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fraughtbroth.bsky.social
Soup!🕯️
@fraughtbroth.bsky.social
380 followers 210 following 11K posts
🏳️‍⚧️ Sylvan | He/him | OC Account | 30+

Love of love written by the broken-hearted; love of life written by the dead.

Lore: #carrionlore | Writing: #soupwrites | Gposes: #soupsnaps | Music Recs: #soupjams
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fraughtbroth.bsky.social
Like, look at this. He's been caught with his dang hands in the cookie jar. What is this creature.
January 28, 2026 at 3:28 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
Nobody's up.

I'm gonna post bad.

Hey. Hey guess what realization I came to.
January 28, 2026 at 7:21 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
Oh my GOD
January 26, 2026 at 10:06 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
#soupsnaps

Gaze
January 25, 2026 at 3:13 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
My boss and coworkers at the clinic have a playlist that they put on when we're working and we're all invited to add to it and I was asked, "Hey, Soup, you haven't added anything to the playlist? We wanna hear what you're into!" and I can't bring myself to show them the real me.
January 25, 2026 at 2:44 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
#soupwrites

What a brat...
"I am not a handsome man." Lord Cotard said with a curious lilt of pride as he set his ledger to the side and slid his monocle off. Oleander had expected such an utterance to carry a note of grief; did not everyone long to be beautiful, pleasant to look upon? Evidently not so for the Lord, who smiled sourly at him, tilting his head so that the twisted horror of his pockmarked scars caught ghastly in the flicker of candle light; a blaze of mottled fury marring him from temple to neck. Oleander stared brazenly, imagining running the pad of his finger over the tracery of scars there, his nail catching on each dip and dimple in the Lord's waxen flesh. Lord Cotard raised his eyebrows; a challenge. "You've a great deal of mettle, you know. In your refusal to turn your gaze away." The suddenness of Lord Cotard's praise caught Oleander off-guard, such that he was near to stammering for a moment, tongue leaden and clumsy in his mouth; had he the ability to blush, he would have done. His jaw hardened with defiance, and he tilted his chin up. "You mark me a green thing, to assume your scars are the worst horror I have beheld; you are in heated competition with the drapes in your guestroom."
January 25, 2026 at 10:23 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
M.L. Wang's "Blood Over Bright Haven"

Truly putting the "dark" in Dark Academia, this book was absolutely devastating, and a book I think every white person should read; it is about the consumptive and destructive nature of white supremacy.
January 25, 2026 at 10:01 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
Yup.
January 25, 2026 at 8:30 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
#soupsnaps

Ephemera
January 25, 2026 at 6:20 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
Ummmm....
January 25, 2026 at 5:04 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
😜
“And what do you know of Golmore? My people. The ‘screamers’ in the trees.” Hand-over-hand, Egg pulled seemingly endless ropes of slick entrails from the stag’s gaping carcass with practiced nonchalance. “Precious little else… but your besotted mother… she called for you, delirious, on her sickbed-” Egg’s hands, slick with blood, were at that fine fur collar before he knew what he was doing, yanking Emet-Selch down to his level, so close he could smell the shadow of wine on his breath. “You profane my mother,” Egg's whisper simmered from his lips. “If your aim is to fight me, I’d rather you splinter my bones– every one— than speak one more word of my mother!” “Splintering your bones would be too easy,” Emet-Selch said, ghost of a frown on his Jester’s mouth as he made a lackadaisical wave in the air with a flop of his wrist. “I want to see what’s in there, under the surface. Who hides in there, Warrior of Darkness? Begging your pardon, of course.” “Then beg.” Egg’s hands slacked in the silence that followed. Emet-Selch’s eyes, half-lidded pools the color of honey in sunlight, flashed with a kind of giddy malice that made Egg’s heart thud hard in his chest. His smile cut a crooked gash across his face, showing too many teeth; a hint of danger in his sharp canines. He held a hand to his cheek in a mockery of bashfulness and the wheeze of his low laughter reminded Egg of a death rattle. “Ah, Hero…” Emet-Selch used the appellation as if wantonly addressing a lover, “I am Eldritch. I am eternal. I do not beg.” He traced the edges of his teeth with the tip of his glistening red tongue.
January 24, 2026 at 10:47 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
This is fucking crazy
January 24, 2026 at 4:09 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
January 23, 2026 at 6:17 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
#soupwrites

🗡️
January 23, 2026 at 3:36 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
Welcome, new followers! 👋

If you followed me because of my elezen post, congratulations! literally all I talk about is my elezen! You win! Everybody wins!
January 23, 2026 at 2:32 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
🥹
In hours, after her mourners shuffle out to the tune of a tearful dirge, he looms dutiful at her bedside. They'd closed her eyes, her children, pulling the lids down with tear-dampened fingertips, kisses laid on her sunken cheeks, but for him her eyes bloom ochre; again, Azem stirs. "You again. And again and again. How long will you greet me at close of day?" Azem asks, a smear of orange flirting with the air at Emet-Selch's side, barely corporeal enough to stir the drape of his robes. It pains him. "Perhaps I'll not deign to greet you when next the curtain falls," He lies as he affects a lazy stroll outward and onward; a descent into the Lifestream all too familiar to him, natural as the rise and fall of breath, the blink of his too-keen eye. Azem laughs at his heels; bright and rippling, a many-faceted shift of countless hues flashing and guttering in the dwindling light of their descent, "Ever you throw your roses as I take the bow, and that is our dance, for on and on and on." "Would that it were not so." Azem brushes up against his ankles, settles himself content in the dark, formless yet shifting all the same, a presence of presence, and all that Emet-Selch can hold until- "But so it is. Until the next…" Emet-Selch's mouth thins into something terse and rigid. "Here? We've a rambling walk yet…" "I am over-tired, Hades. Lived a long, long spell, didn't I? This one was nice. Let it linger in me a while yet. Wander at my own pace, as I always did and forever will." A roiling annoyance fills him, a furnace fit to burst, and he is likely to spit in his simmering frustration. "I will leave you to it. And you will leave me to the Work." Something shimmery warm settles over his cheek like a veil as he departs, much like a parting kiss.
January 23, 2026 at 5:24 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
⏳
He perches in the bough of a great, shady tree. Old, most-like, given its size and towering height. It still bears fruit; juicy and fat peaches he avails himself of from time to time, when he remembers the pleasure of eating and craves its hollow comfort. An old man rustles the branches below with his knobbly wooden cane, and Emet-Selch watches him unseen, cloaked by rippling magic. The old man methodically taps branches to bully fruit free, collects each one in a beaten little basket woven by his own hands. It is a slow, simple pleasure for the old man; he hums a lilting tune, as he always does. He will boil these peaches and jar them in sticky simple syrup and serve them with indulgent dollops of freshly whipped double cream when his grandchildren visit, as he always does on the last day of the week. Emet-Selch has been watching the old man for eighty-seven summers. He has been watching the dim ochre glow of the soul shackled in his chest for much, much longer.
January 23, 2026 at 3:49 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
Being brave.
January 23, 2026 at 3:37 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
January 22, 2026 at 2:09 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
I just miss him. The guy who lives in my head.
January 18, 2026 at 8:26 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
High fem transmasc be upon you

picrew.me/en/image_mak...
January 18, 2026 at 8:00 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
My Notion... it's so powerful...
January 18, 2026 at 7:33 AM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
Uh... Notion?
January 17, 2026 at 10:59 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
I love you, Grandma. 😭
January 17, 2026 at 9:33 PM
fraughtbroth.bsky.social
Man, my Notion shreds.
January 17, 2026 at 9:01 PM