Not for Sale: The Fire, the Body, and the Tome

Loveday Funck
Jul 29, 2025
2 min read

Not for Sale: The Fire, the Body, and the Tome

by Loveday Funck

Yesterday’s workshop was tender, raw, and quietly powerful. We created collage—not just with paper and glue, but with memory and grief and the kind of truths that live under your skin.

And somewhere in the middle of that, something came loose in me.

A memory rose to the surface.

One of those moments so many of us carry, so many that we begin to think they’re normal.

A time when a man touched me without asking. When I didn’t push him away.

Not because I wanted him. But because I’d already learned, it’s easier to be consumed quietly than to fight being consumed at all.

This wasn’t a headline moment. It wouldn’t shock anyone.

That’s what makes it more dangerous.

Because too often, the world teaches women that we are public property.That we are supposed to be touched.

Admired.

Taken.

Smiled at.

That our consent is optional.

But I am not an accessory to someone else’s desire.

I am not a thing to be used and forgotten.

And neither are you.

This wound runs deep, and it doesn’t just live in our memories. It creeps into our stories. Into the things we create. The monsters we dream up. The mirrors we’re afraid to look into.

And that brings me to this week’s episode of Tongue of the Serpent.

🕯️ This Thursday: The Tome

A haunted book. A whispered name. A hunger that doesn’t want your flesh—it wants your reflection.

Lucien Devereux discovers a book that shouldn't exist: no author, no title, only a sigil that moves when no one’s looking.

He opens it.

He speaks the words.

And something hears him.

What follows is a descent into a surreal hell of warped mirrors, voices that know his name, and a creature known only as The Devourer Between Doors, a thing that takes the shape of what you love most… just before it eats you.

With Sister Mercy’s fierce magic and Evelyn’s sharp instincts, the Krewe of the Morningstar must seal a breach that was never meant to open.

But the damage is already done.

The door knows his voice.

The shadow has his name.

And some reflections can never be trusted again.

The Tome is about consumption, yes, literal, eldritch, cosmic-horror consumption.

But underneath that, it’s about the far more familiar kind: The kind that steals your agency, your story, your name.

The kind that treats your body as an invitation.

So many of us know what that feels like.

And I’m here to say: we are not for sale.

Thank you to everyone who showed up yesterday with open hands and open hearts.

Your voices matter. Your stories matter. Your boundaries matter.