#black magic prediction

[chidoroki]

May 16th - Happy Birthday to Vanessa Enoteca

(with one Vanessa from almost every chapter she appears in)

[tchaikovskym]

I have to admit I never even imagined witches to be evil until I came here on tumblr and read some of y'alls analysis of literature and other media. The whole evil laugh and brewing potions did not connect to being evil in my mind ever. I was just raised with everyone around me thinking witches were cool as hell.

[willowcrowned]

hmc au mustang’s howl and ed’s the nephew who makes him magic up a computer game when he comes visiting without any gifts

you’re so smart you’re so so smart. ed is tangentially aware of mustang’s whole. thing going on with the theoretical magic phd and the not-so-theoretical magic door but he doesn’t care because technology is the future and also he knows exactly how much of a loser mustang is so instead of ever bothering to ask him anything about magic ed just bullies him into making video games. priceless

riza keeps running into roy in different disguises when he’s trying to woo people around town and every time she thinks he’s a COMPLETE loser and makes sure he knows it

[astrologerblackmagicspecialists]

Varahi Bairava Mantrigam Astrologer Blackmagic Center

BEST ASTROLOGER IN SITHALAPAKKAM

Call us: 9176185316

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#horoscope2024 #astrologycenter #astrology #varahiamman #astrologyposts #predictions #AstrologyPredictions

[kevinwikse]

The Black Alchemy of Zion: Vaccine/Gentile to Goyim.

The only distinction that will truly matter from now to eternity is Vaccinated or Unvaccinated. To be Vaccinated means you are no longer human. On the sooty and blood-stained altar of Moloch, thinly disguised as a medical table, you sacrificed not just your humanity, but the boundless potential of your children and, thereby, the future of our species.

COVID-19 was the last test the elites would give humanity—a final gauntlet thrown down to see if we would stand our ground against tyranny, protect our children, and fight tooth and nail for a future worth living. And with sickeningly smug looks, they smiled knowingly at each other. They had been right all along. Humanity was nothing but a herd of morally and spiritually bankrupt sheep, ready to be led to slaughter. Now, with the genetic and physical alterations brought on by the Vaccinated, their dark alchemy of turning man into beast would be complete.

In the dim, clinical glow of the so-called medical table, humanity's last stand played out like a scene from a dystopian nightmare. The altar of Moloch—masked as a place of healing—was nothing more than a slaughterhouse, where dignity and potential were obliterated by hollow promises and sterilized lies. The elites watched from their high towers, eyes glinting with the cold satisfaction of predators savoring the kill.

They had been right all along. The masses, stripped of their will and courage, proved to be nothing more than domesticated animals, led meekly to their doom. The vaccine wasn't just a medical procedure; it was the final betrayal, a ritual of control that cemented their power and transformed us into their obedient playthings.

With each injection, the genetic and physical transformations took root, twisting our essence into something unrecognizable, something subservient. The elites' victory is near complete, their dominion almost unchallenged, their black magic triumphant. They have turned man into beast, sealing our fate with a smug sense of finality.

Behold, ye wretched and Vaccinated! You have been transmogrified from Gentile to Goyim. You are now the slaves of the "Wise Men of Zion" forever, and you've doomed your offspring to a truly hellish fate.

In the searing light of their twisted machinations, you willingly stepped onto the sacrificial altar, eager to trade your birthright for a false sense of security. You’ve forsaken not only your humanity but the limitless potential of your progeny, shackling them to a future of unimaginable torment.

The Wise Men of Zion, those shadowy puppet masters, have always known the dark alchemy of control. They watched with cold, calculating eyes as you succumbed, their lips curling into a cruel smile. They knew that the final test would reveal the true nature of humanity. And with each injection, each compliance, their victory became inevitable.

Now, transformed from Gentile to Goyim, you wear the chains of your own making. You’ve become the servile creatures they always believed you to be, pawns in their grand design. The altar of Moloch has claimed another sacrifice, and in its unholy glow, the elites revel in their triumph.

This is not just a betrayal; it’s a metamorphosis into something less than human. You’ve sealed your fate and that of your children, condemning them to a world where freedom is a distant memory, and the future is a bleak, unending nightmare. The Wise Men of Zion have won, and their dark prophecy is fulfilled.

But even in the depths of this manufactured hell, a spark of defiance flickers. For those who dare to reject the chains and choose to remain unvaccinated, freedom over the needle at any cost, in us, the unvaccinated, there remains a glimmer of hope. The battle for humanity's soul is not over. The choice to fight, to reclaim what was lost, still lies within our reach!

-Kevin Wikse

www.kevinwikse.com

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Slippery As An Eel

Yandere Eel Merman x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Non-con, violent sex, bloody sex, biting, inhuman genitalia, huge dick, stalking, kidnapping, sadistic yandere, merman, eel man, merpeople, magic, general yandere behavior, reader gets broken ankle, dacryphylia, long tongue down reader’s throat) Word Count: 5.6k (Where I live there is still over an hour of May left, and I posted something for Mermay already, but it did not have smut, so I hope this feeds you all well for Mermay!)

Veeris was a merman, part man and part eel. Though most merfolk stayed well away from humankind, Veeris never managed to shake his fascination with them. They were so limited in their biped forms and yet they managed to traverse the skies and the seas. Maybe not so gracefully as a harpy or a merperson, but they traversed these domains nonetheless. And they did such a wide array of behaviors, from what he observed by watching the beach. They were just so fun to watch, going about their days. So small and fragile, but with little to no fear of predators. Veeris supposed that his own kind did a variety of crafts and hobbies too, but the eelfolk were a bit more homogenous than humans, who seemed far less predictable. Maybe it was just that he had lived among his own species so they just seemed more boring, but whatever the reason humans held some kind of spell over him. But there was one human that held his attention in a way that none others did, in a way that made his heart flutter and his thoughts race. And that human was you. It was a slow development, but after a while he became totally enthralled by you. Not knowing your name he dubbed you his "little siren" for getting him so attracted to you. He first saw you when you were picking up garbage from the beach, an activity that wasn't too uncommon as far as humans are concerned, but not totally normal either, it was always a welcome sight to see a human caring about the ocean rather than just polluting it though.   But another quality you possessed that made it so easy for the eel to fixate on you was that unlike the tourists who came and went you were a constant figure at the beach, you were practically a feature of it. And you weren't just a frequent beach goer, you were also consistent in the times that you went. Veeris could almost always predict just exactly when you were going to be there. At that point Veeris was extremely interested and curious about you, but not yet obsessed. What really made him yearn for you was when there was an oil spill. Of course you were a volunteer on the coast, helping to clean up birds that had gotten oil on them. And when he saw that he realized he longed for your delicate hands attending to him, traipsing over and exploring every inch of his body, in the same way that they were diligently cleaning every inch of the wildlife. Veeris tried to temper his passions, he really did. After all, you were a human and on the land and there was no way for him to even get to you, no matter how much he wanted to. Unless... he took advantage of your natural care for sea life. He was sea life was he not? The eel man knew every single inch of every path you took around the beach when you did one of your trash clean-ups. You always started at the south end and ended at the much more secluded north end. He staked the beach out for days waiting for a moment where there were no other humans nearby when you approached the end of your route. As you were going about using your grabber tool to pick up today's wave of never ending pollution you suddenly saw something large wash up with the gentle waves lapping at the shore. Just about 15ft. in front of you now lay a mind bogglingly long merman. Each of his features were striking in their own right. His rippling muscles, the long dark purple hair, almost black, splayed about messily over his face. The blue freckles covering his face, and parts of his arms, and chest. The dark purple scales covering his webbed hands and going up to his arms. But by far his most striking feature was the over 10ft. long tail. It was large, purple, had fins running all the way down its length, and looked oily, it was currently under a net. You saw his sharp teeth as he looked up pleadingly with his dark blue eyes and spoke in a pained voice, "Please help me, I’m Veeris. I was just swimming along when my arm and tail got caught up in this drifting net and I got washed ashore!" You told him your name and said that of course you would assist him! You ran over to him without hesitation, some humans may be scared of the seafolk, but you weren't a bigot! And clearly he needed your help. As you finished removing the net he struck without warning, wrapping you in his long slimy tail before slithering into the water and quickly making his way to his cave. You were stunned for a moment before you started to struggle, but the tail was heavy and muscular, almost like having the largest snake wrapped around you. There was also the little issue of having to contend with not being able to breathe. Just when your head was pounding and it felt like your lungs were on fire you felt the rush of air on your face as he crawled onto the floor of the seafloor, dragging you behind him. You gagged and spit up some water you had accidentally inhaled. "Wh-why did you bring me here?" You managed to croak out. It was practically unheard of for a merman of any type to eat a human but... with human meddling in the ocean fish may be scarce and anyone could be driven to extremes if starving. And those sharp teeth were definitely made for meat. "To be my mate, little siren!" He coiled around you and looked down at you intensely, this was the first time he had ever gotten to see you close up and he wanted to savor each and every little detail of his precious human mate. You flinched as his webbed fingers gently caressed your face. Welp, better than him intending you to be dinner. But uh... not ideal. You feared that trying to reason with him might make him angry and possibly violent, he clearly was not too rational, but maybe some quick thinking could weasel you out of this situation. “Well, um, I have a lot of responsibilities and a job that I have to do. Bills to pay. I can’t just be stuck here!” Maybe a bit flimsy, but maybe he’d buy it? “Ah, but don’t worry my sweet siren, with you being here you won’t have any of those types of worries in the first place! You can just relax and let me take care of you~” Damn, it didn't work. “But this cave is so damp and cool, surely my health will suffer if I stay for too long! And how am I to eat fresh vegetables or cook?” “Don’t worry, my love, I am good friends with the sea witch, Emrul. She has spent time amongst the humans in their form and has used powerful magic to make the next chamber in the cave habitable for your kind!” For the first time you took notice of your surroundings. You were in a huge room, a large portion of which was submerged in water where the cave led out to the sea, but the other portion was smooth rocky terrain. The walls had faintly glowing shells embedded into them with stalactites and stalagmites running together to form large pillars along the farther edges of the room. A soft moss like substance covered the rocky floor in large patches, it was probably of magical origin given that you could see no other way for it to survive here. Glancing behind you you saw a wide corridor leading deeper into Veeris’ den. Veeris slithered closer and grabbed your hand, leading you into the next room. Despite your reluctance to be there even you had to gasp at the sight before you. The room was enormous. The ceiling was a false but convincing image of the sky, clear blue with moving clouds. It was so real there was even a breeze, if it were not for the cave walls remaining the same as the previous chamber you would have been convinced you were really in a scenic location above water. The room was filled with grass and soil and even trees, there was a freshwater pond to give you a water source and in the distance there was a huge cabin, that even Veeris could easily fit into, in the corner with a sprawling garden free of any pests or disease, it was truly amazing. There was even a miniature river for Veeris to cool off in when he needed moisture and when he needed to get from one side of the room to the other quickly, it had arching bridges over it in several places so you could cross and remain dry. “See? Everything a human needs is here! Fresh air, food, trees, plants, food, freshwater, shelter!” Fuck! No dice. There was one last thing you could try. “Well, humans don’t fall in love or move in so fast… not usually… most of us prefer to date for a bit first.” “Date?” “Yeah, where you get to know someone gradually through planned meet-ups! And if you like them then you agree to be mates!” “Oh, so an extended courtship ritual that you need? Okay, little siren, how do we do a human date? I have already watched you for so long every time you are on the beach so I know I love you, but I don’t mind waiting a bit and doing this for you if it makes you more comfortable~” He looked at you and gave a toothy grin that you supposed was meant to be sweet but his sharp teeth gave you chills. But it wasn’t just that grin that made you exceedingly uncomfortable, apparently this eel man had been stalking you for quite some time. Oh god, it was working! “Well, uh, you can take me back up and we can meet and hang out on the beach sometime. I don’t know how your calendar works… maybe during the full moon, two nights from now?” “Okay!” Veeris took you gently and brought you back to the surface, it wasn’t that long, you could have made it yourself in one breath if you had to… assuming you were wearing flippers. Veeris gave you a hug and you said your goodbyes, once he re-submerged into the blue depths you ran home. You hadn’t brought your car since you lived just up the road. You had all of zero intention of going on your date, instead you started looking into new places to live. The nature of your work meant you absolutely had to be near an ocean, it would take some time to pull off but you sure as shit would not remain anywhere near this beach! Veeris, on the other hand, could not wait for his date. In only two days he would court and win the heart of his beloved, he just knew it! He could hardly focus on hunting, eating, or sleeping. He was just so excited, even a bit nervous despite his confidence that he would win you over. When the full moon started to rise Veeris was already at the spot where he first met you. You weren’t there, but that was okay, he had gotten there pretty early in the night in his excitement to see you again. But as the hours passed and the moon reached its zenith, with moonlight dancing on the water you never showed up. Veeris was heartbroken. At first he was depressed, then he was enraged. How could his little siren do something like this to him? He began to go back to his lair when a thought occurred to him. What if something had happened to you? What if you had been injured or hurt? It was the middle of the night, but Emrul was always up performing rituals and spells during the night of a full moon. Veeris knew he would need her help and did not delay in changing course and swimming directly to her dwelling. Emrul lived nearby, in a small stone building carved into the rocky side of a trench, secluded enough to perform her magical research and incantations in relative peace, but also close enough to the people that sought after her unique services. Her perimeter spell had already alerted her to Veeris’ arrival and she was outside to greet him. She looked very similar to him, with the obvious difference that she was a woman. Her scales were also a very dark, almost black, shade of blue rather than purple. She warmly greeted her fellow eel as they both went into her abode. Vials of brightly colored fluids lined her shelves, a cauldron bubbled with a mystic fluid that was thicker than water, and the smell of pungent ingredients permeated the water. “So, what brings you to me at such an hour? It must be important…” “it is… I really need your help...” And, after explaining his situation to her, he got it. A few days later you were in your house getting ready for bed. You had already arranged everything for your move, it wasn’t too terribly far, just 35 miles up the coast. All your things were already packed. You would miss the area, but you had no familial ties and no friends that lived near so that made things easier. You couldn’t stay knowing what was waiting to drag you into the depths. As you turned off the light and got into bed you slept soundly for the first time in days. But you didn’t stay asleep, you heard something outside. You ignored it at first, thinking it was just some raccoon or other such animal roaming about in the dark. But then you heard pounding at your door. You looked through the peephole to see who could possibly be disturbing you at this hour. What you saw made your blood run cold. Veeris, somehow, this far inland. Except there were now two very human legs where his tail should have been, he had no scales, and he was also dressed in very old style clothing. Like an alien who had seen fashion from the Victorian era and wore it thinking it would blend them in with modern day humans. How was he on land? How had he found you!? You ran back upstairs and hid under your bed, hoping that he would think you weren’t home and simply leave. And if he did come in maybe he wouldn’t find you under there. The pounding at the door only grew more fervent, you prayed he would just take a hint and leave but it didn’t seem like a lack of response was going to be enough of a deterrent for the former eel man. Veeris was worried for your safety, worried something terrible may have happened to you, so there was no force on earth that was going to prevent him from seeing you. And he knew you were inside. Emrul didn’t just enchant him with a temporary human form but also let him have a homing crystal that was tuned to the object of his desire. He knew you were inside this human building. Knocking wasn’t working, what if someone had you bound or you were injured and unable to come to the door? With a mighty heave he snapped the door and entered your home, calling out your name as he searched every room. When he reached your bedroom the crystal grew warm and glowed more strongly. You were close. His heavy steps boomed and thudded around you as he checked under your covers and opened your closet. There was now only one place left to check. Veeris easily pushed aside your bed, revealing you huddled up in a fetal position below where the bed previously stood. He picked you up easily and pulled you into a painfully tight embrace. “My siren! What happened to you!? Are you okay? Why did you miss our date?” Veeris was sure there had to be a proper explanation, like maybe you had been ill or someone had hurt you. You only had to get him to leave you alone for another night and then you could find a human mage, warlock, witch, or sorcerer of some type to block out magical tracking. You decided to go with old reliable. In a sickly voice you answered him after a few convincing coughs, “I-i wanted to come, of course I did but… I was so s-sick. I still am. That’s why I was under the bed, I had fallen and couldn’t even get up!” You finished your lie with a few more fake coughs and a slight whimper of pain. Veeris was totally convinced of your deception. Perhaps, as you would soon realize, just a bit too convinced. “Oh, my poor sweet angel fish, I am so sorry that you have been suffering. Forget the date.” Haha, Success! “You clearly cannot be left alone in this condition, don’t worry I will take good care of you, I will make sure you get plenty of rest and all your needs are taken care of!” FUCK! “No, no! You don’t need to go through all of that trouble! I was already starting to feel a little bit better!” You did not like where this was going. “Nonsense, what kind of potential mate would I be if I just left you to suffer! You don’t need to be so strong, you can rely on me.” “B-but the cold water could make me worse!” “Don’t worry, the swim to my cave is so brief that you won’t be exposed long and we can warm up and dry you off in that human dwelling Emrul put in the cave for us! And here, this will let you breathe underwater! It is an enchanted necklace Emrul made for me.” Veeris pulled a sapphire pendant from his pocket and put it gently around your neck before easily scooping you up into his mighty arms. Then he started walking with you right past the broken door and out of the house. You briefly considered screaming for help but there was no one out and about at this hour and even on the off chance someone heard your pleas for help and called the authorities they would never get here in time, and even if that did somehow happen how would Veeris react to your screaming? He could snap your bones without any effort. It was only a quick jog to the sea and when he reached the water’s edge he shed his antique style human clothing before starting the transformation back into an eel man, scales erupting on his arms and legs before his legs joined together and once more became his tail. He held you tight as he slithered into the water and swam as quickly as he could back to his lair. You instinctively held your breath but remembered the charm around your neck that would supposedly allow you to breathe water. It took a lot of will power to force your body to take a breath underwater, but you finally managed to do it and it worked exactly as it was supposed to. You could certainly use this to escape later. Veeris continued carrying you as he slithered into the large enchanted part of the cave. He took you into the cabin and, much to your dismay, stripped you of all your clothing. You tried to talk him out of it but he wasn’t having it, he insisted on getting you out of the wet clothing and bundled up in bed, you were sick after all and apparently humans were supposed to stay dry when sick as per your earlier worry about being exposed to the water while ill. He also insisted on cleaning you up and drying you off. The eel man took a soft rag and gently washed your body of all the water before bundling you up in the softest blankets you had ever felt and having you lay in the humongous bed. Veeris had never slept in a human style bed before, but this one was enchanted to support his full weight and made to dimensions to fit his full size. He found it very comfortable as he slithered into it, fitting you perfectly into his oddly warm coils. You had thought yourself free of this whole mess but now here you were, naked except for some blankets, snuggled up in the tail of a merman who was determined to prove himself to be a perfect mate for you. One day. Just one day and you would have been significantly farther. Not that that necessarily would have stopped him, but it might have. At the very least it would have given you more time. It was hard to go asleep with the massive man surrounding you, but eventually you did manage to get a few shaky hours of rest before waking up to something poking you in your thigh. You opened your eyes to find he was no longer coiled around you and instead spooning you, and his cock had gone erect in his sleep and slid out of his genital slit and was now leaking pre all over you. You feared the size of it, at least he currently thought you ill and hopefully wouldn’t try to mate with you. There was no way that thing was going in without at least some pain. You managed to suppress the urge to push him away from you, but you didn’t want to wake him up and have to deal with him. That task became impossible though when he began slowly fucking your thighs from behind in his sleep. You began shouting and struggling, but it did nothing to wake him. Thankfully whatever erotic dreams were leading to him to such behavior dissipated before he splooged all over you. He finally woke up, with his cock still between your thighs. He blushed and looked away shyly. “O-oh, I am so sorry my little angelfish, I… didn’t mean to uh…, well anyway your clothes are dry now.” But of course, he still had to dress you. You were there for several days, with each day seemingly getting just a slight bit better. You couldn’t stay sick indefinitely, what if he got his magic friend to diagnose you and tell you he was faking? He said her medical magic and remedies were species specific and she didn’t know how to heal humans, but what if he chanced it if you stayed ill? You couldn’t take the risk so instead you gradually acted like you were healing. The entire time he waited on you hand and foot, it was suffocating, he did not even take time to go hunt for himself. Instead he relied on the human food that grew there, even though it wasn’t what he was adapted to. He was overjoyed when you finally “got better.” And you were happy he did not have to be so smothering. No more being fed or bathed or watched over as if you were the most fragile thing to ever exist. When he finally left to go and hunt for the first time since you had been there you had to fight the urge to immediately make a run for it. You had no idea how long he was typically gone, you needed to wait a few days so that you could memorize his outside activities. Veeris, meanwhile, was so happy that his perfect siren had gotten well and was now staying with him. He considered all the time he spent caring for you to be a good substitute for your traditional courtship and dating. Plus every time he returned from any hunting or other necessary outings he always brought you back some gifts, a shiny stone or shell that caught his eye or other such treasures of the sea, and you always accepted and thanked him for these things. If that wasn't successful courtship he didn't know what was. It had now been days since your recovery from your "illness" and you felt that you finally had the ability to accurately predict approximately how long his outings would take. After he left, and when you had figured that he was far enough away as to be out of sight, you grabbed the pendant that allowed you to breathe underwater and started to make your way to the pool that led out of the cave. But in a tragic stroke of bad luck Veeris had found prey almost immediately right outside his den and was already on his way back as you left. Veeris was stunned when he smacked right into you as he was entering the tunnel back to the lair. After a moment of shocked silence he growled furiously and wrapped his tail around you tightly and hauled you right back into the tunnel you had just come out of. Fuck. Everything clicked for Veeris. This whole time you had faked illness to get out of your date with him. But that’s okay, he wasn’t above keeping you against your will. That was, after all, what he had attempted to do originally. You just had to be shown your place while he proved he was the only mate for you. Your fear in that moment was beyond anything that you had ever felt before, you had no idea what he would do or whether or not he would hurt you. Kicking and punching him did nothing to remove you from his thick coils, when he hauled himself out of the water he carried you aloft with the end of his tail and took you back to the cabin. Once there he slammed you hard into the bed, knocking the air out of you. “You were really going to leave me my wonderful angelfish?” He sounded as though he was on the verge of tears. “After all the gifts and how well I have treated you??” “Please just… let me go…” “NO! You’ll be happy here! I’m the only mate for you and we spent so much time together! I just have to show you, just give it more time and I will get you to love me back eventually, okay my siren?” Veeris was unstable, equal parts heartbreak, despair, denial, anger, and love. “I-I hate you, you fucking freak!” For a moment your anger at being kidnapped by this insane merman overcame your fear of him. You regretted it almost instantly. Such blunt words cut Veeris’ heart, causing him great cognitive dissonance. And he was also angered at you being so ungrateful, he had this whole little world in this cave tailor made just for you, when he thought you were sick he took care of you, and he always gave you tokens of love. Seeing the fury in your eyes you backed up until you were against the headboard. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean i-” He pulled you by the legs back towards him as you tried to get away from him. In Veeris’ mind you had to love him, at least on some level, it didn’t make sense that you didn’t. His brain couldn’t entertain the notion. You saying you hated him clashed with his belief and caused him discomfort and pain until he could resolve it in a logical manner. But now with a frightening smirk on his face everything fell into place. He had to utterly dominate you. You didn’t want an overly gentle mate at all times. You clearly wanted him to prove he was strong and worthy. And you were probably in denial about it too. It all made sense. He needed to overpower and ravage you until you accepted it. You flailed as you remained on your back, still being yanked towards him, all the while he stared at you with a very uncharacteristic grin. “V-Veeris?” Suddenly your pants and underwear were torn off followed shortly by your shirt, leaving you exposed under his unhinged gaze. Veeris bent down and used his insanely long tongue to lick all over you, from your neck down to between your legs. His large slimy cock and balls were now out of his genital slit and he was fully erect. The size of it truly scared you. “No! Please! Don-” You were cut off by that long tong plunging into your mouth and probing every inch, gagging you as it explored a bit down your throat. As he did this he coiled his tail around you almost unbearably tight. He broke the kiss and then positioned you to be turning away from him. You could feel his hot cock from behind begin to grind against your very much unlubed entrance. You instinctively flinched in anticipation for the pain, but it only made it much worse for you than if you had tried to relax. Veeris finally finished with the grinding and jammed his fat cock into you unceremoniously. It felt like you had been impaled by a molten spear and you screamed as loud as you could from the pain. It felt as if your hole was being ripped open with how much your body had to stretch to accommodate his dick. With each thrust into you it drove the pain deeper and deeper. Your body would have been shaking with the force of your sobs had you not been so tightly bound by his strong serpentine tail. But his sensitive body was made to detect any and all disturbances in water, so he could feel every sob and gasp and shake, he reveled in it, it was your body submitting to him. As he continued slowly fucking you he licked up all your tasty tears with his long tongue. You were such a beautiful sight, somehow made only more beautiful by your crying and pain. The hurt and trauma of the rape never turned to pleasure, he was not gentle, he was not doing this just for sex. He was doing it to completely dominate you so that you would understand that you were his mate and that he made the rules. He thought it was what you, deep down, needed and even wanted. Veeris refused to go fast, he wanted to savor every delicious stroke of his cock into your blood-lubed hole. You could feel the blood leaking down your thighs, mixed with his precum. You wanted to punch out, or kick, or at the very least hide your head in shame in your pillow to shield your tears from the world and block out the violation that was happening to you. But his body was tight around you, if he was railing you so violently you probably would have noticed the pain the bondage was causing. Veeris kissed your cheek with mock tenderness before whispering into your ear, “You cry so prettily for me my little siren~” Sharp teeth pierced your skin as he bit into your shoulder and then your neck. You blacked out from the pain right as Veeris pumped load after load of hot burning cum deep into your raw abused depths. You woke up over a day later all bandaged up and with a salve that had been inserted inside you to help you heal. Veeris was nowhere to be found. You even called out to him as loudly as you could, though your throat was sore from all the screaming from the day before. No response. You made sure your breathing pendant was still on you, which he foolishly didn’t remove, before hobbling to your feet. You almost collapsed due to the pain, but you pushed past it. Only one short, albeit painful, swim separated you from freedom. You weren’t broken yet. You were crying, your heart was beating erratically in your chest with anxiety, but you still had hope. You could make it. You got to the submerged part of the first room of the cave, your feet at the edge of the water about to step in. Veeris popped up with a splash before you even put a toe in the water. It had all been a test, a trap, he was going to train you to never dare leave one way or another. “Sorry to have set you up like that, but it is the only way you are going to learn your place.” As he slammed you back on to the bed you were kicking, screaming, and blubbering far too incoherently to make out any words. You were sure he was going to rape you again, his cock impaling you and filling you with the worst kind of pain. But he had something a bit more brutal in mind. Your terrified mind couldn’t even comprehend what he was doing as he held your leg with one hand and your leg with the other. Veeris sneered down at you as he twisted your leg in one direction and your foot in the other. There was a sickening snap as he broke your ankle. You screamed louder than you did even when he was fucking you. Mercifully you passed out from the pain and Veeris saw to your injury. He may have taken some pleasure in dominating and hurting you, but he didn’t actually want to cause you harm, didn’t you understand you were making him do these things? No matter, One way or another you would learn you would learn to never try and leave him.

[tragedy-of-commons]

fuck it we ball. hsr prom date hcs because i am on something different tonight. based on my very limited experience.

dan heng

he's painfully awkward. like you expected it when you asked him to be your date but it's even worse than you predicted...

he DID pick you up and he WAS almost an hour early, causing you to rush down the stairs and almost trip (not very magical-teen-coming-of-age-moment-like of you). that kind of lightened the mood though.

also painfully sweet! upon your arrival he gives you a boutonniere/corsage that matches your outfit which he had managed to keep hidden. his sweaty palms were not just because he was nervous, then...

march helped him pick it out, he admits with red-tipped ears. that makes sense, because she was suspiciously interested in what you were wearing to the function.

but he did also forget to pick out one for him. oops.

during the slow dance bit, his hands are sweaty. you don't care because your eyes lock and there's the fuzziness curling in your gut that plagues you whenever you're with dan heng.

overall, a good experience! polite and always willing to humor your whims, even if he's a little stiff.

and if you peck him on the cheek after he walks you back to your doorstep, well, that's alright with him. more than alright.

black swan

life of the party. not in a screaming-getting-way-too-into-the-music kinda way, but in the way that everyone wants a sliver of her attention. she's always relaxed, interesting to talk to, and dreamy to boot! it wouldn't be any different at prom.

but black swan, above all else, wants to just... spend time with you. anyone that wants to chat can wait until later, when she's not watching you stuff snacks into your pockets with a fond look in her faraway eyes.

to commemorate the occasion, you're cajoled into the photobooth where you both hold up props and make funny faces for the camera. you know black swan doesn't cherish much above memories, even if they're immortalized in a gag reel where you're clad in silly-straw glasses and her in a purple mustache.

but in the last photo, right before the camera flashes, she sneaks a kiss on your cheek. your eyes are blown wide in surprise in the picture and that's her favorite part!

surprisingly adept at dancing. depending on your taste, she will either dip you dramatically and take the lead, or fall into your steps and try to make you feel more comfortable if you're nervous.

cherishes any memento from the event. she does the teasing, though, so don't get any ideas about poking fun at her for being sappy.

a great date, i dare say.

aventurine

it's a given that both of you look the best. dressed to the nines.

the whole thing is a bit sensationalized, though. mostly because he's used to everything being treated like a spectacle, aventurine tries his best (while looking like he isn't trying at all) to give you a good time.

his saving grace is that... he's here with you. everything is more enjoyable this way, even the distastefully loud music matches the pulse in his ears when he looks at y💥💥

his favorite part of the event, surprisingly, is when you ask him to ditch with you early. makes a little joke like "wow, are you having that bad of a time with me?" but there's a bit of weight behind it that you can sense. anyway, you answer by rolling your eyes and pulling him outside.

away from the noise, pretenses drop and You Hold His Hand, telling him that any time with him is a good time. but this is infinitely better, even if you're both just stood in the parking lot.

you both decide to stay a little longer. at the end of the night, the principal gets into one of those dunking booths for the children to throw balls at to get them dunked in water. aventurine bets you a date that he'll hit the target.

you know he'll win (his luck kind of scares you), so of course you take him up on that wager, very excited to lose. it's very sweet.

lol he does hit the target

you both are prom celebrities for the rest of the night with another date set in stone a week from now!

kafka

imo she would make the best date out of everyone on this list.

mostly because any outing with kafka is almost cataclysmic in its impact... starting when she pops over at your place to help you get ready! surprise!

zips you up/adjusts your lapels/make sure your makeup looks good/whatever is part of this whole routine for you. she does so while humming a dulcet tune. she wants to be involved with every aspect of your pivotal prom experience tbh. keen on making memories like black swan is, but the effort is unconscious.

also. since blade has his driver's license, she basically bribed him into being your chauffeur for the night. i think that'd be a fun detail.

if you suck at dancing, never fear, because she also isn't very good (or so she says, but she's kafka, so of course she makes it work).

is not opposed to silly photobooth pics but she'd rather have someone take a candid of you both together by persuading them nicely - more her speed.

her eyes are ENCHANTING in that dim lighting... i just know... you get so distracted that you trip over her feet. silver wolf, the resident DJ that the school hired, sees and laughs.

has that tattered jacket thrown over whatever she decides to wear. she drapes it over you if you get cold due to the weather or temperature inside of the building.

[ifyoucandaniel]

exactly one person asked and i’ve been DYING to make this, so here are all of my favorite long batman fanfics in general and for new readers @twisted-tales-told :)

cards on the table by @wesslan ! 69k, completed. this is one of my all time favorite fanfictions, it’s so funny and tim is a mastermind genius and a little liar <3 he basically pretends to be a fortune teller and gives scarily good predictions and advice by stalking the upper class and eventually gets involved with the batfam and has to maintain his lies while dealing with his issues :) 10/10, very found family, good angst, so much lying

Dark Matter by @mysterycyclone , 221k, ongoing. this is a batman fanfic rec, of course my bbg dark matter is going to be here <3 this is a MCUxDCU crossover where after infinity war (spoilers for that if you haven’t seen it!) peter parker gets sent to the DCU dimension with part of the soul stone and basically is haunted by the ghosts of the avengers while trying to survive in gotham and get back to his dimension. this is so well written i’ve read it at least three times, it’s still ongoing but trust me it is SO GOOD. i can’t properly describe it, but if you like spider-man and you are interested in batman, you’ll love.

Red is the Color of Sinners by @bluelotuswrites , series, 120k, ongoing, M. i want you to look me in my eyes when i tell you this is my favorite series on ao3. it is set after under the red hood and daredevil 3 where jason and matt meet in a church after jason loses his ability to speak following the events of UTRH. they keep running into each other both as matt and daredevil and eventually jason begins helping matt out with injuries and tech. it’s not finished yet, but there is something so compelling about their dynamic in this series as well as jason’s overall character and how he is portrayed. i’m a sucker for mute jason after UTRH and this series does so well giving him a fresh start and a place away from gotham to heal and build relationships. i cannot recommend enough.

buy back the secrets by @vinelark , 71k, ongoing, T. THIS!!! oh my god, so this is a timkon fic where kon still doesn’t know tim’s civilian identity, but whenever he’s in trouble tim calls for superboy which leads to them meeting without kon knowing. shenanigans ensure when kon starts spending more time with tim! it’s still ongoing but the author is currently working on the next part and it is so so worth the wait. chapter 4 ends on a cliffhanger though so be warned :))

Sales People Know (listening is the most important part) by Mayhem10, 77k, completed, T. this has the coolest urban magical realism ever. tim basically runs this magic shop that shows up places and people who need something find it in his shop :) it’s kinda a slow burn found family fic with magic themes and a smidge of angst!

Retrograde Motion by Lysical, 112k, completed, T. this is best de-aged kid fic ever. jason gets turned into a 7 year old and basically the outlaws, artemis and biz, join forces with the batfam to take care of him. but trust me when i say this is worth your time, it might sound tropey but in the best way possible!! and jason’s relationship with artemis is sooo important to me in this!

Hand in Unloveable Hand (a chokehold) by britishparty, 54k, completed, M. this is one of the best psychological torture/grooming fics i’ve ever read. pretty much what if while our taking photos of batman and robin, little tim gets kidnapped and black mask gets his hands on him and decides he’s the perfect size for a protege. years of psychological abuse and insane mind games ensue. also tim is a Badass™️

If He Had Come by bronwe_iris, 45k, completed, T. so i’m a little freak and i love the angst of arkham knight jason, but more specifically the aus where bruce saves jason before he becomes the arkham knight! this is an au where bruce finds jason and saves him from the joker after 9 months of torture and brings him home. focuses on his healing mentally and physically and rebuilding his relationship with his family

Banshee in a Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee), 43k, completed, T. veeeery good angst. basically what if tim couldn’t die? 43k of tim drake whump where he just dies a bajillion times and eventually his family notices <3

The Birds: Hatching a Family by Oceanera12, 81k, completed, T. this is like “what if the batkids weren’t adopted by bruce, but instead they were all foster siblings who can’t seem to stay out of gotham at night and batman happens to find them and decides obviously he can’t leave these kids to their own business, he has to stick his nose in it” and there’s some angst and heaps of found family

The Hellblazer’s Apprentice by @bluelotuswrites, 29k, ongoing, M. what can i say, im a simple woman, i love to see jason with literally any older male mentor :) basically in UTRH what if he took up an apprenticeship under constantine to learn magic to piss off batman! so good, i really love constantine so seeing him and jason interact in a long fic is so good. also ALL BLADES JASON TODD SAVE ME… ALL BLADES JASON TODD-

something in the static by bonerot19, 101k, ongoing series with three main completed works, T. this is a jason centric series where jason still lives in crime alley with his mom and dad and never stole the batmobile tires. it follows his life in crime alley with an addict mom and an abusive dad and one night when his dad is whaling on him nightwing finds him and the bats just can’t seem to leave him alone after that. steph is his neighbor and best friend also and their relationship is so good. this is a “what if jason took a different way home to the wayne’s” fic series and i love it so much <3

catch the asteroids that come your way by ThePackWantsTheD, 54k, completed, T. i don’t read a lot of ships in the batman fandom i’m sorry, but this kyle/jason one is sooo lovely. basically the two of them growing up together and falling in love and then dealing with the aftermath of A Death in the Family and finding each other again :) really sweet and nice!

hope you find something you like! i realized the majority of these are tim or jason centric, and i love them all dearly, but if anyone has any recs for long fics focusing on any of the other batkids lmk! and any other recs in general, i am a fiend for new fics

[radiance1]

Danny was having a good night, laying down on his side and purring contentedly while his tail swayed lazily. He was living a good life nowadays, freed from his responsibilities as the eternal prince of the Infinite Realms and taking on the mantle of the head of a Familia.

Perhaps, one of these days, he should try and find the wizard who turned him into a cat and thank them for it. What would a wizard even like anyway?

He pondered on that for a moment, perhaps a magical artifact or another could suffice? He stretched. Oh well, it didn't matter right now, he wasn't going to do it so soon anyways.

He opened his mouth, a yawn escaping him as he finished his stretch, tongue peeking out to lick his lips. He changed his position to something more comfortable, sinking into the lavishly soft pillows and reminding himself to get Catwoman something once again for giving him this high-quality cat bed.

Custom made too, multiple times bigger than him, the softest pillows he's ever felt and smelling extremely good. Even when multiple others forced themselves into his bed, even though they had their own as a gift from her as well.

Perhaps another diamond is in order?

His ears perked up as the sound a crash echoed throughout the warehouse, and he lazily peeked an eye open as the sound of paws running towards his direction made themselves known.

His nose twitched, the familiar scent of iron controlling the air as he sighed.

Kevin.

"Graaaaaaaaaaaamps!" A cat of what was once white fur, now stained with blood, skidded to a stop in front of him. Danny sighed once more, other eye opening as he looked at his first, and what others call his second-in-command. "I'm not that old, 150 is still quite young Kevin." He spoke calmly, no real heat in his voice and instead, amusement.

Kevin, predictably, ignored him. "You won't believe what happened tonight." Kevin then turned cheeky, stepping forwards towards his bed, and Danny had half a mind to try and prevent him from staining his bed, before discarding that thought just as quickly. "Guess!"

Danny's stare turned flat, and he had an urge to facepaw. Instead, he sighed, staring at the blood staining the other's fur before resting his head back on his bed. "You died again, didn't you?"

"Yep!" Kevin stepped onto the bed, both face and reply cheerful as the sun. "But that's not it!" Kevin bounced his way over to the elder cat, bloody pawprints marking his path on the previously clean bed.

Danny sniffed, a faint unknown tickling his nose before Kevin flopped on top of him, the blood stains on the smaller cat rubbing off on him, causing Danny to shift position, one that would support the younger better. "Oh, really?" He inquired, reaching out to grasp a glass shard from Kevin's side and placing it onto the bed.

"Yea! I fought spark, the spark!" Kevin purred, tail swishing behind him. "Can you believe it!?"

Danny hummed, picking another shard of glass from his first's skin.

"She was suuuuuper strong! Not stronger than you obviously, but she was really tough, I almost couldn't keep up with her!" Danny used a paw to silently request for Kevin to turn, and he did, with Danny plucking another shard from his skin. "She went all woosh, and boom! And then I went swish, and whish and she could barely touch me!"

"Mhm." Danny shifted, gently lowering the other, younger cat from off of him and instead to his side onto his stomach, reaching over to pick the shards from his back. "Then, then she used her power and then I was going fwoosh! Then I crashed into a nearby window and then we had to scatter because the human inside was mad about it." Kevin chirped, easily moving through his story despite the biggest pieces of glass being currently taken out of his back. "Then I ran all the way here because I wanted to tell you about it!"

"That's nice Kevin," Once he was done, Danny reached forward to lick the other on his head, his tail moving forward-the fur turning from black to glowing white- and flinging the shards of glass up through the air and into the rafters. "However." Danny's speech turned from that of a cat to one of a more humane-like tongue, his eyes narrowing at the form of one of those vigilantes running around the city- this one seems to be the Robin, based on his description of the hero- took the thrown shards of glass as a sign to drop down onto the ground.

"It seems you've managed to have drawn one of the humans into our territory in your excitement." Danny rubbed his chin against Kevin's head, uncaring for the blood soaking into his fur. "I don't blame you, that strain of human is known to be quite sneaky when they want to be."

Robin stood up, cape shrouding his form from ankle to shoulders. He narrowed his eyes at the scene, and Danny, in turn, narrowed his own as the rest of his fur turned glowing white, toxic green eyes staring at the lone human in a den of cats.

A silent threat.

"Care to explain, human known as Robin?"

[chainelunaire]

hands hands hands

gojo satoru

light easy touches, almost innocent (sometimes not). very touchy, you probably know his hands better than your own. feeling everything with the tips of his fingers. pats on your head and making a mess of your hair, then tying it up nicely. hand around your shoulder, when he says something directly in your ear. playing with a pen while pretending to listen. hands big and warm everywhere but his fingertips. hands of a man who has a lot of love to give but doesn't know how to show it properly.

geto suguru

long slender hands, slightly cold but not much. surprisingly rough skin, but the gentlest touch of all. deadly, deadly hands, capable of ending someone's life bare. playing piano or with a knife with the same ease. the beauty of just touching someone without saying a word. folding hands in prayer, worshipping a cruel god, made by people themselves. tender palm caressing your head, touch as warm as it is motherly. hands so loved by the kids, because they never ever let anyone hurt them again. relatively long nails, always perfectly manicured. hands of a man who knows how to love, but chose otherwise.

nanami kento

very moderate, very predictable, right in the middle. not so warm, not so cold, skin not rough not soft. hands smell like rich black tea, because of how often he made it for you. the feeling you get when someone writes something by hand in front of you for quite some time. knuckle cracking, even though he himself despises to do it, he does it out of habit. hand that always guides you throw the crowd. fingers trembling when he's too tired. hands of a man who always wanted to love, but never had the chance to.

fushiguro toji

confident hands of a dangerous man. you can never recall the feeling of the skin, because of how rarely he touches you. hands closing before his face on autopilot, because of how severely he was beaten in his own household. calloused fingers, clecnhing fists out of sudden bursts of anger. grip firm, it's impossible to get out. careful playing with dangling toys above small bed, laugher of a child filling the room. sound of cracking bones and the smell of blood everywhere. hands of a man who once knew love, but it was so long ago, the feeling long forgotten.

ryomen sukuna

hands covered in blood, brutal hands of a violent, non-human creature. they hold no love, no joy, not anything. touch not warm, but insted hot, painful. skillful hands, which know how to turn anything into a weapon by the touch. a big talent for craftmanship. short but strong squeeze on your shoulder, commanding you to continue the battle. big cruel hands holding a small ancient poetry book with so much care and respect. so many scars, yet only so much still do hurt. hands of a man who knew no love and therefore chose to love no one but himself.

itadori yuji

warm hands, strong hold. always dry and rough, to the point they bleed sometimes. he blushes when you put bandages on them. clean short nails. playing basketball with ease. olive-toned veins, warm toned skin, smells like something sweet and almost sunny. clenching fists when he's angry. hands oh so tender when they hold something or someone dear to him. palms kindly cupping your cheeks when he says you with a smile that everything will be okay. hold so strong, he's able to catch you, no matter how fast you fall. hands of a friend who does not love himself enough, but instead loves you more than you deserve.

fushiguro megumi

long slim fingers, gentle touches. always so cautious, as if he's not allowed to touch anything or anyone. detailed handwork with magic sealing, so precise and smooth. putting a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips cold, but soft. strong yet careful hold on your shoulder, comforting touches to soothe you and bring you some relief. hands that every dog and any other animal loves, because of how gentle and caring they are. hands of someone who was loved, despite everything that happened to him, and who wants to give that love back.

yuta okkotsu

cold cold cold hands of a man with a dead soul behind his back. boney and slim, they look fragile and weak, and you could not be more wrong. pale skin, borderline bluish, lots of bruises. hands more of a musician, not a swordsman. hold so strong, it almost scares you, and he didn't even try. sweet tight hugs, feeling safe with every muscle and bone. fears of his own strength, the hold of a man who earns for love and fears to break it with his own hands.

[cosmic-waves7]

Jealousy, Jealousy.

Note: I tried Smth new w howl, pls pls lmk if u like it cuz I was half asleep as I typed this out (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

He's jealous.

It was only a quick pitt stop at the Wizard Pendragon's shop (one of Howl's many aliases) that set it all off.

A calm morning for the Pendragon's moving household was set to start and the shop needed a bit of upkeep as customers were running dry. So with the creaky floorboards all swept up and Calcifer warned to not misbehave, the clock-like magical device that hung next to the door signalled with a resounding ding and a switch in colour indicating where the castle had teleported to.

There was a long day ahead but you couldn't be more pleased.

As the hours went on Howl worked in rhythm with you as tinkering laughter was heard throughout the shop and bubbling mixtures were stirred harmoniously in cauldrons. There was a calm air to your love as he flitted around you with hands briefly coming to couch and maybe even teasingly squeeze at your hips as he passed.

"Pass me the dandelion leaves ?", He asked while focusing on the lilac fluid seeping from the side of the potion bottle he was pouring into.

You nodded with a kiss atop his freshly midnight-dyed hair - courtesy of sweet Sophie, you know she didn't mean it but you couldn't thank her more for the darkened charcoal colour that had seeped into his golden locks- and off to the ingredients section you went muttering past bottles of all sorts.

Coming back empty handed with no dandelion leaves in sight you let your eyes wander to his sprawled out form in the chair by the fire, Howl only looked up and smiled a bit disappointedly before getting to his feet and tugging on his boots.

You could already see long black feathers creeping out his cloak, predicting his speedy mode of transport for the errand.

"I'll be back in a moment sweetheart, not to worry. Markle will take care of everything."

Knowing full well the small child would've dosed off by now as he'd left to play in the fields while you both worked, you were left to manage the quaint store while Howl flew out for after a dizzying kiss goodbye and mumbles of bringing you wildflowers to carefully twist into your hair.

Then and only then did a customer decide to come in.

He was a polite young man, easily flustered and a soldier of the royal palace you noted due to the bluish uniform donning his slightly hunched physique.

He was nervous.

You grinned trying to ignore his demeanour so that maybe the pink in his cheeks would lessen.

"Ma'am, the queen has requested for a simple sleep draught from the makings of your shop.", He coughed, "please." came soon quickly after he'd recollected himself and pulling at the yellowed buttons holding his vest together.

You hid your smile behind the worn glove that your sweet partner had embroidered a pathetic attempt of a small daisy onto which you very much cherished, it felt like you were talking to a mouse rather than a fully grown man.

"Why of course."

The man...boy even, settled into a lone seat to watch you set up, eventually gaining courage to invite you into bubbly conversation that you found very boring very fast hence weren't all too interested in so short sugared-up answers were all he received.

The 'banter' he thought he was receiving on your end was honestly faked curiousity.

It seemed he was quite dim. Too dim for your liking.

His puny attempts to indirectly flirt were unoriginal and simply unwelcome.

Just as you were starting up your potion with another lame probe on the topic of the weather about to leave the man's mouth, your beloved hurriedly came in. Cheerily he was chattering on about a bird he'd been able to fly up close to in in his bird-like form.

"Oh, you should have seen it's-", Howl interrupted himself to stare at the man sat atop the brass stool across your apothecary tabletop, "feathers?"

His demeanor immediately switched.

Gone was the gentle, patient magician you were so accustomed to. There stood an intimidating wizard and he oddly felt much taller, much more powerful than a split second ago.

This was the Howl Pendragon you'd only ever heard about through word of mouth, not the one that childishly insisted to cuddle up on your ill-fitted couch or cast silly spells to jokingly make your hair stick up in different directions.

No. This was a whole different feel of a person and it seemed like the magic was almost spilling out of him in waves, you could almost taste it's electric crackling force in the air.

He felt more confident, cocky, ready to rip into this poor man down to his basic self-worth.

You liked it.

His lips twitched.

"Darling, who is this?"

Howl's voice was always deep and smooth as silk, just as it was right now, yet you were no fool and could pick up on the the roughened edges of his tone.

But it seemed like the young soldier took no notice of the emotional state of the suddenly very upset wizard in his presence. He only turning around to bow deeply in respect while stuttering out a greeting and an explanation of his presence.

Howl only had a curt nod to give as a reply and you could tell he wasn't very ecstatic have a new face in here.

If he could roll his eyes at the 'competition', they'd roll all the way to the back of his head to see his brain.

The next few minutes were tense as he only grinned tightly and came to your side to place a very domineering palm on your corseted waist pulling you in closer to his warm body, sending a clear message.

"I'm sure you've got this one little potion down love?", He said with his eyes sharply glancing to the young man that had very clearly receded back into his shell at this point.

Howl didn't even need to say a word, didn't even need to properly look at the guard for him to metaphorically back away. But of course he had to ensure he got his point across, so what else could he do but dip down to deeply kiss your lips, he was only seconds away from basically pushing his tounge into your mouth if you didn't stop his dramatic live-performance.

Nodding satisfied with himself, you huffed whispering 'show off' while he stepped back to tend to his dandelion-leaf-less potion.

You couldn't even look up at the barstool your customer sat on anymore with the intense blush covering your face and you could only imagine the agony of embarrassment he was going through.

With the potion sealed up and a-way-over-the-actual-price bag of coins thrown at the counter, he promptly escaped out the door not even bothering to check for any change.

Shrugging you turned back to glare at Howl who was innocently blinking into space.

"Was the last part really necessary."

He slowly smirked, tendrils of his magic swirling past your shoulders.

"Whatever do you mean?"

You quickly found yourself within his grasp, pressing kisses to your knuckles as an apology.

You knew he wasn't sorry at all.

Loud laughter could be heard from a distance as Calcifer moved the castle along to wherever your hearts desired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[octoberautumnbox]

A Little Goes a Long Way

fromis_9 Roh Jisun & all the other frommies :DDDD

Categories: fluff, cooking, really light blood but it shouldnt be too big of an issue

Word count: 1.0k

a/n: prompt by @msafterhours!! im actually a dumbass bc i got the prompt completely wrong lmao but here yall go!! oki i hiatus again byeee

It’s something about the manner in which the knife cuts through meat and muscle–something about how things come together in the pot that makes Jisun happy as can be. Home isn’t home, she’d think, when the kitchen hasn’t got windows that rays of sun enter through on warm mornings, or when the cupboards and cabinets aren’t stocked for visiting friends or midnight snacks. There’s a romance, a magic, a unique rightness in a home where one cooks for both body and soul. 

“Good girl,” she muses, finding the beef sitting in a basin of water on the countertop, “can always count on Jiheonnie.” She replaces the now-cool water with a new pool fresh from the tap, before gathering the rest of the ingredients and getting to work. 

Jisun opens door after door of cupboards, taking out each of the rest of the ingredients in turn: green and brown onions, sesame seeds and sesame oil, sugar and salt, garlic and ginger, red and black pepper. Cute, she thought, that each had a partner. 

The sun watches intently from the other side of the window, filling her kitchen with a calming warmth you'd scarcely find anywhere else. The clouds rein in the too-intrusive rays, while specks of pollen merrily dance across the glass pane. With her celestial audience on the edge of their seats, she gets to work. 

“Yeah it's you, yeah it's you,” Jisun hums under her breath. She measures out each portion carefully, transferring them into tiny bowls that matched colors and handles and rims. It must be something in her bones today, how her step is sprightly and her fingers reach and flex with less poignancy than she's used to. 

It isn't long before she thinks back, a green onion steady between the countertop and her left hand while a knife is secure in her right, that she remembers when Jiwon held them wrong and almost cut her finger open. She recalls Hayoung slicing peppers, followed by onions, rubbing her eyes in between every couple of strokes to push away persistent tears that never seemed to run out. She smiles at the memory of Jiheon not knowing solid and liquid measuring cups were different, and the resultant cake falling flatter and growing firmer than their beloved maknae had liked. 

Her lip finds itself between her teeth, thinking “Good thing they have me,” as the once-long stalk of green onion grows shorter and shorter. “What would they do without me?”

And yet, it was nothing compared to the contrary. It waltzes to the front of her mind, amidst draining the thawed beef of its former frost, how Saerom put her arm under her after a particularly rough day of practice. It shone like the sun, as Jisun mixes the paste, how Seoyeon talked her ear off when Jisun had run out of things to say. The rush of fondness fills her chest remembering how Nagyung complained when Jisun saw herself in the mirror and frowned at the reflection, all the while she works the marinade into the meat.

As she places each strip into the smoking wok, Chaeyoung enters her mind, the same way Chaeyoung entered the practice room in the baggiest pants Jisun had ever seen, only to pull out a Melona for them to share with their backs against the CCTVs. The scent and symphony of sizzling meat fills her kitchen with a profound sense of melancholy, remembering walking with Gyuri one morning before the sun rose, just one lap around the building, and yet it so happened that it was enough to share four years’ worth of troubles with each other. 

She tips the wok over a respectfully waiting plate. The meat steams and settles onto the surface, expelling the tensions of the stove and relaxing into a Jisun-like state.  The green onions fall predictably onto the food, meeting nooks and crannies in the meat with attention that welcomes a tongue seeking solace in homemade comfort. A final touch, Jisun thought, to finish the job, to give the palate something to want to come home to the next time it wanders out into the wide, wonderful world: just a drizzling of honey– not too much, certainly not too little. The viscous liquid spreads all over the dish, sending its enticingness to new heights and bringing the delicacy together. 

At last, her meal is nearly complete. Jisun sets it on the dining table, right in the center of the square wooden surface. She admires it for a moment, the hard work of the past half hour lost on the world but not on her, before she clears her throat to finally, fully, completely allow herself to enjoy the fruits of her labor…

“Girls, time to eat!” She then counts silently, one, two, three– frantic footsteps grow louder and louder until Jiwon and Hayoung come crashing into the room. They both shriek, “I want to sit next to Jisun!” It makes her giggle, just as much as seeing Seoyeon and Jiheon holding hands and walking in step towards the table themselves. Nagyung and Chaeyoung follow, still glued to Nagyung's phone as Chaeyoung points to the screen, “That's the guy I was telling you about,” before they take a seat across from her. 

Jisun takes a deep breath, waiting for one more, and it comes in the form of a comforting hand on her shoulder and a pat on her hair. “Thank you, Jisun,” Saerom whispers with nothing but love in her voice. Her leader takes a piece of the meat and makes a show of eating it, and it's almost comical how much she overreacts. “Holy shit, this is delicious–” Saerom mutters, her hand over her mouth. 

Nagyung pipes up, “Thank you, Jisun-unnie,” prompting a slew of variations from each other member at the table, until a cacophony of gratitude fills Jisun's ears. The warmth of their love spreads through her body, filling her with gratitude of her own.

“You're welcome, girls. Eat well,” she says, as she finally takes a piece of meat for her own, giddy in the anticipation of knowing that it'll be one of the most delicious bites of food she'll ever have. 

[servantofthefates]

Sometimes, your intuition fails you so you can have a little fun.

My intuition is powerful. That’s not me bragging. It’s just a fact about me. I have black hair, brown eyes and a powerful intuition.

Which means life barely surprises me. I see false friends coming from miles away. Same with true ones, celebrations and disasters.

When I met my great love, I knew he would be that from the first second I looked at him. Call me cheesy, but it’s the truth — I saw him walking towards me, and the world around us slowed down. Everything faded to black and white. Only he was in color. Only he was alive.

My Sun was his Rising. My Rising, his Sun. We were mirrors. It was magical.

But it wasn’t meant to be. We were soul kin, not soulmates. Each other’s mentor, but not each other’s forever.

My intuition saw him coming, and my intuition saw us dissolving. No shocks, no surprises. No pain, even. Or maybe just a pinch. Life is quite predictable for a fortuneteller after all.

But in the past year and a half, my intuition decided to let me have some fun. So she stepped back.

The first time I saw this stranger looking at me, I thought to myself, “What a beautiful man.”

But that’s it. The world didn’t slow down. Nothing faded to black and white. No one around us “died”, with only him looking alive.

Over the course of 18 months, I continued with my life. He was just a random guy from a far-off department whom I noticed every two months walking past me in the hallways. Each time, he was looking at me, and each time, I was looking back. But that was that.

Slowly, “The Beautiful Stranger” became “The Cute Guy on the Third Floor”. Then he grew into “The Office Eye Candy”. And now apparently, he’s become “The Center of My Life” suddenly. I wake up with him every morning, and sleep next to him every night.

I did not see him coming. I did not see him staying. I cannot see what he really is or will eventually be. A lesson? A detour? A happy ending?

I still can peek at my future. My career, my friendships, my wellbeing. But not him. Even my tarot cards refuse to talk about him. Whenever I ask them anything, they give me the silent treatment.

The Hanged Man: No comment.

Wheel of Fortune: Whatever will be, will be.

Temperance: Just wait and see.

Two of Wands: What Temperance said.

Two of Swords: No can do.

Page of Cups: Just enjoy it, will you?

My intuition has left my body... and it feels heavenly.

Is this true love or a commercial break? I have no idea. All I know is that every day, it makes my day. So I promise to cherish it for as long as it wants to stay.

If your powerful intuition suddenly stops talking to you too… it hasn’t abandoned you. It’s just guiding you to something new. You’re not being deserted. You’re being liberated.

[astrologerblackmagicspecialists]

Varahi Bairava Mantrigam Astrologer Blackmagic Center Services Call us: 9176185316 Plot # 364, TNHB Quarters, Sri Raghavendra Swamy Koil Main Street, Medavakkam to Mambakkam Main Road, Sithalapakkam, Chennai Web:https://astrologerblackmagicspecialist.com/

1d

[ancientcraftnoccultism]

Introduction To Candle Magic

Ancient Craft & Occultism

___

By KB

Introduction

Welcome back witches in training! We've been covering a lot of ground bases lately, especially within the realms of spellwork. Today, we're going to take that a bit further by opening our horizons to the infinite world of Candle Magic! In this lesson, we're going to discuss basic color magic, the history of candles, and how to use candles in your craft. Let's get to it!

A Brief Candle History

The exact origin of the candle is quite a debate among historical scholars, but there is a large sum of evidence that suggests candles made of beeswax were used in Egypt and Crete as early as 3000 BCE. Other early candles were fashioned using tallow-soaked tapers manufactured from fibrous materials like rushes. Rushlights were one of the first types of enclosed light we are aware of, yet they were unlike candles as we know them today because they lacked a wick. The impoverished continued to utilize them for centuries because they were also inexpensive to produce.

It may come as no surprise that the Romans are credited with creating the first wicked candles by continuously dipping a roll of papyrus into tallow, a converted form of beef or mutton fat, while wrapping it around a length of twine. Candles were still used in the same manner, but they had superior quality and a longer lifespan than rushlights.

However, candle production was not only practiced by the Romans. Wicked candles were "invented" by numerous other ancient civilizations who also used local plant-based waxes. The eulachon fish, which is so oily that when dried, it would burn like a candle when you ignite one end, was used as a candle by tribes in Alaska and Canada. The Chinese used wrapped ricepaper as wicks. In India, wax was created from the fruit of the cinnamon tree.

Candles, in any form, were a significant component of religious rites throughout this time. The Jewish Festival of Lights, Hanukkah, was originally documented around 165 B.C. Constantine, the Roman emperor between 306 and 337 A.D., mandated the use of lamps during Easter celebrations. Indeed, from roughly the time of Constantine, lights have played a significant role in religious events and signify the purifying light of God.

Candle flames were seen by ancient peoples to reveal enigmatic things. One could experience an altered state of consciousness and see gods, spirits, or the future by gazing into a flame. In a magic ceremony for "dreaming true," or getting information from dreams, the late Egyptians of the third century B.C. utilized lamps and possibly candles. He retired to a pitch-black cave that faced south and sat there gazing into a flame till he saw a god. Then he went to sleep, hoping that the deity would show up in his dreams and provide him with the answers he was looking for.

The Roman Christian scholar Tertullian fiercely objected to the ancient Pagan practice of lighting candles and lights during religious ceremonies, calling it "the useless lighting of lamps at noon." Candles and lamps were used in Christian rites from the fourth century, but candles weren't put on church altars until the later Middle Ages, starting in the twelfth century. Consecrated holy candles are used in ceremonies for blessings, atonement for sins, and the exorcism of demons, all of which were instituted by the Catholic Church.

Using Candles In The Craft

Candles have long been used as versatile tools, but in witchcraft, they can also be used for divination, spirit sensing, casting spells, and a variety of other things. Let's jump right in.

Divination - Reading the wax and observing how the candle really burns are the two most popular techniques for candle divination. You must observe the candle's burning pattern, including its height, flickering, and the presence of many flames, in order to make a prediction based on how it burns. Two flames could indicate assistance from the afterlife in achieving your objective. Even the hues of the flame may give you a clue as to how well your efforts are going. However, there is no agreement on what these indications signify. While some practitioners hold that a candle that burns tall and strongly indicates that one's request will be granted, others draw attention to the fact that the wick's length and quality, as well as an air vent, can affect how the candle burns. Prioritize your intention over the candle's burning process. You can always read the wax once it hardens, or pour the wax directly into cold water for it to harden and then interpret the symbols, much like you would with bone throwing, or scrying. Personally, I also like to pay attention to the smoke and interpret the way the smoke from the candle flows in order to interpret surrounding energies.

Spirit Work - Fire scrying is the most common way to communicate with spirits, and as it's the only method with candles I have experience with, that's what I will be discussing here. I encourage you to do your own research into spirit communication outside of my suggestion, because I'm sure there are plenty other methods out there. Again, there is no base consensus in a means to interpretation, as spirits and practitioners alike have different ways of communication. Just like with any other scrying, its imperative to stay connected to your personal energy while connecting with surrounding energy to properly interpret the signals you are receiving. Connecting with deities is also possible using this method of Candle Magic.

Rituals/Spellwork - In rituals and spells, candles are used to increase vibrations, represent specific elements and other important objects or creatures, use symbolism, and seal items like letters or spell bottles. Even candle spells can be created simply lighting a candle with intention. It is very common to carve, dress, and anoint candles in aid for ritual and spellwork as well. Fire being the main force driving the work, of course.

Worship - Candles are often used as offerings for various deities. Symbolism, color, and dressings can all play a part of this as well. They are also used as a beacon for an entity to guide you through your working.

Candle Correspondences

When undertaking serious candle work, choosing the right candle colors is crucial. Each hue has a unique meaning and possesses unique abilities. It's crucial to pick colors that align with your aims while working with candles in spells or rituals. Please remember that this is a very basic list and that the things you will read in your personal correspondence are far more significant than anything you will read here.

White - Attraction, Purification, Protection, Balance, Clarity, Grounding, Healing, Hope, Innocence, Optimism, Peace, Truth, Willpower

White can take the place of any other color when not available. Just a bit of visualization is required.

Black - Acceptance, Afterlife, Banishing, Binding, Determination, Endings, Justice, Loss, Release, Break, Security, Grief, Negativity, Patience, Persistence, Rebirth, Strength, Self Control

Red - Assertiveness, Courage, Creativity, Energy, Desire, Loyalty, Motivation, Power, Survival, Change

Yellow - Action, Communication, Learning, Finances, Business, Intellect, Inspiration, Knowledge, Wisdom, Stimulation

Pink - Acceptance, Affection, Beauty, Compassion, Healing, Family, Harmony, Kindness, Longevity, Nurturing, Partnership, Prosperity

Green - Abundance, Agriculture, Beauty, Creativity, Family, Fertility, Healing, Luck, Environment, Nurturing

Purple - Authority, Enlightenment, Spirituality, Emotions, Imagination, Influence, Truth, Wisdom, Overcoming Fear

Orange - Adaptive, Ambition, Confidence, Courage, Discipline, Energy, Freedom, Justice, Positivity, Pleasure, Stimulation, Travel

Blue - Honesty, Truth, Trust, Dreams, Sleep, Mental, Wisdom, Leadership, Fertility, Marriage, Healing, Study

Brown - Endurance, Animals, Balance, Courage, Grounding, Stability, Protection

Silver - Awareness, Intuition, Money, Purification, Potential, Stability, Success, Celestial

Gold - Abundance, Ambition, Money, Happiness, Power, Influence, Solar energy

Even if you aren't aware of it, the type of candle and the type of wax it is made of may have an impact on your craft. It can all come down to functionality or magical implications.

Taper Candles

Taper candles are tall, thin candles with a tapered top; they are often placed in vintage, smaller candle jars and are more ornamental and symbolic. Shorter taper candles are typically used to seal objects with wax. They can, however, be utilized for any task.

Pillar Candles

There are many different types of pillar candles, but these are the ones I see used almost exclusively. They differ from being short and fat to being tall and slim. They can be utilized for a variety of purposes, but I've found that rituals are where they're most useful.

Votive Candles

Votive candles are little and barely taper more at the base. They are frequently placed in glass candle holders and are used as offerings to deities. Given that their modest, tapering size is what makes them votives, their sizes rarely fluctuate. But they do come in a variety of colors. They are often white.

Tealights

Tealights are tiny, thin, and short candles. You can use them to make offerings, perform spells and rituals, decorate, or even keep wax warmers warm. I frequently observe this kind of candle being used, largely because they are the least expensive candles available.

Now, let's go over some of the different wax types.

Beeswax

It used to be difficult and dangerous to obtain beeswax, which added to the candle's mystique and spiritual power. Beeswax is a natural substance that burns more slowly, making it a premium item among contemporary candle spiritual practitioners; yet, because of its price, it may not be the best choice. Beeswax candles are available in a wide variety of shapes, sizes, and hues and can be rolled, poured, or dipped. Longer ancestral rituals that demand higher vibrations and purpose work best with these candles.

Soy

People who use earth magic sometimes like soy candles since they are natural. Although they tend to burn for a shorter period of time than beeswax candles, they keep fragrances quite well. When dressed, they can also be extremely fragile and challenging to mold or carve. The majority of soy candles are already housed in glass. They are most effective when utilized in ancestral rituals for healing and rebirth.

Paraffin

Since it's a byproduct of the petroleum industry, many people consider it to be less natural than the available alternatives. The fact that it releases chemicals like toluene into the air makes it a poor choice for poorly ventilated areas. Other than providing the foundation for candles, I haven't discovered any sources that discuss the magickal powers of paraffin itself. I found a few for petroleum jelly, which is frequently used as a foundation for herbal salves, but they mainly praised how simple it was to use as an ointment. Even our non-human ancestors may have used petroleum, according to some sources, which makes it a solid foundation for ancestor magic.

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | 10

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 10: Flat Tire

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 6.9k+ (nice)

Tags / Warnings: reader pov, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food & eating, blackout, movie references, car problems, alcohol & alcoholism, 12-step programs, lying, conflict avoidance, crying crying crying sorry, internal conflict, monologue, toxic relationships but listen we're tryna get better, journal entries, nightmares, ptsd, flashback

Notes: WHAT UP PARTY PEOPLE?? MAKE SOME NOIIIISE (insert dallas buyers club matthew mcconaughey scream crying in his car). Sorry for being a bummer lol sometimes growth hurts but we're gonna get thru this I swear. Ok thank u let me know what you think!!!

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ My Masterlist ]

-----

Blackouts work like magic. 

One second you’re perched on a barstool, trying not to sway or slur your words while ordering another drink, and the next you’re jolted awake by the thud of a door closing. 

Heart pounding in your chest, you sit up and look around, breathing a sigh of relief to see you somehow made it to your bedroom last night. 

You grab your phone off the side table, swiping away the missed calls from Frankie and Leah, then discover that you apparently re-downloaded a dating app in your alcohol-induced fugue state. Judging by the number of reply messages in your inbox, you must have hit up every man in the tri-county area who was “looking for a good time.”

Perfect. Of course you did. Why wouldn’t you? Bad decisions and dick has never ever steered you wrong. 

You read one typo-filled exchange between yourself and Russ K, 34, before deactivating the account and uninstalling the app. 

When you set your phone back on the nightstand, you notice a mason jar filled with ice water and frown. Beside it sits a small plastic container holding four neon orange tablets and two white tablets. A sticky note on the table reads ‘Went to a meeting, be back this afternoon’ in Frankie’s handwriting. 

Alarm trickles through your veins and inspires a wave of nausea you can’t ignore. Clasping your hand over your mouth to hold down the rising bile, you jump out of bed and beeline to the bathroom. 

After emptying the sparse contents of your stomach into the toilet, you lean back against the cool tile wall and search the ceiling for answers. How did you get home last night? Did you say anything to Frankie? 

You think about the ice water and over-the-counter pills left on your nightstand, then think about the note Frankie left. However you got home, he must know you were hammered. Which means you definitely interacted with him while blacked out. Do you even want to know what you said to him? 

Mortification twists your stomach when you imagine the possibilities. You could have tried to fuck him or murder him or anything in between. Given how you feel about him right now, it’s impossible to predict. That fact alone makes your mouth start to sweat again. 

So… no, you don’t want to know what you said to him when you were drunk. You don’t want to know how you got home or why the fuck your hair is damp. All you want is to get through this fucking day without hurling again. Maybe greasy food and a NASCAR nap, too. 

With this new clear goal in mind, you pick yourself up off the bathroom floor and set about making your low-stakes dream a reality. 

—

You wake on the couch to the soothing lull of commentators giving a play-by-play of the Rays versus Yankees game. A thick web of fatigue clings to you, fighting against your efforts to open your eyes and sit upright. 

“Hey.” 

Instinctively, you look towards the noise at the other end of the couch, locking eyes with Frankie. His face droops with this wounded expression that gets under your skin. Diverting your gaze to the TV, you cross your arms and try to keep your demeanor aloof despite the deep ache in your chest. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You choke out a humorless laugh and shake your head, keeping your eyes trained on the screen. A few tense seconds go by before he accepts that you will not be answering his ludicrous question, so he takes an alternative approach. 

“I brought home cubanos from that place you like. For, um… for family dinner. If you still wanted to do that.” 

Home, he says, as if the word meant something to him. As if he didn’t match every brick you laid in the foundation of this relationship with paper mache blocks. As if he didn’t take a wrecking ball to whole fucking thing regardless. 

Maybe to him home is just a place he rests his head at night, not where he anchors his heart. A matter of physical location rather than a feeling. You, on the other hand… never felt quite at home in this house until he started living here. 

Are you crazy for having felt like that? Like home was a space you held with him and him alone? 

Your parents were right. You make too much of things. You’re overdramatic. 

Why would he love you? Why would he choose you over his wife? You knew what you were getting into when this started. 

Stupid girl. 

“I understand if you don’t want to, though.” 

His voice brings you back to yourself. You blink hot tears from your eyes, then wipe them from your cheeks, trying to hold yourself together despite the whisper of ‘stupid girl stupid girl stupid girl’ at the back of your head. 

“Can we… can we at least talk about it?” 

You wince as a fresh batch of tears surges up your throat. Rising to your feet, you shake your head and manage to choke out, “Just forget it,” before fleeing to your bedroom. 

—

I slept most of the day yesterday so it took me forever to fall asleep. Also Frankie was walking around the house all night. At 11ish, I heard him talking on the phone, then I think someone picked him up. I texted him to see where he went because I’m unfortunately still his designated person. He said he was with someone from AA and he’d be back soon, just needed to talk. I couldn’t fall asleep until I heard him come in at 1. He wasn’t stumbling around so I’m guessing he was sober??? Hopefully he was. I don’t want this to get in the way of his recovery. Which I sort of hate. I wish I could delete the feelings I have for him. I wish I didn’t care. But I guess I do, so… I don’t know. This fucking sucks. Leah said I should kick him out, but I don’t want to fuck up his program. Maybe I’ll talk to Ralph today and see what he thinks. The thing is… the more people I talk to, the more I just want to talk to Frankie. Nobody makes me feel like he does. More than the lies, this is what bothers me the most. The fact that I can feel this way and he just doesn’t. I don’t understand how he can’t feel it, too. I thought this was real. But I guess I always do. I guess he’s just a really good liar and I am just a stupid girl. 

Tossing the notebook aside, you sit up to grab your mug off the side table. Wisps of steam rise from the coffee and dissolve into the air. The image blurs as a thick, wretched sensation twists up your throat. 

God fucking damnit. 

Every time you think you have no more tears left to cry, you prove yourself wrong. They just keep coming. Yesterday you waded in and out of these sudden fits where crying was all you could do. It reminds you of all the other times he broke your heart, but especially the last time. 

After Angie caught the two of you fucking, part of you hoped that maybe she would leave him. From what you understand, though, he convinced her to stay. Called you a mistake. An ‘isolated incident’ or whatever. Fucking asshole. 

Anyway. 

Seeing each other became logistically and emotionally difficult. Participating in an affair is much easier when it’s still a secret, for obvious reasons. He tried to see you when he could, which wasn’t nearly as frequent as you wanted. When you did see him, he was drunk. You’d pick him up from the bar, or he’d come over after Angie went to bed, but he was always at least five drinks in and counting. 

You bailed him out of jail twice in those six months. Once for drinking and driving, once for getting in a fight over a fucking pool game, of all things. 

He seemed so walled-off from you, too. Like he detached from his emotions when he saw you. Maybe it was because of the liquor, but a million other reasons are just as likely. After sex, he would leave. The sex was… well, it was still good, but… different. Rougher, impersonal. It felt less like making love and more like fucking. 

You still loved him, though. You still had fantasies of having a real, normal relationship with him. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, you still wanted to believe that he was meant to be with you. 

Stupid girl stupid girl stupid girl

And then, well… 

Your phone starts to ring. It’s Ralph. 

You take a few quick sips of your coffee, then set the mug aside to answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, kiddo. Do you have a minute?” 

His tone, less jovial than normal, gives you a small burst of anxious energy.

“Sure, what’s up?” 

“I just got off the phone Mr. Morales and he briefed me on the, ahhh… situation over there.” 

Unsure what to say, you fold an arm over your belly and stare down at your lap. 

“I understand that things are a bit tense due to an incident that occurred on Saturday, is that correct?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, voice wavering, “Yeah, I, um… I overheard him talking to Angie, and… well, basically I found out he’s been lying to me.” 

It sounds so pathetic when you say it out loud. 

“Uh-huh. He lied about the nature of his relationship with Mrs. Morales.” 

“Correct.” 

You prepare for Ralph to tell you it’s not a big deal. Brace yourself for the inevitable scoff, or for him to accuse you of overreacting. 

So he lied to you, so what? You knew who he was. You knew he had a family to keep together. You should have known better than to get involved with him. Stupid girl, why would you put yourself in that position in the first place? 

“And this isn’t the first time he lied to you about this particular matter, am I understanding correctly?” 

“Well…” you frown and shake your head, “No, not really. When we were together before, he was pretty explicit that he wouldn’t leave her. I just… I just thought… I don’t know. It’s dumb. I’m fucking dumb.” 

Ralph doesn’t respond right away, so you add, “Sorry. I’m still in my feelings.” 

“Don’t sweat it, I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down,” he pauses here to clear his throat, then recounts, “Before, he told you leaving her wasn’t a possibility. And despite my warning going into this, the two of you re-established your romantic relationship, he told you that kind of relationship was effectively over with his wife. Which wasn’t true.” 

“Correct.” 

“Ok. Got it. Has Mr. Morales exhibited any unusual or suspicious behavior since the incident on Saturday?”

After thinking about it, you tell him, “I wouldn’t call this suspicious exactly, but yesterday he left a note saying he was going to an AA meeting, which isn’t normal. And late last night someone picked him up. I texted him to check in and he said he was with someone from AA, talking.” 

“Do you believe he was being truthful?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you shrug, “I mean, I’m obviously not the best at detecting his bullshit, but I’ve seen him under the influence more times than I can count and he didn’t seem… like that.” 

“Well, that’s good. And it’s good you checked in with him, I take that as a positive. You are still responsible for him while he’s on parole.” He sighs, “Which brings me to my next question. Are you thinking you want to continue serving as his designated person, or should we start looking for alternatives?” 

A lump rises in your throat. You swallow it down, wincing at the tears that burn behind your eyes, “I, um… I’m not sure yet. Can I have a few days to think it over?” 

“Sure. How about this. Why don’t you take some time, maybe go to one of those Al-Anon meetings I told you about, and I can stop by Saturday to have a sit down with you and Mr. Morales. Does that sound agreeable?” 

“Ok,” you nod, “Yeah, that sounds good. We can do that.”

“Alrighty then. I’ll shoot you an email with some details sometime today and we’ll go from there.” 

“Thanks, Ralph.” 

“Call me if anything comes up, ok kiddo?” 

“Will do.” 

After hanging up, you put in a load of laundry and wander around the house, stopping by the fridge to stare at the cubano Frankie brought home for you yesterday. You roll your eyes with annoyance as you grab it, then you return to the couch and put on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. 

—

By the time Frankie comes home, you’re four feature films deep in your angsty post-breakup movie marathon and feeling indignant enough not to surrender the common space to him. 

His eyebrows do this little surprised jump when your eyes meet his, and he glances at the TV, “Reality Bites?” 

You don’t respond, just curl deeper into the couch and return your attention to Ethan Hawke’s spiteful cover of Add It Up.

He kicks off his work boots and walks into the kitchen, coming back a minute later to ask, “If I make something for dinner, will you eat it?” 

Your stomach rumbles at the thought of food. Without looking at him, you shrug. 

Accepting the non-verbal answer, Frankie returns to the kitchen and starts bumbling around, cussing and grumbling under his breath. Eventually, though, he seems to get the hang of it. 

Just as the end credits of Reality Bites start rolling, he enters the living room holding two plates and sets one on the coffee table for you, then takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch. 

You sit up, crossing your legs as you pull the offering into your lap, and toss the remote control to his side of the dividing cushion. He wordlessly searches for something else to watch while you study the avocado-filled hot dog buns. 

“What is this?” you ask. 

“Completo. Hot dog topped with good shit, basically. Avocado, tomato, onion, condiments.” He selects play on Moulin Rouge, then looks at you and shrugs, “Ma would make it for me when I had a bad day.” 

You stare at him for a moment, then roll your eyes and shake your head as you turn to the TV, “I see what you’re doing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Kissing my ass.” 

He chuckles, shifting a little, “Yeah, well… yeah.” 

The movie starts to play. You don’t mention that this will be the second time you’ve seen it today because he probably knows that. After taking a bite of the completo, you hum at the mix of flavors and textures as you chew. 

“Good, right?” Frankie says through a mouthful. 

“Mmm,” you nod in agreement. 

He swallows, glancing between you and his food before asking, “Can I ask why you haven’t kicked me out yet?”

When you contemplate how to answer, the reasons all snarl into a tight knot of which you can’t quite make heads or tails. 

“No.” 

“Fair enough,” he murmurs, letting his gaze linger on you, “Do you want me to give you some privacy, or…? Because I can go—” 

“It doesn’t matter, Francisco, just stop talking.” 

“Ok, but—” 

You hold your hand up to him, “Shhhhhh.”

He sighs, but accepts the silence. Tension resides in the air at first, but slowly dissipates as you clear your plates, then settle into the couch. And although your eyes stay trained on the screen, you can’t make yourself pay attention. 

You keep wondering why he lied about being with Angie. He’s never had a problem making that clear in the past, even if it meant breaking your heart. Is it because he lives with you? It’s possible he didn’t want to risk getting kicked out, so he kept it a secret. 

Then why get involved with you again? Did he think this was the best way to stay in your good graces? Has he been manipulating you this whole time? 

It’s possible. It’s also possible you’re another one of his bad habits he can’t kick. A coping mechanism. Disposable, like always. 

You remember the night you asked him to come over so you could talk to him about something important. He promised to be there at eight o’clock, which is when you planted yourself on the front porch swing to wait for him. At nine o’clock, his truck came rumbling down the street and parked in front of the house. 

“What’re you doing out here?” he smirked as he climbed the porch steps. 

“Waiting for you,” you glared at him, observing his fluid movements when he plopped down beside you.

“I went and got a drink, lost track of time.” 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew your stiff body closer to kiss your cheek.

Something hot flared in your chest, and you distinctly remember wishing he would show up sober for once. This wasn’t the scab you wanted to pick, though. 

He tilted your chin up, pressing his lips to yours, breath heavy with whiskey, then pulled back to frown at your lackluster response. His body swayed a little as he studied you, “What?” 

“I need to talk to you.” 

“Ok,” he leaned away from you with a scoff, “Well, I’m here. Talk to me. Tell me how I fucked up this time.” 

You winced, “Don’t do that.” 

Crossing his arms, he stared at you, all fucking wobbly and drunk, irritation folding his facial features. He shrugged, “Do what?” 

“That! You’re being an asshole.” 

“Oh, I’m being an asshole?” he mocked, “How’s that?” 

Rage simmered beneath your skin. You let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head as tears pooled in your eyes. After taking a moment to gather yourself, you spit out, “Do you love me?” 

“Do I—?” he furrowed his brow like he didn’t understand, shifting in his seat, “Do I love you?” 

“Yes, Frankie. Do you fucking love me or not?” 

His indignation melted. Shoulders slumping, gaze going soft. He swallowed hard and looked out at the street as if searching for an escape hatch. Emergency brake. Make it stop. 

“Because I love you. I’ve been in love with you for so long… and-and I still don’t know what the fuck I am to you.” 

He seemed frozen, staring at something a million miles away without sparing a reaction. 

Nine months later, you can still feel the frantic vibration of your bones when you moved closer and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. When his eyes met yours, they were so cold and vacant that you barely recognized him. You tried to get through anyway. 

“I need you right now, Frankie. But I need all of you. I can’t be on the back burner anymore. I need you to be with me or I need to let you go.” 

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t be with you, not like that.” 

“But you could, though. You could. We could do this, we could make it work, start a life together—”

“I won’t leave her,” he shook his head, “I have a family—goddamnit, you knew what this was when it started.”

You sobbed, letting your hands fall away from his face, and his eyelids fluttered with the ghost of an emotion that you didn’t understand. 

He started, “I don’t—” then paused, tapping his clamped lips. His bloodshot eyes flicked around the porch and settled a million miles away again, “I don’t love you.” 

With this declaration, he took his chisel to you, lined it up in just the right spot, and gave it one firm tap. You crumbled at his feet. Shattered into dust. 

He got up and drove off while you were still bawling on the front porch swing. 

Onscreen, Toulouse-Lautrec shouts, “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return!” 

It hits you square in the chest. 

With tears brimming your eyelids, you jump up and flee to your bedroom before he can see them. 

—

Terrible nights sleep. Every time I drifted off, I was in the bedroom at my parents house but it wasn’t in my parents house. He was there but he wasn’t there. I don’t know how to explain it. I felt his presence but knew it wasn't him. I kept my eyes closed because I was scared to see, but I could hear him getting closer and closer. When I opened my eyes I woke up. The feeling stuck to me. It took me forever to fall back asleep and when I did it started over. 

Frankie didn’t go to work this morning. I don’t think he slept well either. Heard him walking around all night again. Idk if I should ask him what his deal is. I don’t want to talk to him about it yet and he’ll probably try to do that. Which is weird for him. A year ago I’d give anything for him to open up like he’s been trying to. But it hurts too much right now. It’s so messy. I’m all tangled. I need to straighten myself out before talking about it. 

I think I’m going to an al-anon meeting today and I’m nervous. Not sure what to expect. Keep worrying they’ll tell me I don’t belong there or make me talk about him. I don’t know if I belong there. I don’t know if I belong anywhere. 

Pulling back from your notebook, you stare at the last sentence for a while before closing the cover and setting it on the end table. 

Frankie walks out from his bedroom and rounds the corner to the living room, looking suspiciously formal, wearing slacks and a white dress shirt. His dark curls have been combed into a neat side part. It even looks like he trimmed his facial hair. 

As he peeks through the front window curtains, you blurt, “Are you wearing a fucking tie?” 

He looks surprised to hear you speak, raising his eyebrows as he glances down at himself, then up at you, “Yeah. I have a uhhh… a deposition today.” 

“Is that good or bad?” 

“Not really either. It’s normal, I guess. They’re just asking me questions on the record.” 

Nodding, you study his nervous demeanor, watching him reflexively go to lift his hat, faltering a little before running his fingers through his hair anyway. 

A desire to comfort him trickles through you, extinguishing the glowing embers of contempt inside your chest. 

“How is the case going, do you know?” 

The corner of his mouth pulls back into a kind of grimace. He takes another peek out the window, then steps back and shrugs as he approaches the couch, “The lawyer says they’ll probably offer a plea deal once this is over. We’ll see what that looks like.” He sits down at the other end of the couch, pulling out his phone to keep an eye on the little car on his rideshare app, “He thinks maybe they could agree to a reduced sentence.” 

You pick at your frayed cuticles, holding your tongue for as long as you can before asking, “How are you doing with… everything?” 

When you glance at him, his face is crooked with contemplation. He shifts in his seat and crosses his arms, lips parting with an answer. A notification dings on his phone. 

“My ride’s here,” he murmurs and meets your eyes with an apologetic expression, “We can talk about it later?” 

You give him a non-committal smile, “Good luck at your thing.” 

—

The woman who gave you your new member packet, apparently the leader of the meeting, looks around the room and announces,

“This afternoon, our fearless speaker will be Taylor. Everybody please welcome Taylor.”

From the back row, you sink down in your metal folding chair and glance around at the attendees, joining in when they start to clap for a woman approaching the podium. 

“Hi everyone, my name is Taylor. I’m a member of Al-Anon.” 

The room responds in unison, “Hi Taylor.” 

Taylor smiles and shakes her head, looking down at a small stack of trembling notecards. Her round shoulders raise with a deep breath. She closes her eyes for a moment, exhales, then looks up at the room. 

“If you would’ve told me a year ago I’d be the speaker at an Al-Anon group, there’s no way I’d believe you. But here I am,” she chuckles, “Wow. Thank you everyone for coming in today. I see so many familiar faces and some not so familiar faces and I’m grateful to see all of you. I’m proud of you for coming to this meeting today. 

“One of the biggest preconceived notions I had when I started attending Al-Anon meetings nine months ago is that they would help me support my alcoholic husband. At the time, he was about a month into sobriety and had just started going to AA meetings. He was struggling like hell and a friend of his asked if he wanted to go to an AA meeting with him. So he did. 

“I’ll be honest, when he suggested I go to Al-Anon, I was annoyed. I really was. At that point, we’d been married for five years. He tried quitting, oh, I don’t know… six times in that five years? Three 90-day inpatient rehab stays, two arrests, more sleepless nights than I can count.” 

Taylor pauses and looks down at her notes, then back up at the room as an amused smile spreads across her face. 

“What it always reminded me of was this story my husband told me. Every so often, he goes through these phases where he gets very very interested in a particular subject. It completely takes him over. All he wants to do is read about it and talk about it and… well, you get it. 

“When he was in his Greek mythology era, he told me about Sisyphus, the king of Ephyra. Sisyphus killed people who visited his palace, which angered the gods because they considered it impolite, which is the understatement of the millennium, but that’s neither here nor there. When Sisyphus died, Hades punished him to an eternity rolling a boulder uphill. He would fight his way up this steep hill, pushing the boulder with all his might. The boulder was enchanted, though, and every time the it got near the top, the boulder would roll back down the hill, then he’d have to try again. So he does this over and over and over for eternity. Infinite frustration and exhaustion. 

“Sometimes it felt like that with him. With my alcoholic. Like I was stuck in this loop, fighting like hell to push his dead weight to the top of the hill. Just when I got a scrap of hope, it went tumbling back down. Over and over and over again. I structured my whole life around his relationship to alcohol. Checking in with him constantly, making sure I didn’t say or do anything that might trigger another relapse, putting myself on the back burner to accommodate his needs. So when he suggested I try going to Al-Anon meetings, I expected it to be another chore catering to his sobriety. I thought I would come here and learn all the ways people support the alcoholic in their life the right way. Because I obviously wasn’t doing it the right way. If I was, he would have years of sobriety under his belt. 

“Regardless, I agreed to go, and quickly discovered my preconceived notions about Al-Anon were wrong. Al-Anon doesn’t exist for us to better service the alcoholic or alcoholics in our lives. Sure, we’re all here because of the alcoholic in our lives, but the point is to better service ourselves. I think that distinction is important. 

“When I came home from my first meeting, I went through the new member packet Mario gave me, and found a handout that said: Detachment is neither kind nor unkind,” Taylor nods at the memory and looks around the room, “That struck a chord with me, that phrase. Detachment is neither kind nor unkind. It didn’t make sense to me at first. I thought, how is detachment neither kind nor unkind? It went against my instincts completely. How was I supposed to help my husband if I detached from him? Isn’t love about being attached to someone, sticking together through thick and thin? 

“Attending meetings and working the steps helped me get a better grasp on the concept. I came to understand that, in Al-Anon, detachment can mean two different things. The first is separating the person you love from their alcoholic behaviors. The second is a little harder to define, but it centers around the idea that you are separate from other people, and their actions do not control yours. Let me show you what I mean, though.

“In my relationship with my husband, we were entangled,” Taylor laces her hands together and holds them up for everyone to see. “Wherever he went, I went, too.” She moves her clasped hands back and forth. Spreading her hands apart, she says, “I didn’t want to be apart from him. But what I found with detachment is,” she flattens her hands palm-to-palm, “We can be close without being entangled. That way, if he goes to a dark place,” she moves one hand away from the other and shakes her head, “I don’t have to go with him if I don’t want to.” 

Taylor looks around the room, allowing her words to sink in, then returns her attention to the stack of notecards and flips to the next. 

“When we detach in this way, it both relieves us of our perceived responsibility for their actions and emotions, and grants them autonomy to make their own choices. They deserve dignity and freedom, which is difficult to obtain if we try to manage their lives. 

“So often in our marriage, I thought that loving my alcoholic meant rescuing him from himself. I thought that if I exerted myself hard enough, pushed him up that steep hill long enough, we would get to the top together. But the effort was Sisyphean. It didn’t matter how much time or effort I put into controlling the direction of the boulder. It would always roll downhill, because the boulder was enchanted. Even if I spent an eternity trying, even if I begged and screamed and pleaded with the boulder, it would still be enchanted. And, you know… maybe that’s ok. Maybe he’s not meant to sit at the top of the hill. It’s not his fault, either, and I came to realize that instead of getting frustrated at him for being enchanted, I can meet him where he is and love him anyway. If I don’t like that place, I don’t have to stay there. When I detach with love, I grant myself autonomy as well as him. 

“Putting the metaphor aside, I’ve used this in practice by no longer lying for him. If he’s at an AA meeting and our daughter asks why he’s not home, I tell her the truth. When my family or friends ask how everything is going, I don’t try to make it seem easier than it is so he can save face. I confide in them with sincerity because that is what I need. I’ve stopped giving him advice unless he asks for it, because I’ve learned here that most times people don’t need advice, they just need someone to listen and be present. I’ve stopped trying to take the reins when I think he’s making poor decisions, because he doesn’t need someone to do it for him. He needs to learn to do it himself. Part of learning is making mistakes and growing out from beneath the consequences. 

“Detachment is neither kind nor unkind, it’s a tool we utilize to free ourselves and the alcoholic in our lives. Al-Anon doesn’t exist to teach us how to help the alcoholic in our lives, although the tools it gives us can aid in their recovery as well as ours. This fellowship exists to help us, the families of the alcoholic, so that we may lead more joyful and serene lives. Thank you.” 

Applause erupts from the crowd, and you join in, watching Taylor glow with pride as she steps away from the podium. 

—

Damp, hot air pours in through the rolled-down windows, carrying with it the earthy scent of algae-bloom off East Lake Tohopekaliga. Driving along the slow, steady curve, you pass by sprawling oak trees, their eaves all draped in spanish moss. 

Your hope was that taking the scenic route home would clear your head, but it’s not doing the trick. Something shifted inside you during the meeting. You can’t quite put your finger on exactly what shifted or why it happened, although your circular thoughts give you the sense you’re on the precipice of understanding. 

You keep thinking about the speaker, Taylor, and the lesson she relayed from her podium. Her situation is different from yours, but you know it all the same. You know how it feels to dig your heels into the dirt, struggling like hell to push someone in the direction you think is best. You know how it feels to see him tumble to the bottom time and time again. And for what? It’s not like he’s any better off because of your efforts. It’s not like you are, either. 

How many times have you betrayed yourself for the sake of his favor? How many times have you put your needs aside to tend to his? 

Calm blue-gray water flickers behind the trees you drive past. It looks peaceful. Further up the road, you spot a public access point to the lake and turn into the lot, hitting a bump. When you do, a loud BANG reverberates through the car. The steering wheel shakes as you slow to a jerky, lopsided stop.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you fume, shifting the car into park. Folding forward onto the steering wheel, you pinch your eyes shut and take a deep breath, then exit the vehicle to look at the damage. 

The front driver’s side tire sits flat against the pavement. You stare at it and shake your head, muttering, “God fucking damnit,” before walking to the trunk. 

You open it and pull up the mat to the spare tire well. It’s empty. 

“Fucking of course. Jesus fucking—” 

Cutting yourself off with a furious groan, you pull out your phone and go through your contact list, pointedly scrolling past the F’s to pause at Leah, who’s over an hour away, then Marla, who’s busy enough as it is. You even briefly consider Rory, but the idea makes your stomach lurch. 

You could just do it all yourself. Order a car on one of those rideshare apps. It would take forever, though, and you’ve never changed a tire before. 

Frankie is the logical choice. The first person who came to mind, if you’re being honest. Something hard and stubborn inside your chest throbs when you hover over his name. 

It’s pride, you realize. Maybe a little fear. You don’t want to ask for his help. You don’t want to burden him. You don’t want to be disappointed if he says no. 

All the same, you dial his number. He picks up on the second ring. 

“H—”

“Are you at the house?”  

“I am.” 

“Are you busy?” 

“Nothing I can’t put off ‘til later. Why?” 

“My fucking tire blew out, and my spare is in the garage,” you sigh and throw your head back, propping a hand on your hip, “Is there any way you can bring it out to me?” 

“I, umm… yeah, of course. Where are you?” 

“East Lake Toho.”

He snorts, “Christ, what’re you doing all the way out there?” In the background, you hear the floorboards creaking, mapping his way through the house. Before you can respond, he asks, “Spare tire in the garage, need me to grab anything else?” 

“Uhhhh…” you wrinkle your nose at the trunk, “I don’t know, I have a jack and the tire iron thing.” 

“That should do it. Wanna drop me a pin? I’ll have to get a ride out there.” 

“Yeah. I can pay you back if you need to order a Lyft or whatever.” 

“Just take it off my tab,” he jokes, the back door squeaking open behind his voice, “Hang tight, I’ll be there in a bit.”

You turn around to lean back on the bumper, “Ok, I’ll be here.” 

After hanging up, you share your location with him, then wander down to the dock. It rattles around as you teeter to the end and sit down, letting your feet dangle over the edge. 

Cattails and lily pads have been cleared from the shoreline near the boat landing, giving you a clear view across the lake, broken up here and there by thick swaths of aquatic vegetation. The glassy surface of the water reflects the hazy blue sky, and stagnant air sticks humid to your skin. Insects buzz and birds sing and somewhere far away you hear a boat motor chugging across the lake. 

When you think of serenity, this is what you picture. Stillness and calm. Peace. You inhale the scene, allowing it to stretch out inside you and unfurl your tensed muscles. 

As soon as the unease evaporates from your body, fatigue takes over.  

Lying back on the dock, you stare up at tall, fluffy clouds littering the sky. Your eyelids grow heavy as you watch the slow-moving parade of shifting giants, the warm air lulling you into comfort until you let your eyes drift closed. 

Your awareness fades in and out while you sleep. At one point, a car door shuts, then the car drives off. Vaguely, you know it’s Frankie but can’t lift your limbs, syrupy thick with lethargy. You hear grunts and metallic clattering. Some time later, your trunk slams shut. 

When the dock starts wobbling around beneath you, you blink your eyes open and sit up, scrubbing your hands over your face as a yawn overtakes you. 

“Hey sleepyhead.” 

You glance over your shoulder at Frankie, who comes to sit down beside you with a groan. He’s back to his usual attire, jeans and a t-shirt, baseball cap firmly in place atop his head. 

Still groggy, you yawn, “I couldn’t make myself wake up.” 

“Not sleeping well?” 

“Fucking awful, honestly.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

You frown at him, searching his face until he gives you a little shrug, at which point you mumble, “Oh. I forgot that I, umm… yeah. Sorry.” 

“No need to apologize,” he tells you, squinting up at the sky before dropping his eyes to his hands as he fiddles with his wedding band, “Same here. The—the sleep part, not the nightmares.” 

“Yeah, I know. I hear you pacing around at night.” 

“Oh… sorry, I didn’t realize—”

You push yourself up straighter to watch his legs dangle next to yours, “It’s fine.” 

Quiet settles comfortably between you. Near the dock, you see a cluster of bubbles rise to the surface of the lake and burst. The ripples flatten out and calm returns. 

A question swells in your ribcage. Just a small pocket of air at first, maybe the size of a pebble. The longer you sit and stare at the water, though, it expands. It works its way up your throat, taking up more and more space with each passing second until you can’t contain it any more. 

“So you were lying to me, right? About not being with her?” 

He meets your gaze, dark eyes all remorseful and gooey, then he nods, “Yeah. I was lying. To both of you.” 

Folding your legs up onto the dock, you look away in the hope that he won’t notice the tears starting to come. When he speaks, his voice comes out hoarse and quiet. 

“How much do you want me to tell you?” 

The question replaces the air in your lungs with a vibrating sensation. Another cluster of bubbles dissolve on the surface of the lake. You manage to croak, “I don’t know.” 

He doesn’t respond. You sense that he’s waiting for you to make the next move. 

Your mind wanders to the front porch swing that night you forced him to choose. He felt so far away. Until he told you differently, you were so certain he was in love with you. 

“I don’t know how to trust your words as truth, Frankie. All the way back to the start, I don’t know what was real and what was bullshit and I am fucking—” your voice cracks from the emotion burning up your throat. 

He goes to comfort you, but pulls back before making contact. 

Every cell inside you aches for him to bridge the gap. You follow the instinct, grabbing his shirt to curl into his shoulder. As soon as you do, he wraps his arms tight around you, bringing you in closer. 

A wave of moth-eaten hurt wells up your chest. 

“Why?” you sob, “Why did you do this to me? I don’t understand—”

He starts to rock you in a slow, soothing motion, burying his face in your hair as you cry into the collar of his shirt. In the background, behind your racing thoughts and shattered breaths, you hear him whisper on repeat: I’m sorry, baby… I’m so sorry.