#the inevitable cycles of pain and healing

[nyaagolor]

Once again I have Rosa Umineko on the brain. We know that the VN is just saying doing "self reflection through the other" all the way down, but I feel like Turn (aka Sayo's vent session) and the way she characterized Rosa is really reflective of her darkest thoughts. All the matriarchs represent being trapped in different cycles, self-inflicted or otherwise, but Rosa stands out to me among them for being the best representation of inevitability. Rosa's abuse of Maria is visceral, upsetting, and more importantly tied directly back to her own abuse at the hands of her siblings.

Rosa in Turn is a cog in the cycle of abuse, and probably the character portrayed as the least likely to actually escape from it. Maria is the witch of origins, creating something out of nothing, but Rosa is the witch of inevitability. Rosa has been abused to a degree that Sayo struggles to articulate, only to enact that same abuse-- almost identical as shown in the manga-- on her daughter. Rosa is (allegorically speaking) Sayo's worst outlook, the inevitability of passing on hurt to the people you care about.

As far as Turn is concerned, Rosa is destined to enact violence. She represents someone so beholden to their trauma that they are doomed to repeat it. Rosa is an exploration of Sayo's worst, most violent impulses. There is a reason that Turn is filled with gore and mistrustRosa, to Sayo, is an inescapable fate. Rosa is the person who couldn't move on from trauma, someone doomed to pass it on to everyone they love, a child in a woman's body who cannot be more than the violence inflicted on her.

When Sayo starts writing, she feels like Rosa-- and Rosa has never been someone that could have a happy ending. Sayo always tried to tell her stories through other people, to explore herself through their narratives and have everyone start to understand her through empathizing with the women she makes heroines. These narratives also serve as ways to understand herself, to reflect her own traumas and deepest feelings onto other people and learn how to feel about herself via proxy. That's why I always found it fascinating that Confession effectively confirms Turn to be one of the first things she writes.

Rosa is Sayo's capacity for violence, her hopelessness, the crying child she sees inside of herself. Rosa is a representation of a Sayo who can't heal-- who doesn't know HOW to. But this is one of the first people that Sayo tries to explore, to empathize with, to find herself in. Sayo has always been writing with the idea of a happy ending-- maybe they can solve the epitaph, maybe they survive. If Rosa can be happy, Sayo can be happy. But we know how Turn ends: she can't. Gold in hand, the person she loves most in her arms, she falls to the sea anyway.

Turn, to me, has always been the rawest feelings we've seen from Sayo. This is her writing her own pain, trying to find happiness in the person she sees as an inevitable monster. In the end though, she can't-- the wolf is doomed to kill by its own nature

[danieyells]

Taiga's mental deterioration is awful. It's terrible. To lose parts of oneself, for Romeo to lose parts of someone he loves so dearly, it's painful and terrifying and if he could make a wish with another demon he might just wish for him to be healed. He was never normal in the time that he knew him. But once upon a time Taiga spoke and looked around the world with coherency, Taiga took interest in things beyond hunger and sporadic, violent fascination. Once upon a time Taiga did more than eat and gamble and sleep in a cycle that he sometimes was very aware of.

And yet.

And yet one of the things Taiga never seemed to forget was Romeo himself. Others' faces and names faded away or never told hold to begin with, other parts of his life were gone to the neverending hunger within him, but Lulu, Lulu remained. If Taiga heard Romeo's name, even without his nickname, there was never any question who he was. His face was always as beautiful as he last saw him. His voice was always so loud and he always said too much. He was as naïve as the day they met and as greedy as he'd ever been. Taiga knew Romeo. He always knew Romeo.

It was awful, in his eyes. That whoever Taiga has been before he met him had been washed away. That Taiga could barely remember who he was and where he'd come from and what brought him joy beyond risk and profit and blood in his mouth and the presence of someone who'd stayed with him so long that Romeo used to wonder if no one had ever done so before.

And yet.

Romeo had always been a greedy bastard. No one knew that like Taiga did.

And as much as he hated to see Taiga fade into something almost beastial, the part of him he buried down tight, the part of him which would have rather cling to valuables even if they would get him killed, the vicious, hungering greed watched on with delight.

The greed held its hand out to this slowly forming monster to be sniffed and remembered and relied on and loved and wanted and needed and to be the only thing left in his head.

Part of him saw Taiga forget everything but remember him with such clarity it was as if Romeo's existence was his own and wished he could help him tear everything else away. Faster, forget faster. Forget more. Care about less.

Until all that Taiga knew or saw or desired or remembered or lived for what Romeo Scorpius Lucci.

Isn't it what he deserved? And isn't it what would make Taiga happy, too?

It was inevitable, as he saw it.

It was inevitable, as Taiga had told him he would never, ever forget him.

If Taiga ever forgot Romeo, what would be left would simply not be Taiga, and Romeo should take it out.

Perhaps Taiga had meant it as a warning, for fear that he would harm Romeo if he ever forgot his face. He had trained him to be able to hold a gun to him, to be ready to pull the trigger in case there was no recognition in Taiga's eyes and he bore teeth at him. To shoot for his heart. To think he should protect himself from whatever took over and used Taiga's face to threaten Romeo's wellbeing.

But to Romeo it was something more. Not about what would become of Taiga but who he was now.

Romeo mourned every memory and thought Taiga lost. Even if Taiga didn't care to do so, every lost bit of someone he loved so dearly was worth mourning.

And yet he watched. Closely. What was left. How much was left. How much was him--and how much was not--and how much would still be him in the end.

Someday, perhaps, if they could not reverse what had become of Taiga's mind, all that would be left for him would be Romeo. And perhaps to continue to love him and to hold him would be to take advantage of that.

But Romeo had killed and stolen and manipulated and more. He was not a man of morals, but of profits and a great deal of sickening, clawing love in the form of greed.

Perhaps someday Taiga would become empty of anything but Romeo, and Romeo would hold him and care for him and love him regardless, in spite of it, for it. Why shouldn't he love someone who thought only of him and felt only for him, whose heart beat and mind buzzed and body moved for him and nothing else? Even if Taiga's sense of self eroded, if his sense of Romeo remained what was not to be loved?

Perhaps after that he would begin to forget Romeo as well. And until then Romeo would love him and use him. Until then he was still valuable. Until then he was still Taiga.

Until he was no longer Taiga, who lived for Romeo according to the greed that made his love into a room full of gilded cages, Romeo would keep him for himself.

And the moment he stopped being Taiga would be when Romeo's heart truly broke.

And what choice would he have, before he lost more attachment to the one person who would attached to nothing but him, to use the gift he'd been given?

That attachment would be so strong, that love so intense, that there wouldn't be blood or gore or anything at all.

There wouldn't even be a world left to mourn Taiga or Romeo or to suffer an existence without them. That love, that passion, would be enough to end everything there ever was or would be in this world. Or maybe that was just Romeo's delightful fantasy, that the world would be reduced to rubble shooting off in a million brilliant directions in space because he simply loved one idiot too much.

One idiot who loved him too much.

If not for him. None of this would have ever happened. He followed Taiga to Darkwick and if he had any direction when they left he would follow him in that direction too.

And if Taiga died, who would he be if he didn't go with him?

And Romeo, in all of his greed, would simply have to take everything with them.

Everything.

[scarynewboyfriend]

having some brained thoughts vis-à-vis Disco Elysium and Haibane Renmei

possible spoilers for both below - especially regarding The Pale

The Pale is loosely described while playing Disco, although it is never quite so explicitly defined or presented to you all at once... I think this is largely because The Pale behaves somewhat paradoxically, but loosely has a set of rules that it follows

From what I've gathered:

it is a symptom of humanity - in which innovation, imagination, and novel change seem to encourage its spread. Speaking to the cryptid confirms that it did not exist before humanity came into being

The Pale manifests in the world most prominently as a sort of fog

it is known to be traversable in some cases (presumably where it is thin), and there are records of using it to alter real world items (the medical applications of The Pale book you can find comes to mind)

while it can be traversed, it is likely to cause some form of damage to humans. Talking to The Pale lorry driver can confirm this

whatever is consumed by The Pale ceases to exist in its entirety. As in, a man consumed by The Pale ceases to be known or remembered in history. It is unclear whether or not this erasure actually alters history, or if it merely eradicates all trace of whatever is consumed going forward from the point of consumption

Powerful nations are profoundly aware of how The Pale works, and will conduct acts of espionage and murder in order to fit their agenda, as well as attempt to prevent the spread of the Pale

This all explains the state of Revachol, in the sense that it very much feels trapped in a bygone era. Technology seems to have stagnated in the radio era, though it is often used ingeniously. There are things like automobiles, books and games, but they are at their most simple. The most advanced example I can think of is the radio game that you can discover in the bowls of the city under the book store. Nothing grand is proposed for technology - but expansions on what currently exists are present.

There are theories that the revolution encountered such intense intervention from The Coalition is partly due to the fear that a new ideology taking root would create vast amounts of The Pale - and the unfortunate thinking the keeping the unfair status quo would prevent this. To contradict this idea, the anodic dance club (should you choose to support the ravers) actually prolongs Revachol's existence from being erased by The Pale, though it is inevitably destroyed in its entirety when later it gets nuked by the Coalition (possibly due to a 3rd revolution taking place in the future?).

I appreciate how this idea is reinforced subtly by how Harry goes throughout the world. You don't have too many opportunities to have "new" things. Most of what you use and receive are borrowed, found, or recycled (garbage picker). You end up finding some semblance of refuge by housing with communists on the outskirts of town - a room that used to belong to someone else, cared for by a community you are just now joining. You don't own property, and you barely own anything of note. Just the scraps you've found and made use of while wandering through the world.

Let's talk about the Anodic ravers for a minute.. Noid offers perhaps the greatest insight into what they stand for, which is love, peace, and freedom... and music.

The irony is that, while this too is an act of creation and innovation, it actually appeases the spread of The Pale to some degree. Noid says something profound about "Left-Right mentality," and alludes that this is what he truly despises: the illusion that the world has created to convince people that there are only so many choices available.

It's possible that the spread of the Pale can only be stopped by uniting all of humanity, working and living together in harmony. The Pale is sometimes described as an allegory for Nihilism, the dangers of over-saturating in nostalgia, and the divide that people create between themselves (beliefs, alignments, preferences, etc. used to segregate us from one another). When you take into account that survivors of Pale exposure have symptoms of alienation, loss of identity (sometimes shown as having no discernible names, but concepts that usually feed into despair), and confusion, it's easy to see this connection. If it weren't for the eventual glassing of Revachol, it's possible the church under andonic influence could have fulfilled it's true potential towards limiting the Pale's spread in a more significant fashion.

So what about Haibane Renmei??

Haibane Renmei, if you haven't seen it already, is a wonderfully eerie anime that follows the lives of Haibane - people who have mysteriously appear in the town Glie with no memory of who/if they were anyone before arriving. They are distinguished by angelic features of small wings and halos, though they do not have any angelic or religious affiliations beyond this.

Their names are designated by the Haibane Renmei (community of Haibane) who use their only prevailing memory as inspiration for what their name will be. In each case, their only memory is of a dream they have before waking.

In both Disco and Haibane, names play a significant role in establishing character and sense of self - see Doom Spiral and Don't Call Abigal, who have defined themselves by their most critical life moments. Pissfaggot and others fall into this category, alongside Harry - who can remain ignorant of his true name for much of the game.

Their lives in the town are largely separate from that of its regular citizens, distinguished by a few rules:

They may only occupy residency in structures that have been abandoned

They must hold a job

They are forbidden from handling money (they and their employers are responsible for recording their "earnings" in a notebook. This limits the places they are allowed to work to businesses who are willing to accommodate these rules.

They are not allowed to "purchase" new items. Clothes and goods must be thrifted or recycled. This also limits where they are able to "spend" money

The town itself is surrounded by giant walls, which all the townspeople - Haibane included - are forbidden to approach. Designated envoys are allowed to do so, and regular townsfolk are permitted so long as they never return.

These themes, in my opinion, are interesting parallels to Disco. Both have a group of people who, for some reason or another, are forced to live off of the charity others, and are unable to leave the city/town that they find themselves in.

The Pale in Disco, and the walls beyond Glie are large unknowns to both the viewers and those living in these worlds. We are not completely sure what happens in the Pale - due to it's memory and existential properties. With the world beyond Glie, there is simply no way of knowing, because no one can return to describe it.

I've always believed that the Haibane are reborn individuals who died of, or died after a life of suffering. While their lives in Glie are restricted to some degree, the town and its people are nothing but pleasant and kind to them. Glie may in fact be a kind of purgatory, or paradise in this sense, though for the Haibane it is typically short lived.

Haibane will eventually encounter their "Day of Flight," where they disappear forever - presumably flying out of the town. The symptoms proceeding this are consistent for each:

Feeling of peace and happiness

Behaving distant and strange

Unaffected by the world and people around them

The idea here is that, perhaps after achieving fulfillment or true peace, the end is an unstoppable and compelling force for Haibane. Typically, Day of Flight is considered to be the ultimate objective for Haibane - though for those considered Sin Bound, it is terrifying, and impossible for themselves until they are cured of the condition.

A Sin Bound Haibane has some minor physical differences, but the most prominent appear to be a prevailing sense of dread, fear, depression, and desire to go beyond the walls of the town. This is not a permanent symptom, but being cured is no simple task, and cannot be done alone. The Haibane are ultimately obliged and happy to help one another achieve their "Day of Flight," but it requires a Haibane reaching out and accepting this help first.

Here's where I see some parallel between Haibane and the anodic ravers:

It's clear that the ultimate goal for both is love, unity and harmony

Achieving "Day of Flight" may be analogous to accepting the anodic philosophy

Sin Bound Haibane experience dread and lack of self-actualization in a similar way that survivors of the Pale do

Community support is the cure

An interesting thing to note here is that Haibane are not born Sin Bound, as the main protagonist succumbs to the condition after her friend achieves their "Day of Flight."

Both stories centre largely around this feeling of confusion and powerlessness. That Nihilism, pain, and isolation from eachother perpetuates a destructive cycle, not just for the individual, but for the whole, are large driving forces in both worlds. And equally, healing and spiritual wellness are presented as daunting, yet necessary goals to bring peace to the world.

They both have this sort of ever-present sense of doom - Disco Elysium is sort of wrapped in the idea that the world is so fucked that the Pale can never truly be stopped, and Haibane Renmei deals with the fact that, even in a perfect world, death is inevitable, and you still need to heal during your lifetime despite that. But I don't think the messages are entirely hopeless. There is love and community in the inbetween for each.

Even though Revachol is ultimately doomed to be destroyed, and even though Harry's district coworkers still see him as a self-destructive drunk - you save the town from the disaster of the week, you can sober up, you can find friendship and be loved.

Even though the Haibane will eventually lose their closest friends to the "Day of Flight," you will never truly be alone. You can heal from your wounds, you can save and be saved by other people in your life. Much of the story is about letting go and moving on. The cycle of death is unstoppable, but so is the cycle of life. It is not impossible to find happiness in new places, and it's never too late to get help and to help others.

I could write so much more but this is already huge and has taken up so much of my time...

[vampireloverz]

thought abt god of war again and almost burst into tears

[katiesyellowcardcollection]

We ain’t angry at you, love

Katie McCabe x teen!reader

trigger warnings: mentions of suicide, hospitals, grief, overall bad mental health, please don’t read if you’re not in the correct headspace 🫶

you didn’t realise it had gotten this bad, or maybe you did and you weren’t ready to admit it.

there was something about admitting how bad things had gotten that scared you, talking about your feelings, admitting that you needed help was beyond scary.

you couldn’t tell your mam how much you were struggling, couldn’t verbalise just how much you were hurting, you didn’t want to hurt her, make her realise that despite everything she couldn’t make you better, couldn’t heal your past.

you were broken beyond repair, everything about you was entirely broken, from your head to your toes, your heart to your brain, it was all broken, your life was a mess, that only seemed to get worse and worse the more life went on.

you were only young, sixteen to be precise and yet you’d been through more than most people would in their lifetime, but your man had saved you, stopped you from drowning when you were twelve years old, she gave you a home, somewhere to feel safe, loved and cared for, you thought that feeling would last forever, that the love your mam gave you would be enough. Stop you from crumbling to your PTSD, you thought that every happy memory your mam gave you would replace every bad one, and it did for awhile at least, everything was okay, you were happy, until you weren’t.

until you started playing for Arsenal, until the hate began and undone everything you had tried your best to patch up, until the flashbacks came back and the anxiety consumed you again.

maybe you were destined for this life, this never ending cycle of pain and heartbreak.

This cycle of finally feeling better, like you wanted to live, wanted to be happy, and then the inevitable would happen, you’d crash, and the feelings would come back. Each time they did, you felt a piece of you break, another piece of you unraveling, until you were all unraveled, consumed by the weight of your mind. the tumbleweed mess of your past taking over.

it was what led you here, alone in your bathroom crouched over the sink, throwing the contents of your stomach out, bleeding out all over the once shiny white tiles.

your wrists were burning now, your scarlett blood was dripping down the bathrooms bright white tiles, you can still remember picking out those tiles with your mam, you were 13 and the bathroom was being renovated, katie let you pick out the tiles, you had spent hours deciding what ones to get, what the perfect ones were, it was something so simple and yet it was the first time you’d ever been given the choice in something, allowed to decide something on your own, at the time you hadn’t known your blood was going to pour out all over them, ruin the perfect tiles you picked out, hadn’t realised you would spent your last moments on these tiles, those white shiny tiles.

you didn’t know what had led you here today, why today was the day you’d simply had enough, why you’d finally gotten over the fear and just done it, you didn’t know why, you were just done, so fucking done.

you couldn’t breathe now you realised, you think you were dying, although you couldn’t be sure because you’d never died before.

it felt good you think, knowing that soon you’d take your last breathes, soon you’d be gone, free from the shackles of your mind, free from your past.

you had been at peace with this decision for a long time, way before you had actually done it, way before you had even came into your mind, it was always your destiny to go out this way.

Your biological mum had went out this way, after one to many lashing from your father, days later your father had went the same way, blade to the wrist, just like you were now, you had found him, slumpt up against the bathroom door, just like you were now, it was always what was supposed to happen you realised, you weren’t made for the fame, strangers weren’t supposed to know your name, you weren’t supposed to feel the love that Katie had given you, that wasn’t your destiny, this was.

you’d spent to long pretending it was, pretending that everything was fine, that this wasn’t how you were supposed to go, sometimes you had even believed it, believed that you were going to be okay, some days you truly believed you could live this life, live a life of fame, happiness, love and then it would all come crushing down, and you’d be harshly reminded off your fate.

-

you thought you were gone, thought it was all over, but then you heard the beeping, loud obnoxious beeps, this wasn’t death, wasn’t hell or heaven, no this was something else.

this wasn’t where you were supposed to be, no you were supposed to be gone, you should be gone you did everything right, you didn’t exactly what your late mother had done and your father, they had gone, they got to leave and yet you hadn’t.

no you were still here you realised, you were in a dimly lit hospital room, the beeping becoming more clear, the soft snores of caitlin in the background, this was not the end.

this was much worse you realised, you had failed, you had failed yet again, if your father was here to see he would have laughed at your failure, he probably sneering at you right now, wherever he was, wherever you go when you die.

you didn’t want to open your eyes, if you opened your eyes it would all become real, what you had tried to do, you’d have to your mams heartbreak, you’d have to go to therapy and talk and talk, you couldn’t do that.

you were to scared, terrified in fact, you didn’t want to be here you couldn’t here.

you were getting truly distressed now, your heartbeat increasing, the beeping was getting louder now, doctors came rushing in trying to calm you.

“hey darling, it’s okay can you breathe for me sweetheart” you hear your mams calming essence, her usual accent thick with emotion.

slowly you opened your eyes, staring back at you were your mams bright green eyes, they were glossed all over, her eyes bag prominent.

you had done this you realised, you’d destroyed your mam, broken her heart.

“M’ sorry” you managed to croak out, your voice cracking slightly.

because you were sorry, you didn’t realise how upset your ma would be, you figured she’d get over it, you’d only been in her life a short time, you didn’t think she’d be so upset.

“you don’t need to be sorry baby i’m just glad your okay” katie replied, giving you a soft smile.

you could see the hurt in her eyes, you weren’t stupid, you knew it wasn’t okay.

“no i’m sorry ma I’m sorry for coming into your life and fucking up all your plans i’m so fucking sorry.”

you watch as your mams face falls, her shoulder drops, and the tears well back up again.

“No y/n you are the best to ever happen to me, i love you and i need you here with me, at home and healthy, you don’t need to be sorry for anything” she tells you, the urgency in her voice becoming more evident.

you shake your head “no i ruined your life i ruin everything i touch you should have let me died ma.”

“No baby, you didn’t” she replies quietly, her words remain in the air for a while.

you could hear the sincerity in her voice, it didn’t change how you felt though, maybe to her you hadn’t ruined her life, but to you, and everyone round her you had ruined her life.

“y/n before i met you, i was lost, i wasn’t me, i had lost myself and then u became your mam and suddenly everything was okay again, i found my purpose, my purpose was to be your mam to make you happy and healthy, you changed my life yes, but you changed it for the better, every single day i wake up and thank god that you came into my life, you’re my baby girl y/n and i love you.”

Her words hit you like a truck, you hadn’t known you were crying until Katie reached down to your cheek to wipe them away.

You didn’t want to live, or so you had thought, and then you heard katie’s words, and all of a sudden maybe living in wasn’t quite so bad.

“i don’t know what to do ma, i’m scared, and I’m all alone i don’t think i can be me again” you cried out, your words were almost unrecognisable.

“You can do it, you have me, Caitlin, your teammates, you can baby you are so strong” Katie tells you, hugging you tightly, she wishes she could hold onto you forever, wishes you both could just stay like this, where she could keep you safe and away from the whirlwind of your mind.

“go to sleep baby, once you wake up, we can talk some more, it’s all going to be okay i promise.”

and you believed her, maybe it will all be okay, maybe you can do this, you can face this, maybe just maybe your destiny isn’t the same as your mothers or father.

-

you didn’t wake up.

you never woke up again.

you had a seizure and your heart stopped, you died, you never got to hear Katie’s next words.

you weren’t given the chance to get better.

you didn’t get to see your full potential.

you didn’t get to achieve everything you always wanted to.

you never got live out that bright future everyone always told you that you had.

you didn’t get to finish school.

you didn’t get to sign your first pro contract, like you had always dreamed off.

all of those things never happened.

because you killed yourself, on them bright white tiles, in your bathroom floor, just like your mother and father had once.

-

Katie’s eyes snapped open, pulling the covers away from her body, scrambling out of bed, walking towards your bedroom, praying she’d find you, praying this was all just some kind of evil prank, that she’d find you safe and sound asleep in bed, like you should be.

your room was excatly as you left, the letters you wrote, remained untouched, katie couldn’t bear to read them, not yet at least.

your homework was left sprawled on your desk, your clothes scattered around your room, your fairy lights remained on, exactly as you left them.

to anyone else it would look like normal teenage girls bedroom.

but to Katie, it was the last thing she had left of you, the last part of you that wasn’t full of dark memories, the last thing that remained untouched form that night.

katies body trembled as she remembered that night, finding your lifeless body and blood sprawled out all over the bathroom floor, seeing your eyes that were once filled with so much light and happiness, dead and cold.

“Katie?”

Caitlin asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“you okay baby” she questioned slowly, watching as the brunette eyes frantically searched the room, looking for you.

you weren’t there.

you’d never be there again.

never.

“i had a dream of what could’ve been” she managed to choke out to her girlfriend, turning around to look at her “i miss her so much i just want my baby girl back cait” she wailed, heavy tears flowing down her cheeks.

she’d had this exact dream, every night since you had left, it had been exactly one week without you, without hearing your smile and laugh, it had a long and exhausting week.

Breaking the news to her teammates, watching as their face dropped, watching as their heart broke right in front of her.

and then there was breaking the news to the entire women’s football community, the child prodigy, the sixteen year old girl who was supposed to be Arsenals future ‘star girl’, telling the world that her daughter was gone, gone from this world, and that she would never come back.

it had been a long week of paper work, planning your funeral, she should have been planning your birthday, instead she was picking out flowers and coffins.

“it’s okay Katie, you’re allowed to cry and be upset, you can be upset for as long as you need baby” Caitlin sympathised, slowly making her way to Katie’s spot on your bed.

“she was only sixteen cait, sixteen she still had so much left to give, so much to see, she wanted to see so much and now she never will.” Katie rambled out, her words becoming almost unrecognisable.

“i know, i know, but now you get to live for her, do all the things she wanted to do caitlin replied slowly, pulling her into a bone crushing hug.

“i wish she came to me cait i could’ve helped” Katie sobbed out again.

“i know I’m so sorry baby.”

[soapoet]

How do they express jealousy?

requested by anon.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Gives you hell by All-American rejects

You might not expect this person to be as vulnerable and sensitive as they are. They appear very sure of themselves, may even have quite an intimidating presence, and don't let their emotions show externally. Until they are behind closed doors with their trusted allies, that is. When it is safe for them to break, they collapse. Jealousy is a feeling they are well acquainted with, and theirs is a battle between life and death. They hold trust and loyalty in high regard, and any slight against it done on purpose is met with an instantaneous crumbling of the tower where they keep and guard their beloved. They grow suspicious and anxious, and can delude themselves in finding enemies everywhere.

They grow resentful and begin a horrid cycle festering resentment and desperation to not lose their partner. They love you, they hate you, they deserve better, they deserve to suffer. And so it goes, round and round, and the wound is one only time can heal, but the scar will mark them forever. They can forgive, but never forget. Even if disaster is avoided and things go back to normal, the betrayal will forever haunt them and any future hiccup will make them suspicious or immediately be brought back to the past, and they will succumb to the fear of abandonment once more.

Without purposeful attempts to make them jealous, they are still akin a wolf guarding their territory. They keep a watchful eye for any potential threats and hold their partner extra close or go out of their way to showcase their commitment to their partner and their partner's commitment to them, often whilst staring threats dead in the eyes as an intimidation tactic and a way to silently yell "back off". I would sincerely advise everyone to never play games with their partners, but especially this one, as they've known the pain of neglect and betrayal closely throughout their life, and have unhealed wounds all across their aching heart and the damage you could do would never again heal and the commitment would bleed out to its inevitable end without mercy.

02.

Shufflemancy: Lost on you by LP

This person has a rather straightforward relationship with jealousy. Though they do not easily fall prey to it, if caught, they tend to spiral into a desperate act of self-improvement. Convinced that their tinge of jealousy is evidence of lack in them, they raise the standards they hold for themselves to even greater heights. Tunnel vision keeps them from seeing anything clearly and they hyper focus on their attempts to measure up to the perceived bar suddenly raised out of their reach. Because to them, jealousy so easily means they are not good enough, and as somebody already at war with perfection, they do not take it lightly.

Whether their jealousy is triggered on purpose or arise naturally, they instantly find themselves at a crossroads, and must choose which way to go. The strict duality of their mind in these situations keeps them from seeing the path which lies between the two, and they only debate between proving their worth or accepting defeat, wiping their tears as they take the road which strays from the one aligned with their partner.

They can appear quite cold when they simply choose to give up, as though the river of love suddenly runs dry and they decide that it, to them, is objectively the best to cut you or them loose when the two of you are hanging off a cliff and either one of you must let go. Even if they are upset they remain calm on the surface and do what they think is right. Behind them may lie many shipwrecks they abandoned when the leak appeared much too difficult to mend.

03.

Shufflemancy: Sinner by Trevi Moran

Oh boy. They will not openly admit to jealousy, but will meticulously eradicate any threat as though they're pest control. Few things get under their skin as they are at least outwardly very secure in their own self-worth and simply dish out stupid prizes to those who dare play stupid games. For some, however, I must say that they may actually hold themselves in this high regard and play the role of somebody big and strong as a ruse because they deeply fear the fall from their throne.

They could easily flip the script or rewrite it on the spot, altering the play in their favour. When slighted they quickly make sure the whole audience gets on their side and point and laugh at whoever triggered jealousy in them, now the villain of the tale they get to tell. Depending on how delicate the situation is they may instead move in the shadows and whisper in enough ears and shake enough hands to assure the eventual downfall and demise of whoever dared challenge them and their partnership.

I won't lie, for some of you I'd advise that you err on the side of caution because this can easily become toxic. They're very protective and may worship you and keep you safe from the wolves, but some can easily slip into maddening possessiveness, which is unhealthy. Their jealousy, although kept under lock and key, shows itself in a very cold, unaffected way which can be quite jarring to witness as their eyes feel hallow and suddenly speak to you as though you're a complete stranger. The worst of them may very well have angry outbursts when pushed too far and I hope you know you deserve better than that.

04.

Shufflemancy: Fred Astaire by Ghost the jukebox

This sure is somebody you may even feel outright compelled to attempt to make jealous, because they appear so unbothered and nonchalant as though they have no care in the world. And that is the truth of the matter, because from their perspective you are either commited to them, or you're not. They trust their partner to not play with them or allow any advances from others, and if that trust is broken then c'est la vie.

For some, this apparent lack of jealousy altogether can mean that they are open to non-monogamy, whether or not they themselves are interested in opening the relationship for their own sake. As an example, they could be open to their partner seeking fulfillment of needs they cannot tend to themselves. They are a good communicator and live by and follow whichever boundaries and rules have been set in their relationship and may be open to change should their partner have any suggestions. I wouldn't really fear unfaithfulness with this person solely due to how easy-going yet frank and honest they are.

If anything, instead of jealousy this person could quite literally suggest you chat somebody up, and their inquiries about other people some would be concerned about seem genuinely curious and are without malice or suspicion. They're trusting, though some of their loved ones may call them naive and wonder when the day will come that they get hurt as they don't quite understand this person's simple views. It's reminiscent of the time Aladdin said "do you trust me?" because to this person you or they either do or don't and that's that.

05.

Shufflemancy: Style by Taylor Swift

This person seems to have very little to worry about and seem sure in their own worth. So much so, in fact, that they may use jealousy as fuel for passion. They could feel excited and amused by jealousy as though it is a challenge for them demanding they rise to the occasion and prove just how worthy they are and claim their partner as theirs time and time again so that they may never stray.

They tread cautiously the fine line between playful and damaging, pushing the envelope in search of the sweet spot that triggers just enough anger to provide some friction. One need not worry much of their true intentions as there appears to be a permanent glint in their eyes full of lighthearted mischief as they simply desire for you as their partner to show them that desire earnestly, just the same as they do for you when you too decide to play little games to see the chemical reaction which follows.

It really does take outright betrayal for them to reach damaging levels of jealousy, at which point they don't go out quietly and make sure their feelings are known. Just to be sure the two of you are simply playing, they may inquire more candidly about the people around you or openly question their intentions, as though they are so very playful and appreciate the fun and games they are also a little territorial and need it known by all that the two of you are spoken for.

06.

Shufflemancy: Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo

Easily distraught, this person sinks fast and deep to the very bottom of the depths of agony when they feel jealous. They struggle with their worth and have an intense fear of abandonment which leads them down dark paths in their mind as they begin a search of how or why they do or do not deserve love and commitment. There in the depths of their undoing they easily come to find that rock bottom has a basement, which they crawl into to hide away in the assumption that what is theirs will be taken away and if what is theirs is going at their own accord they must then be flawed and wholly unworthy after all.

Their primary means of showing their jealousy is withdrawal, as they have trouble voicing these vulnerable feelings or may simply not know the right words to use to express themselves clearly. They may even fear that expressing jealousy will only make matters worse or invite retaliation of some kind, and thus say nothing at all, which invites resentment to fester.

Jealousy mortally wounds them, and I'd never encourage anybody to play games with people to begin with, but certainly not somebody so frail and fearful. This is somebody who would step in front of bullets for their loved ones, so any chance that those same people, and especially you, their partner, would in essence be the one to pull the trigger would truly destroy them.

[esoteriamaya]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT. 13 DIVINE FEMININE - ART OF TRANSFORMATION

So I want to get into the signs, houses, and aspects that express a form of transformation that isn't recognized thru them majority of the time. Scorpio placements will be one of the energies I get into, however it isn't the only one that has this gift down pack.

All placements have different forms of healing & transformation. I'm just highlighting the observations I've been getting from each sign listed thus far.

Aries Rising/Virgo Placements - > These two energies have an ability to let go of their environments, circumstances and going deep into the mind to let things happen. What I mean is, both these placements are strictly head first in a lot of what they do and this can be a pretty tricky battle. The way they transform is through the heart, and the body and the mind follows suit after. At some point in their reality, they will have to let the mind go, in order to form the life they wish to live for themselves more openly.

For aries however, this isn't typically their issue. Their issue lies in always moving with their head, and not being strategic like their Virgo pals. Moves made first without thinking doesn't teach them anything and once they learn to allow the mind to form a new way of doing things this is where they challenge themselves and create a new persona.

Scorpio Placements deal with transformation a lot differently. It is an everyday cycle, not something they can shut up. Unlike their friends the virgos and aries, they can shut this down through their minds and can easily suppress things quicker. Scorpios, unfortunately cannot get the same. Because they feel everything. And I mean everything. And internally, they know whats the spiritual reason as to why they are the way they are so their pain/trauma is justified. The art of transformation for these cats is to look into that mirror into the void and explore the rage, warmth, the things that matter and the things that don't and letting it shape them. They have the wounds to impact others with healing methods if they just listen to themselves. The way they transform is through the psyche, the unconscious realms. Their doing shadow work without all the journaling or magic. It just comes to them.

Pisces/Neptune Placements are constantly shapeshifting. Their form of transforming is strictly from the ethereal realm, and it finds its way through physical activity or thru the imagination. Their world is constantly shifting and changing and in most cases you can find it through their clothing style, the way they express themselves and even thru their perspective. All 3 of the things I mention in conjunction all align together when something mentally changes them, since they are ruled by the subconscious/unconscious part of their brain more then their peers.

Moon/Cancer placements have a dark side that at some point of their life they shift into. Most never see this to be a real thing until well... something or someone changes them to that direction. This transformation is almost inevitable. They have to learn the darkside of their emotions or else it'll literally hurt them in the end. They must go down the dark depths of their soul to conquer the hidden array of demons that they kept under their beds so long ago. Skeletons in their closet is an understatement, its not the type that we are normally use to seeing from this group. You wouldn't believe their like that.

On the brighter side, this shows that these people are multidimensional and not just the sweet loving nurturing breed of individuals they normally keep you accustomed to. When they get to this phase, they aren't for the weak. So get use to it when the get their because they'll balance out both personalities for the better.

Libra Placements - Have a mental transformation they embark in throughout their life. Their perspectives change them in a way that forms a fair yet equal link to other humans as they're prone to be more selfish in the beginning. The heart is also where they transform, and it is through love they really can make a difference. Everything is prone to mental physics first, then the heart leads the way. Their not use to showing all their skin, but usually when they do its because something or someone made them bare their heart, for better or for worse. If it gets worse, than they'll start being the ones to play you for your heart. If best, they'll learn to share that love in all ways as their charm lights up even more. For individuals who are normally private, their vulnerabilities is what sheds away the old demons and become aware of their souls embarking on ways compassion could heal them and others around them.

Virgos have to live a little, that's simple. Normally the picture perfect group, they have to focus on the heart and the body and NOT what the mind is telling them. They can't live in those rose colored glasses they made themselves. They gotta let things around them be as it may, and they can join the circus if they like. Being more open to things outside of their comfort zone challenges their old self, while creating a new one. Something shifts inside of their body before that transformation really starts to hit. Their the rulers of the maiden-mother-crone phase. Psychological something changes them during certain points in their life weakening they old self and making new beginnings form with experience. They are connected to the kundalini and the serpent mind. More to come on this seperately.

[merrysithmas]

ok but there's so much meaning when charles says that they have it in them to be better men, because although erik AND charles (as a literal geneticist - coolest field woot woot) are BOTH obsessed with evolution, they have VERY different ideas of what evolution means

to erik, essentially kidnapped by an evil supremacist & grown up in a situation of horror and trauma, evolution for him meant the blanket "we are stronger then the humans, therefore better than them - we will overcome them" . to erik evolution is very physical. it is what has happened thousands of times before, but this time Erik wants to be the victor, Erik wants the safety, the power, the self-determination.

charles, a scientist, literally wrote his dissertation on this phenomenon exactly. he said when homo sapiens and neanderthals clashed, neanderthalis died out almost immediately. charles KNOWS what erik is saying is inevitable (one species replacing another) but CHARLES DOESNT BELIEVE THAT PHENOMENON IS EVOLUTION IN THIS CASE, because through time this situation has been the continual and never-ending cycle: one species dies and replaced another. it's the status quo. it's NOT evolution.

to charles, evolution is an EMOTIONAL, psychological event. one that he pushes for with every mission, struggle, and wish. his idea of evolution supercedes the physical struggle for space and resources and breaks into the realm of yes, peace and coexistence. the truly evolved being, regardless of species, would simply share. the truly evolved being is compassionate, emotional, breaks free of patterns of replacement and domination.

he is WELL AWARE of the reality of the theory of evolution (he wrote his dissertation on it) yet he continues to challenge and push the idea that this is hardly evolution at all, but its rather repetition and falling victim to pattern.

that's why Charles' POV is special - even if people aren't ready for it (because of the cycles of pain and anger) it is truly the only way forward- the only way to truly become a better world, by not trying to dominate one another.

he knows it may not be the time or the place but he tries continually at every opportunity - testing and challenging and becoming the first step.

and in the future, eventually through Erik's companionship, he learns how complicated life is. it isn't a theory, but a hard and hurting lived experience. Erik, a survivor of genocide and a man changed by genocide (humanity's worst offenses), is the PERFECT slap of reality for Charles. the understanding he develops for Erik both crushes/disproves his own life's work and redefines it. charles learns you can't skip over the pain to find peace. that would also be callous and cruel. just as cruel as one species replacing another.

emotional evolution isn't about replacing pain with "being better", it's about integration, processing, and forgiveness. sometimes its accepting there will be no healing, sometimes its accepting you can only heal if you realize that.

evolution is a slow and painful process - even loving is hard, though they both make their way to it in the end

For old time's sake🤍

[tashiberrie]

✮ HEARTWORM ✮  tashi duncan x fem!reader 

⋆💌⋆ TAGS - written with fem reader in mind, toxic relationship, reader is a lit student, angst, stanford era, no mention of tashi’s injury

wc- 763

masterlist

You two had met during a tennis tournament in 2004. After a long and intense match between the two of you, Tashi Duncan had come out on top.

You were drawn to each other instantly, like two moths to a flame, each recognising the shadows in the other's eyes.

From the start, your relationship was a tempest. You were addicted to the intensity of your connection, the way you could read each other's minds with a glance, and the way your souls seemed to intertwine in a dance of passion and pain. Your love was all-consuming, burning brightly but always on the verge of destruction.

Tashi was volatile, her moods swinging wildly from euphoric highs to devastating lows. She played furiously, the swings of her racket reflecting the chaos within her. You found inspiration in her unpredictability, your writing becoming darker, more profound, as you delved into the depths of your tumultuous love.

But your passion often turned into rage. Fights erupted over trivial matters, your words cutting deep, leaving scars that never fully healed.

You would argue until dawn, your voices echoing through the dorm room, throwing accusations and regrets like daggers. But in the quiet moments after the storm, you would cling to each other desperately, unable to let go despite the pain. You were addicted to the drama, the heartbreak, and the brief moments of bliss that followed your reconciliations.

You tried to leave once, packing your bags and walking out the door, determined to escape the cycle of hurt. But you couldn't stay away. You found yourself drawn back to Tashi, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your love. She was your muse, your torment, your everything. And so, you returned, your heart heavy with the knowledge that your love was both your salvation and your destruction.

Tashi, too, tried to move on. She sought solace in her tennis, pouring her pain onto the court, hoping to exorcise the demons that haunted her. But every swing of her racket reminded her of you, of the way you looked at her as if she were the only person in the world. She was lost without you, adrift in a sea of loneliness and longing. And so, she called you, her voice trembling with desperation, begging you to come back.

You reunions were always bittersweet, filled with tears and whispered apologies. You would cling to each other, promising to change, to be better, but the cycle would inevitably repeat. Your love was a battlefield, each skirmish leaving you more battered and bruised, but neither of you could surrender. You were trapped in a toxic dance, unable to break free yet unable to truly be together.

As the years passed, the toll of your relationship began to show. Your once bright eyes grew dull with fatigue, and Tashi's vibrant spirit became shadowed with sorrow. You were like two stars on a collision course, destined to burn out in a blaze of tragic beauty. But even as you destroyed each other, you couldn't imagine life apart. Your love was a prison, but it was also the only thing that made you feel alive.

One night, Tashi and you found yourselves back at the tennis court where your had first met. The atmosphere was hauntingly familiar, the rackets’ mournful wail echoing the ache in your hearts. You played in silence, your souls intertwined, lost in your own thoughts.

Tashi broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we had never met?"

You looked at her, your eyes filled with a mixture of love and pain. "Every day," you admitted. "But then I remember that even if it's killing me, I can't imagine my life without you."

Tears welled in Tashi's eyes, and she squeezed the handle of her racket tighter. "I don't know how to let you go," she confessed, her voice breaking.

You walked over to her and pulled her into your arms, holding her as if you could keep the world at bay. "Maybe we don't have to," you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Maybe this is just who we are."

As you held each other, rain started to fall, a fitting soundtrack to your story. You were two souls entwined in a love that was as beautiful as it was destructive, unable to break free yet unable to truly be whole together. And so, you remained, locked in a tragic embrace, bound by a love that would forever be your greatest joy and your deepest sorrow.

[nico-esoterica]

Most Common Manifestation Myths That Are Just Limiting Beliefs & Preferences:

Good things take time

It takes time for 'big things' to manifest

If you don't have it now, it's not meant for you

Life is a series of lessons/you're trapped in a cycle unless you 'learn the correct way'

Becareful What You Wish For

Everything's in Divine Timing

Success doesn't happen over night

Success is hard work

Be humble or you will be humbled

You have to suffer before anything good happens

You have to heal, raise your frequency/vibration, or sacrifice to manifest

Money doesn't grow on trees, is limited, not everyone can have it, etc

You can't have your cake and eat it too

You can't get everything you want

You can't change the past

Death, time, etc are "God's domain" and you can't mess with it

You can't have the perfect life

Shit happens

Life is random and chaotic

Everything comes with a price

You have to give before you receive

Decline or failure are a part of life

The past determines the future

'Reality Checks' are inevitable

You can only control your life SOME of the time/Nothing is within your control

You have to be a good person to get anything good in life

You have to detach/let go to manifest

You have to listen to your ancestors or your elders to do anything and 'heed their warnings'

You can't mess with 'the how' when you manifest

You can't check or 'mess with the 3D'

You can't react or be emotional or else you'll ruin things

There's a transition or purge period for manifestations to unfold

Alchemy, transformation, transmutation, etc, requires pain and suffering

Time is limited

Life's a bitch

[ws1dee]

𝒶𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗆𝗒 ﹒ 𝒿. 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗁𝖺𝗆.

𝓌𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒.. 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒

𝓈𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗍���𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗀𝗈. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍?

𝖺/𝗇: 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂��𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗍.

you and jude were each others first love, it felt like you were destined to be together. the spark was undeniable, and before long, you two were inseparable. you shared many moments with each other.. cute dinner dates, slow mornings with your bodies intertwined, deep conversations that lasted until the sun started to peak out from the horizon, long lasting looks that seemed to never end. but life has a way of testing love, and you & jude’s was no exception. jude would be away for months at a time for his games, leaving you in the apartment that you two shared. the stress of uncertainty began to erode your relationship. you two started fighting more often, about jude being away, career choices, not spending as much time with each other like you used to, about the future that once seemed so clear.

each argument ended with the same painful silence, the same unspoken question: was it worth it? but despite the ups and downs, you both kept coming back to each other. you would break up, sometimes for months, trying to each find solace and happiness alone, but inevitably, you found your way back. jude’s friends would joke about it, calling you two ‘the boomerang couple’ jude laughed along, but deep down, he wondered if he was stuck in a cycle he couldn’t break. months passed this way, with highs that felt euphoric and lows that seemed unbearable. each reunion felt like a new beginning, fulls of promises and hope.

“i’ll love you forever and always. no matter what” jude would say, leaving small kisses on your jaw down to your neck.

but the underlying issues never truly went away. you two loved each other, that was very clear, but love alone didn’t seem to be enough to bridge the chasm between you.

so.. there you two were, sat together in your apartment, the walls echoing with the ghosts of your many arguments. you looked out the window, watching the raindrops race down the glass, then turned to jude, who was staring blankly at his hands.

“we can’t keep doing this, can we?” you said softly, your voice trembling.

jude looked up, his eyes meeting yours. there was a deep sadness in them, but also a resignation. “no, we can’t,” he replied. “we deserve to be happy, even it’s not with each other.”

you two sat in silence for a long time, the rain a steady rhythm in the background. it was a different kind of silence, not the heavy, suffocating one that followed your fighting, but a quiet understanding. you’ve given each other everything you could, but it was time to let go. the next few days were spent dividing your belongings, the process both heartbreaking and healing. there were tears and hugs, memories shared and cherished one last time. you two promised to stay friends, though both of you knew that it would take time for the wounds to heal.

on your final day together when the sun began to rise, you both knew it was time to part ways.

“bye jude.” you whispered.

“bye y/n.” jude echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

sometimes, love means knowing when to say goodbye.

[brain-rot-central]

A preview of something I'm currently working on.

Born from an idea that Astarion would struggle immensely in the first few months after the events of the game. Healing trauma is rarely ever linear; there are many ups and downs to trek through before making it to the other side with newly found knowledge and strength.

Astarion's story encompasses so much of what one does to just survive when that's all they have left. This is a take on what his first few months post-main story might be like.

TW: references to disordered eating, abuse, adult themes, depression, poor mental health. Absolutely not "cute, cuddly Astarion." Our boy is sad, here.

You've saved Baldur's Gate from the Cult of the Absolute, destroyed the Netherbrain, and removed Cazador from the realm of the living. You both weren't sure what would come next. Your feelings for one another bloomed on the battlefield, fighting side by side. Neither of you knew if you'd see the following day, or what that day would bring. 

Your fires burned brightly, intertwining out of a mutual desperation to live. To be free of every puppet master pulling at the strings of your destiny. To return to living a life that was truly your own.

Yet, now that it was here…

Both of you were clueless how to navigate the aftermath.

You'd agreed to an attempt at cohabiting. Astarion had his reservations at the beginning, though he’s since thawed to the idea. As for yourself, it took a bit of time for you to adjust to living with another person. 

You lived alone prior to the Nautiloid. You were an urchin, having grown up on the streets of the Lower City for much of your life. You kept various blades hidden throughout your dwelling on the off chance an unwelcome visitor decided to drop by overnight. Astarion found most of them not long after moving in with you. He was slightly unsettled, but stated whimsically that he'd think twice before upsetting you going forward.

It had been months since the defeat of the Netherbrain, though Astarion still harbored many doubts. He'd often struggle with intense feelings of inadequacy and shame. He’d be ridden with such intense guilt that he'd lock himself away in your study for days, slipping out quietly during the night to hunt. He didn't dare let you see him in such a state.

And he didn't hunt often during these particular odd spells. Astarion will use his insatiable hunger as a form of self-discipline, purposely starving himself for days on end.

It's a repeating cycle. You don't quite understand why he does this to himself, and your attempts at getting him to speak never succeed. You settle on giving him space as being the best course of action.

When he inevitably emerges from his isolation, a different sort of hunger envelops him.

He seeks you out from your place within the house. Arms wrap around your waist from behind, and you feel the weight of him fall against your back. He buries his face in your neck, and you hear him inhale a shaky breath.

“Oh, hello,” you say to him, softly. “Are you feeling better?” You turn your body within his arms to face him. You push yourself onto the tips of your toes and nuzzle your nose against his.

He groans in mild protest and closes his eyes as you kiss the tip of his nose. “Somewhat,” he replies. He casts his eyes to the floor. “Missed you,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Guilt clouds his eyes as he stares at the ground. “I missed you, too, Astarion.” He winces his eyes as you speak, his brows furrowing. Your words pain him, though you never quite understand why.

“I… I-I’m sorry,” he says with a shaky breath. You feel his hands begin to roam up your back. He grasps handfuls of your dress within his palms.

You step back from his hold, his expression dropping and his eyes staring wildly into yours. He's beginning to panic, overwhelming feelings of disgust and rejection displayed on his face. He's ready to run. He needs to hide again.

You bring your hands up to clasp each side of his face. “Astarion, listen to me,” you tell him, sternly. “I don't know what's going on in your head all of the time, but I'm here.” You guide his forehead down to rest upon your own. “You do not need to apologize for your darkness. I am here.”

The panic in Astarion's eyes begins to settle, and the tension ebbs from him. You step closer to him, still holding his face. Your lips graze his, and suddenly he's on you. One of his hands holds the back of your head and he crashes his lips onto yours, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

He asks to deepen your kiss with gentle passes of his tongue, and you part your lips and accept him into your mouth. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and you moan into his mouth.

“Need you,” Astarion begs between kisses. “Please, darling.” His voice is hoarse and rushed.

You pull your mouth from his, a small string of saliva connecting your lips in a brief moment. ‘“Do you hunger?” you ask, resting your forehead once more against his.

“Always,” he breathes out.

“Take me, then.” You kiss him gently once more. “Lose yourself in me, tonight.”

He shutters above you, hearing the same words he's deceived you with once before. He played a game in the beginning. Had a carefully thought out plan, designed to have you within his thrall. His plan fell through horrifically, and these same honeyed words now carry a more significant meaning.

Living with Astarion is intense, to say the least. Cyclical.

Nights of passion come in waves where you lay panting together, letting the breeze cool your sweat-soaked bodies. The only sounds heard during your couplings are the repeated slapping of his thighs meeting your behind with each of his thrusts, and your wanton moans as his length drags deliciously against the inner walls of your cunt. He fucks his apology into you thoroughly, and you couldn't be more happy to accept it.

This part of the cycle always starts off the same. You inform him that you're going to freshen up, and make your way into your shared bath. Astarion takes this as an opportunity to make your otherwise drab bedroom inviting for the coming main attraction. He places candles around your bedroom, lighting them as soon as he hears you stepping into the tub.

He blots on a bit more of his signature cologne: bergamot, brandy, and rosemary. He knows you enjoy this scent, knows that it brings you comfort. He strives to please you in every way possible, especially if it means making such a selfless act more enjoyable for you. He wears his ruffled blouse untucked, and loosens the laces of his trousers just enough to allow for what's to come.

You’re freshly bathed, a towel wrapped around your torso as you emerge from the bath. You enter your shared bedroom while drying your hair with a smaller bath towel, looking around to survey the soft ambiance of the room.

You see Astarion laying out on your bed. He's laying on his side and your eyes meet, the flickering candlelight causing his eyes to shine like gemstones. His eyes are hooded as he watches you move toward the bed.

You sit on the edge of your shared bed, feeling a faint flush spread across your face as you hold his gaze. Astarion glides a hand over the space on the bed next to him, a clear invitation for you to come closer. Your breath hitches and you bring your hands up to undo the towel covering your body.

You watch his eyes narrow as he follows the towel fall freely off your chest. His chest rises as he sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes scanning over your now-bare form. You feel paralyzed within his sight, though also proud. His reaction to viewing your naked form is similar with each encounter, solidifying that this is likely genuine. The thought brings you a sense of peace, willing you forward.

You begin to climb onto the bed and toward your vampiric lover. The bed dips beneath your palms and an all too familiar scent floods your nostrils, becoming stronger as you inch closer to him. You realize then that Astarion had reapplied his cologne while you were in the shower, just for you. The smell is intoxicating. So enticing, that you mindlessly continue crawling toward yet another brush with death.

A rush of uneasy energy surges through you as you reach Astarion. You fold your legs under you, and shaky hands come up to gently cradle both sides of his face. His eyes are molten lava that is melting through your core. He’s refuted your past claims of him charming you prior to these encounters, and your doubts continue for this very reason.

On these nights, your body becomes his. His to possess and manipulate however he pleases. You subjugate yourself to him, trusting him to take only as much as he needs from you. Trusting him to take you through the night and deliver you safely to the dawn. He's been honorable, thus far.

Though, there is always a time for everything.

His hand comes up to cover your own on his cheek. Astarion turns his face into your hand, kissing your palm. “Are you sure you want to do this, love?” he asks. His voice is a soft whisper.

Ruby red eyes glare up at you through hooded lids. His expression is soft, pleading. You quickly realize he's asking for more than what he's said. It's the one question he's never dared to put to words, though asks repeatedly in other ways.

You sigh and nod your head. You know the question he truly is asking, one that he's yet to ever form into words. “Yes, Astarion. I trust you. I trust you to not lose control.”

He seeks the constant reassurance that you accept him as he is. A constant reminder that he is more than the monster Cazador created.

[lilmoonl1ght]

˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ .  eternal sunshine plots part i // plots based off ariana grande's album eternal sunshine

intro (end of the world) // muse a contemplates the nature of their relationship with muse b. the internal struggle of deciphering the authenticity of their connection becomes a lingering question. muse a confronts muse b about the feelings they are facing. muse a and muse b must face the reality of their connection, they must decide if they want to continue their journey together. muse a and muse b engage in a deep, moonlit conversation where both share their fears, insecurities, and dreams. the vulnerability of this exchange reveals the cracks in their relationship. whether they decide to continue or part ways, they both find solace in the honesty shared and the growth that comes from facing difficult questions about love, connection, and the uncertainties that tomorrow may bring. bye //  muse a bravely ends a tumultuous relationship with their ex. gathering their belongings, muse a declares the closure, affirming it's over. resolute and emotionally drained, they resist succumbing to sadness, drowning out the sorrow with music. leaving their ex behind in the driveway, muse a walks towards their friend, muse b ,and embraces the bittersweet moment, marking the beginning of a journey toward self-discovery and healing. don't wanna break up again //  muse a and muse b confront the recurring pain in their strained relationship. muse a, recognizing their own intensity, decides to end the toxic situationship to spare them both from further heartache. despite the initial resistance, muse b eventually agrees. muse a and muse b lay with the bittersweet acknowledgment of breaking up to protect each other's hearts. As they part ways, the weight of the decision lingers, marking the inevitable end of their tumultuous connection. saturn returns interlude //  muse a, living a carefree life, and muse b, a more grounded individual, face a pivotal moment as they approach their late twenties. the saturn cycle, symbolizing a wake-up call to reality, hits muse a hard. muse b, embodying saturn's wisdom, confronts muse a about the need to get real about life and discover their true self. This symbolic clash between carefree optimism and saturn's influence becomes a transformative moment, prompting muse a and muse b to embark on a journey of self-discovery and confront the challenges of adulthood. eternal sunshine //  muse a expresses frustration with muse b's repeated lies, acknowledging the toxic loop they're caught in. both play out separate scenes with new partners, highlighting the aftermath of their broken bond. muse a apologizes for their faults, finding solace in a new relationship, yet muse b's presence remains a haunting eternal sunshine. the emotional turmoil intensifies, with both grappling with the weight of the past. despite the pain, muse a finds themselves wanting to get back with muse b, leaving both their new partners in the dark.  supernatural //  muse a and muse b have been coworkers for a bit and share a captivating moment on a starlit rooftop during a company party. muse a expresses a longing for a unique connection, and muse b is equally captivated. the enchanting atmosphere intensifies their emotions, making their bond feel supernatural.

[greatcelestialhieroglyphs]

Backslide, Vignette, Snap Back, and Oldies Station are so desperately important to me.

For the past few years, I’ve been struggling with a self-destructive habit that I haven’t been able to break. Even though my family has been super loving and understanding, I keep feeling like THIS time is going to be the time that they get fed up and give up on me for good. “Do you think that now’s the time, you should let go?” I feel like I’ve asked that question a thousand times. And the repetition, which sounds (to me) like he’s TELLING the person he’s talking to that they should let go. They SHOULD get tired of me. My self-destructive habits are hurting the people I cared about. I should have fixed it for THEM if not myself, I should have loved them better.

Vignette just sounds like a relapse to me. The way Tyler sings “Man, it’s been a long night” and “Where do I go from here?” are so filled with exhaustion and desperation. The mental image of people he cares about finding him in the woods, covered in bites, as someone finding you after a relapse and seeing what you’ve done to yourself.

Snap Back is. just. Sometimes you can FEEL your resolve getting weaker, you can FEEL yourself buckling under life’s pressures and going to familiar coping mechanisms. You want to be stronger, to have more resolve, but you’re so freaking tired and it feels inevitable. After all, it only takes ONE weak moment. You have all day to relapse. You have all night. You have all week. Can you REALLY stay determined that long? You’ve done this before. You know you can’t.

(And this line of thinking is inherently self-defeating. You’ve relapsed so many times that you’ve lost faith in yourself. You don’t have faith in yourself, so you can’t win. It’s a self fulfilling prophecy.)

And at the end, when you’ve tried everything and said everything to the people you love as they’re sad and angry and worried and afraid and proud and everything else over the years… “I’ve run out of excuses for why I am this way.”

Finally. Oldies Station. Because life is going to keep coming, and you’re probably going to relapse. You’re still learning to deal with fear and pain without hurting yourself in the process. But you’re still here.

“Make an oath, then make mistakes. Start a streak you’re bound to break.” This philosophy is one I’ve been trying to adopt for years. No matter how many times you relapse, you NEED to keep fighting. There is so much freedom in staring again, KNOWING you’ll probably fail, but putting your all into it anyway. Because sometimes, your all isn’t enough. Whether that’s because life is too hard or you’re too weak doesn’t really matter. That’s not what you need to be focusing on. When darkness rolls on you, when you’re filled with grief and shame and whatever emotions plague you in a vicious cycle, you push on through.

You get better. You get stronger. It’s so slow, but it happens. You’re still here.

And when you do relapse again, you may be disappointed, but you can feel yourself on the come up even when you’re at a low point.

You fell into a backslide yet again, but you don’t quite mind. And isn’t that the goal of healing?

Peace?

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

here to ask about your voice classpecting!!

sorry i asked for this and then immediately took twelve years to answer it anyway

The Broken as Maid of Doom - because of his role serving The Princess, especially the iterations of her more connected with her apocalyptic powers (The Tower, the Moment of Clarity.) using the interpretation of "Maid" class being in the service of their aspect, or serving another more powerful player (Porrim babysitting Kankri/The Dolorosa raising The Signless, Aradia tidying up timelines and eventually coming into the service of godtier!Calliope, Jane being conscripted into the service of The Condesce (notably another Life-aligned individual)).

The Cheated as Mage of Light - The Cheated's obsession with the "unfairness" of their situation reads to me as a good thematic link with the concept of Light as it's defined in Homestuck as a representation of luck, especially with his occasional gambling references ("we're the house now, we make the rules" from the ending for example.) As for Mage, I'm going with the speculation that Mages are those deprived of their aspect but who are able to bring it to others (Meulin being a talented shipper but not having much luck in love herself, Sollux correctly foreseeing the deaths of his friends and his virus causing their session to be cursed, but cheating death again and again.) The Cheated, while generally at the butt of the most unfair situations, brings about luck to others; He can be a part of The Thorn route, where despite being betrayed he breaks the cycle of violence with The Princess, and his role as a ringleader in The Razor's route is what inevitably gives The Quiet the lucky break of empyting his mind in order to fight The Razor.

The Cold as Sylph of Void - The Cold just HAD to be a Void player there was no other way. being empty is His Whole Thing. I decided on Sylph as the class bc of the healer/protector connotations - "healing through nothingness" is hard to conceive but is arguably what The Cold was doing in the Moment of Clarity and Razor routes by trying to convince the other Voices to adopt his emptiness in order to shield themselves from pain.

The Contrarian as Witch of Rage - Rage, the aspect of chaos! While the Contrarian does seem keen on bringing chaos, at first they seem a poor fit for Rage as they don't seem to bear any negative emotions, never getting angry that I can recall. However, this ties into the Witch class as "one who defies the rules of their aspect" - The Contrarian is addicted to the chaos that Rage brings, but facilitates it without the anger or physical strength that are usually also tied to it. He's also able to defy the rules of the narrative in general, being the only Voice whose presence allows throwing the knife out the window.

The Hero as Rogue of Hope - The Hero is hard to place, being less of a larger-than-life character than the other voices, but I think of them as someone willing to facilitate any plan that they think is for the greater good. He gives up much less easily than some of the other Voices, so Hope is a natural choice, and as for Rogue - I think no matter what route you go down, the Hero ends up going along with it in a way that ruins one character's dreams in order to benefit another character, but not himself. He goes along with killing the Princess, robbing her of hope, in order to feed the Narrator's hopes of a world without death. He helps free The Damsel, crushing the Narrator's hopes but feeding hers and the Smitten's. Even in the ending, his arrival gives the Quiet hope, where it previously had none, while also at the same time ruining the Shifting Mound's hopes of ending the clash quickly.

The Hunted as Page of Life - The Hunted's number one concern is keeping themself and the other voices alive, with everything else coming second - he is content to dodge forever, as it keeps him alive, which ties into the motives of a Life player. Pages, of course, are known for the inauspicious starts leading up to massive potential. The Hunted starts off as meek and frightened, but when his instincts kick in, he is one of the most capable Voices in a fight, able to keep the system alive against The Razor longer than the other Voices as well as having the instincts necessary to dodge The Beast and defeat The Eye of the Needle out in the open.

text block break because apparently Tumblr parses lists as one text block and this hit the character limit

The Opportunist as Thief of Heart - The Opportunist is self-interested, and willing to screw others over to get his own way - the essence of a Thief's role! He also has a tendency to put on different "masks" depending on who he's dealing with, which is apparently a quintessential Heart player thing according to the Extended Zodiac (and true given what we see in the comic - Dirk is constantly being duplicitous and Meulin subconsciously hides the fact that she's working with Kurloz. Nepeta's roleplaying could tie into this as well.) "Thief of Heart" would be "one who robs the soul or identity of others in order to benefit themself," and the Opportunist's handing of the knife to The Witch, leading to The Thorn route, robs the princess of her agency, a central part of The Witch's identity (as she is one of the Princesses who quickly escapes her own chains.) It's also worth mentioning that four of the six routes which lead to The Wild - the route where the player is robbed of their individual identity - involve The Opportunist's influence.

The Paranoid as Heir of Mind - I'm going with the "Heir as protector/protected" interpretation here (John saved by the Breeze before he learned to use his powers consciously, Equius blocking out Scratch's omnipotence/his blood blocking out information/him using his fists to defend himself AKA using nothing, Mituna burning out his psychic powers saving the dancestors from an enigmatic disaster). The Paranoid uses a mind-over-matter approach to protect himself and the other Voices from The Nightmare's effects, and his anxieties about what could happen after any given choice also seem very Mind-coded.

The Quiet/The Player as Knight of Breath - The Quiet's defining role in the story AND within the system itself is as "the one who makes the choices." this makes him logically a very active class, and Breath a suitable aspect, as it deals with having freedom and choice more than is afforded to other players (John being unstuck from the narrative, The Summoner's revolution being an attempt at bringing freedom to the lower castes.) Knight as the class choice is mostly just because of the hero associations, but also because The Quiet, when freed from the other voices, is a competent fighter as seen in Mutually Assured Destruction. Knight of Breath would be "one who uses freedom/self-expression/choice/self-direction as a weapon," which is somewhat true of the player; if the player attacks the vessel while in The Long Quiet before his awakening, it says that you lash out with your "will."

The Skeptic as Seer of Space - The Skeptic, regardless of route, is intent on testing the boundaries of the world to discover its secrets. He wants to know the rules of the world they live in - as such it makes sense for him to be one uniquely equipped to find those answers. Admittedly I think this one is kind of weak.

The Smitten as Bard of Blood - THIS ONE IS PERFECT AND I WILL HEAR NOTHING AGAINST IT. Bard of Blood would be "one who invites destruction/allows destruction through their relationships with others." The Smitten's ENTIRE THING is that their passion for the Princess in all forms leads to her always advocating letting her out, thereby destroying the world. Bards are also known as wildcards that either save or doom their teams, and The Smitten is one of the few Voices that seizes control and does so for varying motives, including ending his own life after the player slays the Damsel. 10/10 no notes lines up perfectly.

The Stubborn as Prince of Time - Time is one of the most combative aspects, according to the Extended Zodiac, and the Prince one of the most combative aspects. What's more, Princes are usually devoid of their aspect, having destroyed it in themselves, and The Stubborn is characterized as deeply impatient (lacking in time). The Stubborn is certainly a destroyer, as they are the only Voice who suggests smashing the mirror. What's more, their obsession with fighting to the death with the Princess could be seen as wanting to "destroy the time" that both of them have left.

I'll also throw out lunar sways based solely on vibes:

Prospit: The Contrarian, The Hero, The Hunted, The Opportunist, The Quiet/The Player, The Smitten

Derse: The Broken, The Cheated, The Cold, The Paranoid, The Skeptic, The Stubborn

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Rinse and Repeat

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Even moments of reprieve are no release at all. The cycle continues, endless and circling ever tighter.

Thank you so much to @whump-kin and @inscrutable-shadow for beta-ing this for me! 🥰

Contains: Explicit noncon, intimate whump, bathing, aftermath of torture, mind/emotion control, mind reading, dissociation, shame, manipulation, cockwarming

~~~

The feeling of being dipped into warm water pulled Elze’ith ever so slightly out of the haze of agonized semi-consciousness.

An instinctual part of him almost expected the water to sting, to lap at his flesh and scour his bones. But there were no open wounds to bring fresh pain; the aches and anguish that radiated from his core were just a visceral memory, the sticky blood on his skin having long stopped its flow.

He didn’t remember healing himself. And yet his body was intact once again. Once, that might have been calming, comforting. It wasn’t now.

The air smelled of iron and lavender, of steam and smeared gore. Though his eyelids weighed as much as anchors, he still tried to force them open, only managing a weak flutter. It wasn’t enough to see anything beyond vague blurry shapes; giving up, he let them close once again. The steady, solid hands that had lowered him into the water didn’t leave him as he settled into what he distantly recognized as the tub, instead holding him upright even as his head spun and his body sagged.

“I know, my light. One moment, and then you can relax.”

Lord Denholm’s voice surrounded him, filled his senses and his mind with reassurance and dread. The promise of rest was tantalizing, but he had long since learned that such comforts were not given freely. Maybe once Elze’ith would have been willing and eager to pay that price; now, he wasn’t so sure. For a moment Elze’ith was left to linger in that hope-uncertainty-dread, held in place by Lord Denholm’s unwavering grip, before the water around him shifted, and a cold body slipped into the tub behind him.

“There we are. Isn’t that better, light?” Joy and contentment radiated off of Lord Denholm, even as Elze’ith’s weary heart clenched in numb, exhausted fear. Groaning, he tried to shift, tried to extricate himself from his position against Lord Denholm’s chest, but Lord Denholm only hummed and folded his arms around him to hold him securely in place. “Shh, light, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Of that, Elze’ith had no doubt. It was what came next that worried him. He could feel every inch of Lord Denholm’s bare skin, the bulk of his muscles, the bulge between his legs. They were naked together; there was only one thing that could lead to. Even through the haze of exhaustion closing in on his mind, the prospect was still enough to horrify him. After all he had already endured, even his Lord’s careful ministrations would surely break him.

A soft whine escaped his parted lips as he once again tried to squirm, hoping beyond hope that he might avoid the inevitable. But Lord Denholm’s strength and his own fatigue won out, and he collapsed back against his Lord within moments. A torrent of emotions threatened to swell up and drown him, only to be whisked away as Lord Denholm pressed a kiss to the top of his head. The compelled calm was not unfamiliar, and not entirely unwelcome, even as part of him yearned for the briefest moment to be granted the dignity of resistance.

Elze’ith drifted in that docility as deceptively gentle hands caressed him with a soft cloth, letting all of the blood and sweat of the day run into the water. Each brush was done with such care, as much care as the subtle but overwhelming influence on his mind.He was afraid, and yet he couldn’t be. He was angry, and yet he couldn’t be. He was grateful, and yet he shouldn’t be.

Every tender swipe of the cloth had more and more blood removed from his skin, had more and more tension leaking out of him. There was something sincerely, uncomplicatedly relaxing about it; after so much turmoil, he was being treated gently. The blood and gore was being washed away. He didn’t have to do anything but let himself be taken care of. The more time passed, the less he was sure how much of the calm he felt was imposed, and how much of it was genuine.

A sigh left his weary lungs. Would it be so bad to just let himself enjoy this moment of peace? They seemed so few and far between, and he needed as many of them as he could get.

“My beautiful, precious light,” Lord Denholm murmured, almost absentmindedly. “So magnificent. So strong. And all mine.”

The water shifted. The cloth and its gentle, caring, undemanding caresses vanished. Elze’ith whimpered; dull, echoing agony still resonated through his bones, through his soul, and he wasn’t ready for the soft touches to leave in favor of something more insistent. But it didn’t matter what he wanted. It never did.

Was his Lord’s love truly worthwhile if knowing it made him feel as though he were drowning?

The thought threatened to slip through his fingers, to be tugged away from him, but he clung to it. He clung to it as Lord Denholm gripped his hips and grasped at the juncture between his legs, making him gasp in dread and desperation. There was no strength left in Elze’ith to struggle or squirm or try to wordlessly ask for mercy. All he could do, as he felt the soft warmth in the back of his mind pulse with uncertainty, was cling to the knowledge that Lord Denholm had tried to erase from him, even as the conscious thought was finally pried from him and only the deep, instinctual understanding remained.

This was no kindness. This was violation. And it was wrong.

Lord Denholm pushed inside him with a slowness that might have been tender, but was nevertheless nothing short of agonizing. Though his voice was raw and ragged from screaming, Elze’ith still let out a hoarse cry as he was made to part around his Lord once again. His exhaustion and the arms cradling him didn’t let him try to escape the intrusion; all he could do was arch his back and accept what Lord Denholm wanted for him.

For a moment, Lord Denholm went still, as though basking in the feeling of Elze’ith encompassing him. His satisfaction and joy was thicker than the steam that suffused the air, almost thick enough to choke on. And it was getting harder to breathe, though that might have been tied to the panic constricting his chest, the heat gathering behind his eyes.

Lord Denholm had never wanted to take him to bed so soon after something so intense. The agony of being pried open by Lord Denholm’s careful hands and seeking teeth still hadn’t left him, even after his wounds had been healed and the blood had been tenderly washed away. Elze’ith knew, he knew, that this would only make him feel so much worse, on every possible level.He wasn’t ready for this.

(He was never going to be ready.)

The light in his mind called to him, sang something that he couldn’t identify. And Elze’ith, coward that he was, shrank away, tried to shut it out, because he didn’t want Altair to witness him like this, even as distantly as whatever this connection allowed him.

The rhythm started, that steady cadence of movement and sensation that Elze’ith knew far more intimately than he had ever, ever wanted to. The water sloshed around them, barely louder than the almost-silent whimpers Elze’ith couldn’t hold back. Each thrust sent pulses of anguish through him as his muscles futilely twitched and his bones quaked in protest. He yearned for the peace of when Lord Denholm had been bathing him, for the comfort of it, because as awful as having his thoughts suppressed was, being ravished like this was simply unbearable.

“You’re perfect, my light,” Lord Denholm murmured into his ear, making him tremble despite the fading warmth of the water. “Perfect just like this.”

Perfect. Always perfect. His Lord was the only one to ever call him perfect. To always want him, no matter his faults or mistakes or transgressions. Elze’ith didn’t know who he would be without that love. It almost made everything else worthwhile.

Almost.

Because he didn’t want to be perfect. Not anymore. Not when this was the price of perfection. Not when he could never be sure how much the affection would hurt. Not when there might be something better waiting for him, even despite all his failings.

Lord Denholm’s hand between Elze’ith’s legs came to grasp his dick, and all thought shattered once again. There was only his Lord, and his Lord’s desires, and the overwhelming sensations and emotions and intent that threatened to smother Elze’ith in the process.

“Let go, light. I’m right here. Just let me take care of you.”

Elze’ith shook his head, but there was no resisting his Lord. He had never been able to, especially not in this. There was no pleasure, only misery, as Lord Denholm drew his release from him. Even if his body had not hurt so much, the violation of it would have been awful enough. At least now, with his hand no longer paying attention to Elze’ith’s cock, Lord Denholm could wipe away the tears that were starting to gather at his eyes.

The water was still warm when Lord Denholm stilled inside of him, holding him close with a groan as he spilled into Elze’ith like the vessel he was. Lord Denholm tucked his face into the crook of Elze’ith’s neck as he came, and though the contact made Elze’ith’s blood turn to ice, there were no piercing teeth. Just Lord Denholm’s arms, wrapped around so tight they threatened to bruise. The smallest of mercies, and Elze’ith didn’t even know how he felt about it anymore.

Awful. Relieved. Ashamed. Too many emotions warring for dominance in his mind, none of which he wanted to examine too closely, even if he thought he could.

But it was over now. It had been quick. He could put on his robe and crawl into bed and sleep and sleep and sleep until his Lord called upon him again.

And yet, Lord Denholm made no move to pull out. Though he relaxed his grip, his arms remained securely around Elze’ith. His aura thinned, though his delight still rang out through the air as strong as any cathedral bell.

“That was nice, wasn’t it?” he sighed, pressing a kiss to Elze’ith’s neck. “You are always so wonderful to be around, light. And we so rarely get to relax like this. I think we should indulge a bit, don’t you?”

All Elze’ith could do was whimper. He just wanted to be left alone. He just wanted to sleep. But his wants never mattered. What Lord Denholm wanted was to soak in the bath, the two of them inextricably linked in body and mind, and Elze’ith could not refuse. He was but a vessel to be filled by his Lord’s desires.

Lord Denholm rubbed Elze’ith’s arm in a soothing gesture. “There we go, that’s it. Just relax and enjoy this. You don’t need to worry. I’m right here. I’ve got you. And there is no one who cares for you like I do.”

Elze’ith knew his Lord spoke the truth. And that was the entire problem.