seviiul

[seviiul]

𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓, 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 :: ( oneshot ; 1.7k words ) He doesn't find his dearest in bed with him, having left... downstairs, trying to recite his middle-of-the-night piano tune he formed in his head

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 :: ( assassin's creed ) Arno Dorian; male (pianist!) reader

𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄 :: mentions/descriptions of nightmares (Arno), mentions of death (within those nightmares)

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 :: reader is referred to as (S/o) ( first fic! )

He doesn't understand.

For a while — a measurement long having lost its precise definition — he has awoken from dreams; memories, each one being a different person he was there for to witness the death of.

There is a range to those peoples: loved ones; familiars; some poor soldiers he needed to end for the sake of anonymity; faces he had long borne awful resentment to. The list doesn't go on for long, fortunately or not.

He has gotten used to them — in a way. Still he wakes up with cold sweat and a fast paced heartbeat; but it isn't as bad as it first was, for both him and his dear.

But Arno never fails to, every time, have moments of contemplation over those night terrors; mainly revolving around why does he must suffer from them. Wasn't being a witness enough already? Must he see these faces again any longer, and not remember them the way he did when they were still alive, instead of seeing these… distortions, in his nightmares? Must they come and haunt him again, time after a time?

Tonight was all the same: another night of bad dreams; another night of awakening with cold sweat and faltering breath. As of now he stared up at the ceiling of the room in silence, arms crossed and stomach quietly churning over the not-so-fleeting memory of what he saw.

He was growing restless over his thoughts, starting to constantly shift in his shared bed and change from position to position; none of them providing any newer sense of comfort. The quiet ticking of the grandfather clock didn't help Arno distract himself either.

What did, however, was the realization that dear (S/o) wasn't next to him, making him do a double take in the process. The certain messiness to his sheets indicate that he left in a rush; and the lukewarmness? That it was not that long ago. And of course, Arno had to go look for him!

But he didn't even get up from the bed yet before he received a hint on where he was: playing of a piano could be faintly heard from here, immediately giving him an idea where (S/o) was at. That is when he went ahead and started to walk his way towards (S/o), the gentle tune becoming increasingly more audible to him the closer he made it to his person of interest.

There he saw him at the open door of a lounging room: (S/o) was playing away at the tiles of the piano with his fingers, while his foot occasionally pressed a pedal. No music sheets were to guide him on this, his hands evidently careful with trying to figure out the right notes to press, at the same time seeming like he was holding his breath as if it would help him focus on the melody he had in mind.

And he made it all look effortless, like he’d be the second Mozart gracing Arno with his presence. He already is, in a way; letting him listen to his music so peacefully, without asking for anything in return; with no additional pomp or formality included, like in the French high society (S/o) often had to present himself to.

The moment of peace from the piano tune halted, just as suddenly (S/o)’s playing did. Arno too heard why: he had pressed the wrong piano tile and it didn’t sound right; it felt out of tune.

That second of realization was also when (S/o) let out a shaky breath, at once being able to calm his mind from the pressure he placed on himself to achieve perfection. And yet, his body wasn’t calm, his hands wanting to keep pushing away as the adrenaline rush hadn't died down just yet.

But with no more motivation to continue for now, a groan left his lips; hunching over the piano as his hand started to mindlessly press at the tiles in an attempt to find either the right tile or the second burst of motivation for the night. His other hand was in his hair, letting the side of his head rest in his palm, his fingers bunching up some strands in between as a way of getting the adrenaline out, if it meant he had to lose a couple hairs in the process.

Only by the time Arno spoke his name was when (S/o) realized he was there. He didn’t know how Arno had reacted to this tendency of his so far; he didn’t know how he figured that he was here; he didn’t know had he listened to his piano all this time. But by then, he didn’t exactly care. He worried over why wasn’t he sleeping with how.. busy, his career can be during the day; as if he himself doesn’t neglect sleep at the moment.

“Arno,” (S/o)’s voice descended to a whispering tone as his head rose up, trying to meet his gaze. “Please go back to bed, you need the sleep.” his attempt at eye contact failed as Arno placed his hand over (S/o)’s own on the piano, his mouth resting on the left side of his head while interchanging to talk into his ear.

“But what about you?” He slowly moved (S/o)’s hand off the tiles as indicator to take a rest. “You need it as much as I do. Why not join me?”

“It’s not exactly a good time to recite one of your new melodies, (S/o), don’t you think?” Arno continued on, as if he knew he would try to protest his request, saying he wants to finish the tune before he comes with him.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been up like this, monsieur,” He replied, again finding a method to say no. It was a rarity when (S/o) referred to Arno as Mister, even when in formal circles; and when he did, he does it as means to say to not boss him around, when ironically he lets those governors and governesses and whatever tell him what to play next.

To that, Arno let out an exhale, unclear was it a chuckle or a scoff at his statement. A short yet an obviously awkward pause laid unto them both, the tapping of Arno’s index against (S/o)’s back of his hand being a moment when he tries to think of a reason, a reason for him to leave that piano be for another several hours. He was still albeit determined to get him to join him in their shared bed.

“I woke up from another nightmare”, a whisper (a mutter?) from Arno, was what this time had (S/o) direct his attention at him better, now removing his hand from his hair to look up at him.

Arno wasn’t keen on using this as a reason to have him moving; this isn’t the first time (S/o) is to do something about it, and they both preferred to keep the topic of his night terrors between each other in their bedroom. But if it meant he just comes to bed and for once gets his rest with him, he was willing to go a little bit underhand.

At once he was able to meet Arno’s gaze, a sigh leaving his lips at that fact.

“Why must you suffer this way,” (S/o) whispered to him, turning from his stool to face him just to cradle Arno’s face in his hands. There was no ill intent towards that statement, not any kind of tone indicating annoyance or anger – not even slight inconvenience – to him. But it was still simply sad how great an effect an individual can have on anyone, even when long gone. A part of (S/o) knew Arno was pondering on his saying just as much as he was.

Another moment of silence between them was interrupted when Arno, face still in the hold of the other’s hands, leaned forward and gave a kiss, that catching (S/o) by surprise – it was as if he broke him out of this sorrowful, thoughtful trance; breath faltering and all from the sudden contact.

“Come on,”

No more words were exchanged following Arno’s whispered request, him slowly pulling away as he had (S/o) get up from the stool as well, guiding him to stand onto his feet via Arno’s hold onto his hands. No more words were exchanged neither following the quiet steps towards the exit of the lounging room, their hold onto each other firm yet soothing as slowly, gradually the want for sleep set in for the pianist.

“Who was it this time?” The silent corridor was suddenly audible with (S/o)’s question, head turning towards the other in reference to the aforementioned night terror. Arno’s answer being a mere rooftop soldier caused the other to let out an exhale through the nose: he did worry over the nightmares he had, and wanted to be there to let him talk, let him cry, wallow, scream – whatever, to get the tension out of his breath and mind. But he had expectations that it was a bad case of a nightmare for this one, coming all the way down to him and all.

“Bastard,”, in a lighthearted note, following a scoff, was (S/o)’s only reaction to his statement, however; a light smile crept onto his face just like for Arno, having caught him go a little underhanded to get him back to bed.

None of them had the energy to keep talking; to bicker at the little trick he pulled as their bodies were almost consciously aware that they’ll shut off for sleep soon. The need for the newlyfound comfort of the shared bed came faster as they shut the door, once again all their thoughts and sayings left in the intimate secrecy they held there.

He lied on who he saw in tonight’s nightmare.

To be frank, he didn’t recall who was it either by the time (S/o) inquired him about it; even by the time he saw him play away at that piano.

He didn’t want to, honestly; the fact that he had another one of those night terrors alone gave him this sickening feeling in the heart: he didn’t need to remember who was it about to add to it.

The 'tune' I had in mind:

© SEVIIUL do not repost, steal, use for AI training.

[seviiul]

Me on Ravi: Damn bro wtf you so handsome so pretty so fine lemme kiss you ffs

Also me on Ravi: The idea of a gladiator turned doctor sounds very interesting to me, especially in a time like Ancient Rome. I really hope there's like a spinoff of sorts on his background or how things fared for him post-gladiator ii

.. Also me on Ravi: Damn, this fucker's GAY. Good for him, good for him.

[seviiul]

I'm bringing back this thread after a year and you're gonna LIKE it

People to tag (you don't have to partake if you don't want to, of course):

@templarorder @merlucide @k1tty4ever2000 @dazed-poltergeist ..

and EVERYONE who just happens to come across this game --✨

Saw this going around twitter, looked like fun. What? I'm not procrastinating (I am, I really am)

Make this picrew of yourself

Take this uquiz

Post the results side-by-side. No pressure tags: @alypink, @revnah1406, @madefordvarka, @deadbranch, @welldonekhushi, @kaitaiga, @applbottmjeens, @froglights-and-pearls

[seviiul]

Well boys n girls n buddies looks like I need to do smth about the books anyway because I'm writing an extended essay about The Hobbit 🤩 ( I haven't read the book since 5th grade)

When you want to write for LoTR and The Hobbit but you have your fears how it could turn out but you have free will and still can write even when you have only watched the movies but you also don't want to be bashed by tryhard fans for not getting the characters book accurate

[seviiul]

oo at once I'm done with setting up the ph—

nNOOOOOOOo,

WHERE DID IT GOOOOO—

[seviiul]

frodo or something ( I PROMISED I WOULD POST SEE)

[seviiul]

My ass watching my grades turn into rollercoasters of A's and F's:

[seviiul]

Fucking pepper flakes

[seviiul]

Lowkey hating on Arno's name like

No there isn't anything bad about him

Not his name either

But I just keep switching between his name and my uncle's name whenever I say/think about it

[seviiul]

Hola :D (in english)

hello again tumblr

[seviiul]

okay but how did we get 'Moot' out of 'Mutuals'

[seviiul]

POV: I opened up Tumblr on my laptop for the first time in months and the cute text in the center of my navigator and on literally everything else don't look very centered

[seviiul]

You can spam boop me!

reblog if you let people spam boop you

[seviiul]

After like

12 hrs long (in n out) —

— Editor dilemma —

— My theme is just fine

The colors are cute, the elements (ships, waters, dreamscape etc.) are good, the lore is great

Except my info posts lack flavor

Cute in color, neat with the fonts and all but at the same time bland as fuck

They need some ✨PizAZZ✨

When you fall in love with the themes of other Tumblrinas and become dissatisfied with your own again

[seviiul]

When you fall in love with the themes of other Tumblrinas and become dissatisfied with your own again

[seviiul]

( tags list )

𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒆

RETURN TO NAVIGATION

💤 :: 𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒆  - any post from me (excluding reblogs)

💭 :: 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔~𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔 - writing pieces

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💧 :: 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 - rants / vents

🗨️ :: 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖 - answers to asks

The rest of writings+drawings will be tagged according to the fandom they're related to + warnings they include.

Whenever The Muse is to make tags for specific anon asks is yet to be decided upon.

[seviiul]

Started to look into Ghost of Tsushima and

To say that Jin Sakai(Sekai?) has started to grow on me is an understatement