#identity loss

[misseviehyde]

STUDENT BODY

Your girlfriend Natasha was really worried about what was going to happen to your relationship once you started to attend different universities. She'd heard that long distance relationships could be really challenging and difficult.

Sure - it was always possible to communicate online and see each other that way, but without physical intimacy even the healthiest relationships would falter. But Natasha was always full of clever ideas.

"Listen babe. I've had an idea. My family have been guarding a magic scrying mirror for generations. I can use it to astrally project my spirit into another person. It's frowned upon to possess another person, but if it's just so we can talk and touch and stuff, I don't see the harm. Make sure you choose someone who is a real asshole though, that way I'll feel less bad about possessing them.

***

A month later you headed to University and began looking for someone suitable for Natasha to possess. It didn't take you long to find your target. Chanel Grey was the obnoxious, entitled sorority president of the most exclusive sorority on campus and perfect for your needs.

It didn't hurt that you had a huge crush on the busty bitch and the thought of your girlfriend inside that smoking hot body was kind of appealing. Chanel was a total asshole as well, so your girlfriend needn't feel bad about possessing her for a while.

You waited until Chanel was out shopping on her own one day and followed her to the mall. She usually had her team of funkies with her, but today she was flying solo and this was your best chance.

Ringing Natasha you waited patiently as she prepared the mirror in her bedroom. "Okay babe, I'll see you in a moment or two I guess."

You hung up and watched Chanel as she browsed through an expensive rack of designer clothes in one of her favourite stores. Suddenly she put a hand to her head as if she were dizzy. Then with a grunt her eyes rolled up into her head and she swayed on her feet slightly.

Moments later she shivered and her eyes came back into focus... only they seemed different somehow.

Chanel looked around, then spotting you walked confidently over. "Heya babe. What a body you found for me. I wasn't expecting you to pick anyone this hot."

It had worked. It had actually worked. Natasha was now inside Chanel!

She giggled and admired herself in a mirror. "Wow - this bitch is super stacked. She must have boobs three times the size of mine. And how fit is this body? Guess she must work out."

Natasha stretched, clearly enjoying how it felt to be inside Chanel. She then did a cursory check of her body, checking her pockets and her handbag.

"And I'm guessing she's rich too. I would never be able to afford a store like this. I'm guessing this is her Daddy's credit card. I mean I could try accessing her memories to check, but that can be dangerous. It can cause memories to get entwined."

You nodded not really understanding what she was saying but agreeing nonetheless.

"Only problem you've made for us is that someone is bound to notice us talking if we aren't careful. Chanel probably wouldn't be seen dead with someone like you. I wish you'd picked someone a little bit more low key even if they did have smaller boobs."

Natasha grabbed your hand and dragged you into the store. She pulled you into one of the dressing rooms and began fumbling at your belt.

"I know I said no sex, but this body is making me super horny. I don't think Chanel is a virgin, especially if those XXX condoms she is carrying in her handbag are anything to go by."

Giggling Natasha pulled out your cock and she smirked when she saw it was already rock hard. It looked so naughty in Chanel's lightly tanned hands - another woman's hands.

"Wow, guess you like Chanel's body too. Don't try to pretend this isn't what you wanted when you picked her as your target. Guess you now get to be sucked off by little Miss Popular."

With a giggle Natasha slid her pink glossy lips round your dick and began to suck. It felt good... really good and looking down you couldn't believe you were getting a blowjob from the most popular girl at uni. Turning to look at the dressing room mirror, you couldn't believe how hot it looked to see Chanel Grey's pretty head bobbing up and down on your cock. She was so fucking hot and now she was your slut.

Suddenly Natasha hesitated and her eyes went a little wide for a second. A moment later she attacked your dick with a fresh wave of enthusiasm, only this time it felt even better! Natasha was doing something with her tongue you had never felt before and her lips seemed tighter than ever. She was also making eye contact now and little groaning sounds and together it was all too much.

You began to cum and groaning you ejaculated into Natasha's mouth. It felt really good and it was a big heavy load. "Mmmhppphhh," gurgled Natasha happily.

To your surprise, she swallowed all of your load. Normally Natasha hated the taste of cum and would spit it out, but now she was inside Chanel, she seemed to enjoy it. Delicately wiping her pretty lips, she smiled and let go of your cock.

"Mmmh, sorry if I zoned out for a second there baby," she grinned. "I accidentally accessed Chanel's memories on blowjobs. Damn but she knows her stuff and she's sucked some good dick. Bigger than yours I guess."

You felt a sudden irrational jealousy. It wasn't like Natasha had actually sucked someone else's dick, but her having those memories seemed wrong somehow.

"I wish we had time for you to fuck me properly, but we'll get busted if we stay in here any longer. Come on."

Sorting out her hair and makeup Natasha indicated you should wait a moment and she slipped out first.

You waited a few minutes, then slipped out too. Looking around for Natasha you cursed as you saw her with a group of hot looking girls. She'd bumped into Chanel's friends! She made eye contact with you for a second then shrugged. Desperate not to blow her cover she decided to just go with it and helpless you watched her walk away with them - just like the real Chanel would.

****

Hours passed when your phone began to buzz. You weren't expecting a phone call from an unknown number, but you answered and it was Chanel's voice on the other end.

"Sorry about that babe. I couldn't get away from those bitches. I had to access more of my... I mean Chanel's memories just to convince them I was her."

Natasha began to explain how she had spent the rest of the morning with the girls doing hot girl shit. Hair, makeup, nails, coffee, more shopping.

Natasha usually hated all that kind of stuff, so you were surprised to hear genuine enthusiasm in her voice.

"I was pissed off that you chose this body for me at first. But the longer I spend as Chanel, the more I'm starting to enjoy being beautiful and popular. It's a unique experience. I understand how this body possession could get quite addictive. It's said that if you astrally project for too long your soul can bond with the wrong body and you get stuck forever. Imagine that. Imagine if I was Chanel permanently."

Her voice was joking, but also had a strange undertone to it.

"Of course I'm only doing this for a bit at a time so should be safe. I'm gonna hop back to my own body in a second. First though I've been horny all morning and haven't got off yet. Chanel has quite the selection of sex toys and I thought you'd like to listen. Right now I'm lying on her bed playing with myself."

You felt your cock stiffen as Natasha began to describe what she was doing.

"Mmmmh I'm touching Chanel's big bitchy tits and rubbing her tight pink pussy. Her soft hair is all around me and I feel like such a hot slut. Her pussy and clit are more sensitive than mine, you'd love this tight pussy. I have a finger inside myself. It feels so fucking good. I can't believe how wet I am already. Ooooh fuck yes."

Natasha began to moan and pant, you imagined her arching her back and gasping like a slut as she played with herself. You wished you were there, you were so jealous.

"Yesssss, yessss, I fucking love this body. I'm gonna cum so good in a bit. Mmmmh think I'll try this big thick dildo to help me get there. I want you to imagine it sliding inside my tight cunt, stretching me out baby. Chanel's tight pussy gripping every inch as I begin to pump it in and out. Ooooh fucccckkk."

Wet sounds of pleasure and pants and moans of lust came down the phone and you began to pump your own cock faster. This was so fucking hot.

"Ooooooh fuck, it's never felt THIS good before. Mmmmmh my new body was built for sex. Ooooh shit I can take it deeper than ever before, I feel like such a hot slut. My pussy is gonna explode! Ahhhh ohhhhh fuckkkk."

A screaming gasping squealing squirt of pleasure blasted down the phone as Natasha began to cum and you creamed your own belly with more of your own cum. The thought of her enjoying Chanel's body was just too erotic. That had been so hot.

"Mmmh, think I might play with myself a bit more before leaving her body. She won't properly remember everything she did when I was in control, just the gist. It's her brains own mental defense helping to keep my possession secret. She'll think she did all of this. So long as I don't do anything too out of character - I can have this hot little body whenever I like."

And with that she hung up...

***

For the next week you looked forward to your girlfriends daily possessions of Chanel. As Natasha predicted, the popular girl didn't seem to notice anything amiss and she certainly didn't show any indication she recognised you at uni.

It was strange to see that pretty face look at you blankly. The same face that hours before had been sucking you off or kissing you. To your shame you began to fantasize more and more about Chanel's beautiful features and soft sexy voice than Natasha's body.

But there was frustration too. Mostly the possessions seemed to involve a quick blowjob or handjob, then Natasha would go off with Chanel's friends. There was never anytime to have proper sex. Natasha even refused your offers to eat her out or finger her. You had never actually gotten to see Chanel's pussy.

Her popularity and prestige made it hard for you to spend any time whilst she was Chanel and you began to regret choosing such an exclusive target.

Natasha was acted weird too. She seemed to have accessed more of Chanel's memories for some reason and even when in her own body was acting more aloof and haughty. She'd started working out, stopped wearing her glasses and she sounded like she was starting to treat everyone like a real bitch.

She also seemed to be enjoying hanging out with Chanel's friends and living the life of a popular bitch more than she should. Her stories began to focus more and more on how much she had enjoyed hanging out with her girls and bullying the losers on campus, than the chance to be with you.

You were shocked the first time she described bullying someone. Shocked at how full of glee and enthusiasm she was.

"Some dumb little bitch dared to get in my way in the store. Can you believe it? She walked right out in front of me and when she saw who I was tried to apologise. I pushed the little loser into a clothes rail and knocked her over. She won't dare complain to the Dean, she knows I'd destroy her life. I left her crying in the shop - it was SO funny."

The possessions were supposed to bring you both closer together, not push you further apart, but now you were really starting to worry. Natasha had even insisted you set up a monthly payment to Chanel's bank account so she could buy even more clothes and things - but she never wore them for you.

The first real betrayal came when you found out that Natasha had been possessing Chanel on some days and not even telling you. She accidentally let slip a story about having dinner with her girls and you realised she hadn't told you she was available that day.

"Oh yeah? So? I sometimes slip back into Chanel when you're not around or I just feel like some me time. Her body fits me like a glove these days, I can hop in with no resistance anymore and I enjoy living her pampered life for a bit. What's your problem with that loser?"

You were shocked to hear the venom in her voice.

"Oh did I call you a loser? Sorry babe - that's what Chanel thinks about you. I've been accessing more of her memories and it's hard to fight off her impression of you as a nerdy, worthless, loser. I mean - of course I don't think that about you. Anyway gotta go."

She cut you off abruptly and that was the end of that.

***

The next betrayal happened soon after.

Natasha had stopped giving you blowjobs when she possessed Chanel, saying she was too busy or didn't feel like it. If you were lucky, you'd get a disinterested handjob from her and even that was becoming rarer.

It was like Natasha no longer cared about possessing Chanel to spend time with you, but simply so she could BE Chanel. It was also clear she had pretty much accessed all of Chanel's memories now and it had affected her.

Natasha's old speech patterns were gone. Whether she was inside Chanel or not she now spoke like a bitchy valley girl. Now when she called you 'babe' it was with a hint of mockery and her pretty lips always had a cruel bitchy sneer and her eyes a glint of malice. She held herself with a haughty arrogance and her body language had become like that of a spoiled ballet dancer.

"Just look at me. I'm so fucking PERFECT," purred Natasha as she admired herself in her stolen body. "Sorry 'babe' no time to give that tiny dick of yours a blowie. I have to meet the girls for some shopping. I have a new set of lingerie I'm desperate to try. See you later loooooser."

Despite Natasha's increasing distance, the dirty phonecalls continued and it had become the only source of your sex life. You'd listen to Chanel/Natasha moaning down the phone-line and telling you about fucking herself whilst touching yourself.

Recently though Natasha had told you that you weren't allowed to cum unless she said so. She also would cut off the phone unexpectedly, or sometimes not even ring at all leaving you blue-balled and desperate.

Then out of the blue she contacted you to tell you she had an idea how you could spend more time together.

"I've been telling all my hot friends about my cute sissy male friend... in other words you! If you go along with it and play the part, then I'm sure we can hang out more. All you gotta do is come over and act like a girly gay boy and the sorority will accept you. Maybe you'll even finally get to fuck me."

Natasha took you shopping and made you buy a load of new outfits. They were much tighter and more feminine than you were used to. Skin tight jeans, a crop top that showed off your body. You looked completely different. "There. Now you look more like a twink. We'll get your hair dyed blonde and styled, then get you into some of my panties and no one will believe you're straight."

You couldn't believe you were going along with it, but told yourself it would be worth it to spend more time with your hot girlfriend in her sexy new body.

She led you back to the sorority house and the girls swarmed you. You remembered what Natasha had told you, so you acted as camp as you possibly could. Strangely it came quite naturally, like you'd been putting on a masculine front for years and this was actually who you truly were.

To your surprise you began to have fun - gossiping, giggling, hanging out with the girls. You didn't even feel horny anymore.

Eventually Natasha showed you up to Chanel's amazing bedroom. It was quite a palace - as befitted the head of a sorority.

Lying on expensive silk sheets, she made you strip and try on her panties. You were a bit uncomfortable when she suddenly took some photos of you, but she promised they were just for fun and she'd delete them later.

Soon Natasha had images of you dressed in her bra, panties - wearing her makeup. It was like playing dress up it was fun.

You had hoped that she would now lock the door and offer to sleep with you at last - but to your disapointment she told you that she was tired and that the girls would get suspicious if you didn't come out soon.

Putting on your new outfit, you left the house feeling dejected - and yet strangely satisfied. It was like something was awaking inside you.

You wondered what tonight would bring...

***

After your dress up session, you hadn't been expecting more contact from Natasha, so it was a surprise when your phone rang that evening.

She sounded horny, there was a slutty catch in her voice and an excitement you couldn't quite place.

"Mmmmmh, heya 'babe'. So I'm lying here in some new expensive lingerie and I also picked up a new toy at the Mall. Wanna listen to me get off?"

Without waiting for your permission you heard the rustle of clothing and Natasha's breath catching. "Ohhhh wow, it's like nine inchs long or something. This really is a magnificent 'toy'."

You heard Natasha moan and soon there were sucking, slurping and popping sounds coming down the phone. It was unusual for her to simulate doing a blowjob, you imagined her lying on her back with a dildo in her mouth. She was doing a great job, it almost sounded like a real dick she was sucking.

Then you heard a grunt of pleasure. A male grunt. Did she... was she ACTUALLY sucking another guys cock? You angrily asked her causing her to giggle.

"Of course not babe, you must be hearing things. Mmmmhhh I'm here all on my own and I'm soooo fucking horny right now. Ohhh shit he's, mmmmh I mean I'm putting it inside me and it feels so good."

You heard the sounds of heavy breathing, then a soft wet slapping sound that grew harder and faster till it was soon the hot sound of hard male flesh slapping against soft female buttocks.

"Ooooh fuck YESSSS. You fuck me soooo good, I mean... my dildo fucks me so good. Ahhhhh ohhhh fuck, this feels amazing."

You were sure you could hear grunting and laughing as Natasha's moans of pleasure grew and the sounds of hot heavy fucking filled your ears.

It sounded like she was bent over on all fours now getting railed hard. Her breathing was heavy, you could hear the bed squeaking and shaking.

"Mmmmmh imagine if there really was a guy here fucking me. A big stong Alpha Jock with rippling muscles and a big dick?"

The slapping increased and Natasha let out a gutteral moan of pleasure.

"Making me cum in ways you never could. Ooohhhh fuck, what would you do about it then you fucking loser? You'd probably just jerk off to the thought anyway. You're so pathetic. Isn't he such a fucking cuck baby?"

Male laughter filled the line and the phone slipped out of your numb hands as the screams of ecstasy pumped out of your phone and you jerked off to the sound of your girlfriend getting pumped.

***

"Of course I didn't fuck a guy last night," laughed Natasha as you confronted her later. "It's all in your mind, you're just losing it. You pay me to pretend to be your girlfriend right so that's what I do. It's all make-believe."

You gawped at her in shocked amazement.

"Don't you remember loser? You wanted to pay me regular amounts to roleplay as your girlfriend and pretend she'd possessed me. I've got the monthly payments to prove it."

You shook your head in disbelief. No - this wasn't right. She WAS your girlfriend.

Chanel/Natasha laughed. "Oh come on. I knew you were mentally unstable, but seriously? You actually believe I'm your long distance girlfriend possessing this body? I mean - magic isn't possible loser. Fucking hell, I was worried you were losing your mind, but this is the final straw. Our little arrangement is over. I'm not pretending to be Natasha anymore and don't try to cause any trouble. I have photos of you dressed like a sissy loser I could release at any time, not to mention proof you've been paying me to pretend to be your girlfriend. It's over 'babe'."

Laughing Chanel walked away shaking her head.

***

Picking up the phone you desperately rang Natasha's cellphone. You were so confused. Was Natasha really possessing Chanel or had you invented the whole thing in your head.

No one answered so you called Natasaha's sister. She sounded upset on the phone.

That's when you found out that Natasha had been in a coma for nearly two weeks. Apparantly her family had come home one day to find her slumped over a table, totally unresponsive. It was like she wasn't there anymore - zero brain activity.

"We tried contacting you, but you didn't answer any of our calls or get back to us. What the hell is going on?"

You hung up - stunned.

Running over to the sorority house you banged on the door and demanded to be led to Chanel. You found her in her bedroom dressed in sexy lingerie and looking particularly bratty.

You accused her of abandoning her body, of becoming trapped inside Chanel. You begged her to leave Chanel and go back to her old body before it was too late. How long before her family decided to switch off the incubator and let her old body die. You begged and pleaded.

Chanel just looked at you coldly.

"Listen here you fucking loser. There are two possibilities you are describing. In one, I'm actually your stupid long-distance girlfriend who has become addicted to being a hot popular girl, absorbed all of her memories and replaced her. In this scenario I'm a body thief who loves what I have become and doesn't give a shit about you or anyone else.

In the second scenario, you're a crazy repressed sissy who has gone off the deep end at University due to the shock of his girlfriend falling into a coma. Full of unresolved guilt, you've created an elaborate fantasy pretending that I'm actually her - when in fact I'm Chanel Grey, popular girl and sorority president and that's who I have always been.

What I wanna know is - how in either of these scenarios you think it ends well for you? I know which scenario the police and everyone else will believe. I have photographic evidence that you're a pervert who wishes he was a girl. I have payments into my bank account for role-playing your girlfriend, and I can detail all the times I sucked your dick for money.

You have nothing. No evidence, no proof that any of this is true. You just sound like a fucking crack-pot.

Now why don't you get the fuck out of here before I call my new boyfriend over and get him to beat the shit out of you?"

What choice did you have? You turned and ran.

***

Chanel Grey watched the pathetic sissy loser she had just bullied turn and run with a thrill of sexual pleasure. She enjoyed being mean to people and indulging her cruel whims. Toying with this loser had been really fun.

Walking up to the mirror she examined her perfect reflection.

Who was she?

She was Chanel Grey. She was rich, spoiled and popular. She had a boyfriend with a big dick that was coming over to fuck her.

Nothing else mattered really.

THE END

[bullet-ant]

personality disorder-related identity loss is insane because three different people could ask me what my favorite color is and i would give them three different answers each time and not even realize im lying

[corrupted-doll]

Quinnification

As long as you wear red and black, it doesn't matter how.

They'll paint over your old identity.

[d0llyxtears]

MY IDENTITY AND MY TRAUMA

I genuinely believe that my parents don’t understand what happened to me and how it shaped who I am now …

My own twin brother…. The one I looked up too , who was once my best friend, the closest person to me in the world……..abused me ….

Every time he did it he took another part of me , shattered another part of my very soul .

He turned my own body into a weapon against me , made me feel uncomfortable and unsafe in myself

He made me feel inhuman…. Like I was nothing but an object . He made me feel me gross and filthy… like there was something inherently wrong with my body

He broke my sense of safety and trust…. I don’t feel safe in the world anymore … he made me feel completely alone ….

He betrayed me … he utterly betrayed, used and ruined me

I built defensive walls to block out the pain and hurt of what happened to me ……

My own identity and the way I see myself now is a defense mechanism …. A way to avoid the the feelings of feeling filthy and tainted

I can’t unlink my identity from my trauma because really there was no ‘me ‘ before the trauma happened….

I honestly can’t explain all the damage he did to me ….. it’s complicated and complex

I don’t really like talking about my identity knowing that it’s linked to something so devastating……. I wish I could’ve had the chance to discover my gender identity, sexuality and alter humanity without that horrible thing ….. I wish it wasn’t just a defense mechanism… I wish I could feel safe in my biological gender and body

But unfortunately… I can’t because he decided to steal it it away from me that day ….

[silliestcreature196]

Parts 1 through 3 of a loosely-fitting mechanization sequence. First real foray into THIS extreme level of cybernetic augmentation. Part 4 may be the final piece, I don't know. Pronouns Distinction: Part 1 - She/Her Part 2 - They Them Part 3 - It/Its

[artisanoftheredscience]

A PAGE FROM SLOWCAKES

[Editor's Note: Credit to Brightgoat and their maker, "Bright's Piccrew Hell" for the art. Image ID in alt text.]

NOTICE: Please read Editor's notes next to section headings, as they contain information about content that may be triggering for some.

Name: Liz(ard) O'Connor [Editor's Note: The last name may or may not be a real family name.]

DOB: November 15th, 1870.

Age: 24-31 years old. [Editor's Note: 24 is the first notable instance of Liz appearing in well-known circles. 31 is her age in the current year.].

KNOWN ALIASES: The Reckless Monster-Hunter, The Relentless Vake-Hunter [Editor's Note: No one is actually certain if this claim is true- those who do know for sure do not like to speak of it.], Thirteen.

[Editor's Note: Keen eyes will notice that 'Thirteen' is shared by numerous people within these pages. It is believed this is more of a title than an alias- though speculation in that regard veers into illegal territory.]

Pronouns: He/She/They

Profession: Monster-Hunter, Undisclosed Affiliation with the Bazaar. Advisor on the Great Hell-Bound Railway Board (GHRB).

BACKSTORY [Editor's Note; Discretion is advised- content ahead contains mentions of starvation, child suffering, poverty, violence, and unsafe living conditions.]

Liz is a Londoner, born and raised. He grew up on the streets well after the Fall, his parents unknown. Whether they died out at zee, got killed by some horror on land, or simply abandoned him, Liz couldn't say. They have no memories of them, and they don't really care to think about them.

Their conditions living on the street were not great. There was very rarely enough to eat, and they were often cold and miserable, exposed to the harsh elements of the Neath. They spent many a night hold up in filth-ridden, spider-infested buildings, hiding in the many winding streets of London. They were frequently cold or sick, but they survived, always on the move. Their greatest fear was not starving to death in the street or being killed by some horror, but the workhouses. The harsh and horrible conditions of poverty and homelessness paled in comparison to the suffering within those houses, and Liz did all they could to stay out of them.

Despite the misery of their life, there were some highlights. Liz was an adventurous child, always looking for some thrill to pass the time. They dreamed of becoming a Monster-Hunter like those who roamed the docks or Watchmaker's Hill, and they delighted in the sport of it. Their most common method of earning coin, even from a young age, was rat-catching, ferreting out the crafty bastards like a hound. They loved finding new ways to test their skills, taking death-defying leaps, charging headfirst into any sort of danger. Perhaps they were simply extraordinarily lucky that they never got seriously injured, but the thought hardly occurred to them. They simply had too much fun.

Liz did not have many close acquaintances growing up, but she did have one. Spring Lovelace, their charming and sociable best friend, who was their closest confidante in all things. Their adventures together, their games and their schemes and their wild plots, was the highlight of their every year. From May to August, Spring stayed in the Neath, and Liz was always at her happiest with her dearest friend by her side. The two of them promised to make names for themselves, together, and it was that promise that drove Liz to work hard and never lose hope. When her visits came to a sudden end when Liz was fourteen, the loss was devastating, but he never gave up hope. He loved his friend after all, and she was never one to go back on her word.

Liz grew from a scrawny, scrappy urchin to an adult, still struggling to scrape by, but as he got older he got stronger and more capable. He began to be able to take jobs that actually paid and soon he was even able to afford a real place to live, albeit one filled with beetles and rats and falling apart at the seams. Still, it was his, and he was content. Until, of course, that next great adventure, a brand new danger, crossed their path.

They were going to kill the Vake, and prove once and for all that they were the best hunter in all of the Neath.

NOTABLE ASSOCIATES

Detective Peculiar: A good friend of theirs. They work well together. Liz helps her with her work and in exchange she gives him tips for hunts. They have a shared history that makes them work well as friends.

Doctor Stone: Buddies in crime. They have an almost familial relationship. Liz considers Stone a very good friend and they commit so much crime together.

Lady Spring Lovelace: Their best friend. The light of their life. Liz and Spring are inseparable no matter what forms they take or how much they change. They love one another deeply. They are unstoppable when they work together and can be genuine menaces as a team.

Samuel (Sam) Wells (Wellison): A hunting partner and their best-worst friend. They're not romantic or platonic but a secret third thing. They fight all the time but its in a way that is out of care rather than malice.

Woeful: Liz's ex. They have the world's worst relationship. Their break-up was bad on historic levels and the two actively made one another worse when they were together. Liz was glad when they vanished altogether.

AMBITION NOTES [Editor's Notes: Major Spoilers for Ambition: Bag A Legend. Content warnings include violence, substance abuse and addiction, loss of identity, and extreme body modification. ] For an in-depth look, please see the Directory.

Liz chose the Intriguer Ending of Bag A Legend.

Their time with the Scarred Naturalist really soured their opinion on authority figures, even moreso than before. It also worried their inferiority complex.

Their experiences with Black Wing Absinthe caused them to develop a problem with alcohol that they never quite manage to kick. They usually manage to stay away from the absinthe, but upon relapsing they can go to incredibly dark places very quickly. The violent episodes the Absinthe causes seem uncontrollable- but in reality, Liz knows what they are doing. That is what should scare them. It doesn't but Liz knows it should.

They got their teeth replaced with Vake teeth, and they justified it at the time as a necessary sacrifice, but the relief they felt with the full set in was far more than that.

Their time at the abbey taught them control, but often they crave the freedom of those dreams to the point of debilitating pain. The bond they form with the Vake, as strange and unhealthy as it is, consumes them entirely.

Even after slaying most of it, they don't really "win". They keep the Intriguer alive, pretending as if it is for some sort of ego boost, but in reality they have blurred the boundaries between it and them so significantly that killing the Vake completely genuinely terrifies them.

They often answer to names that are not theirs, and the more they hunt the less themself they are. They take on elements of everything they consume and the Vake was no exception.

Wines was SO pissed at them for going back on their promise and of it weren't for the fact that it was too much of a hassle it definitely would have killed them.

April was also pissed. They were almost friendly beforehand but this betrayal completely sets them back.

Liz keeps the mandrake post ambition. 'Manzy' is never far from her and is genuinely a huge source of comfort.

EXTRA INFORMATION [Spoilers for late-game content]

Liz is kind of Pro-Liberation? He hates authority but is also not afraid to BE authority. Major hypocrite energy. He would so kill a Judgement if he had the chance though. He's like, a temporary ally one has to keep an eye on.

Liz has published exactly one academic paper and it was entitled "Correcting Misconceptions About the Vake and Its Anatomy". He was promptly asked to leave his temporary position at the university of Summerset.

Liz loves antagonizing people for no reason. He lives for drama!

Liz sometimes misses his days at the Abbey and occasionally recreates some of the routine in London to soothe the itch.

While his rivalry with the Vake is all fun and good, when he's under-stimulated he loves to torment the other Masters. This is something they are all aware of and are (ill) prepared to handle.

Despite being a technical member of the 13th month club, most of the Calendar Council really dislike her. The exception is August, because of course it is.

April and Liz have a very complicated relationship, but if you ask Liz, that's her friend!

Liz has a detailed ranking of which monsters taste the best and will offer it when asked.

[2am-gas-station-angel-girl]

losing itself

there’s a beautiful sort of broken

when it stops responding to the things it used to love

when it stops being able to tell you what it wants

when she stumbles away from anything that reminds her of herself

when she can’t even tell you what her name was

when she doesn’t know what she is anymore

then she’ll be anything you want, with the right encouragement

[izztreme-art-n-stuff]

Loss of identity....

Remember...remember...remember....

[bullet-ant]

ive never understood how people can put keychains on their bags or decorate their water bottles with stickers or put up posters in their room or anything like that like for me my loss of identity is so bad i cant even fathom how i would personalize my things

and even if i could, my avpd would make me feel sick at the idea of letting anyone see those things for fear of criticism and judgement so i would avoid it anyway LOL. theres no winning...

[terrence-silver]

Since TIG’s birthday is coming up, how do you think Terry feels about birthdays? Has his feelings changed over the years?

---

From the earliest years of his life, I imagine birthdays in an old money type family like the Silvers weren't your ordinary balloons and cake affairs one might immediately opt to envisioning--- something that would be considered cheap, kitsch and vulgar. More befitting the common rabble; it was private for the Silvers, I feel, in fact. So private, that it was solemn, and a near non-existent affair. Certainly not a kid's party. No other children present, no music (unless it is some classy ambiance one can quietly waltz to), no ribbons and the only company was to be found in other adults, mingling in the parlour, talking about adult things, sharing gin, tobacco and playing Bridge. Sure, gifts were given, because I figure if there is one thing Terry Silver didn't lack growing up it was material possessions galore. Material possessions a child might not even need necessarily; like a...diamond encrusted watch for his seventh birthday when all he might've wanted was some sort of toy to play with, like any kid would've. Nope, his next gift was a bejewelled needle pin for his tie monogrammed with his initials because a relative knew someone at Cartier. Maybe a new piano to practice on? Maybe a new teacher or two, imported, from overseas, if needed, like one imports furniture? He wasn't an unhappy kid, necessarily, but there is something fundamentally lacking in this image described.

So, birthdays?

I don't think Terry viewed birthdays the way most people view birthdays.

Maybe in the 80's, he'd see it as yet another occasion to cart out the champagne, the cigars, the coke and have a celebratory orgy out on some private island he owns, giving his staff ostentatious raises in the meantime, but then again, Terry Silver doesn't need to wait around for birthdays once a year for that when life was what he made it out to be as he was master of it, controlled by nothing but his impulses and desires. But, the real, genuine intimacy of a birthday? Inviting special people to commemorate one's age and mark an important goalpost in one's life?

No.

Too intimate.

Too vulnerable.

I think Terry would feel way too seen.

And he doesn't want to be seen like that.

He's not available; cancel all his meetings and calls. It is 1985 and he's too busy!

It is all a load of bullshit anyway.

He'd use excess to distract from the real meaning of a birthday.

I feel some of the most heartfelt moments he's ever celebrated birthdays in what would've been considered the classic, traditional way to do it could've been in Vietnam. Why? Because it was the one time he had friends that were truly his and friends he truly felt he made on his own merit, in an environment where any day could've been his last, free of the rigid expectation of the class he was born into and the method he was raised in; ironically, it was in war where he needed to grow up right there and then and be a man, but also, where he could be just a kid sometimes, and have candles on a cake in some makeshift concoction John and Ponytail might've acquired for him at base camp, alongside eighteen candles to mark Twig's adulthood during their leaves back at the barracks, shocked once they discovered Twig has never actually celebrated the way everyone else does. Then came his time in the POW camp, Ponytail's death, John fighting Turner to the death, the snake-pit, the end of the war, and Terry never really marked the occasion again that way, oddly frozen in time, aging, yet somehow forever seventeen, or eighteen. Nineteen? However many years it was. On the cusp of being a young adult and a teenager, caught somewhere in-between the two, his age oddly coinciding with the age Ponytail might've been when he was shot; everything moving yet forever standing still in the fog of trauma. It is entirely believable that in taking on so much of Ponytail's identity, Terry might've actually discarded the original date he was born, going as far as altering his own records after the war (he was certainly powerful and rich enough for that), and took on his friend's instead, as homage to the compatriot he felt responsible for, changing his literal stars.

Maybe Terry just wanted to forget? Maybe he isn't aware he did?

Maybe it was a deliberate choice?

By the time he became an old man, Terry long since ceased celebrating and undoubtedly hasn't for decades, because everyone who ever knew him as he was long since dead and gone except for John (who might've been the one individual he mutually celebrated with even post-war), and I don't think he's met anyone since who he wanted to know him enough to celebrate his birthdays with him and see him as so very human and in such a deeply intimate and personal light; wearing far too many masks and faces to reveal himself so readily, especially when the subject of maturity and mortality comes into question and that the fact that he can't control the concept of aging and time itself, which would undoubtedly vex at his mind constantly enough to where birthdays became distasteful and he'd rather ignore them as a whole; so Terry became shockingly elusive with the date he was born (as does most any digging online one could conduct even if they tried, coming up with nothing but contradictive and misguiding info and a bunch of dead ends, like someone scrubbed the Internet clean with a fine comb; and someone did) and even if somebody brought up the special occasion as mere small-talk, he'd find ways to wiggle out, charmingly declare he's busy and disappear on important business to, say, Seoul, for the weekend. Terry was meant to die on the battlefield a long, long time ago, he thinks, and so celebrating a birthday --- a day of life --- for a man alive on borrowed time is futile, and even if he celebrated with someone, I see him celebrating, creepily enough, the birthday of an already dead man in the form of Ponytail instead of his own, the one he was actually born on. So, Terry Silver's ''birthday'' --- a fluke --- is more a rite and commemoration for the dead merely disguised as one.

[a-man-and-his-muse]

"It takes so much less energy to not exist than it does to exist and get burned. I’ve been burned so much I’m not me anymore. I’m a stupid puppet version of me. I’ve got strings that lead to nowhere. Nothing is pulling on me."

- Here and Away by Neil Hilborn

[sickly-honeylamb]

[thecanishades]

Amnesia

I forget the child I once was

It's a sin I'll never forgive

They did no wrong, yet I bury the memory

Beneath years of pain

Grief has killed the child in me

[pink-lemonade-rose]

[...] Aristotle objects to the use of the pipes in education because pipe music is "orgiastic" and because "it hinders the use of one's logos." But pipes also disfigure the face: the lips are puckered, the cheeks bloated, so that one becomes unrecognizable - one can be thought to lose one's identity; indeed the voice of another, of the pipes themselves, is said to emanate from the player's mouth (the reed, called "tongue," is inserted into the player's mouth), while the piper's face is bloated until it takes on the appearance of a mask, or gorgoneion, expressing a form of Dionysiac possession.

Eric Csapo, “The Politics of the New Music”