticket and the cat sitter, which cost roughly the amount of a plane ticket to England.

Um, and he never offered to help me pay after the couple of times he did come here to visit me because he paid for the flights that we would both take. Um, but that only happened twice at the very beginning. I have actually had a friend tell me that, that this is financial abuse, but I don't know enough about that to say for myself, but I was telling him that I couldn't afford it, uh, all by myself all the time because I was losing money. I was never able to work properly there and he wasn't traveling at all to see me anymore, even though he said he would. Uh, that was like the basis of our entire relationship starting off. Um, so then he agreed to pay for the cat sitter so that it would be basically paying half the cost of my travels. Um, and he did that once, and then never did it again, uh, despite many more months of dating.

Uh, and I was traveling often. Um, I had to. Because he was worried that we weren't spending enough quality time together. And then all of the time that he would have ever extra, he would choose, choose, to not spend it on me because there was an available choice and he chose not to spend it with me. Often.

Um, and I did everything short of just up and move there, which I was willing to do the whole time. And I told him that I was willing to do it and he knew, uh, but he insisted that I don't. He insisted not to. He was planning to move here. That was supposed to happen first.

Um, and then at the end of the relationship, he said, "Maybe things would have been different if I lived there." If I lived there. Uh, like I had said I would the whole time and he insisted I don't. Maybe that could have saved the relationship. Um, and I say all of this because I believe that people like this are genuinely dangerous. I believe he is dangerous.

Um, he was willing to lie. He was willing to do harm to someone he claimed to love more than anyone he has ever loved. Uh, his actions escalated, um, and I don't think that I'll be the last person that he hurts. Uh, and I felt like sharing my story was really important to warn people. Um, I want people to see the signs that I refused to.

I want you to listen to your body. Um, and get out as soon as possible. Tell your friends the truth and let them help you.

Um, I really thought I, I couldn't — Because I had been sexually assaulted in a previous relationship, I just thought I was so much smarter. To never — and I was like, "if someone ever laid their hands on me, I'd leave immediately. It would never happen a second time." But you, you just, it just kind of happened so slowly over time, and got worse, and worse, and worse, until the point where there's no way to deny the fact that he was hurting me and he knew, and, and didn't care.

That's just the kind of thing that I keep repeating to myself when I'm like, "But was it bad enough? What? It wasn't violent enough." Um, but I was being hurt multiple times every single day. Days, and days, and days, and days, for a month at a time in a row, uh, and I'm not even speaking on most, because I did touch on other things, but I am not even speaking on most of the other things that, in my opinion, I do think that there are some things that are across a line that make you a bad person.

I don't think that most people can be defined in a black and white, you're good or you're bad, but I do believe that there is a line that you can cross and only bad people will do the things on the other side of that line. You know what I mean? Um, and I watched a couple of things cross that line. And I just, I, I truly feel now that my soul is so healed.

Um, I am light years beyond him. Uh, this was the last thing that I felt like I needed to do — That's my cat. — Um, before I could move forward and hopefully never talk about him ever again. Outside of maybe my stories that I want to tell about other shitty things he did. Anonymously mixed in with the other stories I still have of shitty things that shitty exes did.

Because I think it's important for us to share our stories and our experiences. I think it's important for all of us to know that we deserve so much better than this. Um, and I think that if people don't want us to talk about the shitty things that they do, then they shouldn't do shitty things. Um, and this just felt so important to share.

I always wanted to share my experiences. I always will. Um, and that's kind of it. That's it. That's the end of everything I prepared. I reserve the right, uh, entirely to change my mind later and tell every story I want to, um, but for now that's all I really have, I feel like, from my soul, I want to speak on. Because I think that this can help other people.

I think that it can help other victims. Um, I have already talked to a number of — I only cry now when I'm talking about my friends! Who also dealt with such shitty things from shitty people. Um, but I'm also so, so grateful for all of my friends who were through, uh, with me through this whole thing. And my friends who also were experiencing similar, similar sorts of situations, um, at the same time, and we kind of went through it together. So, um, I think they are the strongest people in the whole world, and they made me feel like the strongest people in the whole world today. Did I call myself people? I meant person. I feel like the strongest people — I did it again. — I feel like the strongest person. They made me feel so brave. I felt impenetrable today. Um, but I am gonna go now because my friends are coming over and we're immediately gonna go become distracted by watching Love Is Blind. I already watched all of it already and I don't care.

So thank you, um, for listening. Thank you everyone who gifted subs. Um, um, I am going to be taking, uh, the rest of the week off from streaming. I have a video going out on Saturday and I'll be back next week and, uh, you won't hear about any of this again for a while, probably. But, uh, thank you all. I don't really even know what to do now. I think I'm just going to end. Um, go spread love all over the place on Twitch right now and I'll see you guys later. Bye.

Wilbur's response:

In the past week a series of allegations have been made over my conduct from an ex-girlfriend. I want to emphasise that, although I feel it fair to offer my perspective, this person's feelings are completely valid. I have taken my time sharing this statement as I wanted to process and respond respectfully and with the hope to gain a deeper understanding for the situation.

During our relationship's final months, I regrettably became slobbish, disrespectful, and selfish. These actions caused a lot of pain to my ex-girlfriend and I've since sought therapy to address these behaviours, making significant lifestyle changes to rectify my past actions. I have come to realise how much my past behaviour hurt this person, but I truly, compassionately believe I have made great strides from the person I once was and hope I can continue to grow and improve on this trajectory.

The allegation of abuse, particularly in the form of biting, deeply shocked me. Throughout our relationship, I understood from our numerous conversations and text message exchanges on the subject, that this behaviour was consensual, playful and reciprocally enjoyed. I truly believe those personal message exchanges reflect mutual affection and understanding. Out of respect for her, I choose not to publish them and I emphasise my perspective is not shared to diminish or invalidate anyone's feelings. Instead I share it in the hope that I can offer a genuine, fair and relevant insight into my understanding of the situation. While I may perceive our interactions differently, I recognise that this person has processed and expressed feelings of hurt. I want to extend my sincerest apologies for any pain that I caused.

I am fully committed to understanding and addressing her concerns going forward. I hope my perspective sheds light on this situation without detracting from its message. I am dedicated to earning and maintaining the trust of those around me and hope I continue to be held to these high standards I wish to attain and maintain.

- Will

Shubble's response:

i could not have imagined what i would wake up to today. my ex pretending he thought i enjoyed being hurt... and all of my friends immediately coming to my defense. The support has brought me to tears, i don't even know what to say. i'll be back, i'll just be taking a little time

and for the record, i don't accept the apology

[hype-queer-fixated]

Professional Development

summary: A young Dr. Florence Seward is training in the field of alienism with the mentor who introduced her to the field and the advisor she worked under while pursuing her doctorate. While working on Florence’s case assessment skills, her mentor and advisor get into an argument about professional methods.

wc: ~2.5K

tags: mid-20s!Seward; pre-canon for Penny Dreadful; sub!Seward; Dom/sub undertones; mentor (she/her); advisor (they/them); strap-on; vaginal fingering; cunnilingus; face straddling; dash of overstimulation; squirting; aftercare

a/n: The poetic idea behind this is to imply that the nature of alienism—the intimate excavation of another person's mind—as a profession is not so much about walking the line between the clinical and the obscene but about understanding that the clinical is obscene and using that duality to help patients.

The less poetic idea is I grabbed a prompt with two hands and have crafted filth for the sake of filth.

Read on Ao3 | inspired by @yesandpost

I was already coming again when she began the fourth case.

The orgasm wasn’t sudden. It had been building across minutes—maybe longer. I’d stopped tracking time several strokes ago. My legs trembled, splayed open around my advisor’s hips, heels braced against the far edge of the desk for leverage I no longer used. The glass inside me moved in slow, deep thrusts. Not gentle. Measured. They had no intention of letting me fall apart. They wanted to keep me in it. Every clench of my cunt around the smooth, curved shaft seemed to confirm their success.

I could feel how wet I was. Between my thighs, across the insides of my legs, cooling against the wood beneath me. My last orgasm had already left its mark. The next one was breaking over it.

Behind me, my mentor sat in the desk chair and held me upright. Her chest supported my shoulders, and my head rested against her collarbone. One of her arms was wrapped under my ribs. The other worked in slow intervals, thumb and forefinger rolling my nipple with enough pressure to keep it sharp. Not teasing. Not affectionate. She was keeping me focused.

Her mouth was close to my ear.

“Case four,” she said, her voice as steady as it would be across an examination table. “Female. Twenty-nine. No psychiatric history. Two weeks of insomnia. Somatic delusions. Reports insects under the skin. Scratching lesions on arms and abdomen as well as using blindfolds, earplugs, and locking herself in small spaces like closets to escape the insects.”

I inhaled. My chest rose against the crook of her arm. The pressure inside me didn’t stop.

My advisor adjusted their angle. I felt it—just a shift of weight in the hips, then another deep thrust. My breath hitched. The movement wasn’t hard, but the curve of the glass dragged across a spot already tender. It pulled the words right out of my throat.

I didn’t speak. Not right away.

My mentor’s grip didn’t tighten, but I felt her patience thin. The next thrust made my thighs twitch. I swallowed.

“Delusional parasitosis,” I said. My voice caught but held. “Rule out stimulant use. Rule out neurological involvement. Investigate environmental triggers. Any recent trauma or stressor.”

My advisor’s hips slowed again. Holding.

“And?” my mentor prompted, her fingers brushing my nipple in a slow pass.

“Short-term pharmacological intervention,” I said, “low-dose sedatives. Begin behavioral tracking. Establish—”

My advisor stopped moving entirely. I felt the glass still inside me. The pressure held. No rhythm. Just presence.

“She’s wrong,” they said.

-> continue on Ao3

please leave a comment here or on Ao3—pretty please?

[throneofsapphics]

track 32

Fenrys x Reader x Lorcan

Summary: Cursed to fall in love, only to have everything ripped away from you, moving on to your next life already feels like a drag, only things don't quite follow their usual patterns.

Warnings: discussions of death, Maeve, brief description of torture, happy ending

Word Count: 8077

A/N: the HAPPIEST of birthdays to @whisperingmidnights <3 I hope you have an amazing day (& thank you to @rowaelinsdaughter for your help)

You tumbled into your new body. Again. At least this time the Gods let you skip through the childhood years, instead flooding your mind with memories of your new past. You could only be a toddler so many times before truly losing the last grip on your sanity. 

You’d think so much pain and suffering would flood together, the lives all melting into one giant messed up pot but instead each experience remained distinctly painful to you. Distinctly full of suffering and sour memories. You, obviously, hadn’t survived a single one and your trek across the multiverse was written in blood. 

It took you up until life 15 to really stop holding onto so many grudges, especially considering you seemed to be destined to fall for the same people each time. Not the same types of people, but the actual same person. 

Whoever put a curse on you had been clever. If you were cursed, perhaps you were just really damn unlucky. But right now you needed a bath, a hot meal, and a good night’s rest. Of course you were drunk. Fresh in from a night out on the town with one of your friends, but you had good some good fortune in this life - your own apartment. 

Tossing clothes off as you walked, you beelined towards where you knew the bathing room was. You were pretty certain you’d stayed in this exact apartment building before, and if you remembered correctly each apartment had near identical layouts, the entire building cheap and designed for efficiency. In this life, you’d made it your own more than in the previous ones. 

You stepped into the tub, let the cold water hit your toes, partially sobering you, rivulets of now psycho-somatic grime and blood streaming from your body to pool in clear water at your feet. 

A mind healer would have a field day with you and you knew it all too well. 

Plugging the drain, you adjusted it to reach the perfect temperature. Yes, an efficiency building but still had hot running water. It was odd, but you didn’t question it - you were a creature of comfort after all. 

You wondered when you’d see them again. You wished you could say that tall of your interactions started off on a fresh beat, that you had it together enough not to judge them based on versions of them in a different universe, but you weren’t. 

Having it together? Maybe, certainly not on that level though. Having it together enough to appreciate their presence at this moment? Hell no. 

After last time. 

“We’re done,” he mumbled, not willing to make eye contact with you. 

“Then say it to my face,” you glanced between both of them. 

Heads down. Eyes downcast - first time you’d seen them like that. 

“Then I really meant that little, didn’t I?”

“No,” one said - you could barely distinguish who through the raging steam in your ears and tears down your cheeks. 

“Yes,” the other said. You didn’t know or care who said what. It didn’t matter. Later, just before the death took you you’d find out who made them do it and realize it still didn’t matter. She may have forced them to lie, but they didn’t have to be quite so convincing. 31 lives had taught you logic had no place in heartbreak. 

The memory hit you like a physical blow to the chest, a stinging and pressure left in its wake. That heartbreak had killed you the quickest of them all. 

Three days. 

It was part of your curse, you’d figured out. To always know. What life you were on, the details of your past lives, how long it took you to do, what the death felt like, every little detail was committed to memory all because you’d dared to love someone a little too much, and ended up stealing them away from a wicked witch. 

Well, the story didn’t go quite like that but you thought it sounded better in your head that way. In reality, you’d fallen in love and done something stupid, as all people in love do from time to time. 

You and Lorcan had agreed you should try to get Fenrys out, that although it would be more difficult to get him released, Fenrys needed it more. You didn’t have the guts to tell him you needed both of them like you needed air, but there hadn’t been time for that. All of your moments were stolen and borrowed time. 

“Will you please release him from your service?” You were on your knees, begging. “Please, Majesty.” 

The harsh flooring dug into your knees but you kept the same subservient pose. For someone with so much pride, this was humiliating and your Queen knew it. 

“No.” 

One flat and toneless word. 

“No?” You repeated. 

Wicked red lips curved into a smile. “That is what I said.” 

You had several choice words for her after, and she’d responded with a fucking curse. Cursed to always love, but to never have it stick, cursed to die from heartbreak. 

Even after all of these lives the word ‘curse’ was still ugly in your mouth, still made your stomach heave and back seize at the memories. The times you’ve run into the Queen she hadn’t recognized you, but you knew she was still untouchable. Frequently made that way by the ones you loved. 

The breeze sneaking through the poorly insulated window highlighted how water already chilled around you. You didn’t miss that part of this building, the tub held next to no heat and your bathwater always ended up cold in less than fifteen minutes. 

You were tempted to stay still and prune, but there was no use in it. A new life, new things to do. 

Dragging yourself out of the tub, you dried off as efficiently as you could make yourself, scrounged up some comfortable clothes and headed to your desk. Grabbing a notepad and pen, you began writing. 

number thirty-one. 

It was a ritual of sorts, perhaps your imaginary mind healer would be proud of you for it, for getting all of your pain out on paper as soon as possible. 

Right before you burned it. 

Tossing the five sheets of paper on the flames felt good.

Running into them happened far too quickly for your liking. It always did. Life always started and finished too damn fast. 

You glanced in the mirror, at what you’d chosen to wear for the night out with your not-really-new friends. The dress fit you perfectly, and showed just enough to leave you feeling bold without being uncomfortable. The gold wrapped around your wrists helped too. Not too much to look rob worthy, but enough to make you feel like some extra type of sheen was thrown over you. Maybe, just maybe this life would bring you a little luck. Was gold supposed to be good luck? You didn’t know, but maybe you’d figure out how to look it up later. If you remembered to. 

You felt something warm in your chest, not unlike the flush from the first sip of whiskey. Closing your eyes you could’ve sworn it tugged, dragged you towards another. 

No, not in this or any life. It wasn’t possible. 

No matter how many times you fell in love and in how many ways, you’d never found a mate and were convinced you were destined not to. 31 lives was enough time to find a mate, a life partner. You should’ve had that done in by life 10. 

It was funny, how you’d started measuring your existence in lives rather than years. After all, it fit your circumstances. Permanently destined to be a temporary existence in others lives, and for their existence and influence to end yours. If there was a way out of this, a stopping or breaking of the curse you figured you would’ve found it by now. 

A loud pounding on the door and you hissed as the brush slipped, you barely moving your wrist away in time to save your face from a large black streak. 

“Gods,” you yelled, “hold on a damn moment.” 

“We’re going to miss the bard,” someone - Ella? Yes, Ella, shouted back. 

“Alright,” you groused loud enough for her to hear, “one moment.” 

One more swipe of kohl and you looked ready. A few deep breaths and you felt ready. 

Shoving the cosmetics to the back of the counter, you swung yourself around the doorway, grabbing your coat off the hook and flinging open the front door, finding your friend posed with their fist menacingly mid-air, probably about to break your door down. Memory clicked in, reminding you they can be a tad aggressive on a mission. 

Their mouth curved into a too-satisfied smirk, probably that their threats had work. Rolling your eyes, you shoved past them into the hall, quickly locking your door. 

“Anyone else for tonight?” 

“Just us,” they looped their arm through yours and started for the stairs. 

Ugh. Last time in this building you’d been on the ground floor, and you’d definitely miss the convenience of that, but at least you had a pretty balcony view here. It’s all give and take, you supposed. 

“Copper for your thoughts?” Ella’s voice interrupted you. 

How long had you zoned out? Was that a habit in this lifetime? You couldn’t remember. 

“Do I really look that broke?” You deflected. 

It worked, she laughed. Maybe it would’ve been nice if she pushed a little. 

-

Fenrys breathed in the fresh air. Maeve had sent him on a mission. Alone. Staking out Varese for several months, observing, but she didn’t exactly tell him what to look for. It was perhaps the most exciting and infuriating mission he’d been assigned. Infuriating, because he truly had no idea what in Hellas’s name he was supposed to do, exciting because he had months to spend doing whatever he thought ‘observing’ looked like. 

Yes, he knew it was a mockery of freedom but right now he’d take the gods-damned mockery over what he’s stuck in every day. 

Walking through the street, although he stuck to the shadows, unnoticed to the masses, it still felt like each face was sent there to tease him, remind him of the invisible leash tying him to that bitch for the rest of his life. He didn’t know how Lorcan, the bastard, did it with such glee and joy. At least Whitethorn had shown a measure of discontent at some point, he’d even seen a hint of it on perfectly loyal Gavriel’s face. 

Something caught his attention. Someone. 

Arm in arm with your friend, strolling down the street, exuding pure confidence. Someone aware of their place in this world and what they meant to it. The light in your eyes matched his own. Dimmed, flaring when necessary and just enough to keep up appearances. 

Only a fellow fraud would recognize it. 

He had to follow. It was insanity, but he needed to see more of you. 

That’s how he ended up nursing a drink in the corner of the bar, shadows wreathed around him, cloak pulled up to cover his face. He matched some of the many body guards of nobles around, and through some blessing not a soul had recognized him or even shot him a second glance. Perhaps Friday’s were quite a popular night for the elite to pretend, that or he’d gotten better at blending in. He didn’t know which to put his money on. 

Someone, however, caught all of the attention - including his, even when he tried to ignore the magnetic attraction tugging him towards you. Throwing your head back in a laugh, you danced along with your friend, clothing absolutely sinful and fitting right in. He loved it. Every part of your energy felt like it was tugging at him, urging him closer, closer, closer, and he realized just how dangerous that made you. 

Dangerous to him, and to yourself through him. 

No matter what, she hung over him like a storm cloud. 

Anything he might try to pursue with you would end before it could truly began, love or relationship cut off at its knees without a chance to truly blossom. Did he actually want it to? Could Fenrys actually be that selfish? 

Yes, if it came to you. He glanced down at his pint. Still half full, and rather weak shit. He wasn’t drunk but still managed to think complete nonsense. Nothing could happen, but for now he supposed it couldn’t hurt to imagine a fantasy life with a stranger he’d never see again live in the corner of his mind, so long as it it stayed there. He was so, so wrong. 

-

Lorcan Salvaterre knew about sacrifice. In fact, he was an expert at it, at this point. But, every bit was worth it for her. His Queen. The only female he’d truly loved to the point where he’d do anything and everything. 

Perhaps other love could have come his way, but it had never been the right time. Timing, in his opinion, shouldn’t matter. He’d always make the time for Maeve, and everything he’d done since meeting her had been for her. When she ordered him away, he left. When she kept him by her side - but never her bed - he stayed. Maeve said jump, he asked how high. 

That's why Lorcan was trying to figure out when in Hellas he’d become so disillusioned, starting thinking things so unlike him. He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t tell anyone. Lorcan didn’t have any friends or confidants, that wasn’t something he dealt in. To him, there was no purpose in friends when his entire life’s purpose was bound by blood to servitude. 

The closest thing he had to friends was his blood brothers, and like hell he’d ever tell them of this ... treachery waging war inside of his mind. 

Lunch swirled unpleasantly in his stomach as he thought of the word. Treason. 

When Maeve called him to the throne room, when he knelt before her, he mentally prepared himself for his immortal life to end rather early. She must know. She always knows. 

Instead, he needed to figure out how he’d pissed her off because she’d sent him off for some kind of torturous punishment. Keeping an eye on Fenrys, currently loose in Varese. 

“Anything I should watch out for in particular, majesty?” He was quite proud of how he kept the bitterness from his tone. Or thought he did. 

“You’ll know if you see something off,” she dismissed him with a wave. “Consider it a vacation, of sorts.” 

Blood sworn didn’t get vacations, he wanted to protest. He didn’t want - or need one. Had he really been slacking that much? The journey would provide adequate time for reflection, for him to dissect and figure out exactly where he’d gone wrong so he could prevent those mistakes in the future. That was essential. This trip however, like most things with Fenrys, would probably turn out to be a complete waste of his time. Time that could be spent doing much better things. But ... he supposed if this is what his Queen wanted him to do, it was exactly what he’d be doing, regardless of his feelings on the subject. His feeling always had been, and always would be inconsequential.

He was here. Already. Fuck. 

It was day 2, and you couldn’t catch a break. Is there such thing as a resting life? One where you could go through without any relationships, just peace and enjoying your moments of solitude? No, not for someone like you. 

Running away from them never worked, they would haunt your every movement until they consumed every last bit of you and scattered crumbs on the wind, only for the crumbs to reform and drag you back towards them. 

Do you embrace fate or run away from it? It was inevitable, what was the point in fighting anymore? You were so tired of it. Exhaustion rippled from you in waves, you were surprised everyone around you hadn’t noticed as soon as you walked in. 

Even if you wanted to, Fate, in the form of the most gorgeous man to exist, all bronze skin, onyx eyes, and golden hair, didn’t give you a choice. He slid into the bar stool next to you. 

You didn’t smile, at first, but your traitorous heart warmed in his presence. 

“Have we met before?” He said, jokingly. 

If only he knew. 

“Maybe in your dreams,” you slid your hand across the bar and grabbed your glass, drinking deeply. He winced. 

“Am I that bad of company?” 

“You’ve been here for,” you glanced at the clock pointedly, “a minute. It has nothing to do with you.” You’d tried every approach in the past to get them to see if it would deter them enough for them to circumvent fate, but nothing worked. Each version of you was destined for tragedy with each version of them. 

“That’s fair enough,” Fenrys replied. You reminded yourself you didn’t know his name. 

“What do they call you?” The words came out, regardless of your internal wince, knowing you were setting him up for a ridiculous line. 

“In b-”

You held a hand up and his mouth clamped shut. “No, no, none of that.” 

He laughed, deep and rich, a sound you ... had you heard that laugh from him before? Perhaps not, at least not in a few lives. Recently things had been so depressing. 

“I like you,” he nudged you gently with his elbow, your heart ached. 

not again not again not again. 

‘Yes,’ a cruel voice from red lips whispered in your mind, ‘again, again, again. Forever. This is what you deserve.’

Someone cleared their throat. Fenrys. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, glancing at the bottom of your nearly empty glass. Empty. Fuck. You couldn’t handle this sober. Were you sober? Your friends were long gone, all found partners for the night while you nursed your worries at the bar. “What’s your name?” You took the last sip of your drink as the last syllable left your lips, ideally it could hide any signs of a lie from him. 

“Fenrys,” he leaned back enough in his stool to extend his arm to you, rather formally. When you placed your hand in his, intending to squeeze it to death, he deftly rearranged your hands and raised your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there. “At your service.” 

“Charmer,” you rolled your eyes but softly pulled your hand away and replied with your name. 

He said your name quietly, extending the vowels, as if testing how it sounded on his tongue, how it might sound in other - 

You chided yourself, pulling your mind out of the gutter. With the situation you knew he was always in, that was the last thing you needed to be thinking about. Or that he needed to be. You might not escape him, but you certainly wouldn’t do anything to make this harder on yourself. At least thats what you’re saying now. 

“Last call,” the gruff barman said, scowling at Fenrys before shooting you a smile. Your mind rattled through details. Right, you regularly shut this tavern down and always left a good tip. 

You leaned over to Fenrys and whispered low so the other male couldn’t hear, “he’s easy to win over. A good tip, manners, and easy orders.” 

Fenrys hid his snort in his drink, draining the last droplets. “Thank you for the advice, love,” he whispered conspiratorially. Asshole. 

“Whatever,” you mumbled and left your usual amount, sliding off the stool. Just because you were fated to make each other’s lives hell didn’t mean you had to deal with him being rude. Maybe you were just sensitive. 

A ‘wait’ followed you but you ignored it. Inevitable.

He caught up to you on the street, calling your name again. 

Something else struck you. He was alone in Varese. When did this happen? This was odd. Out of all of your lifetimes nothing had followed this pattern, never meeting so quickly and certainly not with Fenrys on his own with his leash rather loose for what the bitch prefers. You needed to figure out more. 

“Want to come back to my place for a drink?” You said, slowly turning to look at him. 

If he was surprised by your quick change of tune, he didn’t say a thing, only nodding and linking your arms together. Like he’d been waiting for a friend. The pain in your chest was physical as much as it was emotional. 

-

Lorcan was here to keep an eye on Fenrys, and if that meant sitting in the shadows on a rooftop, peering through a beautiful female’s stupidly open window then so be it. You walked around and even acted like you didn’t give a damn whether you lived or died, but he could tell you were smart, based on how you’d handled Fenrys. 

He’d ended enough lives to have an appreciation for it, and the way you were so gods-damned careless with yours pissed him off. 

Lorcan should be questioning why his feelings towards you are so strong, but instead he’s observing every little detail of the interactions between you and Fenrys. For his report, of course. He always paid attention to detail, there was no other reason than being thorough. At least he kept telling himself that. 

It wasn’t because he liked the way your hair moved, or how you rolled your eyes frequently at his blood-sworn brother, followed by a barely there smile that he only noticed because the shadows danced around it, as if you repelled the darkness. 

Maybe you could repel the darkness in him. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Lorcan hadn’t drank, and even if he had he never entertained thoughts like this. 

Refocusing, he committed to memory every detail of what Fenrys was doing, how he reacted to you, how attached he might be and how you might already be used against him by his Queen. 

An unfamiliar feeling settled in his stomach, tainting him. 

Guilt. 

He didn’t want to use you. 

But if it came to it, he wouldn't have a choice. He never really did. 

-

Fenrys whistled lowly on his way home, through the empty streets. Still aware of his surroundings, also aware that none would dare approach him - not with the steel and the stature he carried himself with, proof he knew how to use it. 

All he’d done is sit and talk with you for hours, in fact the dawn was currently beginning to crest over the city. Hours of sitting and talking felt like mere minutes with you, and he found he had more fun in that time than he had in years, perhaps decades, perhaps since entering Maeve’s service. 

It was sad, really, that you could only be a temporary fixture, for your own safety. 

Still, his mind rattled with ways to do the impossible, with how he could be with you forever without ... it was useless, really, to even ponder it. The false hope and ideas would only taint the present he had, for however long Maeve let him stay here in his ... his fantasy, he supposed. 

He could imagine many fantasies with you involved but the biggest was your friendship. The way you hadn’t hit on him, made any kind of sexual innuendos or advances, thats why he followed you out of the bar. Because you made him comfortable in a way nobody else had in so, so long. Like you’d been doing it for lifetimes. 

The scent hit him. The male wanted him to know he was there. His entire body stiffened, posture straightened slightly, pleasant after buzz from your intoxicating presence gone just like that. 

Lorcan Salvaterre. His commander. 

“Who was that?” Lorcan wasted no time and matched pace with him. 

“None of your business,” Fenrys snapped. Aware that he could be punished for it, but he didn’t care, he looked the male right in the eyes. 

Lorcan ... Lorcan didn’t push him. At all. Instead, something like understanding passed through his eyes. Had Lorcan needed to protect someone from Maeve before? 

Probably not. He was a cold hearted bastard through and through. 

“Keep her away,” the words were whispered on the wind - there and gone. Just like Lorcan, who melted into the shadows. 

Away from who? Lorcan didn’t say ‘keep away from her,’ and Fenrys knew everything the bastard did was intentional. 

Lorcan Salvaterre was here. You knew it, having caught the faintest hint of his unfortunately familiar scent, trailing after you like a hound. 

The fact that he was following you made you nervous. Yes, similar situations had occured before but everything about this time seemed so different that it filled you with mixed emotions. 

What are the odds there’s actually something good in store for you? Slim, you decided, based on history and reasoning, and you knew Lorcan Salvaterre stalking anyone was bad news, but especially for you when you had ... history with the Queen he so lovingly served.

Someone whose head deserved to be ripped right from her neck, you cast the thought into the universe and hoped it landed, hoped she felt a phantom prick in the side of her neck. 

Maybe she regretted cursing you to some kind of eternal half existence, always in and out of different worlds. Doubtful. More likely she tired of whatever game she decided to play for you and set the person who she knew would hurt the most to kill you. Even you could admit you were extrapolating. 

Maybe an attitude change could fix everything. A tad less drama. 

You glanced out the window, at the rain currently pouring down, at the moisture leaking into your apartment. The weather certainly didn’t match up for life changes, if anything it read of staying right where you were. 

Accepting it wouldn’t happen today, you saved the attitude change for the next sunny day. Those practically screamed change in fortune. Or you hoped they did. 

A week passed. You saw Fenrys each night at the Tavern, and scented a weirdly careless Lorcan on your trail each day. 

Your attitude may not have changed with the next bout of sunshine, but you had a plan. It was rather simple, to somehow draw Lorcan out. However, there was a difference between having a plan and knowing how to execute it. You supposed that made your plan an idea more than anything. 

Fenrys had mentioned business meetings he’d be attending one night, and you decided that was the perfect to do it. The perfect night to pretend to get sloshed, and you had the help of your favorite barkeep. 

Knowing Lorcan, he probably had questions for you, and wouldn’t miss the opportunity to get some answers while your inhibitions were ‘lowered.’ Arrogant males like him wouldn’t let opportunities slide by, but Lorcan Salvaterre stayed Maeve’s commander for a reason, and you knew your acting skills had to be top notch to keep him from becoming suspicious. 

-

“When will you stop pretending to drink those?” Lorcan asked gruffly as he slid into the stool next to you, his hulking frame towering over the bar and casting a shadow over you. You were a good actress, but he was better, and caught on after the first couple of drinks and exchanged looks between you and the barkeep, who you were on very friendly terms with. 

The obsession with you, the flares of irrational anger when another man trailed too close, Lorcan knew what this was, and knew he was screwing both of you over with it. Fated for misery and doom, no matter how the cards played out. He’d be stuck with her, Lorcan noted how she was demoted in his mind, and you’d be ... free. 

All those years he’d spent making fun of those males now served to make him feel like a lot of an asshole because he gotit. There was a crack in his armor, a weakness in his resolve, and nobody knew about it. He intended to keep it that way until you were far, far away from him and his ... his Queen, and then as long as possible after that. His stomach clenched at the thought of what she might do to you in order to help keep him in line. Nothing good, and everything bad. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered primly, turning away from him. Why had he come over here again? 

He laughed, low and harshly. “Sure you don’t, sweetheart,” he exaggerated the last word - turning it into an insult. It didn’t feel right. His entire being flared against any insult to you, even coming from him. 

But ... the little flash of anger in your eyes, the way your nostrils flared, that was amusing. He liked the fire in you. “What did you call me?” 

He shrugged. 

You scoffed, muttering an insult he chose to ignore under your breath. “Nothing to say to that one?” You pushed when he didn’t answer, letting your elbow brush against his, “I thought it was creative. If you need me to I can keep going, there’s plenty where it came from.” 

“It was well done,” perhaps he wasn’t particularly in the mood to be insulted all night, and he got the sense you were more than capable of doing just that. 

“Well done,” you echoed, and he nodded. Your mouth curled into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. 

-

In the future, you might just deny it ever happened, but Lorcan Salvaterre ended up in your apartment that night. You ignored the fact that he seemed to know the way there. There had always been plenty you were willing to ignore when it came to that male, and that hadn’t changed over the last however many lives. 

Once Lorcan - once he’d found his Queen, you’d been second. But before that, he’d made you his everything. You never could blame him for leading you to beg Maeve that first time, that cursed time. 

Still, on the nights when you were alone, when the rain or a pretty mountain outline reminded you of him, when everything felt too much, it was easier to pin it on him, even if it made you a horrible person. Horrible, even for an ex-lover, but then again you were always an expert at self-depreciation. 

Looking at the male now, like a statue of a God carved from granite, you knew he’d be the death of you. Again. But how could you fight him? You never had the strength to in the past. Maybe you weren’t trying to survive hard enough ... 

Things had never moved this quickly in the past, they’d always been at a pace just slow enough to be torturous with your knowledge of your impending doom. 

Maybe this time you needed to really try. 

For Lorcan. For Fenrys. But mostly, for yourself. 

The door closed behind you and you slipped back into reality, into the new situation you found yourself in. 

“Drink?” You asked over your shoulder, heading right for your kitchen. 

He caught your hand, spinning you back towards him. 

“I had something else in mind,” he said roughly, and dipped his head towards yours. 

You knew he could be patient, he could be gentle, he could be kind, but you got none of that now. 

His hand gripped your jaw, tight enough to keep you still but not harsh enough to hurt, his mouth moved fervently against yours as you matched his pace. It was the collision of a thousand stars, a world breaking and re-forming into something new and beautiful and wonderful. It was everything and more. It was the multiverse coming together into a single moment and screaming yes! this is what you were waiting for. He slowed, softened, as if some kind of guilt caught up with him. You wouldn’t have that. Couldn’t. You gripped the back of his hair and pulled him back closer to you, pressing your body against his. 

He would be yours for the night, but little did he know you‘d already been his for eternity. 

-

You owe him nothing. You owe him nothing. You owe him nothing, Fenrys reminded himself as he walked out of the bar, spotting you teasing Lorcan. He’d finished his business meetings early and thought he might see if you were still haunting your favorite spot at the bar. 

Still, he wanted to rush up to you and ask you if you knew who the hell you were tangling with but ... he supposed he was like Lorcan in that way, one of Maeve’s Blood Sworn, and to have two of them shown publicly taking an interest in you was nothing short of deadly and he refused to subject you to that. So Fenrys left. 

And hated himself for it, but self hatred was nothing new to him. 

Fenrys wasn’t sure how he found Lorcan’s rooms, considering the male probably didn’t want to be found right now. Probably wanted to bask in you. Your beauty, the time he sp-

He stopped himself from thinking of it. Even thought of shifting now, to a body where emotions were simpler and didn’t drain quite so much. Fenrys rarely shifted voluntarily when away from her, not after she kept him in that form so frequently. ‘Where he was easier to deal with,’ she’d said once, and the words still stung as His Majesty, he thought the words mockingly, intended for them to. 

The door swung open. 

Lorcan didn’t speak, just stood there with his arms crossed and jaw clenched. 

Fenrys felt young, and not in a good way. What was he? A jealous lover? Concerned friend? Idiot? 

Then it hit him. 

The scent. 

Yours. 

His. 

Entwined. 

Without him. 

Rage, pure and strong filled him. The scent was particular, and he’d seen it just a few times before. Lorcan, intelligently, had a shield around himself before Fenrys he was on the verge of some kind of burst. 

“Not fucking possible,” Fenrys backed away, “we can’t have the same mate.” 

Lorcan’s eyes widened, but he was looking beyond him. Fenrys whirled around. 

You. 

“I can’t have a mate,” you said quietly, desperately. “I never have before,” then to yourself, “it’s never been like this,” you switched your gaze to the window, he watched you try to angle your face so they couldn’t see the tears in your eyes but they were evident. Everything was evident when it came to you. 

“Get inside,” Lorcan said roughly to both of you. 

He had a point, it wasn't exactly the space for this conversation. A hallway where anyone could be walking by and overhear. That’s the last thing he wanted, anything that might put you in further danger. 

When he didn’t instantly move, Lorcan grabbed his shirt, tugging him inside. There was a knife at Lorcan’s throat before the male could blink. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me,” Fenrys hissed, slowly sliding the knife away and sheathing it at his side. 

He was surprised his commander hadn’t caught it, but then again he was staring at a pretty female in the hallway, your gaze still distant and fixed on the window. He called your name, just loud enough to carry across the distance. Your head snapped, you blinked a few times. He tilted his head towards the room. 

An over-exaggerated sigh, probably for their sake more than anything, and then you followed them inside. Each step seemed to make you shrink further into yourself, he noticed, that confidence and bravado fading and leaving someone vulnerable behind. 

It took a strong hand to tamp down on instincts rising, telling him to eliminate any immediate threats to you. The main one being Lorcan, but also any other males and possibly females in the vicinity. It was absolutely ridiculous, the way he was feeling even if he wasn’t acting on it. At least he hadn’t acted on it. Yet. If only because he was well aware it would piss you off. 

-

“What did you mean, ‘it’s never been like this?’” Lorcan asked and you read the skepticism in his eyes. Not quite distrust, but an interesting mix of confusion and concern. That had the potential to change quickly. Could you even speak about it or would you drop dead? You’d always assumed you couldn’t but ... 

“I’m cursed,” you started. They exchanged a brief glance, and for some reason that irritated you, but you kept going. “We’ve met before. Many times,” you knew that would grab and probably keep their attention, at least for a little while. You held a hand up when their brows furrowed in concern, “just hear me out before you write me off as crazy.” 

“I would never write you off,” Fenrys murmured, and you shot him a thankful look but he kept his mouth shut after that. Perhaps it had something to do with the glare on Lorcan’s face. 

The words were difficult. 

Each one felt stilted and awkward, but they watched and listened as if each word you said was pure gold and something about that made you feel powerful. They went through the emotions with you, although it was a tad more difficult to tell with Lorcan, but you struggled together in a way. For some reason, it started to feel like this might turn into a goodbye and you weren’t quite ready for that. After all, you didn’t know how anyone could stay with someone ... someone with the kind of tainted past you have. 

“Why would she do that?” You finished. It a was rare chance to ask two people who probably have more insight than any others into how the mind of the Queen works, not that you believe she’d let anyone truly understand her. 

“Cruelty,” Fenrys said. 

The same time as Lorcan said, “jealousy.” 

“Makes sense,” you huffed, eyes rolling towards the ceiling. It was stupid. 

“How do you end up reincarnated?” Lorcan asked. The question you were hoping to avoid. 

“I die.” 

“Of old age,” Fenrys said, but didn’t sound as if he believed it. 

“No,” you said sharply, exhaling. “You’ll laugh at me.” 

“Try me. Believe it or not, I don’t find your death very funny,” Fenrys said dryly. Lorcan was watching with apt attention, eyes watching you like a hawk. 

“Heartbreak,” you grunted, quickly whirling towards - fuck. You’d meant to look out the window, but saw the mirror instead and the twin faces of horror behind you struck something deep inside of your heart. 

“I -” your throat closed up, the words not quite getting out. 

“What is it?” Fenrys curled his fingers inward, and despite a slight internal cringe you let him beckon you, let him take your hands, let him give you this kind of comfort. 

“I wish you remembered,” you whispered, glancing at Lorcan too, who’s eyes and face told you, yes he knew you were changing the subject, and no the conversation was not over yet. 

-

“I don’t -,” Lorcan Salvaterre stumbled over his words, perhaps for the first time in his life, “I don’t mind making new memories, as long as they’re with you.” 

You beamed. Fenrys laughed. He debated how upset you would be if he killed the other male. 

Other male. 

He knew, already, that he’d have to share you. 

For you, Lorcan could and would make anything work. You were worth everything, absolutely everything. 

Maeve, a voice whispered in his mind. He pushed it down, ignored it for now. That was an ... his Queen would never be an issue, but a situation he could deal with at a later date. 

He swore to himself he’d never make fun of a mated male again. Technically he wasn’t mated yet, but he would be ... soon, he had to be. Being your mate felt like an irrevocably necessary part of his soul, like he might die without it, without having that bond with you to tether him to this world and give him meaning. Meaning he’d been lacking his entire life. 

He didn’t know or care if Fenrys felt the same way but he supposed he should. He had an obligation to his mate’s mate, after all, outside of the fact that Fenrys is his bloodsworn brother. 

Bloodsworn.

His bones and blood chilled. He couldn’t be yours, not really. The realization threatened to bring tears to his eyes, but he couldn’t cry, not here - not in front of you. You needed him strong. 

He stood, abruptly, but didn’t care. He jerked his chin to Fenrys. “We need to talk,” he let his eyes say the rest. 

He found he didn’t like how some of the shine left Fenrys’s, how they dulled at the implication of their Queen’s existence. Too bad, for now. 

“Great. Secrets,” you muttered, and a slight smile threatened his lips, but you still waved them away. Perhaps you understood secrets better than anyone else. 

Lorcan led Fenrys to an adjacent room, and their shields went up at the same time. To keep any nosy females from overhearing. The more she knew, the more danger she was in. At least they were on the same page. 

“Where is safe for her?” Fenrys started. 

At least he had his priorities straight. 

“Antica,” Lorcan answered. Maeve didn’t dare touch the southern continent, yet. “For now,” he added for honesty’s sake. “The curse won’t break until Maeve is ...” He didn’t, couldn’t bring himself to, speak the words out loud, it felt too much like treason. 

“Dead,” Fenrys said for him. He had no problem with it, apparently. If Lorcan had been as insolent as the male in front of him, he would’ve been put to death long ago, and he knew that. Perhaps Fenrys didn’t, but it wasn’t the time for that conversation. “So we spirit her away, and then what? How do we keep her from dying?” 

“A blood promise.” 

“Like what?” Fenrys leaned back against the wall, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

“When the curse is broken, we will find her.” 

Antica. Hot, miserable, mate-less Antica. In truth, it wasn’t that miserable, but you'd be enjoying yourself a lot more if your mates hadn’t shipped you off here as quickly as they could. 

All in the name of keeping you ‘safe,’ you grimaced in the mirror, brushing down your hair, now frizzy slightly from the rare rain that breezed in the day before. They're and gone like a phantom, almost. Almost like their presences in your life. 

You could still remember their touches from that last night, firm but gentle, still tentative like new lovers can be. You thought you knew everything about their touch from the past, but even they kept some surprises across multi-verses, or maybe it had just been a while since it had been the three of you and your memory was getting poorer. 

Probably that. 

You pushed the door open, throwing yourself into the throng of people making their way to the one of the several monthly markets in the city. Throng of people, you thought. It was awfully busy. 

‘War,’

‘Sending us-’

‘Saved the princess,’

‘Foreign lord.’ 

The whispers hit your ears one by one like a drum. A war. Against who?

You stopped casually at the closest table, and sure enough the seller was chittering to the person who came before you about it. A war, and the khaganate would be marching for Aelin Galathynius. 

You rolled the name over on your tongue, it being vaguely familiar. Perhaps you should have kept up more with politics throughout the ages, you probably could’ve made a load of money betting, but that felt a tad too immoral, and you did fear the judgement of your own conscience. 

As soon as the intrigue was there, it was gone. You’d heard of several wars over the last two decades, the longest you'd lived so far, and none of them had brought your mates back to you. You seriously doubted this would be the one. 

You refused to acknowledge the ugly truth. They’d probably already forgotten about you. 

-

In the lonely and mindless hours stuck in his Wolf form, Fenrys thought of the beautiful female in Antica, and dreamed of a life without Maeve, however impossible it was he never stopped hoping.

The female screamed on the table in front of him, but he was frozen in time and space. All he could do right now was bear witness to the horrible crime in front of him. Aelin Galathynius deserved someone to bear witness to her pain and her strength. 

The female who should’ve been his Queen, and the female who was his mate had so much in common. Not necessarily appearance, but your attitude and the way you carried themselves. So much that being with her for those months had felt like an even larger blessing. It wasn’t infidelity, not by any means, but perhaps a bit wrong he was using Aelin as a proxy for you. 

The screams in front of him distracted him from his thoughts and dragged him back to the present. She’d passed out, he was waking her with some foul smelling cloth. Each day, he thought he’d reached the limits of what he could bear without closing his eyes, but somehow - because he knew you would do it - he managed to watch. Witness. Wait. It was all he could do now. 

- 

Lorcan Salvaterre knew he was a miserable male to be around, but traveling through Varese had turned him downright sour. At least internally. 

He knew he needed to get to Aelin, and he knew he needed to get to Fenrys. For the bond they shared with each other that they’d never told a soul about. If he didn’t get to him, you’d never ever forgive him. 

He might be too much off a coward to tell you, but he would know in his soul and that’s enough. He’d find Fenrys, get her away from him, do whatever it took. 

-

You woke up one morning with an unusual lightness, a ‘pep’ in your step, so to speak. You’d never understood that phrase until then, when you felt like all of your burdens and issues had been freed in a spare moment, like nothing could weigh you down right then. 

As usual, you got your gossip through the market, and it all made sense. 

Doranelle has a new Queen. 

Queen Maeve was killed in Terrasen. 

You were free. 

You tilted your head up towards the sky, and let the sun shine down on your face, not caring you were stopped in the middle of the park. From the corner of your eye you spotted an older woman copying your movements, not in a mocking way, but in a yes the sun is quite nice today way.

The flip side of your freedom meant your mates would be coming soon. They’d be coming soon. 

To Antica. 

To you. 

You scrambled back to your apartment to start packing. How long did it take to get from Terrasen here?

You paused halfway through throwing your closet onto your bed. 

A letter would’ve arrived by now, but you’d received no such thing. 

That night you fell asleep on top of your clothes. 

The next day you built the courage to put them away. 

You didn’t know where in the world they were now that Maeve is gone, and perhaps with the curse lifting they felt they no longer were obligated to be with you and love you, and maybe -

A familiar scent hit the same time as a knock on your door. 

You rushed to it, throwing it open finding ...

Both of them. Your mouth parted, words not quite leaving your lips. Finally, you managed a lame, “you came.” 

“We promised,” Lorcan said “Can we come in?” 

Yes, they obviously could, you swung the door wider and ushered them inside. 

“We came as soon as we could,” Fenrys promised. 

The silence was awkward for a few moments as the three of you tried to figure out how to navigate this. But, it was easy enough to break as you threw yourself at both of them, managing to catch each of them in a hug at the same time. 

“I forgot to tell you before I left,” you started, muffled in the shirts but knew they heard you. You’d memorized these words long ago. “I spent so long looking for all of the things that would kill me, I forgot the ones that made me feel alive. Both of you made me feel alive. Thank you.” 

[acedormouse]

DnD 5e Character Sheet for Stanford Pines

You know, in case you ever wanted to play the most mid Warlock whose only magical items are a boundless coffee thermas and a fancy lantern.

Under the cut is the transcript of all the text as well as a descriptor for what each spell does.

I don't have any particular verbal commands but when a spell requires a Somatic omponent, Ford needs both hands to make a triangle shape with his fingers

Character Name: Stanford Pines

Class: Warlock Race: Tiefling Background: The Haunted One Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Level: 10

Passive Perception: 12 Proficiency Bonus: +4

Speed: 30 ft AC: 14 Initiative: +3

Current HP: 88/88 Hit Dice: d8

Strength: 13 (+1) Intelligence: 19 (+4) Dexterity: 17 (+3) Wisdom: 13 (+1) Constitution: 15 (+2) Charisma: 13 (+1)

Saving Throws: +1 Wisdom, +1 Charisma

Skills: Arcana (+4), Deception (+1), Investigation (+4), Nature (+4), Religion (+4), Stealth (+3)

Other Profiencies and Languages

Languages Spoken: Common, Infernal, Elvish, Sylvan, Gnomish, Giant, Dwarvish Linguist: you have the ability to create ciphers that others cannot decipher unless they are taught how, succeed an Intelligence check, or use magic Dark Vision: you can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light

Features and Traits

*Otherworldly Patron: you have struck a bargain with an otherworldly being known as the Great Old One, a mysterious entity whose nature is utterly foreign to the fabric of reality. The entity is a voice in the mind- its identity unclean but its boon to you is concrete: the ability to cast spells *Magical Cunning: you can perform an esoteric rite to regain expended Pact Magic spell slots, but no more than a number equal to half your maximum (round up). *Contact Patron: you always have the Contact Other Place spell prepared. You can cast the spell without spending a spell slot to contact your patron *Awakened Mind: your alien knowledge gives you the ability to telepathically speak to any creature you can see within 30 feet of you *Entropic Ward: when a creature makes an attack against you, you can use your reaction to impose disadvantage. If a creature tries to attack you this way, it will take the same amount of damage as you *Bloodline of Asmodeus: bloodline commanded by the power of fire and darkness and guided by keen intellect

Inventory

*Arcana Focus: a crystal pyramid that colorfully gleams in the light *Journal: I keep my thoughts and discoveries here. My journal is my legacy. *Scholar's Pack: backpack, book, ink, ink pen, lantern, 10 flasks of oil, 10 sheets of parchment, and a tinderbox *Bottle of Boundless Coffee: a metal bottle that carries delicious, warm coffee. Each time you drink the coffee, roll a d20; on a 1, the bottle refuses to dispense until the next hour *Lantern of Tracking: this hooded lantern is designed to track monstrosities. It will burn for 6 hours on 1 flask of oil and light a 30 foot radius. When the lantern is within 300 feet of its target, its flame turns bright green

Attacks and Spellcasting:

Name: Crossbow (light) Attack Bonus: +7 Damage/ Type: 1d8, piercing

Patron: The Great Old One

Pact Boon: Pact of the Tome: your Patron gives you a grimoire called the Book of Shadows. You can choose three cantrips from any class's spell list. They don't count against your number of cantrips known.

Eldritch Invocations

*Eldritch Mind: you have advantage on Constitution saving throws that you make to maintain your concentration on a spell. *Book of the Ancient: you can now inscribe magical rituals in your Book of Shadows. Choose two 1st-level spells that have the ritual tag from any class's spell list. The spells appear in the book and don't count against the number of spells you know. *Maddening Hex: as a bonus action, you cause a psychic disturbance around the target cursed by your Hex spell. When you do so, you deal psychic damage to the cursed target and each creature of your choice within 5 feet of it. The psychic damage equals your Charisma modifier. *Aspect of the Moon: you no longer need to sleep and can't be forced to sleep by any means. To gain the benefits of a long rest, you can spend all 8 hours doing light activity, such as reading your Book of Shadows and keeping watch. *Caiphon's Beacon: the purple star Caiphon is the doom of inexperienced mariners. Those who use its deceptive light to guide their travels invariably come to ruin. You gain proficiency in the Deception and Stealth skills, and you have advantage on attack rolls against charmed creatures.

Cantrips

*Eldritch Blast: Range: 120 ft Save/ Attack: 2d10 Time: 1 action Concentration: No Duration: Instantaneous Components: Verbal, Somatic

A beam of crackling energy streaks toward a creature within range.

*Mind Sliver: Range: 60 ft Save/ Attack: Intelligence/ 2d6 Time: 1 action Concentration: No Duration: 1 round Components: Verbal

You drive a disorienting spike of psychic energy into the mind of one creature you can see within range.

*Minor Illusion: Range: 30 ft Save/ Attack: Intelligence Time: 1 action Concentration: No Duration: 1 minute Components: Somatic, Material

You create a sound or an image of an object within range that lasts for the duration.

*Mage Hand: Range: 30 ft Save/ Attack: None Time: 1 action Concentration: No Duration: 1 minute Components: Verbal, Somatic

A spectral, floating hand appears at a point you choose within range. You can use your action to control the hand. You can use the hand to manipulate an object, open an unlocked door or container, stow or retrieve an item from an open container, or pour the contents out of a vial.

*Fire Bolt: Range: 120 ft Save/ Attack: 2d10 Time: 1 action Concentration: No Duration: Instantaneous Components: Verbal, Somatic

You hurl a mote of fire at a creature or object within range. A flammable object hit by this spell ignites if it isn’t being worn or carried.

*Prestidigitation: Range: 10 ft Save/ Attack: None Time: 1 action Concentration: No Duration: Up to 1 hour Components: Verbal, Somatic

This spell is a minor magical trick that novice spellcasters use for practice.

*Vicious Mockery: Range: 60 ft Save/ Attack: 2d4 Time: 1 action Concentration: No Duration: Instantaneous Components: Verbal

You unleash a string of insults laced with subtle enchantments at a creature you can see within range.

1st Level

*Dissonant Whispers: Range: 60 ft Save/ Attack: Wisdom/ 3d6 Time: 1 action Concentration: No Duration: Instantaneous Components: Verbal

You whisper a discordant melody that only one creature of your choice within range can hear, wracking it with terrible pain.

*Hex: Range: 90 ft Save/ Attack: 1d6 necrotic Time: 1 bonus action Concentration: Yes Duration: 1 hour Components: Verbal, Somatic, Material

You place a curse on a creature that you can see within range. Until the spell ends, you deal an extra 1d6 necrotic damage to the target whenever you hit it with an attack. Also, choose one ability when you cast the spell. The target has disadvantage on ability checks made with the chosen ability.

*Tasha's Hideous Laughter: Range: 30 ft Save/ Attack: Wisdom Time: 1 action Concentration: Yes Duration: 1 minute Components: Verbal, Somatic, Material

A creature of your choice that you can see within range perceives everything as hilariously funny and falls into fits of laughter if this spell affects it.

*Illusory Script: Range: Touch Save/ Attack: None Time: 1 minute Concentration: No Duration: 10 days Components: Somatic, Material

You write on parchment, paper, or some other suitable writing material and imbue it with a potent illusion that lasts for the duration. To you and any creatures you designate when you cast the spell, the writing appears normal, written in your hand, and conveys whatever meaning you intended when you wrote the text. To all others, the writing appears as if it were written in an unknown or magical script that is unintelligible.

*Identify: Range: Touch Save/ Attack: None Time: 1 minute Concentration: No Duration: Instantaneous Components: Verbal, Somatic, Material

You choose one object that you must touch throughout the casting of the spell. If it is a magic item or some other magic-imbued object, you learn its properties and how to use them, whether it requires attunement to use, and how many charges it has, if any. You learn whether any spells are affecting the item and what they are.

2nd Level

*Phantasmal Force: Range: 60 ft Save/ Attack: Intelligence/ 1d6 Time: 1 action Concentration: Yes Duration: 1 minute Components: Verbal, Somatic, Material

You craft an illusion that takes root in the mind of a creature that you can see within range. While a target is affected by the spell, the target treats the phantasm as if it were real. The target rationalizes any illogical outcomes from interacting with the phantasm.

*Darkness: Range: 60 ft Save/ Attack: None Time: 1 action Concentration: Yes Duration: 10 minutes Components: Verbal, Material

Magical darkness spreads from a point you choose within range to fill a 15-foot radius sphere for the duration. The darkness spreads around corners. A creature with darkvision can’t see through this darkness, and nonmagical light can’t illuminate it.

3rd Level

*Enemies Abound: Range: 120 ft Save/ Attack: Intelligence Time: 1 action Concentration: Yes Duration: 1 minute Components: Verbal, Somatic

You reach into the mind of one creature you can see and force it to make an Intelligence saving throw. On a failed save, the target loses the ability to distinguish friend from foe, regarding all creatures it can see as enemies until the spell ends. Each time the target takes damage, it can repeat the saving throw, ending the effect on itself on a success.

*Clairvoyance: Range: 1 mile Save/ Attack: None Time: 10 minutes Concentration: Yes Duration: 10 minutes Components: Verbal, Somatic, Material

You create an invisible sensor within range in a location familiar to you (a place you have visited or seen before) or in an obvious location that is unfamiliar to you (such as behind a door, around a corner, or in a grove of trees). The sensor remains in place for the duration, and it can’t be attacked or otherwise interacted with. When you cast the spell, you choose seeing or hearing. You can use the chosen sense through the sensor as if you were in its space.

4th Level

*Evard's Black Tentacles: Range: 90 ft Save/ Attack: Dexterity/ 3d6 Time: 1 action Concentration: Yes Duration: 1 minute Compoents: Verbal, Somatic, Material

Squirming, ebony tentacles fill a 20-foot square on ground that you can see within range. For the duration, these tentacles turn the ground in the area into difficult terrain.

When a creature enters the affected area for the first time on a turn or starts its turn there, the creature must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or take 3d6 bludgeoning damage and be restrained by the tentacles until the spell ends.

*Banishment: Range: 60 ft Save/ Attack: Charisma Time: 1 action Concentration: Yes Duration: 1 minute Components: Verbal, Somatic, Material

You attempt to send one creature that you can see within range to another place of existence.

If the target is native to the plane of existence you’re on, you banish the target to a harmless demiplane. While there, the target is incapacitated. The target remains there until the spell ends, at which point the target reappears in the space it left or in the nearest unoccupied space if that space is occupied. If the target is native to a different plane of existence that the one you’re on, the target is banished with a faint popping noise, returning to its home plane.

5th Level

*Synaptic Static: Range: 120 ft Save/ Attack: Intelligence/ 8d6 Time: 1 action Concentration: No Duration: Instantaneous Components: Verbal, Somatic

You choose a point within range and cause psychic energy to explode there. Each creature in a 20-foot-radius sphere centered on that point must make an Intelligence saving throw.

After a failed save, a target has muddled thoughts for 1 minute. During that time, it rolls a d6 and subtracts the number rolled from all its attack rolls and ability checks, as well as its Constitution saving throws to maintain concentration.

[altaring]

Before learning massage, my personal understanding was thoughts become emotions overtime, but now I am nearly done with school and I am discovering that it probably goes more like somatic reflex goes unaddressed and triggers an emotion, then thoughts feed that emotion and keep me stuck there. And the thoughts don't move energy, but i force them to because my mind is strong. My mind has solved all of my problems in my life, tracking the narratives in the background, so I try to use it to do the work of my heart and my gut, but I'm so tried and I'm not good at it. Bodies don't make logical sense. Each body that goes on my table is a whole bunch of years lived in tangible form and I use my hands to get to know them. That calculating part of my brain that jostles me in each direction to arrive to a clear understanding, to a sense of having won, is withering. Bodies humble me. My hands are stronger. My reception is too

[alexturnersgooch]

Matt Sturniolo- Dumb & Poetic

“you’re so dumb and poetic its just what I fall for, I like the aesthetic”

The first time she met Matt, he was reading The Untethered Soul and sipping black coffee like it was a sacrament. He quoted Rumi before asking her name, and when he smiled, it felt like something sacred had just been shared — like he knew things about the world she hadn’t even begun to learn.

He talked about shadow work and somatic release, called himself “emotionally available,” and kept a beat-up copy of Letters to a Young Poet in his back pocket like scripture. She thought: finally, someone who gets it.

He played her old Leonard Cohen tracks on his vintage record player, looked her in the eyes like he could see every version of her at once, and meditated every morning on a woven mat that cost more than her rent.

For a little while, it was intoxicating — being with someone who seemed so awake.

But then Matt started misplacing the details. Not big ones— just the kind you notice when someone doesn’t really see you. Forgot her coffee order. Skimmed over her stories to talk about his dreams. When she opened up about her frequent panic attacks, he replied, “You should journal that. Feelings are just stories we tell ourselves.”

One night, after a fight about how he never really listened, he said, “I think your inner child is reacting to perceived abandonment.” She stared at him. “You ghosted me for two days.” He blinked slowly. “I needed space to realign.”

The cracks deepened.

Matt said she was “too reactive.” That he couldn’t be around “low vibrational energy.” He crashed her car one weekend and left her a voice note about how the universe was telling him to slow down.

She started to notice how his so-called healing always seemed to leave wreckage behind. And he never stayed to sweep any of it up.

Eventually, she stopped arguing. Just watched him light incense and call it accountability. He’d say things like “I love everyone,” while abandoning the very people he swore he was “holding space for.”

When she left, he didn’t fight it. Just gave her a long, unreadable look and said, “Everything’s unfolding as it should.”

She didn’t respond.

Outside, the air felt heavier and clearer all at once. Maybe he was poetic. But he was also just a boy hiding behind beautiful words.

And she was done reading him.

“just cause you talk like one doesn’t make you a man”

a/n: I hate this. but I never post. I should lowkey make this an au. toxicspiritualist!matt coming soon!! :p

tags: @cayleeuhithinknott @shadowthesim237

[amateurmasksmith]

Scare Care

Chapter One: Poltergeist in the Parlor

a/n: comments are appreciated! :)

inspiration: this post

Virgil had a very strange job.

He’d had a few odd jobs by now, just taking whatever would pay - pizza delivery, helpdesk, dog walking (he did actually like that one; it’s how he met his best friend) - But as he stood with a notebook in yet-another stranger’s living room, he couldn’t help but figuratively step back and realize the sheer absurdity of his situation.

“I can’t believe I’m arguing with a poltergeist about Disney movies,” he said, pinching his nose.

“Anyway! We’re getting off-track,” Virgil looked down at his notepad, skimming the section ‘Reason for Call.’

Thomas, his client, had put in a call last week - A skeptic (like Virgil’s roommate - though that seemed to be where the similarities ended), he sounded like many other skeptics he’d heard calling in - Confused, anxious…

Desperate.

He didn’t blame them, really - any of them. Some customers were assholes, true, but ignorance? Fear? That he could help with.

A lot of the time, it didn’t even take anything particularly special to resolve the paranormal problems he was called for - If it was dangerous, then yeah, he could call in backup - But usually, it was a matter of having just enough otherworldly knowledge to understand the problem, and the patience and empathy to guide his clients toward a solution.

…he was still working on that last part.

He had a fancier title on his resume, but Virgil liked to think of his job as an underglorified paranormal help desk or field tech.

Though, to be fair, the computer-based field techs were underglorified, too.

God, he was glad to be out of that job.

Thomas’ case was, luckily, a simple one-

“Ugh, fine - I suppose, if you- we can’t agree on the best prince, then… how about ‘Which movie has the best songs?’”

Well. Mostly.

“Black Cauldron.”

Virgil took the beat of sweet, blessed quiet to pivot towards Thomas. “When did this all start?”

Over the prince-preoccupied-poltergeist’s sputtering, Thomas answered, “Since I moved in! Before, even - I don’t remember exactly when.”

Roman scoffed, crossing his arms. “Try ‘ever since I ruined the perfect arrangement of an innocent, handsome, good-taste-having man’s antique furniture collection!’ ” he said, theatrically imitating and exaggerating Thomas’ mannerisms.

Sometimes Virgil regretted not going after that banishment cert.

He sighed - The old-fashioned way it was.

…Talking. Gross.

“Furniture?” He questioned toward Thomas.

“I- I mean, yeah? I moved the couches a bit?”

“A BIT?!” Princey screeched. “You shoved them! My darling babies almost ended up in the kitchen - and that is no place for antique leather!”

Virgil blinked confusedly, looking at the layout of the apartment.

While the kitchen and living room were next to each other, there was a partial corner and a half-high-wall/breakfast counter… thing, decidedly blocking the way into the kitchen.

Also, surprisingly, Roman was right - a kitchen was no place for a couch.

So why…?

Thomas, seeing the confusion written on their faces (and indignation, in Roman’s case), looked away sheepishly, rubbing his neck.

“I… may… have been… trying… to make a blanket fort.”

The princely poltergeist let out what Virgil could only describe as a squeal. “Oooh! That sounds fun!”

He clapped his hands twice - For the theatrics, Virgil assumed, since poltergeists didn’t have to use somatic elements for most interactions - and began moving the furniture around the living room.

Virgil and Thomas exchanged looks that said “Seriously?” and “Eh, works for me,” respectively.

Well. At least that was resolved.

Now onto the second-worst part: On-site paperwork.

“So- uh. You guys are good, then?” Virgil asked.

Thomas popped his head up from behind a couch where he was tucking in the corner of a blanket.

“Huh? Oh, uh. Yeah!” Thomas grinned.

“Awesome.” He opened his bag that he’d left on the end of the banister, and took out a clipboard and form after filling out a few fields. “I just need a signature, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Thomas grunted as he stood up, and Virgil handed him the form. “I know a bunch of other places do this all digital, but we gotta keep it old-school ‘cause of electronic interference.”

“Also,” Virgil kept going despite himself, “I’ve read through everything, it’s just a statement of work done, reaffirmation of the disclaimer on the website, stuff like that.”

He gestured vaguely with one hand as Thomas signed and dated the paper with the pen Virge had tied to the clipboard. “I mean, I’m no lawyer, but it all looks fine to me.”

“No, yeah, I trust you,” Thomas said off-handedly as he finished.

Virgil mentally stumbled backwards for a moment before replying.

“I- cool. Yeah,” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck as he took the offered clipboard. “Thanks.”

Virgil mostly tuned out Thomas and Roman’s excited chattering as he slid the clipboard back into his bag, and slipped the strap over his head to rest on his shoulder - something about a marathon?

“Hey, uh-“ Thomas started, noticing Virgil gearing up to leave. “Thank you,” he grinned. “That was really cool!”

Huh. Most people thought it was scary or weird. Satanic panic and all that.

“I - Thanks,” Virgil said, not sure how to respond.

“Oh, yeah, also,” he said, fishing into his hoodie pocket for a scrap of paper (hoodies weren’t regulation, but some rules were stupid).

“That spell probably won’t last through a whole marathon - ‘bout two hours, how I did it,” he continued, writing some info on the back of the receipt he got from a Thai place last week.

“You could just call us back out, but - between you and me,” he handed the note over, “You’d get more bang for your buck with a kit from the coven on Stoughton Street - ask for Nicole, tell her I sent ya.”

Thomas grinned as they walked towards the door - seriously, how did he keep doing that?? “Awesome-sauce! Thank you, Virgil!”

God, this guy’s almost as much of a goober as Patton. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he stepped outside. “Thanks, Thomas.”

“No, thank you!”

Virge turned around once he buckled on his helmet, grabbed his bike and stepped off the porch, and gave Thomas a two-finger salute, which he returned.

“See ya,” he said, mounting his bike.

As Virgil pedaled away, watching the sunset, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d see Thomas again.

He hoped he would.

[bonecoatvodtranscripts]

Transcript: talking about something more serious (Shubble VOD 2/21/2024)

CWs: physical abuse, emotional abuse/gaslighting, financial abuse, mentions of sexual assault

Feel free to reupload this transcript anywhere, I really don't care about credit for this one

--

Hello!

I don't know if you can even hear it. I put on, like, light jazz in the background because it seemed awkward being quiet, but I don't think you can hear it, so I'm just going to turn it off. Hello.

Welcome. We are in emote-only cause I'm just going to be talking today and then I'm going to go. I'm going to go. Yeah, it was very very low. There's no need. I just - it felt weird leaving you in silence, but I'm here, so.

Hello. I want to talk about something today that... I'm very nervous. I feel sweaty. I had a sweater on. I had to take it off.  I'm going to try and just - I wrote down pretty much everything I think that I want to say, to keep track of all the points that I want to make sure I don't forget anything, so I will be reading from something a good portion of the time, but not 100% of the time. And I just wanted to make sure I got all of my thoughts down in words ahead of time. I really like writing down my thoughts, so I did that. 

Oh, hold on. Can I turn ads off? I think that maybe we turn ads off today. (laughs) How do I make that happen for just today? I should have had that already. I actually don't even know how to make that happen. You know what? That's just going to have to be that way. I'm so sorry, um... I'm all good. 

Yeah, okay. Today's just going to be talking. I'm just going to start reading from what I wrote and go from there. I have a really big coffee. I'm going to take a swig. (drinks some coffee) And I have my water, and I'm going to take a swig of that. (drinks some water) 

I have always liked telling my different experiences that I've had in dating, because it feels important to me to share what I've learned and maybe help other people to not make the same mistakes that I have before. I'm 30. I've dated a lot. I've gone on a lot of dates. I keep trying, and it's unfortunate that a lot of my dating history, there were a lot of bad people that tried to manipulate or control me. But that's not to say that every person that I've dated has treated me poorly. Some people just weren't the right people. And speaking out about my bad experiences has never felt as important as it does right now, because silence has always brought me peace, and this time it feels like my silence is not keeping my peace. It's only keeping somebody else's peace. 

And I never thought that I could be the kind of person to end up in a situation like I did. I never thought that could happen to me. And so for me this is important, because it could help anybody else see the signs sooner than I did, or hopefully avoid a similar situation entirely, because... (deep breath) The truth is it was dangerous. 

There were a lot of things wrong in this relationship that, um... I endured some pretty terrible treatment. And I might touch on some things here and there about that, if I feel like it's important to the overall context. But what I want to stay focused on is this specific issue, and the things that happened matter-of-factly and the things that people saw and witnessed in our circle. 

It took me 10 months after to heal, and I spoke with multiple therapists and tried different forms of therapy. I tried somatic therapy. That one was actually really good for me, because that one actually helped me release a lot of built-up anger I was having over the last year. But the anger that I was feeling was for myself, because I felt like I should have known better. I felt so stupid at myself for staying through all of this. And I shared my story with a lot of friends after I started talking to therapists, and I was like, So this thing happened and I wasn't really sure. It just seems weird now to me, looking back. And all of them told me exactly what was happening in the words that I was too afraid to use. And I was being hurt in my last relationship, and it took me all of that time to see it through that lens. I even posted an anonymous story to Reddit that I have now deleted, with an anonymous account, but in posting that, I found a dozen other stories that were exactly like mine, exactly the same way. And all of the comments said exactly the same thing. 

And I was so mad at myself because I was lying, too, at a certain point, to protect this person, because I knew that if I told my friends the truth, it would make him look really bad. 

I didn't think that I would cry, and I practiced saying all of this and I didn't cry, but it's easier to practice it when no one is listening. 

But he always cared more about how it looked, and that was really important. Not what was true. And it was really subtle. When I hear about... When I hear about physical abuse, I think of hitting. I think of hitting and punching. So I thought that this wasn't violent enough to be abuse. I thought that it was just, like, a constant accident that he kept hurting me. But he's not hitting me.

And it didn't start as something that he did to hurt me. He had this habit of biting, which is so weird to me now, but he said that he had this habit since he was a kid, and even his mom said that that was true, and he said it was just affectionate, and that might have been... I mean, I think that might have been true maybe at the start, but I also feel that I have good reason to believe that every part of it was a lie. But that's just my personal opinion. 

And I had no problem with just biting. That isn't even the most uncommon thing. But he did mention something early that I should have taken as a red flag. And he want wanted to make sure that I was okay with him biting me, because he didn't want me to come back later and say that he abused me, which I thought was really weird considering he had never hurt me before, and so why would I call it abuse, and why was he thinking about that? And I thought he was being sweet, checking on me to make sure that I was still comfortable, but of course I was, because he hadn't hurt me. And why would I think he ever would? 

And then he did for the first time, by accident. And I don't specifically remember the actual first time that he bit me too hard by accident, because I didn't think that it would be significant. I thought that it would only happen once. And he started biting me more and more over a period of time, sort of throughout the whole relationship, and accidents of him biting too hard and really hurting me happened more and more frequently. But he always seemed genuinely sorry, and he decided that he didn't want to keep accidentally hurting me. So we were going to use a safeword so he could learn where my limit was, where my pain tolerance ended. And saying that out loud now doesn't sound - like, that's not very sound logic. But at the time, I thought he cared about not hurting me, but in reality it's like, why are you biting so hard? And why do you have to bite so hard? And it shouldn't be that hard of a problem to stop. That shouldn't be that hard.

And he disguised it as this really quirky part of our relationship, and was so comfortable sharing it with his friends, to the point that he would do it in front of them. He thought it was this really funny story to tell, and a good bit to take my arm and bite me in front of everybody until I literally shout in pain. And then I have to laugh  it off, because I'm so embarrassed and I don't want to cause a scene in front of our friends, and I'm sure everyone was a little bit uncomfortable, but as long as I was saying that it was fine, nobody really felt like they needed to be concerned, and that's not anybody's fault, because I was lying. I was lying, and it wasn't fine, because I would go home later and I'd tell him how uncomfortable I was, how much I didn't like being hurt all the time, and I needed him to really stop biting so hard. I didn't like it, and I tried telling him over and over again, because he-

[VOD cuts] - asked him to stop again. This time he said, This is who he is. He isn't going to change. Those were his words. And I remember a lot of specifically his words about certain things, especially at the end, because I'm good at remembering words. Especially his wording, I became really good at remembering, because he was constantly contradicting himself. And I would notice, but most of the time it wasn't worth picking a fight over. But he would fight me on it sometimes, cause I would point it out, and he would insist that he had never said the thing 

that he said, he definitely did say. And then he would say something like, "How are you so sure you're remembering correctly? Why are you always right?" And he definitely said the things that I heard him say, and other people heard him say. 

So he had, now, at this point, weaponized the safeword, and was using it to ensure that I was hurt and on a constant basis, and he wasn't sorry anymore. I couldn't even tell you the last time he had apologized for doing it anymore, because now sometimes he would bite me, and I would yell out the safeword because it hurt so bad, and he'd clamp down even harder. Just for a second, just for good measure, before letting go. And sometimes I'd say the safeword, and he'd grind his teeth down on my skin, and sometimes he'd smile after, like a gloating grin.

And during this time I was filled with so much anxiety all the time that I was constantly nauseous, gagging daily, on occasion throwing up because of the pit that was in my stomach. I never told him about that, though. I was going and running away quietly to throw up in the toilet and rejoin our group of friends. But I felt so unwanted and ignored. And I would tell him that, and then he would reassure me that he wanted to be together and he loved me. He loved me more than I loved him, even. He would always insist that that was true. Like that, "I love you." "I love you more." But he was, like, really serious about it. 

And looking back, I do believe that the way I was swept off my feet at the beginning of this relationship was 100% love bombing. And we were friends for a time. At least, people would have thought that, actually, but I use the word "friend" very loosely, because we had actually never spoke to each other outside of group chats we were in together, like, a handful of times throughout the whole time that we knew each other, but did not talk to each other. so I wouldn't have even called him my friend. Until he found out I was single, waited a few weeks to reach out, and then we started a friendship. And then that friendship turned romantic, and then he made these huge romantic gestures. He wrote me the most beautiful love letter that I had ever read. He called me his soulmate. He talked about forever one month in. He told me he hadn't been in a relationship in 5 years. He thought he could never find love again before he met me. He said he wanted someone to grow with. He wanted to be a dad. He had all his names picked out. And I didn't have a preference, because my feeling of it is, if the timing is right, and with the right person I could. But if that doesn't work out in time, or the timing, you know, I'm not super pressed about it. 

But I started opening my mind up to the idea with him, because it seemed so important to him. And I kept trying to talk to him to figure out where he was later on when I could tell things were declining, and now, all of a sudden he's telling me he's not sure he wants kids at all. In fact, he has never been attached to the idea of kids. And I told him that isn't what he said before, and he said he's allowed to change his mind. And I'm of the opinion that in a relationship, there are a few things that you are not actually allowed to change your mind without letting your partner know. I think that kids is one of them. It wasn't even important to me. And I think marriage is one of them, so I brought that up next. And I asked if he still wanted marriage. He said he wanted to marry me. And then he said now, "I'm not the-" this is a quote, "I'm not the commitment guy. You know that." 

I didn't know that. Why are you dating me? In fact, he was telling me the exact opposite every day. He would tell me he still wanted to be together. He wanted to work on all of the problems. He wanted me at the end of everything. He did not want to break up. He made that very clear.

I have, though, caught him in lies before, but usually it was small stuff, and again, I didn't want to - It wasn't anything that ever seemed worth rocking the boat over. Which isn't normal for me. I hate lies. And yet I ended up lying for him. But he had lied about big things, and he had also been caught lying by his friends numerous times. So this is something that he feels is acceptable to do. 

And everything reached a breaking point when he was about to leave for an extended period of time. We were not going to see each other very much- a few days out of every few months. And now suddenly he is dumping all of these problems that he has been having feelings about all of this time later. At one point he said he's been feeling this way a couple months. At another point he says he's been feeling this way for six months, immediately contradicting himself in the same conversation. And with no time to do anything about it. I arrive the one of- Never mind. I'm going to get to something later. But I literally arrived for 3 days for this conversation to happen and then leave.

(cat mews) My cat just woke up and she's not usually awake right now. (leans to cat, offscreen) Hi, my love. It's really close to her dinner time. I should have fed her early. 

So, no time to fix any of the problems all of a sudden, because there are three days before he leaves. And he insisted he did not want to break up. And so he was expecting me to have a solution somehow magically, and I gave a number of solutions that would have a way forward for us to be together, but he refused to make any compromise whatsoever. And he said that the relationship was starting to feel like a responsibility towards the end. Also his words. So it wasn't a responsibility the whole rest of the time to him. 

And he was at this point basically flaunting that he would never prioritize me over anything. (talking to cat, indistinct) And I wasn't even asking for literally even the bare minimum. I was asking for so little. And he - I was watching him give exactly what I was needing in the relationship all over the place to anybody else who just happened to ask and just wasn't me. 

And also, he was never going to prioritize me over anything that would give him more fame or money. In fact, he said that himself. That was exactly why he was not going to compromise at all for a solution for us to be together, because he said he wanted to see how much fame and money he could get. And I just thought we wanted to be together. I thought that's what we both wanted, because that's what he was still saying he wanted, too. 

But then he also admitted to me that he had grown to resent me. And I have to be thankful that he said that bit out loud - a lot of these bits, he said out loud - because that was the last push that I needed to get myself out. He had grown resentful, which I also pointed out that there was no reason to feel that way, and he admitted that there was no reason for him to feel that way either. I think that it was because I'm someone who can communicate how I feel.

But I don't know. I have a lot of theories and reasons why I believe things happened the way that they did, and why he was lying all of the time. But he was resentful of me, was causing me physical harm every day, multiple times a day, despite me telling him over and over again to stop. He wasn't going to change and he wasn't going to end the relationship. He was going to keep hurting me, and it was possibly going to escalate even further. So I broke up with him. And I didn't even want to, because I couldn't even see for such a long time after what it really was that had 

happened, that he had abused me. And in fact we left things as, we want to be friends, and he can never imagine not speaking to me again. And then he never spoke to me again, outside of, like, a couple of exchanges where I needed to ask for my clothes to be shipped, so at least I got my clothes back. I had a whole closet full. However, he did throw away all of my other things without saying a word to me about it. Hundreds of dollars of things from my office were trashed without a word. And I didn't block him till 10 months later because I wanted an open door still. I really thought I wanted to be his friend. But, uh, I don't feel that way anymore.

I do believe he was bottling up so many emotions, and he would never talk about how he felt. I think he even - I mean, he did admit that he felt like he couldn't say it any sooner, like there was just no possible way to say how he was feeling sooner than the absolute last possible chance. Not even a chance, because 3 days before he left - that was actually a lie too, also. He didn't leave for another week after I left. He brought me in, had this three-day conversation. He was supposed to leave, and then he stayed for another week before he left with all of the friends that I was also meant to see, but he had lied to me about the dates, too. 

But I do believe that he was bottling up so many emotions that he was taking it out on me physically. I believe there was a moment where he knew that he didn't want to be in the relationship anymore, and instead of just ending it, he tried to push me away any way he knew would hurt me. And he knew all of the ways that would hurt me the most. And he knew he was hurting me. There was no way that he didn't know, because of the safeword that he made, and he just didn't care. He was hurting me, and he didn't care, and even looked like he was enjoying it sometimes. 

And I can look back now and I can see all these instances that were really major red flags. There was this one time that he pinned me down and asked me to try my absolute hardest to get him off of me. And I couldn't do it, obviously, and he said something to make the point that he was so much stronger than me that I wouldn't be able to fight him back. Fight back against what? What do you mean? You don't say shit like that to people. That's insane. And I was also sexually assaulted by my first boyfriend, and he knew that.

He had stopped giving anything to the relationship, and he said that why was because he was just waiting for things to change on their own. He said he also didn't have the time or energy anyway to do the things that I was asking for, but then would constantly make any bit of time and energy for anybody and anything but me. And he would say he wanted more quality time, so then I would try to arrange things for us to do online because we were long distance, but then he would complain that he doesn't want to spend all of his time on the computer anymore. And then we'd be there in person and all he wants to do is stay inside, play games on his computer, watch movies. He doesn't want to go out.

And I'm not saying any of this next part to be mean. He lived in filth like I have never seen. And I've seen filth. This was the worst. He would spill things on the floor and never, literally never clean them up. He got an ant infestation once, and wasn't going to do anything about it because he said he said "Bugs are normal in British houses," so I had to buy ant killer. And he wouldn't clean his bathroom for months and months and months, but would constantly complain about how bad it smelled, and I would tell him, "That's mold. It's mold." He complained about being tired all the time, too, which I don't know if that was a lie or not, but mold will do that too. But he would insist that it wasn't, somehow, without having cleaned in months, but it's not mold. 

When I met him, he was washing his clothes without detergent. Just he wasn't using that at all, and I don't know for how long before I met him. He was just running it with water and then hanging it on his filthy kitchen cabinets. And I felt bad. I felt bad because I felt like he needed someone to help him learn how to be cleaner. I thought he just didn't know how. And I listened to all of the struggles of his upbringing, and I was like, he just doesn't know how. Someone just needs to show him. And then I found out that he said he doesn't clean at all when I'm not there, because he just waits for me to get there to do it. And I only found out about that after we broke up, because he said it behind my back.

I was doing all of the cleaning and laundry for him. Also, I had a separate bathroom. I want to make that clear I wasn't using that bathroom. I had a separate bathroom that I cleaned for myself. I had cleaning supplies. I don't think he even actually knew I had cleaning supplies in there. But I had my own bathroom.

All the cleaning, all the laundry, all of it. I was paying for all of the, like, paper towels, soap. All of that only stayed in the house so long as I was buying it. I would arrive and there would just not be toilet paper in the whole house. There were paper towels instead. And who knows for how long, too. I was paying for food more than half the time, because he would often push me into ordering food for us, even if I had paid for the last meal or the meal before that. And I'm of the opinion now that I shouldn't have been paying for any food. None at all, But I wanted to, at least, I thought I was being equal by at least doing, like, a back and forth. But I ended up paying for food more often than just going back and forth anyway. And he would do this to his friends all the time, too.

But I was also paying for every plane ticket and the catsitter, which cost roughly the amount of a plane ticket to England. And he never offered to help me pay after the couple of times he did come here to visit me, because he paid for the flights that we would both take. But that only happened twice at the very beginning. I have actually had a friend tell me that this is financial abuse, but I don't know enough about that to say for myself. But I was telling him that I couldn't afford it all by myself all the time, because I was losing money. I was never able to work properly there, and he wasn't traveling at all to see me anymore, even though he said he would. That was, like, the basis of our entire relationship starting off. So then he agreed to pay for the catsitter so that it would be basically paying half the cost of my travels. And he did that once. (pause) And then never did it again despite many more months of dating. And I was traveling often. I had to, because he was worried that we weren't spending enough quality time together. And then all of the time that he would have ever extra, he would choose - choose - to not spend it on me, because there was an available choice and he chose not to spend it with me often. 

And I did everything short of just up and move there, which I was willing to do the whole time, and I told him that I was willing to do it and he knew, but he insisted that I don't. He insisted not to. He was planning to move here. That was supposed to happen first. And then at the end of the relationship, he said maybe things would have been different if I lived there. If I lived there, like I had said I would the whole time, and he insisted I don't. Maybe that could have saved the relationship. 

And I say all of this because I believe that people like this are genuinely dangerous. I believe he is dangerous. He was willing to lie. He was willing to do harm to someone he claimed to love more than anyone he has ever loved. His actions escalated, and I don't think that I'll be the last person that he hurts. And I felt like sharing my story was really important to warn people. I want people to see the signs that I refused to. I want you to listen to your body and get out as soon as possible. Tell your friends the truth and let them help you.

I really thought I couldn't - because I had been sexually assaulted in a previous relationship. I just thought I was so much smarter. And I was like, if someone ever laid their hands on me, I'd leave immediately. It would never happen a second time. But you just, it just kind of happened so slowly over time, and got worse and worse and worse until the point where there's no way to deny the fact that he was hurting me and he knew and didn't care. That's just the kind of thing that I keep repeating to myself when I'm like, "But was it bad enough? It wasn't violent enough." But I was being hurt multiple times every single day, days and days and days and days for a month at a time in a row. 

And I'm not even speaking on most - because I did touch on other things, but I am not even speaking on most of the other things that, in my opinion, I do think that there are some things that are across a line that make you a bad person. I don't think that most people can be defined in a black-and-white "you're good or you're bad," but I do believe that there's a line that you can cross, and only bad people will do the things on the other side of that line, you know what I mean?

And the number of - (voice breaks, covers her mouth) I only cry now when I'm talking about my friends! Who also dealt with such shitty things from shitty people! But I'm also so, so grateful for all of my friends who were with me through this whole thing, and my friends who also were experiencing similar sorts of situations, at the same time, and we kind of went through it together. So I think they are the strongest people in the whole world, and they made me feel like the strongest people in the whole world today. Did I call myself people? I meant person. I feel like the strongest people - (laughs) I did it again. I feel like the strongest person. They made me feel so brave. I felt impenetrable today. 

But I am going to go now because my friends are coming over and we're immediately going to go become distracted by watching Love is Blind. I already watched all of it already, and I don't care. So thank you for listening. Thank you everyone who gifted subs. I am going to be taking the rest of the week off from streaming. I have a video going out on Saturday, and I'll be back next week, and you won't hear about any of this again for a while, probably, but thank you all. 

I don't really even know what to do now. I think I'm just going to end. Go spread love all over the place on Twitch right now, and I'll see you.

[missfortunetherogue]

The Embrace of Love and Death - A Short Rest: “Wake Up, Darling! Part 1” (Astarion POV)

Written in first person journal style

Astarion’s Morning Prank Log

Our dear leader seems to struggle with managing their own sleep schedule, and I’ve volunteered to be oh-so-helpful and wake them up whenever they need the nudge. I’m starting this little prank log to keep track of what works on the poor fool.

Day 5

Method: Tickling feet

Outcome: DO NOT REPEAT

I heard them having another one of those “worried mind” episodes as Gale called them into the wee hours of the morning. They think they’re quiet but they forget how sharp my pointy ears are. Yes, little bird, Astarion hears everything.

The sun had long since risen and still no sign of Miss Fortune, so Lae’zel strong-armed me into waking them up. When I snuck in they were ass-up in their bedroll, completely out from under the blanket and down to their underwear. The bottoms of their cheeks peeked out in a way that was not unpleasant, but we’re getting off topic.

I started with a classic: a little tickle on their feet with the feather of their quill. But as soon as the feather grazed their arches their reflexes kicked in and the bastard kicked me right in my beautiful face! It’s easy to underestimate how fast they can move when they spend half their time in camp moping about like a dejected turtle. Will not be repeating this particular wake-up method, thank you!

Day 7

Method: Off-key serenade

Outcome: Hilarious, companions not amused

Miss Fortune was up half the night chatting with Gale, that bore. The wizard usually goes to bed much earlier than that, allowing me to sneak over and ensure I’m the last person on their mind before bed but nooo, he was on some stitch about one-handed somatic spellcasting and how the best arcane fighters can cast while they stab. I slid in with a quip about how Gale might have become an expert on such a topic but neither of them appreciated my tasteful dick joke. My humor is wasted on those drips.

Suffice it to say I was not feeling charitable the next morning when our leader declined to show their face for breakfast. Again. When I burst into their tent I caught them snugly tucked in under the blankets with an adorably stupid look on their face. I suppose they aren’t half bad looking when they aren’t sulking.

I knelt beside their head and started humming the tune of “Drunken Sailor” off-key - on purpose, mind you! As I got louder I switched from humming to even more off-key singing, substituting some of the words so it became “Sleepy Leader” instead.

Miss Fortune groaned and threw their balled up shirt at me. It was saturated with their scent and as I drank it in, some despicable part of me wanted to steal it. Shoving that thought way down I straddled their chest and sang obnoxiously into their face since they still hadn’t so much as cracked an eyelid open. I was rewarded for my efforts with a hand over my mouth trying to shut me up. Their palm smelled like stale seed; had they gone to bed thinking about Gale? Or was it another one of their depression-fueled wanks?

“If I promise to get up will you stop singing?” they croaked at last. Success.

Overall a satisfying and effective method, though it put everyone else in a bad mood too. Must use sparingly when other methods fail.

Day 9

Method: Dripping water on face

Outcome: Ineffective. Do not repeat.

What does this fool have against sleep? Miss Fortune was up far too late again scribbling away at something inside their tent. My astute ears could hear the fervent scrape of charcoal on paper on my walk back from clearing my head in the woods. I don’t know why I was disappointed to hear those sounds instead of the sounds of them pleasuring themselves after our flirtations by the river. Miss Fortune has too much self-control for my liking. I can break them of that habit, given time. I’ll have them begging for me, unable to live without me.

The next morning I brought a waterskin in and found Miss Fortune spread-eagle over their blanket, morning stiffness prominently on display. I’m sure Gale would be jealous if he knew what an eyeful I was so often treated to, but I digress. Letting the waterskin drip water all over them did little beyond make them shiver and roll themselves up in their blanket like a carefully wrapped winter solstice present. I had to shake them awake. A disappointment; I did so enjoy watching them writhe as the water sprinkled down on them.

Day 10

Method: Freezing hands on bare stomach

Outcome: Sensual, engage with caution

I’m starting to think my little bird enjoys these wake-up calls. They seemed to get a decent night’s sleep and yet they did not stir until I came for them. They looked particularly vulnerable this morning lying on their back with their arms overhead. Their face was nestled into the crook of one arm and even in the dim light I could see the trails of tears that had dried where they fell on their cheeks overnight.

I must be growing soft in my old age because I lost the nerve to torture them with another song. Instead I placed my icy hands on their stomach, expecting a shrill shriek. I nearly let out a groan at the enticing feel of their body heat, but before I could do much else one of Miss Fortune’s hands shot down to grab my wrist.

We both froze for a moment until, as if realizing it was only me, they pushed my hand to rest atop their hot stiffness and ground up into my palm once before releasing me. The bastard was smiling into their elbow! A rather nice smile, I should add. And a rather nice cock, though I knew that already. Yes, I must bed them tonight before they get the upper hand on me.

Day 12

Method: Scratch, come get some bacon!

Outcome: Too mean? Or perfect?

I’ll admit I was feeling like a nasty boy today. After our tryst in the woods, my new plaything has been trying to avoid me. They’re failing spectacularly, through no small effort on my part, but they’re trying nonetheless. Which is quite vexing considering the way their eyes smolder when they look at me. There’s that aggravating self-control again, though to what end I can’t yet tell.

When morning wake-up time came I grabbed a few pieces of bacon from the griddle and told Shadowheart my plan. Thank the gods she’s as wicked as I am; she was more than happy to help.

I nearly gave myself away with an involuntary chuckle when I crept into Miss Fortune’s tent to find them fully clothed, their shirt untucked and pulled up to reveal their stomach, as if they’d been too tired to fully undress before crawling into bed. This darling fool really needs to learn their limits.

Miss Fortune flinched and grimaced when I laid the bacon strips across their face but otherwise didn’t stir. I snuck back to the entrance and waved for Shadowheart to let go of Scratch’s collar.

“Scratch, here, boy!” I called out with a light whistle.

I half expected my voice to wake them, but Miss Fortune remained asleep. The white mutt nearly knocked me over when he came barreling into the tent, and as soon as he smelled his treat he leapt onto my little bird, licking their face from chin to brow in disgustingly wet laps. That did it.

“UGH! What in the bloody hells?!” Miss Fortune yelled. “Scratch what are you—get OFF!”

They bolted upright, looking around wildly. Seeing the bald disgust on their face stirred something in my cold, dead heart. Having snatched up the bacon, Scratch dashed back outside, leaving me alone with Miss Fortune.

Their eyes locked onto mine, a mixture of exhaustion and fury swirling in those stormy blue irises of theirs. Then they swore, wiping the dog spittle from their cheek and groaning. It was enough to make me feel bad, just a little.

“I’m sure I’ll laugh about this someday, but I’m not happy right now, Astarion,” they muttered weakly. “Please give me some space.”

“Apologies, darling,” I offered, then slipped outside to let them compose themselves.

Read the full fanfic on AO3

[c41nc0r3]

i wrote two essays about how preacher’s daughter impacted my life for someone’s school study (while i was 🍃) and there was so much oversharing (because it’s anonymous & i’m unstoppable) so i want to post them here to feel better

To properly describe the way Preacher’s Daughter has been imprinted into my heart, I can only begin by explaining the things that I’ve experienced in my lifetime that Hayden’s music has immensely helped me grieve and process. To give you the rundown on who I am, I’m a gay, neurodivergent, and ex-Christian teenage boy, who was raised in an Evangelical Christian family in absolutely-nowhere, Florida. The dots connect themselves, but nothing has ever encapsulated this niche of my life like Hayden’s work on Preacher’s Daughter has. The first time I resonated with her music was just last autumn, when I had left my home to live with my father. I was fighting with my mother, to the point of severe mental dysfunction, and I had listened to Family Tree (Intro) for the first time. Hayden sings, “Jesus can always reject his father— but he cannot escape his mother’s blood”. I was left in complete awe. I had found an album that would change my life, with songs that would help me to put my experiences into words as haunting as my memories.

Not to mention, the storytelling of Ethel’s life is outstanding. The complexity of an album about parent failures and unreliable narratives and religious trauma woven into a twisted story of a young girl groomed into carnage is unmatched. Ethel Cain is brought to life and portrayed so personally that a listener can’t help but relate to her. Of course, not *every* listener is going to relate, as there is still extremely sensitive subject matter, which Hayden worked on with an impressive amount of respect and nuance.

I think one of the most underrated songs on the album is Hard Times. Not only is it a vulnerable look into the troubles of Ethel Cain, but it’s a relatable highlight to a core childhood wound of hers. Something about the acoustic strumming and Hayden’s strong humming feels like the burning pain of missing the “good” version of somebody. While there are multiple people this song has helped me grieve, I’ll talk about how I can relate to Ethel herself. As I previously mentioned, I lived with my father for a couple months. For most of my life, I strongly disliked my father. On my middle school graduation day, years ago, he had told me that he knew I was gay, and that he accepted and supported me. My entire relationship with him changed. Over 2 years later, I moved in with him, he became him again, and it wasn’t meant to be. I’m safe, and I’ve moved, but ever since I left I’ve had this burning sense of infancy that comes and goes—remembering what it felt like to hate my father during my childhood.

As one does, I grieve through music. Hayden sings, “I’m tired of you, still tied to me”, in a way that grasps my heart like the unbudging tether between father and child. She disappears into character and the song turns into another teenager my age, singing words we both know by heart.

that was the essay about the album in general…kind of just like a part 1 though.

this next essay is about televangelism but ties off the responses as a pair as well

Televangelism. With 11/13 tracks of an album packed with haunting lyrics like “Freezer bride, your sweet divine / You devour like smoked bovine hide / How funny, I never considered myself tough” (Strangers), & “Don’t worry ‘bout it too hard or you’ll never sleep a wink at night again / Don’t worry ‘bout me and these green eyes / Mama just know that I love you / I’ll see you when you get here” (also Strangers), it’s shocking to say I’m going with an instrumental track. . There is just something so deeply somatic about Hayden’s music. I can recall in my darkest moments in my time living at my father’s, laying in my bed with my headphones on listening to Televangelism, disassociating to the lights on my ceiling. I remember, it was a lot colder because my bedroom was in the garage and it was the middle of winter. I liked it cold, though. I would put on my headphones and listen to Televangelism on loop, feeling the warmth of Ethel’s ascension to Heaven fill my ears and radiate down my spine. It was escapism, survival even. It took my mind off of where I was and reminded me there was better days ahead.

To fully communicate the extent of Televangelism’s impact on me, I want to be very vulnerable about some of the things I have went through. If religious trauma is a sensitive subject I apologize in advance.

I grew up having nearly-daily panic attacks because of the things I had been taught about the Christian God. From 9 years old up to around this time last year, I would go in and out of having major panic attacks about going to hell or being left behind in the rapture. After the resolution of a religious psychosis episode in summer of last year, I had discovered information that had broken the hold that the Christian religion had on me, and I began to heal from my religious trauma.

While “Preacher’s Daughter” as a whole has played a role in my healing process, Televangelism stands out above all tracks. A song composed so beautifully it mimics the sensation of ascending to Heaven, signifying the end of Ethel Cain’s suffering on Earth. It is identical to the feeling of being without extreme fear and anxiety that I discovered for the first time last year. Every time I listen to Televangelism, I get to remember how it felt to discover that my existential worst fear was made up all over again. It was bliss. It was grief. It was heartbreaking, and it was life-changing. This album, while thematically centered around death, symbolizes the magnificence of creation, and how awesome it is to have the ability to bring the story of a character like Ethel Cain to life. I believe that if there is a God out there, “Preacher’s Daughter” was the apology for everything I’ve ever had to grow through.

okay thank you i hope nobody sees this