#(and yes this may or may not be about the froot situation a while back)

[demonic-shadowlucifer]

can i say something controversial real quick? yes? here goes. personally, i think it's actually okay to cheat on your partner if said partner is abusive. in fact, it is *always* morally correct to cheat on abusive partners.

[loopy-froots]

Childhood Friends

Brahms Heelshire x afab!Reader

Author: @loopy-froots

Word Count: 3261 (WOW wtf…)

Slight request by @leahromanof : small age gap (Brahms is 26-28 and the reader is 20)

Summary: The Reader grew up very close to the Heelshire family, as their parents were business partners with them. However, after the fire incident, Brahms and the Reader took some space from each other. While the Reader knew Brahms was still alive, they didn’t know under the circumstances he was. When a sudden tragedy strikes their family, the Reader is left with no home. The Heelshire family offer their home with welcoming arms, but much has changed between all of them since they have last seen each other.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, swearing, slasher x reader, smut, virgin/unprotected sex (masc and fem), abusive parents (fem), insecurities (on both parts), slight age gap (6ish years?), a slight size kink (if you squint?), etc.

Author’s Note: I wasn’t too sure what to write for the age gap so I hope this is good enough!!! I also threw in a lot of personal needs I’ve been having, so I hope y’all don’t mind! Feel free to let me know your thoughts!!!

~~~

*2nd Person POV*

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You were finally going to see your beloved childhood friend, Brahms Heelshire, again after close to ten years of separation. You wished this was not under these circumstances, as you never intended to cause your family such turmoil.

“Y/n! Come in, why don’t you?” Mr. Heelshire exclaims as he opens his front door. He must have seen you walk up their driveway. You can see Mrs. Heelshire inside, but she shares a concerning expression. Trying to brush it off, you step inside and am greeted by the warmth of the house. It was a terribly chilly winter day, and the walk there exhausted you.

“Come, dear! Let me get you a cup of tea to warm you up! You look rather frozen!” Mrs. Heelshire snaps out of her funk and laughs al0ng with her husband. Their jovial attitude makes you feel rather welcomed and loved.

“I cannot thank you enough, Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire… I… I’m terribly sorry that this all happened… especially so suddenly…” You look down with embarrassment.

“Nonsense! We’re always happy to have you, Y/n! Our home is yours!” Mr. Heelshire smiles at you, but you get a somewhat urgent vibe from him. You’re not sure how to feel about it, but you figure since they’re being ever so kind you were in no position to question.

“Now, dear… why don’t you tell us exactly what happened… Perhaps we may help with your parents’ situation?” Mrs. Heelshire gently suggests, but you shake your head in disagreement.

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure that’s possible… you see, I recently came out to my parents as non-binary… they’ve never been overly supportive of that kind of stuff, but I knew I couldn’t hide myself any longer…” You explain shamefully.

“Oh my… that is a rather difficult predicament, hm? However, we want you to know that we fully support you… in fact, our own Brahms considers himself genderfluid,” Mrs. Heelshire shares, which honestly makes you feel less alone.

“Really? I… I had no idea… Thank you, but speaking of which… where is Brahms…? Does he still live with you?” You wonder.

“Oh, um… yes… he does, but he’s grown to be rather… timid… so he doesn’t always come out when people are visiting…” Mr. Heelshire explains swiftly, and you try to understand. You don’t fully know what he’s been through, so who are you to judge his social anxieties?

“That’s alright. Well, I just hope he knows how excited I am to see him again…” You confess, causing a surprised reaction from the Heelshire couple.

“Really? Well, that’s certainly wonderful! I’m sure he'll become more open to meeting you after he gets used to you being in the house…” Mrs. Heelshire states with a gentle smile, and you nod your head in agreement.

With that, you are then taken on a tour of the house. You’re shown areas you can and cannot wander to, and you mentally note each location that’s off limits. You’d never want to make the Heelshires uncomfortable, despite how curious you were. They show you to your room, which you immediately recognize as Brahms’ childhood room.

“Oh wow! This looks exactly how I remembered it!” You giggle.

“I’m glad you’re fond of it still, as Brahms insisted you take his room for your own… comfort…” Mr. Heelshire shares, but something tells you he’s not entirely being honest. However, you ignore the feeling bubbling up in your stomach.

“Well, feel free to unpack your things dear. As we mentioned before, we are planning on going on a trip within the next few days. So it will be just you and Brahms for a while…” Mrs. Heelshire reminds you, and you shiver slightly for some reason.

“Oh, yes… Well, I hope the two of you enjoy it!” You politely respond.

~~~

“Goodbye, dear! And remember, follow the rules and you’ll get no trouble from our dear Brahms!” The Heelshires bid you farewell and leave in their cab. Closing the door, you sigh in relief.

“Alright, follow the rules… I can do that… it’s the least I can do since they were so kind as to let me stay for a while…” You motivate yourself.

“Y/n…” A sudden familiar, childlike voice echoes through the house. You looked around to see who it came from, but you saw no one. It had to be Brahms, right? Who else could it have been, but where was he?

“B-Brahms?” You sheepishly call out. You hear no answer and suddenly feel quite stupid. Maybe you just heard the shifting of the house or imagined someone was calling your name?

“Alright, focus… first things first, making some lunch… hopefully he’ll come down to eat with me…?” You hope. You could’ve sworn you heard another childish giggle somewhere, but you try to shake the skittish feeling building up. You quickly make whatever you feel like for lunch, desperate to finish so that you can call Brahms down to eat.

“Um, Brahms? I… lunch is done… if you want some?” You yell throughout the house, but you hear no answer. Finally feeling defeat, you turn back to the kitchen and notice that one of the plates of food has disappeared.

“How did he get to it without me noticing?” You ask out loud. Every instinct within you tells you that something was wrong, but you tried your best to give the man some time to adjust to the new living situation.

“Y/n…?” In the middle of eating, you hear a now more adult version of the voice you heard earlier. You drop your fork in surprise and frantically look around for the source. You then see a tall and scruffy looking man standing at the end of the dining room. He was holding the plate that is now empty, and you figure that must be Brahms. He was very odd looking, in all honesty. He wore a porcelain mask that resembles the type of little dollies you used to keep as a kid.

“Oh, um… h-hello, Brahms…?” You try to be friendly towards him, despite the creepy feeling you got from him already. However, him not answering causes the suspicion to form again.

“Um… did you enjoy the meal I made for you?” You try to spark a conversation, but Brahms nonverbally nods in response.

“That’s good! I’m… glad…” You smile awkwardly at him, but his masked face remains expressionless. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, and Brahms notices the tense state you’re in. He begins to step closer to you, and sets his plate on the table. Sweating profusely, you wonder what he’s doing. He steps closer and closer to you until he’s directly in front of you. While you sit, he towers over you. You’d never admit it, but he’s very intimidating. However, you try your best to be polite.

“Is… everything alright, Brahms?” You ask innocently. He just stares at you, though, never saying a word. When you were about to get up and try to walk away, he grabs your arm and pulls you into him.

“B-Brahms…?!” You exclaim as he squeezes you in his broad arms. He’s rather warm, but trembling. Your heart relaxes when you realize he only wanted a hug.

“Y/n… nice to see you again…” He finally peeps out. Your cheeks heat up, but you lean into the embrace. The two of you just hold onto each other for a few moments, enjoying each other’s presence.

“Good to see you, too! I was worried you were upset with me for coming back after such a long time…” You try to pull away and look him in the eyes, but his grip keeps you there.

“Mm, no… not upset… lonely…” He breathes into your ear, sending a chill down your back. He was… lonely? That makes you feel bad… really bad… how could you leave him like you did after the incident?! It wasn’t completely your fault, as you parents were the main reason you stayed away. They told you what a dangerous person Brahms was, and they forbid you from being influenced by him in any way.

Additionally, your parents never liked how fond the two of you seemed towards each other, despite the slight age difference you had. Brahms was only six years older, and to you it didn’t matter for terms of friendship. However, your parents saw the attraction Brahms had towards you right away. As children, it only developed into a little crush, but the older the two of you got the more obvious it became, to the adults at least. You seemed quite oblivious to his attempts to woo you, as you had just thought he was being friendly.

“I…I’m sorry, Brahms… I should’ve… I wish I’d have… I’m sorry…” Tear well in your eyes as you look down from his gaze. Your focus then shifts to the ever growing bulge in his pants that you hadn’t noticed before.

“It’s alright… happy you’re here now…” Brahms strokes your hair with his free hand, and he leans into you. You feel him stroke your neck with his nose, seemingly trying to get a reaction out of you. Completely frozen, you felt unsure of what to do. All of the sudden, your head’s ideas clicked and made you realize the years of yearning he’d been doing for you.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t still have feelings for the boy you grew up with. You always admired how protective he was of you. You never admitted your affection towards him, though, as you thought he might react negatively. To you, the age difference acted as a barrier, but to him, it seemed he didn’t mind in the slightest. All he’s ever known was his love for you, despite the age gap. However, is this still the same boy as before? You probably barely knew him anymore. Then why were you getting so flustered over this simple interaction?

“Brahms?” You look back into his eyes with a curious glint. What was he planning with you?

“Hm?” He nonchalantly answers.

“Are you…?” You start, but then feel too embarrassed to finish.

“Yes,” He agrees without needing you to explain. You feel him jerk his hips into your stomach softly, desperate to get some friction between the two of you. As intoxicating as he was being, you still felt unsure of your stance with him.

“I’m not sure I want to… I mean, this is so soon… don’t you think?” You try to reason mainly with yourself to try and stop this from happening. With that, Brahms stops and pulls away from you with a pout.

“No?” He questions with sweet eyes.

“I… yes…?” You try to stand your ground with yourself again, but it’s no use. Brahms’ heartfelt pleading turns you to putty in his hands.

“Please?” He begs. With that, you finally agree, and he’s onto you. Groping all up and down your sides, front, and back, he feels every inch of your body as if he’s desperate to find something in you.

“Brahms… wait…?” You stop him again, realizing you hadn’t seen his actual face yet. You politely ask him to remove his mask, but he visibly slumps.

“Why…? You… don’t want to see me…” Brahms insecurely explains, but you shake your head.

“I do! Please…?” You whine as he continues to feel up your back. Brahms hesitates slightly, then agrees. With that, he slowly removes the porcelain from himself. This leaves his bare, burnt, and uncertain face into your view. You’re unsure of what to say at first, as your feelings are conflicted. However, you quickly decide to go with what your heart felt.

“You’re so handsome, Brahms…” You confess with a sheepish smile. He doesn’t respond, though, almost as if he’s debating what to say as well.

“Mm!” You moan through a sudden kiss he placed on your lips, making Brahms smile to himself in the kiss. He loved the way you reacted to his touch. He quickly realized you were feeling the same towards him, and that gave him the confidence to continue. You rapidly grew a certain heat in your pelvic area, but the feeling was still unfamiliar to you. Only on the rare occasion did you allow yourself the pleasure, but you felt guilty for it every time.

“Slut… whore… useless daughter…” Your parents’ past words radiate in your head, and a panic washes over your body. Brahms senses your inner conflict again, and stops once more.

“Y/n…?” He gently asks to see if you’re alright. Tears well up in your eyes as the guilt of disappointing your parents consumes you.

“I’m sorry, I just… my mom and dad would be so upset… I just feel so… lost…” You admit, and Brahms wipes your cheeks with his calloused hands.

“Mm, screw them…” He chuckles darkly.

“But…” You try to argue, but he shushes you instead.

“They’ve never been good to you, Y/n…” Brahms shares, and it confuses you at first. They’ve always given you food, shelter, and anything else a child would need.

“But they… they mean well…” You try to reason it out, but he still disagrees.

“I’ve been watching, listening to how they treat you your whole life, Y/n… the way they scream at you, gaslight you, disappoint you… that’s not love… that’s abuse…” Brahms whispers with a broken heart for you. The pain of realization hits you, but you try to muffle your cries with your hands over your mouth.

“I’m so sorry… I know how hard it is… but I… I want to love you… really love you…” He kisses the top of your head sweetly. His words fill your heart with hope that you might not be miserable the rest of your life.

“Really…? I mean, I would love that… but I don’t want to force you into anything…” You self doubt yourself.

“Absolutely. I mean, hell… why do you think I was doing all of this?” Brahms wonders, and you suppose he’s right.

“Yeah, true… I’m sorry, I just feel bad… but thank you, I’d love to… y’know…?” You admit with a shy grin, which he immediately returns.

“Good,” He smirks and kisses you again. This time, the kiss was much more desperate for the sweet result. Brahms shows no mercy for you this time as he begins biting your lips. Your little gasps invoke a strong sense of pride within him. He was making you feel this way, and he alone would make you feel good.

“Hm,” His deep voice rumbles in his chest. Your eyes flutter open and shut, unsure of how to go about this situation. Squirming around awkwardly, you then feel Brahms grab your waist as he lifts you up and onto the table.

“Ah! Brahms...?!” You yelp in surprise.

“Take off your shirt, Y/n.” He demands, already sliding his hands underneath. You timidly follow his instructions, removing your shirt and bra from your body. Brahms looks down from your face and onto your breasts. He adored them, so he ran his hands over them as he gave each nipple a cheeky pinch.

“Oh, Brahms…” Your eyes close in bliss, but he snaps your attention back to his eyes.

“Look at me,” He suggests sternly.

“O-okay…” You do as he wishes and stare deep into his icy eyes. He’s tender and gentle, but he still makes you feel so small next to him.

“You’re so pretty, Y/n… I’ve always loved you…” Brahms brushes a stray lock of hair out of your face, giving him a better view at your beauty.

“I have loved you for the longest time, too, Brahms… I just never knew how to tell you…” You try your best to express your feelings, but your past experience with doing so has never been easy for you. Each emotion you shared ended in an argument with your parents.

“I’m so glad… please…” Brahms pleads, leaning his forehead against yours. He didn’t have to finish for you to understand what he wanted.

“C’mere…” Your sudden burst of trust hits the two of you like a train. Brahms roughly attacks your neck with his lips and teeth, nipping at all your sensitive areas. Exploring each and every inch, he scopes out which areas you like best.

“Mm, Y/n…” He whimpers, rubbing his needy cock against your body. You had neglected it for far too long, and you wanted to give it some love too.

Lowering your hand down to his member, you stroke him through his pants. Pre-cum leaks from his tip and soaks through his underwear slightly. His moans fill your ears with sweet misery. The lack of being inside of you was killing him, but he wanted to take things slow for you.

“Ah, Y/n…! Please! I’ll be a good boy!” He begs you to allow him entrance, and you agree. Instantaneously, he pulls his clothes off and prepares his painfully hard cock to slide into you.

“Oh! You feel… so tight…!” He didn’t tell you, but this was his first time as well. The first feeling of being inside of someone, especially when that someone is you, was the best feeling he’s ever felt. He couldn’t help himself but pump in and out of you. He tried his best to go slow, but his selfish excitement got the better of him. However, you were far from upset by this.

“Ah! D-don’t… stop…!” You plead with him, and he obliges. Slapping his body into yours in a rhythmic motion causes you to quickly feel that coil in your stomach tighten around him.

“F-fuck…! You’re gonna make me…!” As quickly as it started, your love making ended. The two of you came together simultaneously, and everything felt perfect to you. However, Brahms felt a wave of guilt.

“I… I’m sorry… I wish I had lasted longer… and I shouldn’t have pressured you into this…” He goes on and on about all the things he could’ve done better, but you then stop him with a chaste peck on his lips.

“You were perfect. Thank you,” You lovingly look into his eyes. He searches for any sort of regret, but when he finds none he settles into your arms.

~~~

MY REQUESTS FOR DRAWING AND WRITING ARE STILL OPEN!! FEEL FREE TO SEND AN ASK/MESSAGE WITH YOUR IDEA!!

[kal-el-zone]

ROSANA FOR THE ASK MEME. AND MAYBE ARTOSE TOO IDK

for Rosana:

•I feel like D!Rose eats breakfast food for dinner even tho Shadz will offer to cook, but there’s also when Shadana’s completely given up and scarfing down a bowl of Froot Loops and crying•Shadana turns up the music all the way because she’s that extra and she likes that shit bass boosted•D!Rose is waving at the animals and won’t stop tapping Shadana until she does too•"HORROR MOVIE MARATHON" “Shadz no” “shadz Y E S” ((D!Rose was spooked but slept fine and Shadana acted all chill yet she’s the one scared to sleep and regrets everything))•D!Rose can have all the pillows mang •D!Rose is stuck in the damn rotating door and Shadana taping it + laughing, but eventually Shadz is holding Rose’s hair back while she barfs•what?? Shadana KATANA????? fight with a SWORD????? unlikely•D!Rose seems a bit ditzy to me so I’d say she’s prone to forgetting stuff and Shadana has the most memory•part of the reason Shadana likes double dates is because she’s prepared to constantly one-up the other couple•Shadz likes to piss people off by subtly flexing her muscles while biting into the GREASIEST food, and D!Rose just eats everything so both of them eat fast food like 3 times a week tbh•D!Rose loves giving hugs and Shadana loves receiving them, so it all works out•death glaring, yes, but also threats of fisticuffs if Shadana ever saw someone flirting with Rose•as previously stated, Shadana has the most memory–AND the most money so of course she balls hard during the holidays•Shadana definitely wouldn’t mind cosplaying as Rose’s fav character,,, whoever tf that is•Shadana is super guilty of the Starstruck Stare™, so it’s very disorienting when she’s caught. she’ll either deny it completely or try to flirt her way into shutting D!Rose up and change the subject•it wouldn’t be Shadana if she DIDN’T fall on the ground in an annoyingly perfect position•Shadz would probably stock up bags of pumpkin spice coffee. pumpkin spice everything,,, she makes sure to always have a pumpkin spice perfume at the ready, she just loves pumpspice yo•Shadana will fight for D!Rose’s honor even when the situation doesn’t call for it

now Artrose:

•Artemis has always had a schedule for him, so it’d be VERY strange for him to eat breakfast at dinner•he usually has his music playing quietly but if it were for a party Arts doesn’t mind loud music•Royal!Rose would probably stay up to binge shows, Artemis falls asleep so fast/early it makes me angry•Arty sleeping without a pillow is a crime in itself •I don’t think he’s ever SEEN a revolving door tbh, so Royal!Rose would have to try to get him out if he was ever in one•Artemis already would fight with only swords, even then he doesn’t fight•Royal!Rose is in charge of picking up the sentence whenever Arty starts drifting off okay, he’s a tad absentminded •Artemis wouldn’t mind a double date but he’d prefer to be alone with Rose honestly •Artemis gotta strict diet,,,,, so no fast food. smh, tragic•he may be a prince but he is the *KING* of hugs ok•Royal!Rose got the murder stare, Artsy is a passive baby, he’d just calmly reject said flirting while Rose is cracking her knuckles already •though absentminded, he makes sure to right down important stuff like holidays and doesn’t mind breaking the budget for her•"cosplay??? Is that some kind of board game" “no, Arts—”•Royal!Rose tends to be more secretive about staring and Artemis is just “oh yes, I was, do you mind?”•'poised and elegant’ Prince Beryl falls like he was just in an earthquake, so I think Royal!Rose is more likely to have the annoyingly perfect fall•Artemis is banned from the kitchen for constantly sneak-eating things–including pumpkin spice muffins, so yeah, I think he does•they both would fight for each other’s honor, but Artemis would prefer solving things verbally–Rose, however, will have bloodshed

so

*Danny Sexbang voice* THAT FUCKIN DO ANYTHING FOR YA

[feynites]

*sneaks some more reincarnation dirthalene in*

It is after Pride is born that Dirthamen starts writing letters to himself.

He has been taking note of things, of course. Keeping the usual mementos of a life well lived. But this is different.

The thought comes to him one long evening, when Pride is in the midst of teething, and is therefore troubled by pain and discomfort. He is allergic to most numbing gels, their doctor finds, and so the process is doubly uncomfortable for him, and is best eased by having either Dirthamen or Selene use cooling spells on his gums, while he chews on his teething rings. Or cold sticks of sweet, mild pepperoni.

Pride’s cries have a way of wrenching at Dirthamen’s heart, particularly when he cannot find an immediate solution to whatever crisis has assailed his tiny son. Selene is no different, though she is, in this, more experienced.

Thoughts along those lines are what guide Dirthamen to his current train of thought.

A lifetime ago, they had children together. Children who, by Selene’s accounts, grew and flourished, and lived and died. Children who Dirthamen cannot recollect. That is something that has always bothered him. But it bothers him more after Pride is born. Logically, he thinks, someday he will die, and he will forget Pride. He will forget Selene, again. He will forget all the wondrous details of his life – the surprises and discoveries, the revelations and affections.

It strikes him cold with fear, to think that he will forget about his son. To think that he has already forgotten about other children, that he cannot remember holding, or soothing, or raising.

He does not want to forget.

But he does not think becoming an abomination is the answer for him. He is not like Selene, who is good and strong, and he does not think he could find a spirit like Des, who might suit him so well. He does not think the parts of his nature that would appeal to spirits would result in a… good combination.

There are videos. Uthvir has most of them, it seems, hoarded away, but they have rationed a few out to Dirthamen. Selene prefers to keep pictures. Old photographs and records, and Dirthamen thinks of her, too. Thinks of what it would be like, to wait for years and years between seeing her again. To watch her grow old, and die, and leave him, and then wait, and wonder if she would love him again when she came back.

And he thinks of what is missed, in photographs and videos. What these things cannot say.

The first night, he settles into his desk with Pride napping in his lap. He is getting better at holding a baby with one hand and doing all manner of things with the other. Selene is sleeping, exhausted for her own part, and the house is quiet as Pride drowses with his teething ring still in his mouth, and Dirthamen picks up a pen, and begins to write.

Dear Dirthamen, he puts down.

This is a letter from you to yourself. Or rather, from a past incarnation of yourself to a future one. I hope Selene has informed you of the particulars of our situation. If she has not, now may be a good time to inquire after such things. And if you have not met Selene, but you have somehow come into possession of this letter, then you should speak with whoever gave it to you.

I am writing this letter so that you will know about the things which you cannot remember, but which I do not wish to forget.

Dirthamen hesitates, and wonders where to start. He glances down at his son’s sleepy face, and the drool on his shirt. The room is warm. Outside, it is windy.

He puts his pen back to the page.

As I write this, our son, Pride, is four months old. He is teething right now, which distresses him greatly. But he is a very patient and cheerful baby, I think. I have not had very many points for comparison, but he smiles often, and his laughter is infectious. His favourite toys are his soft blocks, with elvhen letters on them, and his plush wolf, and our family’s dog, Ein…

Once he gets going, Dirthamen finds it is not difficult to list things which he wishes to recall about Pride. And then, from there, it is easy to go on about Selene, and Ana, and Ein as well. Lists of pertinent traits branch out into anecdotes about them. By the time Dirthamen runs out of paper at his desk, Pride is fully asleep, and his hand is cramped, and he has written far more than he expected to.

He will need some notebooks, he supposes. Physical copies, and digital ones, too.

And, he thinks, he should probably take more care in when he writes, and how long for. Straightening up makes him vibrantly aware of how inadvisable it is to lean over a desk for more than an hour with an infant in one arm, craned at odd angles and scrawling away.

But it is a good idea, he thinks.

He goes and puts Pride in his crib, and when the next comes, he takes a brief trip out to pick up more disposable wipes and a six pack of notebooks.

Selene does not really question his new interest. Not at first. When he can spare the time to, Dirthamen adds to his ‘letter’. He finds there are always more things he can think of. The sound of Ein’s ‘hello’ bark. The way Pride likes to separate his froot loops by colour before he eats them. Ana’s triumphant dance whenever she wins at competitive video games. Selene’s inability to walk into a bookstore and not come back out empty-handed.

And there are other, more intimate things which Dirthamen wishes to recollect, too. Sexual things, and interludes, and encounters. But also things like what to do when Selene is sad. How to help with her grief, or tell when she needs space, or the comfort of someone who is not himself. What kinds of foods she likes, and books, and music. How to tell when Des is ‘piloting’, so to speak, and what to expect from that. What the different colours in her fire mean, and the things she prefers to leave unsaid, and the things she needs most often to hear.

He has gone through several packs of notebooks before Selene reads any of them.

Pride is toddling, by then. Navigating the sides of furniture with fixed intent, and a determination that makes Dirthamen think he will be climbing mountains one day. Watching him make his attempts is fascinating, and Dirthamen is utterly distracted by Pride’s tour around the sitting room’s padded coffee table when Selene comes into the room, holding one of his notebooks.

“I found this one in our room,” she says. “This is some project of yours, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Dirthamen confirms.

Selene stares at the cover.

“Can I look?” she asks, in a way that makes him think she has been wanting to ask – and refraining – for some time.

He considers the matter. Someday, if things go the way they seem set to, he will die. And Selene will have these notebooks, and copies of them, and will be obliged, he hopes, to show them to his future self. But before he is reborn and grown again, she will have to wait. For years, at the least. Potentially, it would be very cruel to leave her with words he had written, and instructions not to read them herself. Dirthamen does not know if he could manage the restraint for that, in the reverse situation. He would likely break his word, and then feel guilty for it.

He would not wish that on Selene.

And besides which, he supposes she has some right to know what he is conveying about her.

“You may,” he decides.

“Oo bay,” Pride babbles, intently, to the coffee table.

Selene smiles at him as she heads over, and then settles onto one of the couches. Ein is currently in the yard, waiting for Ana to come home, as is usual around this hour.

Pride makes his way around the coffee table, and babbles at Dirthamen some more before giving up his current trek in favour of clambering into his lap. Selene opens up the journal, and reads the first page. And then she blinks, and flips it shut again, and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Are you writing porn?” she asks.

Ah.

Dirthamen recalls what he had been putting in that notebook, now.

“Somewhat,” he admits. “Mostly I have just been writing…” he hesitates. “…Everything?”

Selene frowns a little, and opens the notebook again. She flips through several more pages, silently reading, as Dirthamen plays with Pride. After a while she gets back up, then, and heads into the study, and when she returns she has several more notebooks. She glances towards him, as if double-checking her permission.

Dirthamen inclines his head, and then points towards the orange one, which he rewrote his first draft of his letter in.

“Start there,” he recommends.

Selene does.

And then Pride demands most of his attention again, seeking his help in organizing his blocks. Dirthamen obliges him, and after a half hour has passed, he scoops him up and feeds him his lunch, too. He puts together a few sandwiches, and Pride ‘helps’ bring them to Selene, but when they get into the sitting room, she is gone.

“Ma?” Pride wonders.

“Bathroom, perhaps?” Dirthamen suggests.

His son decides that they must find her, and so they set out. Dirthamen is rather hoping that Pride will not be one of those toddlers who insists upon following his parents to the bathroom at all times, but he is also somewhat certain that this is a vain hope. He is very inquisitive, and he dislikes being alone.

Selene is not in the bathroom, however. Their search eventually uncovers her in the bedroom. Sitting on their bed, with her face in her hands.

“Ma!” Pride calls.

Dirthamen approaches with him, cautiously. Is it Des, perhaps?

But when they get close, he sees the red rims of Selene’s eyes, and he does not think so. She looks at them both, and then she reaches out her arms. Dirthamen deposits Pride readily into them, before settling onto the mattress beside her. Their son pats at his mother’s cheeks, frowning worriedly until she manages a smile for him, and then kisses his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I just… I needed a moment.”

“I apologize, I did not mean to cause distress,” Dirthamen offers, wondering if he has committed some grievous – if unwitting – transgression. But Selene only shakes her head, and cuddles Pride; and then leans over, and rests herself against his shoulder.

She closes her eyes.

“I wish I could give your memories back to you,” she tells him. “I wish you could… you could remember them, too.”

Dirthamen watches as she holds Pride closer, and he knows she is thinking of their other sons. The twins. Felasel and Darevas.

Gently, he works his arm around her. And he pulls her to him, holding her and Pride, full of unspoken grief for things he should not even know about. For pains that most people are not meant to live with; and for all of that, he knows that for him, much of it is only a concept. But for Selene, is the reality of a very heavy grief.

They stay like that until Ana comes home.

And then life, as it must do, reasserts itself. No less pressing for all that has come before.

Dirthamen notes it down, too. Because his future self must know, also, that for all the knowledge he can attain, all the memories he has lost still live with Selene.

And that is a double-edged blade which cuts her deeply, at times.