#i just feel bitter and dead. and nostalgia for bitter and dead times | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brynn-lear · 5 days ago

Text

Put Another "X" On The Calendar [Yandere Angel of Death!Sunday/Reader]

Unreliable Synopsis: To be rejected by the angel of death himself… you must be heaven's favorite chew toy if he won’t let you die as intended. But this year will be the last time you'd play with his games. [5.6k words]

CW/Tags: gn reader, explicit and detailed suicidal themes, alcohol, very soft yandere angel!Sunday, dead dove: do not eat. Please prioritize your mental health first; you matter more than you think. This is first and foremost an expression/vent of real struggles, not a romanticization of the tags mentioned nor does it promote it as a solution.

𝟒𝟑,𝟖𝟐𝟒 𝐒𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐄. Nostalgia has grown unfamiliar for the past days— you can’t even fathom having the same bitter acknowledgement you had years prior. Someone once said a person shall always remain a stranger to themselves, and you dearly wish you still recall who that was so you could ask if it is in the same degree you feel now. Too often does the mind ask the necessity to get up every morning, until mornings become noons— and finally, evenings. Minimizing your waking hours as much as possible to avoid confronting the state of your own mind and body.

Today is Saturday. Or was it Sunday? You can’t remember. You only remember dates when there’s a deadline. And here you are, with another late submission.

Barely dressed for the snow, you leaned against the cold door.

“You’re here again? Why do I keep finding you here?”

The man turned around.

𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗜𝗔 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗢𝗖𝗢𝗟 (𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠)

I have read and understood this consent form, and I consent to the processing of my personal data. I agree to the inclusion of my anonymized data in research publications and understand I can withdraw my consent at any time. I acknowledge that confidentiality may be breached in cases of high self-harm or suicide risk to ensure my safety, which may involve sharing information with relevant professionals. I also understand that my consent does not affect other lawful grounds for data processing or waive my rights under the Data Privacy Act of ████ and applicable laws.

Client ID: ████████████

1) In the past month, have you wished you were dead or wished you could go to sleep and not wake up?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

It’s him again. The man that keeps hanging around your university’s Architecture Building rooftop.

He smiled softly. “I could say the same to you.”

Despite the coldness of December, you came here with nothing to shield from it but the blazer your mom bought years ago for her office presentation. This stranger was almost as terrible as you were, in an opposing sense. He was draped all over, but his style seemed almost more overprepared for fall when it’s winter.

You let out a soft noise.

Sometimes, you look forward to seeing this stranger on the rooftop.

Trudging towards him, you asked plainly. “Who are you even waiting for?”

“I usually tell people that it’s my sister.”

You decided to ignore his strange phrasing.

“Can’t you two meet elsewhere?” You spat, unable to hide the disdain. Your voice made you cringe. More than anyone, you know how vile and cynical you truly are, but to let it be known now is counterintuitive. “I’m sure there are better meeting spots. Dreamjolt Cafe’s just around the corner.”

The stranger looked down, his eyes almost fluttering shut with a tense gulp. “I suppose there are more convenient locations. But…”

“But?”

He stared at you. His bright golden eyes that many complimented in your view looked as dull as the snow. No doubt he’s beyond human. This handsome stranger has no right to exist. He only serves to remind you how much you lacked while also blocking the sweet release you’ve been chasing.

Sometimes, you wish he was as lonely as you.

“But to leave is to take away far more than just promise,” he whispered but no breath painted the air. “To leave is to let someone down. Somehow, I feel as though I do not need to explain this to you.”

“You don’t have to.” You said out of disinterest.

“Other than that, I enjoy coming here and staring at the sky. The sight here reminds me of my purpose.” He stared at you intensely. “There's always a paradise that needs to be built. That vow is like the sun in the sky— perhaps I'll melt and fall before reaching it... But some hardships I must endure."

He took off his scarf and reached it out to you.

You blinked, raising a hand in protest. “No need.”

“I need it the least. Take it. You’re cold.”

Most days, you wish you could make him as lonely as you.

“I don’t feel anything and I don’t like owing anyone anything.” The words slip out of you easily.

You don’t want to extend your time here for a random stranger.

“I know.” He muttered. “But still, take it. If I’m not careful, it may just be the only physical thing I can leave behind.”

For a moment, the sun and earth were silenced. You took the scarf, circling the soft fabric with your fingers. It was azure with speckled star patterns, ranging from complex to the most simple X-s and dots. You didn’t say another word. It was understood from then on that you both might’ve come here for the same reason. The rooftop was the haven for when the physical conditions that existence brings are met with crushing defeat. If he asked you the same question you had moments prior, you’d have but one reply:

It’s the tallest building on campus; I came here for the view.

With dissipating reluctance, he approached you and wrapped the scarf around your neck. His gloved fingers were shaking, but you made no comment. As you stare up, you’re greeted with the sight of his flushed cheeks and pursed lips. Yet, you’ve no motivation to return the scarf.

Maybe the frostbite makes him feel a little more alive too.

As if to affirm your suspicions, he took off his own gloves. The act made the skin he hid with the long sleeves of his jacket visible. It was not your intent to be nosy, yet you saw the bandages wrapped around him. Gauze pads in places you’d expect it to be. The sight must’ve distracted you long enough, since the moment you looked at your own hands— it wore the black gloves he donned.

You’re wearing his scarf and gloves— he has nothing. No fur, no anything. Just him and a black coat, white shirt, and pants. Yet his limbs did not tremble. The temperature had no effect on him.

Finally, he gave you his name.

“You can call me… Sunday. And you?”

Sunday.

You blinked. “Like the day after Saturday?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Exactly like the day after Saturday.”

With that, you decided you do not like him.

Call it competitiveness, call it frustration— name the emotion for whatever is convenient— but there’s no pleasant note to describe him. Objectively and instinctively, Sunday is predictably a good man. But the maggots that crawl inside you scream just how much he has no place in your life. They writhe behind your eyelids, burning with an unspoken illness that wanted him miserable.

“(Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).” You answered. “Realbrook Dorms. Room 404.”

To die beautifully and meaningfully. You don’t have that privilege.

Sunday’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you tell me that?”

The dorm may just be the only physical thing you can leave behind.

“I don’t know.” You laughed, averting your gaze.

“Just in case you want your scarf back, I suppose.”

And you know what?

You’re sure he knows that you’re broken, too.

2) In the past month, have you actually had any thoughts about killing yourself?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

3) Have you been thinking about how you might do this?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧— but the higher beings routing out pest control. Entering the classroom filled with those bright and beautiful, those who were born to be who their program says they are, has patted you with the crown of envy.

No amount of pomodoros, no higher statistic in your Focus Plant app, can make you even a fraction of their genius. Depressing, but true.

How can you even compete with a room of intellectual gatekeepers?

You’d ask a question, hoping to learn, and all they hand out is a vague response. Not an explanation, but enough for them to say “oh, but I replied, haven’t I?”

These Penaconian Science High School graduates surely are the cream of the crop, and they won’t spare other people’s hopes and dreams to get what they want.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. This is a highly competitive university. You expected this. It has a name. Your tuition is free. Everyone is a scholar. You just have to hold your breath and live through this. For the future you promised your loved ones.

Of course, assuming you can exhale after 3 more years. Assuming you still have a beating heart inside.

You bought another notebook today after you lost your previous one. The old one’s probably hidden under your “organized mess”.

But at least you can force yourself to write good things again.

𝟷𝟸.𝟶𝟿.𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺

𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊 𝟼𝚔 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔.

Walking, not running or jogging, is the only healthy hobby you have. Writing consumes you while art reminds you of your worthlessness. It’s a short sentence, but that’s fine. That’s why you bought a pocket sized notebook in the first place.

Having that as a first entry is 3 miles better than a detailed plan of which sea you’ll last disappear to.

4) Have you had these thoughts and had some intention of acting on them?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲. You opened your dorm room. Thankfully, as it was the only stroke of luck you had that day, none of your roommates were around. You let your bag slid from your shoulders down with a loud thud.

For a few minutes, you squandered it salting the hard boiled eggs you bought with your own tears.On the floor no one was industrious enough to sweep, you sat. You had no energy to climb up your bed. It was just you and awkward silence.

It’s Christmas season.

You have no good memories of it. You barely left your room.

Maybe you should’ve known that every December would compete for which year was the worst. The best December had to be the year when you’d receive terrible exchange gift presents like cheap junk food while you and your mother chipped in to buy a great gun toy. Then the worst was your first christmas without that family member you were closest to. When you’re reminded how deeply grief can cut through while everyone’s in good cheer.

There’s a knock on your door.

Quickly, you put your jacket back on and wiped your nose. You twisted the doorknob open, already feeling terrible for the housekeepers. They often report to your parents when they decide to visit. So you’ll just slip in your excuse in the middle of the conversation.

“Hi, sorry Miss Rena, I’m sick right now— cold, really. Did I accidentally leave my water bottle on the study hall again—”

“Good evening, (Y/n). May I trouble you for a moment?”

You flinched at the familiar but oddly placed sound.

“Sunday?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “How did you— oh, right, I did tell you what my dorm was.”

Here he was again. You had half the mind to think he would only spawn on the rooftop, but you were wrong.

“It’s rather reckless of you, and I hope you will refrain from doing that to other men.”

There was a dark tilt in his tone and his gaze matched it perfectly. Years ago, that could’ve put shivers down your spine. But you no longer care for most things.

You can only mimic a nervous laugh. Mimicking what you would’ve sounded if you still cared for your own safety.

Sunday offered you a small smile.

“How many times do you walk per day this month?”

“Huh?”

What a strange question.

He looked at the window. “Let’s walk outside. You haven't done ten thousand steps in a day for quite a while now.”

“What a rude assumption.” You scoffed.

“Was I wrong?” He asked, but the innocent tone made you second guess the teasing nature of his words.

If you two were close, your roommate’s unsuspecting pillows would’ve hit him square on the face. Sunday opened your wardrobe and grabbed the scarf you gave him.

…Why does he know where you kept it?

He opened the door wider.

“Come on,” he replied. “Let’s take a walk.”

You don’t know why, but your guard is always down when you’re with him.

Maybe you no longer have any sense of self-preservation. Which makes sense, given your real goal. However, unlike most, you do not love being loved. Being cared for ultimately turns into a debt to be repaid in your eyes. Yet, you couldn’t stop Sunday when he wrapped the scarf snugly around your neck.

The two of you walked around the area. Sometimes, he’d talk about the people, animals, and objects of nature that piqued both your interest. Despite being nearly strangers, he was oddly calming to be around.

Sunday held your hand as you both walked, like it was a matter of time till it crumbled. His eyes had this persistent pleading you refused to acknowledge. Even in silence, it was asking you the worst request.

To stay alive.

“Why did I cross your mind?” You asked him. “Why did you suddenly visit my dorm?”

He stopped walking.

“... Instinct.”

“Instinct?”

“Just a feeling, that something might…” He muttered a word nearly inaudible. “If I was away. Humans are not perfect individuals. Quite the contrary, their hearts are filled with contradictions at every moment.”

Sunday’s gaze softened, hurt.

“Which is why, even if you tell me you are doing fine, I am inclined to believe that the opposite is the case.”

“...I see.”

You subtly tried to get out of his hold, but he didn’t let you go.

“Why do you care?” You continued walking, and he resumed too. He always matched your walking speed. That in itself felt nice. That someone would adjust for you, that is.

“I believe it’s… human nature to care.” Sunday hummed. “Listening has always been my job.”

You laughed. “I guess so.”

Quietly, you took note of that.

“Here.” Sunday pointed at the benches.”Let’s take a rest.”

The university nearby— not yours— just installed more carved wooden benches. When he sat down, it felt like it was made for him. Quietly, you sat down beside him. He sits up straight, unlike you. You’re hunched back, fiddling with your hands as though there was an invisible toy that stole your attention.

Sunday sighed softly. "The evening light does tend to settle the heart, does it not? A quiet reminder that even the longest days must come to their end."

You looked at the sky.

"I guess. The day ends, but what comes after doesn’t feel much different.” You chuckled. “Same old suffering.”

“Perhaps there is something in the simple act of continuing. Something... precious in that.” He said. “We all walk our own paths. Though it may be lonely, as long as we keep moving forward, we won't forget each other.”

"Sure, if you're feeling masochistic enough in waiting for something that never comes." You huffed. "I've grown past that phase. Multiple times."

“Life has a way of leading humans in circles, only to place us where they are meant to be, even if they cannot yet see it."

“And spoiler alert, I’m not meant much for anything.” You looked up to meet his gaze.

“But thank you, anyway. It’s nice to have a brief respite, even if it comes from the man I keep spotting on the rooftop.”

“And I’ll continue to materialize there if you refuse to have a truce with yourself.” He half-chided, half-teased. “I am the only one who truly understands you, who knows the depth of your heart, even when you can’t bear to look at it yourself. And until you no longer go to the roof to see the view from up there, I’ll continue to linger.”

There’s a blank expression on your face. An expression no human should be able to read.

But he can.

“(Y/n), if you need anything. I’ll be there. As I always have.” Sunday looked back at the winter sky.

“And I’ll remind you of that everyday if I have to. Because that is what I choose to do. If I’m forced to take you, I—” Sunday closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

You’re not smart, but you understood what this was about.

You’re his.

You may not "know" him, but you’re his reason. His only reason.

And wishing for death threatens all his plans.

5) Have you started to work out or worked out the details of how to kill yourself? Did you intend to carry out this plan?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 just as you were making weak attempts to tug the sleep you’ve been missing for 5 years. There’s supposed to be an Engineering BINGO event today. You skipped it and thanked the campus for once that there’s no classes. Your rough, useless hand frantically attempted to hang up as if it’s no different from snoozing an alarm. But it was Hailee. The only person who ever regularly talks to you.

You answered, voice groggy at 3 PM.

“Heyyy (Y/n), where are you?”

“Hail—” you muttered. “Just sleeping.”

“You’re not coming? Cocona just won an IPad!”

“Good for her, good for her.” You didn’t really register what she said. “Since there’s no class I figured I’d just sleep in, you know?”

“Ah, yeah, I get that. I lowkey wanna go home too, but Max is having fun.”

“Yeah.” You yawned.

“Hey, kinda random, but I just passed by Madeleine earlier.”

“Yeah well she’s always everywhere all at once.”

“Sure, but she was at the registrar.” Hailee paused. “She’s getting a transcript of records, I think.”

“What for?”

“I think she wants to transfer.”

You sat up.

“Really? Well, shit. I want in, too.”

“Yeah, same.” Hailee’s tone turned serious. “I want out of this hellhole too.”

“Hey Hailee?”

“Yuh?”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Oh, okay, sur—”

You messaged Madeleine.

You paused.

Why are you telling her this.

You and her barely talked.

You and Madeleine messaged each other more for a while. Each notif was a half-hearted argument against going through both plans. Words of how neither of you should go through it leaning as a suggestion rather than a real conviction. You'd agree, but you both know it’s just words.

She didn’t mention her reasons outside academics, and you didn’t mention yours.

The hesitation lingers, but you both danced around it, sending stickers of people hugging, pretending you'll back out, even though you know you both know you won’t. Neither of you is truly convinced, and yet, the conversation went on a seemingly positive note.

It’s fine.

At least now, you know, that you aren’t the only one who tried their hardest with nothing to return to.

But there’s a voice in your head telling you no.

It doesn’t belong to you. It is not your voice.

Yet it begged and begged.

Please, don’t do it.

And for now, you’ll pretend you’ll listen to him too.

6) Have you engaged in, attempted, or planned any actions with the intention of ending your life? Examples: Taking pills, attempting to shoot yourself, self-harm (e.g., cutting), attempting hanging, taking pills but not swallowing, holding a gun but changing your mind or having it taken away, going to a high place but not jumping, gathering pills, acquiring a weapon, giving away belongings, writing a will or suicide note, etc.

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠. No one asked you to draw, but you figured since the man on the chair heavily recommended you get back to your old hobbies, you’d draw the people who consider you as a friend. So, you strayed from sketching topics that lead the mind wandering.

You stared at the screen blankly.

Genuinely, you were caught off guard.

Careful. Don’t fool yourself that a small “thank you” means they would be there for you. You’ve been here before. Don’t be a pushover.

You closed your eyes.

No, thank you, Monica.

“Just a few more.” You muttered. “Just a few more portraits. Just one more holiday greeting. Just one more late video animatic birthday gift for Alex that I didn’t give weeks ago. And then—”

You can finally pardon yourself with the right to die.

Don’t.

Please don’t.

pleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon't-

…

Your messenger app crashed.

…

You turned off your phone.

7) If yes, was this within the past 3 months?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

You blinked.

A hand. A hand reaching out that isn’t “Sunday”?

Really?

You laughed.

You laughed so loudly, you’d be glad if you remembered the fact that no one was around.

It just feels so inhumane.

It is inhumane.

So inhumane, that you felt offended for the last shred of humanity you thought you no longer had.

You cackled, feeling a drop on the back of your wrist.

The one time someone actually noticed you did not feel well.

And they worry about someone else.

You are such a fucking joke.

Your body shook, laughing at this unintentional cruelty. Air-like bile rises up your throat— your eyes burning. A few more laughter escaped your turtle lipped mouth. You couldn’t tear your pained gaze away from the screen. You wiped your eyes.

The funniest bit?

Crying won’t change a damn thing.

It’s nearly 2025, and no good thought crossed your mind.

Just like your father said: everything is evil, it’s only a question of how much you’ll let the devil consume you.

Today is Tuesday. Or was it Wednesday? The man doesn't care to remember. He only remembers dates when there’s a deadline. And here he was, arriving at 11:59 pm. Just in time to stop another would-be tragedy.

Barely dressed for the snow, “Sunday” leaned against the cold door, almost out of breath.

“You're here. Why must I keep finding you here…”

His purpose turned around.

It’s you. His ward that keeps hanging around the university’s Architecture Building rooftop… Now standing on top of your parents’ roof.

You frowned deeply, tipping your weight slightly. “I could say the same to you.”

Before Sunday could utter a word, your phone buzzed.

You grimaced as you saw the alarm. “Won't you look at thaaaat?! It's already 2 am. I'm so fucking stupid. I must've thought I set an alarm for 12 instead of 2.”

“Yes… Happy New Year, (Y/n). I hope your 2025 will be blessed.” Sunday spoke softly. His heart raced as he made slow movements to approach you. The man hoped he'd be close enough to pull you away from the edge.

“How much did you drink?”

You cackled.

“Weren't you already supposed to know the answer to that,” you slurred. “Septimus? THE Bronze Melodia?”

That was the exact moment… when your former guardian angel learned what it felt like for blood to run cold.

Once a guardian angel alongside his sister, Septimus was a protector of humanity, driven by a belief that he alone could heal the world’s ills. His perceived purpose blinded him of what was humanity’s true will, until the heavens cast him out for overstepping. Stripped of his former glory, he became the Angel of Death, his once-bright feathers now hidden in bandages. With each soul he reaped, the haunting melody of his fall lingers, a reminder of a savior who couldn't save himself.

And so, he only hoped that he could save you.

His one and lonely human.

Stirred awake were your memories when you first saw him on that rooftop. Even then, you knew who he was. It was the same fledgeling who kept you company in your silent home. The boy who listened to you talk for hours while everyone else “felt” a ghost.

No matter how much he tried to look like the image of comfort, he would never be the character you used to love, in the same vein you can never return to the bright cheer you used to have.

“(Y/n), please…” Sunday begged. “Get off the roof.”

“My parents are asleep.” You hummed. “It’s 2 am. I’m on liquid courage. This is the only chance I won’t chicken out.”

“H-How did you know?” He asked. “Who I am?”

“I’m smart when it comes to things that don’t matter,” you cackled. “But ask me how to draw up a diagram for a unit process and I got absolutely nothing.”

You took a step back, which made Sunday take one harsh step forward. “DON’T.”

“Septimus, is it true?” You laughed again. “That you’re an angel of death?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you taken me yet? Does God have other plans?”

“T… Truth is, you should’ve died long ago.”

You’re not surprised.

“When I tried to open my guts with scissors, or when I tried to hang myself?” You huffed.

“Longer than that. I had to always snatch you away from your fate so you could have the chance to live on.” The angel spoke, voice weary. “I want to see you live another day. It’s what stripped me out of your guardianship in the first place.”

Once again, you’re not surprised.

“So it’s you…”

The anger in your voice was almost tangible.

“So you’re the reason why I’m alive.” Your eyes twitched. “It’s you who kept stopping me.”

Sunday raised a hand. “I-I just, I want you to live long enough to see that a paradise can still be built—”

“My paradise is the ocean I want to drown myself in.” You spat. “Don’t talk about paradise when you know I can’t reach it.”

Sunday’s eyebrows furrowed. “That is not true—”

“Who else?”

“Who… else?”

He’s taking ragged breaths.

You knew it. Your hypothesis was right.

Keeping you alive is turning the angel of death human.

Many say angels do not have free will.

But this is what he chose to do.

Suddenly, his words on the roof made sense. Why he desperately wanted you to keep his scarf. Maybe there’s truth to it. Angels do not lie. Perhaps if he failed, he would’ve turned into ash and not human.

Most days, you wished you could make him as lonely as you.

Looks like in the end, you got what you wanted.

“Who else wants (Y/n) (L/n) to live to see another day?” You asked.

“Plen— some.” Septimus corrected his lie. “Some will want you to keep pushing forward.”

“Will, not would. Will is too late for anything.”

“Will because you don’t give them a chance to show they care.” He argued.

“They’d rather see me in a coffin than put in any real effort.”

“Why,” his voice croaked. “Why do you only assume the worst in people?”

“You know why. You know every ‘why’ there is.”

He inhaled sharply. They say to translate your thoughts and dreams into a creativity worth plagiarizing. Yet, when you’re one foot on the roof and one foot out the metaphorical door, you didn’t give a shit on becoming artistically verbose.

“No wonder I’ve never broken a bone.” You laughed. “And damn, I’d rather take a broken bone than whatever hell you’re putting me through.”

Sunday was close enough to touch you.

“Because despite everything, you are still you.” Sunday cooed, trapping you in his arms. “And as the being who loves you more than anyone—- who knows you when you are a stranger to your own self— I would know this.”

He pulled you closer by tugging your scarf. The same scarf he gave you.

And pushed you until you’re away from the edge.

“There is no sufficient reason enough for you to take your life.”

Sinfully, Sunday leaned your faces closer to once another. You smelled like wine. Sleep deprivation has made a lightweight out of you.

You shook, your voice taking a tone unfamiliar to you. Raw. Loud. There was frustration in it, which was the most harrowing emotion of all.

“And so what? My problems aren’t bad enough— that I’m just a fucking loser who can’t get their shit together like EVERYONE ELSE? THAT MY OWN BODY GIVES UP ON ME?! TO THE POINT I FIND MYSELF PASSED OUT SLEEPING ON THE DIRTY FLOOR OF OUR UNIVERSITY’S FUCKING DRAWING ROOM?!”

“I—”

“I know what you’re thinking, it’s either one of two things. If you’re anyone else, you think I’ve matured too early, too fast, and if you’re just like my father, then I haven’t matured fast enough for you— isn’t that right?! I know what the FUCK that look is!”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt.

“No one— NO ONE— fucking truly cares for me. No one PRAYS for me. You know the only people that I talk to nowadays?! Pixels. Fucking. PIXELS!!! So called people with faces I’ve never seen, just texts I have to imagine— just voices I have to convince myself are real. A human connection but not quite. And you know the amount of fucks they actually give?!”

It’s only then that you noticed your hands shaking, but that awareness only tightened your hold.

“I can paint them a portrait as many as they want. I can greet them, make them laugh a bunch, but at the end of the day I’m hanging out where I don’t b-belong.” White knuckles. Short breaths. “I can listen, I can give people the time of day, but if you ask them what I’m going through, they don’t know jack shit. And there's my campus life, or lack thereof. Where do I even begin with that?!”

“I’ve sacrificed…” Your grip loosened. “I’ve sacrificed true friends, I’ve sacrificed time with family, sacrificed the remaining time I could’ve spent next to a dying loved one. I sacrificed my time, my literal blood, sweat, tears, and most importantly time— for a dream I was never meant to reach. Every morning I could’ve slept, every 6 hours I should’ve rested, there’s nothing. Nothing for a program I shouldn't have taken. And now they’re gone. One is even six feet under.”

You dropped your hold on him.

43,826 system hours.

“Let me through.”

Sunday breathed in shakily. “No.”

“Let me fucking through, Septimus.”

“Do you remember what I told you when we first had a proper conversion?” He retorted, breathless. “To leave is to let someone down, and I meant it literally. I shall not allow this. (Y/n), you just need someone to talk to.”

“And it’s not going to be you!” You laughed at his face. “Or anyone! There is NO ONE who can reach me, Septimus, there’s nothing that can fix THIS anymore.”

“Please, just hold on to me.” Sunday knew you were no longer hearing him. He knew there was nothing to be done. But he clung to your clothes— clawed your back— rested his face on your shoulder. “I have nothing to offer you but myself.”

“Let me destroy myself.” Palms clamming up. Heart racing. “Let me end this.”

“Please, just… █████ █.” He leaned in to a degree you can’t feel anything but inches of his skin. “Just give me till █████ █ to prove to you that each day is worth living. Don’t take your life away for me.”

Sunday cried. His tears were warm, normal.

“I-I would much rather be human than an angel of death, so I could take care of you.” He wept, holding you closer— back in his embrace. “For I love you with all I have. No other had made me feel this way.”

…

You fell silent.

“Until █████ █?”

With closed eyes and thin lips, he nodded reluctantly.

“Until █████ █.”

Your shoulders relaxed, and with a heavy chest, you felt like you regained the ability to cry again.

Thud… Thud… Thud...

Faint, but even faint is enough.

“(Y/n).” Sunday— Septimus called out with a voice that finally reached you. With trembling lips, he cupped your cheeks. His golden eyes blocked the shade of the dullest moon. In that moment, he was the only light you cling to, and it will remain so until the date he has given. “Let me be your north star, your steady hand. Let me take care of you if you cannot take care of yourself.”

Wonderful, if true. But the maggots gnaw deep in your skin. Whatever affection he has for you must be unreal and unfounded. A dove catching a worm underneath its pointed claws when it was to crawl to the nearest cliff. There’s a glimmer so conflicted in his eyes. A lucid thought running in a path that circles both his ego and conscience. A truth he doesn’t speak aloud.

He’s selfish.

Sunday doesn’t want you alive for the sake of living. The still surface of the water should’ve moved if so. There would’ve been another angel— another song singing praises of life to lift you up. But it was only him. Always him.

He wants you to live for him.

He wants (Y/n) (L/n) to live for the angel of Death.

Selfish.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

But Sunday— Septimus— whatever this foul beast was— he knew that he’s wrong. He knows that what he has done has crossed another heavenly line. He knew that you were past your date. He knew he takes too much pleasure in seeing you alive because he allowed it.

Yet the heavens would rather see you suffer than have you take your life again.

(Y/n)...

He loves you. More than everyone in the world.

But even he doesn't PRAY for you.

You laughed again.

“█████ █.”

You leaned against his chest.

“You've set the date, and I'll patiently wait.” You replied. “By █████ █, you'll do the work, that was your promise. Septimus, I'm tired of taking my own life, so do your job.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry…” Sunday mumbled. His shaky breath was more human than you could ever be. “I won't prolong your suffering anymore. I'm sorry. I’ll hold your breath, just as the heavens intended.”

“It's fine.”

You've had your solace. The answer you've been looking for since you were young.

43,826 system hours.

And just 1,512 bit more.

“Cause every X on the calendar would make me feel a bit more okay.”

Hotline

133 notes · View notes

leclerqueensainz · 1 year ago

Text

A Family of Three (C.L 16)

Part. III - Heroes, Princess and Fewawi.

⚠️ Warnings: Distress (Charles is very sad talking about losing someone he loves), mention of maternal abandonment, issues with parents, and postpartum depression, among other triggers. However, there is also a cute interaction with Vincenzo for the first time, so that's a step forward.

Enjoy the reading!

P.S.: This is entirely based on Charles's point of view.

Word Count: 4,332.

🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨

April 19, 2019 - Monte Carlo, Monaco.

When my father died a few years ago, I thought I would be prepared for any loss I would have endure later on. I anticipated losing other people, of which I had no doubt, but I swore that nothing could shake me as much as losing my hero.

When I lied to him about securing the Ferrari contract because it was his dream, and I wanted him to rest in peace, knowing that we had achieved it, that all the effort he had put into my future had been worthwhile, I thought nothing else could hurt as much as knowing he would never have the opportunity to see me don a red racing suit and drive a Scuderia car.

When I was given permission to drive the car carrying his casket, and I drove through the city so my father could bid a final farewell to the place he lived and loved for so long before taking him to the cemetery, I thought nothing could destroy my heart and burn every cell of my body as much as that did.

I was wrong.

But I should have known better. I should have understood that no pain would be enough to call someone's soul.

The news reached me two days ago on Monday when I was still in Shanghai after a race. Marie, my ex-girlfriend, called me in the middle of the night, and I couldn't fathom why she was calling me when we hadn't spoken in six months since the breakup.

My heart had raced before answering the phone, and a thousand thoughts crossed my mind—whether she was drunk and missing me or if she dialed accidentally. If she just wanted to talk because she had a bad day and Jules didn't answer when she called. I could expect anything and think of any possibility, but never these words. "Jules is dead." That's what she said right after my hello. There were no tears, no pauses. Just a broken and lifeless voice. A dead and cold voice.

Marie hadn't called because she was drunk or had a bad day and had no one else to talk to. It wasn't nostalgia for the six months we had been apart. It wasn't to tell me she loved me, as I had dreamed so many times before.

Marie called because our best friend, my godfather, was dead. No tears, no pauses. Just shock. It was direct. It was terrifying.

I wanted to know what she was talking about because Jules had left after the race, and he was fine. He was happy with the position and wanted to return to Nice to celebrate with the family. She didn't answer me. And I wondered if she had a baby or if it was a playful way to start a conversation with an ex-boyfriend. But she didn't laugh like I knew she would if she were joking. Then I felt it. The silence that told the truth. I had lost Jules, too.

So I shouted into the phone, said it wasn't funny, I was late, and I didn't want to participate in that cruel game. Denial. "Come to Monaco, Charles." She said and hung up.

I never wanted to have answered. I never wanted to pack hastily, wake up Pierre, and tell him we had lost him. I didn't want to arrive in Monaco and see the faces of my brothers and my mother painted with grief again. "I'm so sorry, my love." That's what my mother said when I fell to my knees and allowed myself to cry in front of my family as she hugged me. "It will be okay." That's what Lorenzo said. But we both knew it wouldn't.

I thought I wouldn't feel the sense of helplessness and bitterness when putting on a black suit again. I thought grief would be something I could handle. But it wasn't.

I begged anything that existed not to take anything else from me. I couldn't bear to make the same journey to that church because of another funeral. And I didn't want the experience of that shadow that left me shattered again.

I didn't want to overcome another loss; I didn't want to wonder why the pain didn't pass and didn't seem enough. I didn't want to try to understand or hear people saying that he would be in a better place and everything was God's purpose.

God. Why did he seem so angry with me? Wasn't losing my father enough? Why did he need Jules, too?

knowing that the only certainty of life is death, why didn't God bring an easier way for those who remain to overcome it?

There was no more my father; there was no more Jules. My heroes were gone, and I was left here. Why was I left?

I was being selfish and wise. Nevertheless, it was what allowed me to feel at the moment. I was alone, without those who once helped me become who I am. There was no one else to advise or guide me. And even though I still had Lorenzo or Arthur, I felt lost, like a drifting boat.

When the car parked in front of that church, I asked my family to proceed. I need a few minutes. I gathered the courage and strength to enter that place once again and face what I already knew would be the cause of my nightmares in the coming days. "Confront your demons," everyone says. But whoever coined that phrase never understood the complexity of the dark and bitterness-filled hole that grief brings.

I stared at the church from behind the car window. The same car in which I had once smiled with my best friend for having won it and carrying the Ferrari brand on its bodywork. The same car where I cried when I thought about how my father would have reacted to seeing me come home with it, and Jules hugged me and said it didn't matter where he would be; he would be selling and proud of my achievements.

And now I'm here inside. I'm inside this car, once again, in front of this church. However, without the consolation of someone I love this time. I'm inside this machine, summoning the courage to enter the funeral of someone who once comforted me for a loss.

I'm here summoning the courage to say goodbye to another of my heroes.

🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷

January 20, 2023 - Nice, France.

I park the car in front of an old, low-rise building. Beside me, Marie watches closely as Cecilia steps out of the car in front of us. I can feel her nervousness and notice her hands tightly gripping the cuffs.

I know exactly what she's feeling, and a part of me is proud that I still manage to understand her body language even after all these years, but I try my best to downplay it since it's a delicate moment for both her and me.

After the meeting, Cecilia made a request that we expected but still caught us somewhat off guard. She wanted us to meet Vincenzo that afternoon. And that's where we are now—parked in front of the building, which I assume is where Cecilia lives with Vincenzo.

"What if he doesn't like us?" Marie asks softly. And I think she's posing the question more to herself than me.

"Hey! He's going to adore us!" I say, and she looks at me. Her eyes are wide with fear and anxiety. "Marie, it won't be easy initially, but we've discussed this before. Let's take it one step at a time. Don't think of Vincenzo as our future responsibility for now; think of him as a piece of Jules we will meet, okay?" Her eyes fill with tears, but she nods and smiles.

I take her hand, still clenched into a fist, and slowly bring it to my lips, gently touching it. Her hand opened, and I saw the half-moon red marks in her palm. She sighs in surprise, and I smile, trying to convey reassurance, even though I'm as terrified as she is deep down.

"We'll make it, my dear. Trust me," I say, and she agrees.

She subtly motions for me to release her wrist, but before I can feel my stomach sink with her rejection, her hand grabs mine and squeezes—a firm grip with a lot of meaning. My eyes go from our joined hands to her face, and this time, she has a small, reassuring smile on her lips.

"Let's go, Leclerc! Let's meet the legacy of our best friend."

(…)

"Sorry for the number of stairs! Our elevator hardly ever works," Cecilia says when we finally reach her apartment door after climbing about eight flights of stairs.

I lean against the wall next to the door and pull the air firmly into my lungs. On the other hand, in the last step, Marie depends on the railing, trying to laugh her heart out and normalize her breathing.

"Jesus! How do you manage to do this every day?" She asks Cecilia, who laughs and shrugs.

"Try doing it with a child in your arms; you'll guarantee it's much worse," she says, and Marie laughs lightly.

"So, good for you that you'll soon be free from going through this, right?" I speak, and the smile once painted on her lips fades.

Marie clears her throat, making me take my eyes off Cecilia and look at her. She is giving me a reproachful look, and I muster all of myself not to roll my eyes.

"Cecilia, do you want to go in first and talk to Vincenzo for a bit?" She asks, and Cecilia agrees.

"Good idea! Be back in a minute," she says, searching for the key inside her bag until she finds it and inserts it into the door lock. Before she turned the doorknob to open it, she waited for me for a full minute.

"I'm not asking you to like me, Charles," her tone is profound, and I stare at her with the same intensity. "But know that while we are in my house and front of Vincenzo, you won't talk to me like that, and you won't disrespect my pain in front of my son. I know I can't expect much from you because you're a man, and you'll never understand the situation with any view other than a man's." She turns entirely to me. "None of this is a walk in the park. Not for any of us. And this is the saddest thing I've had to do since I spent 12 hours in labor alone in a hospital while still mourning the father of my child." Tears overflow in her eyes, and I swallow hard.

"I messed up, and I messed up a lot. But I pay my penance every day for it. While you could feel the pain of mourning at your doorstep, I had to get up every day to feed and change a child who depended on me, and for a long time, I considered him to blame for everything." She lowers her gaze, shame and regret in her words reflecting her being. "They said it was postpartum depression, but I always knew better. I always loved Vincenzo, but I will never be able to look at him without seeing the reflection of my mistakes." She wipes the tears streaming down her face with the backs of her hands. "I will live eternally with these ghosts haunting me, but I won't let my son go through this." She says and turns, opening the door and entering right after.

The door closes with a soft thud, and I look at her. I don't know how I should react or even what I feel in the face of Cecilia's declaration. But even without knowing, shame points at the pit of my stomach. It's a shame because I wonder what Jules would say if he could see me now. And I think about my father for the first time in a long time.

"She didn't say that for you to feel bad, Charles," I'm drawn by Marie's voice. Her expression is serious, but her tone is gentle. "But she's not entirely wrong. You'll never understand her, not just because you're a man, but because this situation is far beyond any understanding and empathy you and I can have." She says, and her gaze shifts momentarily before returning to me. "I think the only one who could understand her is no longer here." She whispers the last part, and I continue observing her and digesting her words.

I also wonder if Marie has ever felt like Cecilia, not for the same reasons; that's obvious. But for different reasons, has she ever felt so alone with no one to understand her motives?

And then, I remember when I found out she had left a few days after Jules' funeral. I went to her apartment in the center of Monaco, and when I arrived, the landlord told me she had moved two days ago. I remember the emptiness that filled me: the pain, the loneliness, the mourning.

I had questioned many times why she left and abandoned me, even though she had nothing left with me and no obligation to try to restore what was broken inside me. But at no point did I wonder what she felt.

Jules died, and Marie and I no longer had a relationship. Her parents were never real parents. She had no one else but me, and even though I felt lonely and abandoned, I still had family who felt my pain.

So, is that it? Is that why she left? Because she thought she had no one else? Did she go through all of this alone?

"Please, Charles. Don't do this," she says, and I stare at her.

"Do what?" I ask, confused.

"Don't try to decipher if there's more to what I said than what I said," her gaze is as intense as Cecilia's a bit ago. "This is not about me and certainly not about you." And with these words, she ended the subject.

I wish I could retort and ask her, but that wasn't the moment, and I had already messed up enough for today. So, I nod in understanding, and she relaxes her shoulders and clears her throat.

Marie walks towards me in small steps, my trained eyes on her movements. She stops by my side, leaning against the same wall as me. Her face turned to the stairs where she was before.

"I'm sorry," is what I say because that's what I feel. Marie looks at me, and a faint smile adorns her lips.

"It's not your fault," she looks back at the stairs, and I follow.

We spend a few more minutes facing the cold steps, both immersed in our thoughts until I hear a slight maneuver coming from inside Cecilia's apartment. The door opened, but there was no one there.

"Hi!" A childish voice says, and I look down, seeing a tiny being with dimples and chubby cheeks staring at us. "I'm Vitiendo."

I feel my body freeze, and everything around me seems blurry. The little one looks at me with big brown eyes, just like Jules'. My heart races inside my chest, but still, I try to pull the air as deep as I can.

I crouch down, getting as close as I can to Vincenzo's height, and he keeps looking at me with big and curious eyes.

"Are you a friend of Daddy?" He asks, and I nod.

"Your father was my best friend," I say, his eyes light up. "I'm Charles. Nice to meet you, Vincenzo," I add, extending my hand for him to take.

"Will you be my best friend too, Shal?" he asks, looking from my hand back to my face.

I feel my eyes welling up, and a smile grows on my face.

"Yes, Vincenzo. You'll be my best friend," I reply, and he throws himself into my arms. I was startled and remained still momentarily, feeling his little arms tightly wrapped around my neck.

I instinctively hugged him back when I finally realized he was hugging me.

Tears I tried to hold back streamed down my face. It's Jules' son who is in my arms now. And it's him to whom I will give my word and my life to protect, no matter what happens. Just as Jules once did for me.

I lose myself in the feeling of that hug. I lost the sense of familiarity I felt at that moment. It's as if I've been transported back a few years, and the person in my arms is my best friend. I close my eyes tightly and suppress the urge to say everything. I never had the opportunity to speak to Jules one last time.

I love you. I miss you. I'm sorry. Thank you for being my hero. Stay.

I don't know how long we've stayed in this position, but I've returned to reality, or at least part of it when I hear a sniffle and a half sob behind Vincenzo. He must have heard it, too, as he squirms slightly in my arms, urging me to let go. He then turns to his mother and Marie, who are watching us, tears in their eyes.

Many things are happening on Marie's face, but for the first time since we learned of Vincenzo's existence, fear is not a part of any of them.

I watch her eyes shine with inspiration as she looks at the little boy in front of her, who looks back at her with sparkling eyes. They stand there, staring at each other for a few seconds, until Vincenzo tilts his head in confusion.

"Hi!" he greets with a shy smile. "Are you a princess?" I let out a low laugh, and Cecilia joined me. Marie bends down to his level. Her right hand slowly traces Vincenzo's face as if she wants to capture every feature.

"You look just like your dad," her voice falters with emotion, and Vincenzo extends a hand, mimicking her movements.

"Were you also a friend of Daddy, Princess?" He smiles openly, and Marie quickly nods with closed eyes, savoring the affection Vincenzo is showing.

"Yes, my love. I was excellent friends with your daddy," she says in a soft voice, and just as he did with me, Vincenzo throws himself into Marie's arms, who holds him instantly and presses him tightly against her.

I approach the two and give Marie a sideways hug, running my hands through Vincenzo's small curls.

(...)

"And this here is my Lawi Hamilton car," Vincenzo shows me another one of his toy cars when we reach the small room he shares with his mother. "It's my favorite," he says, and Marie laughs beside me when I can't hide my grimace.

"And a Ferrari? Don't you like Ferrari?" I ask him, and he leaves me confused for a few seconds.

"Fewawi? Is that the red car that breaks?" He innocently asks, and this time Marie bursts into laughter. I nod and give her a dirty look. "Fewawi is cool, Shal. But I like Cedes," he says, his eyes sparkling with the name of Mercedes, and I can't help but smile.

"Alright, I'll make you change that over time. At least it's not Redbull," I say, and Marie shakes her head, the huge smile still on her face.

"Edbull is the best! I like Edbull!" He says, and I choke on the air.

"But that's not possible!" I am incredulous, and Marie already has tears in her eyes from laughing so much.

"Don't be mad, Shal! I'll like Fewawi too, I promise!" Vincenzo extends his pinky finger towards me, and I catch it with mine, crossing them in a promise.

"I think that's great because you're going to spend a lot of time in the Ferrari box with me, little man," I say, picking him up, and he laughs.

"And are we going to meet Lawi Hamilton?" He asks excitedly, and I nod with a smile.

"Well, he won't be in the Ferrari box, but we can go to the Mercedes one; how about that?" I ask, and Vincenzo lets out a scream of happiness and hugs me tightly.

"Thank you, Shal! Are you coming too, Princess?" He turns to Marie, who looks at me awkwardly, unsure what to answer.

It has been a long time since Marie walked through the Paddock; the last time was months before Jules' death when we both ended our relationship. And I understand that for her, it might be a bit challenging.

"The Princess will go when she's ready," I say, looking at Marie. "And when she's ready, we'll both be there to hold her hands and ensure she doesn't feel scared, right?" I ask, shifting my gaze from Marie to Vincenzo, and the little boy in my arms jumps, making me hold him tighter to prevent him from falling.

"Yes! And can we take mommy too, Shal?" I feel a shiver down my spine when he asks me. I look at Marie, who stares back at me with wide, sad eyes.

I don't know what to answer. I still need to understand my position here. Vincenzo will live with us, but I don't know who or how we would break this news to him. Even though I don't like Cecilia and disagree with her parenting methods, I still don't feel that this conversation should come from me but rather from Cecilia, who is still the boy's mother.

No child is ready to leave their mother, especially one so young. Cecilia is Vincenzo's world. The only absolute truth he knows, and I don't want him to lose that, even if it's something enforced.

"How about we check if Mommy has finished making dinner, Little One?" Marie asks, lifting the rug where Vincenzo is sitting. "Will you help me find the kitchen? This house is still a maze for me, and princesses can't wander in mazes without royal guards and knights in armor to watch over them, right?" Marie gestures and puts her hands on her chest, pretending to be a distressed damsel. Despite wanting to laugh at her horrible acting, I feel grateful she thought of something so quickly to distract the boy from his question.

"Yes, Princess! I'll protect you from monsters and bad guys!" Vincenzo says, striking a pose as a brave hero, making us laugh. "Shal, floor!" I understand what he means and bend down to safely put him on the floor.

Vincenzo takes Marie's hand, pulling her towards the door. She follows him briskly, and I stay in the room for a few more minutes, looking at the toys Vincenzo had left on the floor.

His question still echoes in my head. The feeling of wanting to shield him from any pain overwhelms me, but I know it's impossible for him not to suffer from Cecilia's future absence. I wonder if she is not going through the same, for I've known him for less than an hour, and I can't imagine being away from the boy for too long. Then I remember what she said earlier, her bitter words against herself, and how she doesn't want Vincenzo to be haunted by the ghosts of her mistakes.

And remembering the feeling I had earlier with him in my arms, this may be the universe's way of telling me that even though I no longer have my heroes around me, I still have the opportunity to be someone's hero.

And there, sitting on Spider-Man's play mat, holding the toy cars in my hands, I begin to understand, or at least I think I do. If I already love him, having just met him, it's clear that this is a nightmare for Cecilia. She has to leave her son, her only companion because guilt and the consequences of her mistakes always haunt her. Sacrificing her right as a mother rather than offering her son's happiness and future might not make her a terrible mother. Perhaps it's the only thing she has done right in her entire life.

"Come on, Shal! Many monsters want to take the Princess!" Vincenzo appears at the door, and I quickly get up, running towards him. After all, I can't let such a tiny being fight against so many monsters alone.

🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨

Hello! After months, I brought another part translated into English! I apologize for the delay, but it's truly challenging to translate into another language. This weekend, I will translate the other parts :) See You!

Tag list:

@woofgocows

@livinglifethroughfanfic @allthisfortommy

@kyomihann

@numafarawayglxy

@ushygushybaby

@lara03

@alwaysclassyeagle

@ru-kru @pjofics

#carlos sainz fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x leitor #carlos sainz x reader #f1 smut #charles leclerc x reader angst #f1 x y/n #angst

115 notes · View notes

iluvshinytwink · 2 years ago

Text

Just For Me - Jude Bellingham

"Who's this video for?"

"Just for me."

Scenario: While clearing out his camera roll, he comes across one of the many videos he's took of you before you two broke up.

Now Playing . . . Hollywood's Dead (Unreleased) by Lana Del Rey

a/n: RANDOM DISCLAIMER!! 😱😱 this is slightly related to another post in my blog called "Are We Still Friends?" Check it out if you'd like. I'm just here to sprinkle more salt in the wound, will u guys ever get a part 2? only god will know 🙄

No matter how many times you delete, forget, and ignore the memories would still be there, in your mind. Memories couldn't be erased, it was stored in your mind and nothing will change that. Nothing.

Jude scrolled through his camera roll since his storage was piling.

He scrolls up to a certain part of his camera roll, it was filled with numerous photos and videos. Curious, he clicks on one. He shouldn't have clicked on it, now he was going to relive the memories he wanted to forget.

A blurry photo was displayed in his phone, you were in the photo, smiling with food stuffed inside your mouth. Though the photo itself was blurry, he could see you properly, he could see the smile he wanted to see for several weeks clearly, he could sense the laugh that he heard after the photo was shot. And he could feel his heart breaking away.

Though he felt the pain and he could hear the protests of his mind telling him he should delete every photo, every video-- he didn't. He couldn't bring himself too.

He continues scrolling through the photos with a sloppy smile as the tears began to well.

Then, while scrolling he comes across a video.

Jude comes up to you with his phone, recording most probably and with his flash on. You were on the couch on your phone, you looked at your boyfriend already trying to hide your smile.

"Say hi." He smiled at you, phone in his hand. "Hi." You waved and he laughs. You laugh with him. "Who's this for?" You said in between your giggles. "Just for me." He said softly.

A bitter smile wraps his lips, his eyes soften.

Sometimes, you're the reason why you're hurting. Sometimes, you don't even realize it. Someday, you'll look back to those memories and know that you were the happiest there. Someday, you look back to those memories and pray to god that you'll experience it again.

The room was empty and it was dark, but in the midst was a lonely, lonely man dwelling on his memories.

He scrolls to another video even though tears were running down his cheek rapidly. I guess, something in him wanted to remind himself that he once loved and that he would never love again.

"Taste test!" You were behind the camera this time. Jude in the video looks at you with a smile, a sandwich in his hand. "Eat it." You said, the camera slightly shaking. Jude laughs before taking a bite into the sandwich. The camera goes closer, into his face. Jude bites his food, fighting a laugh. "How does it taste?" You ask. Jude throws a thumbs up with a muffle of agreement. You burst into laughter, camera rapidly shaking before the video ends.

The smile that stayed on his face on that video sent a sense of nostalgia through his veins. He smiled from ear to ear and he couldn't stop smiling, and that was all thanks to you. Now, with you gone, the smile that's seen on his face was wobbly, shaky, and sad. He felt his lips quiver and he sets his phone somewhere along his empty bed. His body crashed to the mattress and he sobbed.

Simple moments like saying hi to a camera or eating in front of it were moments he missed the most.

But, if you ask me I don't think he missed those simpler, calmer moments. If you ask me, I think he just missed you.

Welcome back to deluluhours.exe restaurant, i know u didn't ask for it but have a platter of angst 🤞🤞

Hope u enjoyed this!! Fun fact, i finished writing this when i was supposed to be studying for my math exam ☠️☠️ clout over grades i guess

Anyways smash that like button and subscribe for more BANGERZZZZ like these 💞💞

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagines #delulu hours exe #imsoslaying #iluvshinytwink

353 notes · View notes

chemdisaster · 2 years ago

Text

cat dad au fic! in which kitten comforts scar. few things you need to know for context - "the isaacs" is a silly name scar gave to the heroes who would bully him, kitten uses a bunch of neos, of which i'm using xit/xitself in this fic, and for a few years when scar first found kitten he was under a lot of stress with work and they both had a bad time. that is all

"I like this one."

Scar hums as Kitten hands him another picture. In this one, the two of them are dressed up as Hotguy, both laughing as a tiny Kitten points a fake arrow at his chest. Touching his finger to the cascading reds and oranges, he inhales the smell of memories and watches the echoes flash by.

"I have captured you, Hotguy! Give up if you know what's good for you!"

"No! Never! You won't catch the tail end of my whiskers, Catguy!"

"Not if I use my special bow! You're dead, Hotguy! I will capture you and I'll—"

As joy rings out in the silent air of reminiscence, a smile warmed with time spreads on his face.

"Yeah. I like this one, too."

Carefully setting the photograph aside, Scar moves on to the next one. With Ari out this afternoon, he and Kitten spontaneously decided to clear out some old boxes—and the nostalgia is hitting like nothing else.

Surrounded by various papers and bundles and scraps, they sit side by side on the floor of his room and exchange quiet comments as they pass around mementos of years past. The atmosphere is peaceful, hushed, and looking from the tiny kitten on the photographs to the grown up cat next to him, Scar can't help but marvel at how long it's been.

He never thought he'd get here.

Stifling a laugh into his palm over the picture of small Kitten with a rubber fish and a beard of foam, Scar adds it to the growing collection. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he looks over at Kitten—

And his heart skips a beat.

Centred in Kitten's padded hands is an assortment of crumpled papers, familiar as anything Scar wouldn't like to recall. Delicately smoothed out and held together with years old tape, the grid pattern has faded away, but he doesn't need to see the scribbles to immediately recognise them and everything that came with.

Art of Kitten that xit was never meant to see jumping at him from the frayed scraps, Scar asks, "Are those...?"

"Hm?" Kitten makes a noise that's more cat than anything. "Oh, these? Yeah, you—you drew them for me, didn't you? I remember I kept finding them in your bag."

"Yeah, I remember you kept going through my things like a nosy feline," Scar jokingly gripes. His grin thins at the edges, "I—I do remember these, yeah."

Drawing on patrols, sketch after sketch to block out the mocking, the insults—getting the drawings ripped from him and torn into tiny pieces right in front of his eyes. Sinking to his knees and cradling the pieces in his hands, tears littering the floor.

He kept them as a reminder of his failures. He never thought they would ever become anything more.

"Why were they torn?" Kitten asks after a while of Scar silently staring at his lap. "Did you not like them?"

Scar doesn't reply. Kitten knows about the mistreatment his old team would put him through, but somehow it still feels shameful, even after all these years, to acknowledge that it happened. That he let it happen, and let it go on for as long as it did because he was too weak to stand up for himself.

Too bad to realise how that weakness was impacting the people around him.

"Scar."

"I did like them," he says suddenly, vehemence splitting from his tongue. "I liked them so much. It's just, I would always draw on missions and I'd get distracted and, well," Scar shrugs, smiling like it's all right past the bitter lump in his throat, "the Isaacs didn't like that."

"Oh."

He doesn't know why it means so much to him. They're only drawings. Stupid doodles of Kitten to chase away the self-loathing that never really left. They're not even good. And yet here he is, decades past and still getting emotional over things that don't matter. It doesn't matter.

He doesn't matter.

"I thought you were the one who tore them," Kitten blurts out. "I thought you didn't like them, and that's why you tore them. I," he breaks off, his tail curls around his legs.

"Back when I was a kid, I thought it was because you didn't like me."

Guilt grips Scar's chest. All those years ago, when Kitten would curl up in front of a closed door—the drawings were an attempt at something good. To show him how much he appreciated him when words wouldn't come. And he ruined that, and now he's ruined what was meant to be a simple cozy afternoon.

He ruins everything, he's always known. Somehow it still hurts.

Kitten is worried about Scar.

Has been for a while now, and the torn drawings are only the start of it.

The few years during which little bits of tape would stick to his claws were hard on them both, and even years later xit can't stop the cold dark grey of abandonment from creeping up when xit thinks of that awful time. Staying up late waiting for Scar to come home, only to fall asleep and wake the next day to an empty flat—it was soul-sucking.

But he healed. He's not there anymore. Lately, he's not so sure about Scar.

A good few minutes pass before xit decides to speak up.

"It was really hard for you back then, wasn't it?"

Focus sinking into nowhere, Scar jerks as he breaks out of his daze.

"Huh, what?"

"Those first few years. When it was just you and me. Taking care of a child while working the way you did at the time can't have been easy," Kitten probes. He doesn't expect anything but the deflection he's come to know, and he wishes Scar would be honest with him.

He wishes Scar would be honest with himself.

"Well, I mean—there were some rough patches, yeah," his friend stammers out. "But—"

"You would cry yourself to sleep."

Scar's head shoots up, the dark bags under his eyes never seemed more prominent.

"I heard. Every time."

He looks down, "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologise," Kitten says quickly. "Just...we keep talking about what it was like for me, yeah? But we never talk about what it was like for you."

Abruptly, Scar gets up and walks over to the bed, sitting down, rocking back and forth as he pulls his sleeves over his fingers.

"It's—it doesn't matter. I'm okay now."

Kitten follows, clambering up next to him and peering past the curtain of brown hair at the face hidden beneath.

"I'm not sure you are."

Scar's expression crumples for a split second.

"Don't worry about me, Kitten," he says. "I'll—it's not your job to look after me."

Kitten scoots closer, xits tail lays itself over his back. Scar doesn't speak and xit doesn't either; words are difficult and xit's content to sit here staring at the old wallpaper, making out dirty kitchens and wine-stained floors in the peeling vinyl. Stillness can hold all the sentences within its grasp, he's learned—he'll never ask for more than what the quiet can give him.

Outside, damning clouds begin to gather as a shuddering inhale stumbles its way out of Scar's lungs.

"Sometimes it felt like it was all for nothing."

The confession breaks the silence, but does not break the gentle swishing motions of Kitten's tail against his spine.

"It was just—so difficult," he continues, letters spilling out of his mouth like an avalanche of wretched revelations. "Nothing was working. I spread myself thin every day and I still just constantly felt like I was doing it for nothing. And I'm—I'm sorry."

Scar's hands thrust upwards, he trips over another inhale.

"I tried so hard to do what was best for you and I just ended up hurting you—every time. And I just," he bends his head, swipes at his eyes, "maybe I'm not meant to be good. Maybe it would be better if I just...wasn't."

His features twist, eyebrows inching higher on his forehead; he looks devastated, wrought with grief for what could have been, what he should have been and everything he never was. Decades of regret play in the creases of his skin as he tugs on his hair, blinking rapidly in the way he always does—the way that always fails.

Kitten was never one for words, but in this moment he thinks that maybe what he struggles to give is what Scar needs. He needs to exist, and touch not meant to hurt can only do so much.

Stillness can hold all the sentences within its grasp, but phantom promises won't stitch up an age-old wound.

"Scar, you did—so much for me," xit says, and Scar's back jumps in a tremor. "For so many people. I wouldn't be here if you weren't."

Eyes squeezed shut, the other emits a low noise, "I hurt you."

"You talked to me and gave me drawings and found me a therapist. You did more to help than anyone else ever could."

Scar shakes his head, shakes it like Kitten's words are incomprehensible, impossible to believe, and maybe they are. Leaning forward, trembling hands lifting to press to his chin, he curls in on himself, shoulders hunching like a plea—a plea for Kitten to stop saying things that he can't, won't let himself believe are real.

Kitten does not relent.

"Look, I know you have this fear in you that you'll hurt anyone you rely on but that's not true. You deserve support, that's what we're here for."

"No, I—these are my own struggles, and I—I can deal with it—"

Scar's voice bounces up like marbles off the wooden floor; the tears he's desperately wiping off his cheeks render his assurances anything but genuine. Clouds descending in the streams of his despair, he's never looked more damaged.

"You took care of me for so long," Kitten says softly, reaching out for a man who won't let himself accept that love never had to be earned. "Let yourself be taken care of, too."

As his friend continues to shake his head in denial, he thinks of a rainy evening, a door left ajar, a room filled with muffled sobs—and he thinks of two friends, both hurt by the world, both having found healing within each other.

"I like your ears. Remember?"

Scar slumps, defeated. Loud, uncontrollable weeping tears through him like a wildfire and Kitten pulls him close, rubbing a clawed hand over his back, muttering, "Relax. You don't have to be strong all the time."

Raking his claws over quivering vertebrae, listening to choked cries get suppressed against his rumbling chest, he leans back against the blankets and pulls Scar with him, carding thin fingers through long brown strands as his friend settles, trembling, atop his body. Scar's hands are freezing cold, the wire under his feet looms ever farther down below—

And Kitten knows in this moment that all that he needs is for someone to make sense of him. And xit knows that, finally, xit understands.

And when Scar drapes himself over xit in an instinctual, unguarded yearning to be near, xit drops xits head into the crook of his neck and doesn't look up and begs that this moment would never end. Kitten's heart may not shine, but he would give all the gold in his possession to mend the cracks of Scar's tainted soul.

And as he drifts to a doze with his friend in his arms, he thinks back to the torn drawings—taped together, hidden away as something to be treasured. And xit thinks, maybe broken doesn't have to be forever.

Under Kitten's hold, for the first time in years, Scar starts to believe that maybe everything he did wasn't for nothing.

#cat dad au #gtws angst #gtws #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #worddisaster #not as happy with this as i could have been but whatever #fuck perfectionism <3 #hermitfic

168 notes · View notes

noemitenshi · 4 months ago

Text

Troy Otto x Alicia Clark s8 AU - Their first meeting

am thinking about this again

specifically though the first meeting between troy and alicia post s3. now to half-way fit it with canon, it needs to happen after s7 as i understand it, since alicia is thought to have died at the end there (though as we find out in s8 that is not what happened...).

Ok so Alicia passes out (forgive me, I have not seen the ep in question but for like story reasons it should happen in a store). Alicia passes out. Troy happens upon her while on a supply run. He sees a body lying in the aisle, he goes over to make sure s/he isn't a threat - the way in which he does that is that he kicks the body and waits for a response.

the only thing that happens is that her head lolls to the side so that troy can see her face and he goes "alicia?!"

He can't even put into words what he's feeling now. Definitely surprised (a bit also like fate is laughing at him) and it has him thinking back to the ranch and madison and nick. His brother and father and all of that. Unbalances him completely. He hasn't been thinking of that period in his life for a while now. And while his emotions have a hard time settling, he's already checking for a pulse, unsure if he wishes more to find one or none.

There's relief when he feels the fluttering heartbeat. And his hands are already busy, checking for further injuries before he can even decide what he wants to do now. So he goes 'guess i'm helping her'.

He isn't quite sure why, his emotions still all over the place. Nostalgia (both toward the ranch/that period when the clarks got there before everything went to shit/missing jake and his dad and nick) but then also still bitterness/disappointment/hurt over what madison did to him (over nick just standing by). He very much feels his lonliness in this moment, or more the missing of other people. And he isn't quite sure if he intends to help alicia as a way to get back at madison or if his intentions are more benign. he doesn't care, either.

Whatever it is, the end result is the same. he takes her with him and manages to nurse her back to health.

She's non-responsive for a long time but at some point she wakes up. Very disoriented, she thought it was her end when she passed out. And then first she sees she's been taken care of. sees troy's back and is like 'oh he must've helped me' kinda surprised someone did but also deeply thankful and then he turns around and she goes "troy otto?!" all confused. startled. just a whole world of huh what when how why and troy goes "alicia clark" very much emphasiszing every syllable and then "what are the odds, huh?" and she goes "i thought… youre dead" and the second part is very quiet. whispery and he goes "yeah your mom tried her best" with like a head tilt and maybe "guess you can tell nicky he isnt the only deathproof one…" and then alicias face does a 🥺-face and he knows thats not good "nick… he…" she stops and shakes her head. blinks maybe. "he died"

and troys face does something complicated and then he goes "how?"

and alicia isn't quite sure how to answer that. doesn't feel like telling the story (thinks troy would have *things* to say about it and she does not feel like having him judge it/mock it. not this). so maybe she just says "shot." and troy can go "and the one who did it?" with a look in his eyes. and she can shake her head again bc. she doesn't want to remember. also prob doesnt want to be remined of how shed been after nicks death and troy sounds like hes out for revenge so. she just goes "you saved me" Troy huffs a little laugh as if saying *evidently*. And alicia tells him "thank you" honestly He gets all busy then (as if a bit bashful) telling her how long she was out etc that she won't be able to travel for a while still by his estimate. And then maybe some kind of ... almost casual "Madison's gotta worry a bit longer..." (he's totally fishing for information haha without like saying it. hoping alicia will confirm whether she traveled with madison before.) And Alicia tells him she's dead too And then they sit in silence.

And this is how they start.

#troy otto #alicia clark #ftwd #fear the walking dead #troy otto x alicia clark #alternative s8 #or i guess alternative backstory for troy #ramblings #my fic #not really a fic #just a scene #i may add to this i may not #open to answer asks about this #troy otto x alicia clark s8 brainrot

14 notes · View notes

newx-menfan · 1 month ago

Text

X-Men: From the Ashes Ranked

Honestly as many know- I wasn’t a big Krakoa fan.

The titles were such a “hit or miss”, I hated the Moira retcon, Laura and several other characters were just horribly written, and after Hickman left the show… the momentum kind of died as well…

Despite bringing dead and depowered X-Men back…Krakoa seemed like we were pretty much only getting the same set of characters featured….

There just WASN’T A LOT that appealed to me.

While I get people’s arguments that this era feels “lost”… many comparing it to Claremont’s “Revolution” era before Morrison; I actually feel better about this era than I have about X-books in a long time. People totally forget that for every good book during Krakoa like “X-Terminators” or “Mauraders”- there was some pretty big STINKERS like “Excalibur”, “X-Force”, “Fallen Angels”, ect…

Honestly as disjointed this era may feel, it at least FEELS like X-Men.

So, after reading several titles, I wanted to rank and briefly review them-

Uncanny- This books is definitely the best of the line! The first arc with Sarah Gaunt was spectacularly creepy and Simone really SHOWS just how much of a comic book pro she is on this book. There’s not a lot of books I would say gets the Claremontian voice right- but this one definitely does! I literally can’t stop singing its praises- if you love the original Claremont, this book is a must read!

2. NYX- While this book ISN’T by any means perfect, I still feel like it has a lot of promise. There really isn’t a book on the rest of the line that has the same young and fresh vibe this one has. The idea of the book is entertaining and when it’s good- it’s fun!…yet, when it’s bad- it’s majorly disappointing. Hopefully the next arc is a bit stronger, because I really DO want this book to succeed! This is the book most X-Men fans WANT.

3. X-Men - While this book definitely FEELS unique in its lineup and fresh… something about it just doesn’t quite work for me. I actually liked the rag-tag lineup but I often feel like it’s bogged down with nostalgia. Remember when Beast went evil? When QQ did kick? When Idie and QQ was at the Jean Grey school?…because this book will definitely remind you! While this book isn’t all bad, my other issue is that it often has the same vibe as Aaron’s “Wolverine and the X-Men” meets Cyclops “Utopia”. There’s a ridiculousness at this point in Scott fixing up another garden and trying to yet AGAIN create another mutant civilization. The book veers into corniness with the jokes and often feels too childish for a main title. While it’s definitely not the worst title… Uncanny is a much more solid book if you want A-List X-Men comic.

4. X-Factor- Is fine. It’s not as great as “Marauders” or some of the other Krakoa titles…but it’s fine as a comedy book darkly harpooning on the 1990’s run of mutants being part of a military force. It’s not anything you’ll deeply care about or even remember, but it’s fine for a quick read. I don’t HATE it…but it’s boring. Even the jokes are pretty outplayed and boring. Also…Lorna REALLY just needs to breakup with Havok and be DONE 😬

5. Exceptional X-Men - Again, I think this book has great PROMISE…Kitty falling from earth and working as a waitress after basically being a GOD... And yet- I don’t feel like Kitty works for this kind of story; it makes SENSE for Hellion to have a chip on his shoulder towards Krakoa and Emma and the X-Men and Anole wanting a “normal life”. Surge would have made sense. Hope would have made sense after being propped up as a “mutant messiah”. They basically did this storyline years ago with Sofia in “New Warriors”…and it made sense then. Kitty… just feels inauthentic and…kind of whiny. I think the biggest problem with this book is it seems like every other title…street title?- NYX is doing it. New students?- Uncanny is doing it. Character bitter after Krakoa is gone?- NYX is again doing it. All these other books are just doing these plot points BETTER. It’s sad because I think this book will survive the chopping block where NYX might not…which is too bad because I think it’s definitely one of the weakest of the line.

6. X-Force - Oh X-Force. The bane of X-Men fans. I think the LAST time I really enjoyed an “X-Force” title was when KYOST was on the book. While definitely not AS BAD as Krakoa era Percy crackfic levels of crazy… the biggest problem with this book is- it’s boring. Nothing in this title feels greatly developed. Not the villains, not the plot, and not the characters. Everything is “Deus Ex Machina-ed” at the end of every issue. There’s no tension. There’s nothing to keep you in. While you don’t have to fear Beast making murderous Wolverine clones while flying away on a piece of an island or Domino being tortured by a man with a peacock tattoo… you also won’t really remember anything that happens in this book either. While I know sadly it won’t be the first to get cut…because X-Force is historically NEVER dropped no matter HOW bad the writing is…it definitely SHOULD BE.

Overall- I would say “Uncanny”, “NYX”, and “X-Men” were the big winners of “Ashes”…

“X-Factor”, “Exceptional”, and “X-Force” are the rougher titles…

Still I would say again- the biggest problem with most of these are that they’re boring and safe… yet even at their worst I would still say they’re more readable than say “Fallen Angels” or Duggan…

I probably won’t bother with “Phoenix” (honestly I am pretty sick of the Phoenix Force anymore and “Troia Jean” has zero appeal for me)…

Probably won’t bother with Wolverine or Hellverine, unless I hear good recommendations of it online…

I might try “Dazzler”, “Storm”, “Mystique” and “Magik”…

I will definitely read Laura’s solo and review it on here as well”.

But there you go- I really DON’T feel like “Ashes” is as big a failure as people are making it to be online….

#from the ashes #x factor #x force #NYX #uncanny xmen #x men #exceptional x men #marvel

9 notes · View notes

thieves-oasis · 5 months ago

Text

@tes-summer-fest day 7 - Companion or Fallen

‘Everything is Unimportant’

- Emirsyn Favel

Summary: A former member of House Dagoth recalls his time in the fallen house, contemplating the man he was thousands of years ago.

Word count: 752

———————————

I do not pity those who were killed for being in House Dagoth. Perhaps in my thousands of years of existence, I have grown out of the need for pity in any circumstance. It does not matter to me if they were traitors or not as my opinion unimportant - everything is unimportant. The way that the Dunmeri people remember that House has been set, and my displeasure with the stigma surrounding it will not change that it is a House of traitors in the eyes of Morrowind. I could thrive knowing that I was one of the few to survive, let that be my guiding light in this meaningless existence in hopes that somehow holding the name Dagoth makes me a martyr even though I still breathe through ash-cursed lungs. But I do not. My name is simply another check on the list of complicated things that I chose to remove from my identity rather than beg whatever gods living or dead to keep relevant.

I was not always like that, however. Relevancy used to matter more than identity. In some ways, it still does. I have had my time of playing the roles of hero and villain, and neither of them suited me. Frankly, I have no desire to continue searching for a role that suits me just to once again wring the title dry until it is withered and lost all meaning.

Many eras ago, things were different. It was a time where a title was all anyone wished for, everyone was simply an actor waiting to be casted on the newest play. These days, the play continues even though it has been going on for too long, and neither the starting line nor the finish line are anywhere in sight. Time has clouded my eyes and all I see now is a never ending purgatory where the starring role is given the golden spotlight that is the sun, and the supporting cast shines just as brightly. There are times where I remember what lines I had rehearsed and how they pulled the concepts of fear, jealousy, and honor together to create the perfect diplomat ready for casting… Moments where I can almost feel the warmth of another body standing next to mine on the stage only to pull myself down and once again merge with the comforting cold of a theater that has been empty for decades.

At times, I wonder how my past self would react to who I have become. I am wealthy, comfortable, and to my knowledge, still breathing. Perhaps he would not even be able to grasp a change so drastic - he, who was once so lively, filled with hope for the future, is now cold and bitter, with no regards for any soul-bound husks that walk this realm or the next. Despite knowing that he will never be on this level of consciousness again, I still feign empathy at times just to pander to him as he may be watching from behind the curtains.

That man had wished for so long to gain immortality at the beginning of the first era, and when he finally reached a state beyond life, I was born even though I festered below the surface. Before the war, he had spent my time with a clan of his peers - vampires that lived beneath the surface of Skyrim. To him, his first death was the most brutal and yet he still remembered it fondly for the longest of times. But time has a way of dimming fond memories, and years later, the tides of war swept away any chance at nostalgia while also managing to wash me onto the surface.

Just as my House is lost to history, so is that man. Despite living for centuries before the fall, he is remembered only as a traitor that assisted in the murder of Azura’s Champion. It’s for the best that he is remembered that way - or rather forgotten. If he is to be remembered, let him be remembered as one of many men trapped beneath the rubble of war, under the tomb of a dead god alongside the corpse of Morrowind’s forgotten Councillor. Let the Dunmer bask in their ignorance and leave the actor and his troupe to rest in the eternal hellfire of Red Mountain’s core. And let me continue walking in his blasphemous flesh while they worship their false gods forged by my death. It makes no difference to me as what I believe is unimportant.

Everything is unimportant.

#elder scrolls #tesfest24 #skyrim #tes #the elder scrolls #eso #elder scrolls online #writing #tesblr #dunmer #dagoth #house dagoth #oc: Emirsyn #dagoth ur #red mountain

9 notes · View notes

aihoshiino · 1 year ago

Note

I think that Viewpoint B and 45510 say something about Ai herself, both stories dive deep into her character. can you elaborate on it

The side stories are really interesting to me because like — IDK how intentional this was on Akasaka's part but they feel like a really deliberate study in contrast. They both have the same basic setup of a B-Komachi member looking back on her time on the group and her relationship with Ai from the perspective of them as grown adults over a decade out from Ai's death. The most immediate contrast is tonewise— Viewpoint B is a quietly sad and melancholic piece sort of tinged with nostalgia, especially with how Rie Takahashi chooses to perform Kyun in the audio drama adaptation of it. By contrast, 45510 is sooooo angry and bitter and Nino is so hostile and angry even years later when she really should have started moving on with her life. Not that there's a timeframe or schedule for grief, obviously, but to be this actively resentful and contemptuous of a person who has been dead for fifteen years... bitch will you PLEASE get your gay ass to therapy already!!!

When it comes to Ai, though, what strikes me is the consistency. Just like how both stories are about B-Komachi members reminiscing, Ai spends both stories reaching out and trying to connect with them and we get a whole lot of juicy thematic stuff as a result.

In 45510, Nino isn't connecting with the 'real' Ai— her equivalent of Ai & Kyun's talk is her passively taking in one of Ai's old videos, feeding on the "Ai of B-Komachi" she's still obsessed with. Even in this one-sided, sanitized form though we see over and over during the stream that Ai is doing everything she can to try and connect; she gives stumblingly earnest answers to the questions she picks out from the chat and even outright says that even though it scares her, she wants people to understand her and see even the parts of herself she hates. The purity of this wish is so strong that even Nino, who hates Ai so much that she accuses her of lying about things that Nino knows for a fact are fucking true begrudgingly admits those are Ai's true feelings and that she had finally listened to them for the first time in her life.

That's why the ending is such a gut punch. This tentative peek into the cracks in Ai's armor is enough for Nino to go looking for more of her only to react with such shock and disgust when she is faced with this full image of the real Ai reaching out to her via the blog that all she can think to do is irrevocably destroy it. It's just as Nino herself says— she's a woman more devoted to "the idol, Ai" than anyone else. That's why she can't allow Hoshino Ai to exist.

Viewpoint B contrasts this at almost every step of the way. Not only is Kyun's moment of connection a two-way street but it's with Ai herself, in person. Once again, we see Ai going out of her way to reach out and try to connect and for a brief, shining moment, someone actually reaches back. It's just for one evening but she and Kyun actually connect on a real human level; Kyun not only gets a peek at the real Ai's pain and human vulnerabilities but she accepts her, sympathizes with her and even seems to like her, poking at and teasing her to get more of those honest reactions out of Ai.

I literally just realized now as I was typing, but Kyun coming across Ai's "Lying Me" lyrics is a direct parallel to Nino finding Ai's blog draft. Both of them stumble across Ai pouring out her vulnerability into words but while Nino has to destroy it... Kyun accepts and uplifts it. In a lot of ways, Kyun is one of the people Ai has been looking for her whole life: a person who sees the real her and accepts it, regardless of how ugly and tarnished it is. It doesn't surprise me at all, then, that Ai went on to consider Kyun her closest and dearest friend in B-Komachi even years after that one fleeting conversation.

Both sidestories highlight something really important about Ai that I think is kind of slept on by a lot of surface level reads of her— I see a lot of people (as I've previously discussed) centering lies and lying when discussing her to such an extent that they treat it as though deception is in of itself her end goal while completely failing to think about what her motivations actually are.

What both 45510 and Viewpoint B really emphasize is that lying is, for Ai, just a means to an end, a survival tactic that was forced onto her that she doesn't know how to unlearn. Ai lies because she has lead a life that has caused her to believe she has to, because the 'real her' is so ugly and unacceptable that her only choice is to cover it up with pretty lies.

The real driving core of Ai's character is loneliness, desperation and hope. Over and over and over we see Ai trying to reach out to people, desperately trying to connect to them even in the face of repeated and absolute rejection. In 45510, she is heavily implied to have written the truth about Aqua and Ruby in the blog post that Nino deletes, all but putting her still-beating heart into the hands of girls she knows hate her but still choosing to take the chance on trusting them if her exposing her vulnerability will convince them of her sincerity.

Ai never loses hope. No matter how cruel the world is to her or how cruel each individual person is to her, Ai does everything she can to love and accept them, to make them feel supported, recognized and cared for even if it's only for a moment. In its own way, isn't that "love"?

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #ai hoshino #b komachi

45 notes · View notes

thorns-in-daisy-fields · 1 year ago

Text

I was messing with a poetry concept I was digging last night and came out with something totally different. It quickly grew into a story, and I really had fun with it. I'm nervous about posting it because it seems different than a lot of the writing I read, and I find myself worrying about what other people might think. I'm reminding myself that this is what my pen name is for. I created this little platform for myself so I could share my work with people. Even if it only resignates with one person, inspires one person, etc, I've already succeeded. The rest is water under the bridge... Yes, this paragraph is more for me than anyone else. The poem is bellow the cut

Every time life brings me

to my knees,

I raise a glass

to the god

who made me.

I toast to The Sadist

who pulled me

out of clay

with his own two

drunken hands

only-

and only-

to break me down

time

and time

again.

I toast:

cheers

to my shame,

cheers

to my suffering,

cheers

to my struggle,

and cheers

to my hopeless search

for redemption.

May it sit like poison

on your tongue,

so that your twisted addiction

may end.

To say I'm bitter

would be an understatement.

My creator's

obsession with tragedy

has left me

skinned up

between the covers

of dead men's books.

I want nothing more

than escape

but

he craves the sick

nostalgia

of tales

that came

long before mine,

so he sews seeds

of the past

into my soul,

so that my pain

may bloom

into a garden

of familiarity

for his leisure.

Riddled with

this curse of

noxious desire,

and

desperation

I've lept

out of that tower

with Icarus,

fully knowing

my fate.

Riddled with

this curse of

noxious desire,

and

desperation

I've followed

in Orpheus'

footsteps

once

thrice

all too aware

of what I'd still

lose

Riddled with

this curse of

noxious desire,

and

desperation

I've become so familiar

with moral perfectionism

and sacrifice

that Jesus and Prometheus

came to know

my name.

Yet

while they learned

to recognize me,

I lost the ability to name

the person

looking back at me

in the mirror.

More days than not,

I feel more myth

than man,

like just another

poor fool

locked to their fate

because

this god of mine

is making a Legion

of me:

a Legion of fools and

tragic heros.

More days than not,

I'm more a scambled apparation

of these myths

than anything else.

Who was I today?

Who was I yesterday?

Who will I be

tomorrow?

The answer is usually

something like this:

IcarusOrpheuseuridicemedusajesusPrometheussisyphusAtlasachillispatroclusNobodyTooMuchToConceptualizeNotEnoughToRecognizeIdontevenknowtheirnameortheirnameortheirnameortheirnameortheirnameortheirnameortheirnameor---

The Sadist tells me

these tears of blood,

are beautiful

as he kicks back,

arrogant with satisfaction.

He smirks

as he asks me

how many deaths

I'll have to die,

and how many ghosts

I'll have to meet

before

I collect enough lessons

amungst the grief

to set myself free.

And once again,

life has brought me

to my knees,

so I raise a glass

to the god

who made me.

I toast to

The Sadist

who pulled me

out of

clay

with his own

two

drunken hands

only-

and only-

to break

down

time

and

time

again.

I toast:

cheers

to my shame,

cheers

to my suffering,

cheers

to my

struggle,

and

cheers

to my

hopeless

for

redemption.

May it

sit

poison

on your

tongue,

so that

your

twisted

addiction

may

finally

end.

41 notes · View notes

toringo · 1 year ago

Note

i would love to hear about your thoughts on what henry thought of william, or how his opinions changed throughout the years. did he despise him by the end of it all? or were there still some bittersweet thoughts lingering there?

Depending on the version, the answer changes. Let's start with the game version because there is the least to say about him.

Despite me being an intense Helliam/Willry shipper, we know way too little about them to say just how friendly they were. In the game lore alone, I like to think they started as business rivals and Henry admired William and his work and must have liked him enough to perform with him on stage as partners. Maybe he was a bit put off by William's cold and deflective nature, but he… enjoyed him, enjoyed the time they spent together and the things they created. After he finds out that it was William who hurt his daughter for whatever petty reason, he would obviously hate him and I don't think that the hatred goes down with time. I just think that with time he gets sadder about this. I think that he wants William to die and suffer but he holds just a bit of guilt-inducing sympathy for him, nostalgia, the slightest note of longing.

Book Henry and William? Oh, they go WAY BACK. Become business partners early on, maybe even meet in college. Henry adored William when they were younger, he was Henry's best and only friend. Later, when they open Fredbear's it only becomes more intense. This version really wakes my Willry sensors. I think that book Henry loves his wife, loves his son but, shamefully, he puts William above them. Charlie above William. William - he associates with his animatronics, and he loves them (hates when they're broken, below his standards, and needs to fix them immediately). He loves William. He might not show it properly, but he does. William is very distant and so is Henry and he thinks that they're comfortable like that, being close from afar. It's comforting, they're on the same page. Until they aren't. He knows it was William when Charlie is taken, but he keeps quiet and isolates himself from everyone else, even his close family. Makes himself think it's possible to fool death. William stays at his side, and it hurts the most. I don't think he ever grows to hate William in this one, he wants him dead but only when he is about to die. He is desperate lonely and confused. He never gets to understand why William's done what he's done, he never gets a chance. I guess he is bitter, who wouldn't be, but he loves his 'faithful partner'. He puts the bare minimum into thwarting his evil plans which he himself doesn't understand and leaves, hoping to see him on the other side.

MY HENRY THOUGH. UMM. They meet in college and are polar opposites. Hate each other's guts at first but then slowly grow attached. It's a quick rival to friends. But at the friend stage… William confuses him, more than anything. Unbearably pessimistic and such a damn perfectionist, a bit too similar to Henry on that. It takes him some time to understand he's got a crush, he isn't even the first one to confess, even though he wants to. He and Will are very lovey-dovey in their own, weird, introverted nerd way. Attached at the hip. Until William dumps him for one of his friends of course, and gets married and has a kid that could not possibly be made after they broke up. So. He is heartbroken, resents William more than a little, and is desperate enough to feel pathetic at each turn. He tries to move on and gets a family, but it doesn't make his feelings go away, it only makes them worse. They become friends again later, partners, and it seems like that would be it, his heart still aches but he could get used to this. If not for the fact that William is acting as if the feeling is mutual, giving in at times only to give him the cold shoulder the very next second. He is annoyed with him and loves him so much, still. Later he goes from pity for him after 83' to a desperate need for closeness after Charlie and then blazing hatred when he finally finds out. And beyond all of that, there is this neverending pining and hurt. He sometimes is tempted to let go of the revenge, to crawl back to William and be with him. He never does, he ultimately also puts Charlie above.

#sorry if its messy doing homework and im tired #henry emily #willam afton #willry #helliam #fnaf #silver eyes #ask me anything #ask

24 notes · View notes

moramaisis · 16 days ago

Text

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Arsenia (tav) M/F Status: Villain couple, vampire bride tav. Both are happy together and go on slaughter date nights. Bi chaos. Summary: Arsenia talks about her traumatic past, commits murder (that doubles as a heroic act) and fantasizes about evil things. The midnight ball proves to be eventful and the couple starts sowing the seeds of future doom. Also, furniture shopping :) If you know, you know! Warnings and tags: Usual warnings: evil vampire couple, dark humor, dirty humor, murder, gore, unhinged horniness, brief romantic cannibalism. To those who appreciate dark, lustful vampires and fleshy romance. Fun, dark, campy horror.

Fun fact: Aram Khachaturian - Masquerade Suite was playing on repeat during the dance scene.

Chapter 5 of this story. It's a part of a series. Title: Midnight ball

We returned to Oneressa's manor with our loot, changing back in the living-room. The dogs behaved remarkably well during our flight, they started sniffing around once securely on solid ground. Obreon placed the loot bag on the floor in our bedroom, he was as thoughtful as always. I offered to remove the arrow in Astarion's stomach and he agreed. I pulled it out and then removed the one that was in my hip. I snapped the arrows in half, tossing them into the fireplace. Blood was running down my leg and forming a puddle under my foot.

Merchant's dog wandered over to lick it but i stopped her with a loud command. She stared at me with sad wet eyes and i crouched down to rub her head.

The two-headed dogs ran around the room excitedly, then lay down near the fireplace.

„Are you sure this is safe?“ Obreon asked. „They are trained to kill.“

„It is. They're under my control.“ I replied scratching the dog. „Does anyone remember the spell that lets you speak with animals?“

„I do, what are you thinking?“ Obreon sat on the settee, watching us curiously and pouring himself a glass of wine.

„Lets ask the dog's name. We have to call it something.“

Obreon cast his spell on me and i spoke to the dog.

„What's your name?“

The dog wagged its tail.

„Ruby. Master called me Ruby.“

„Your master is dead so i want you to stay here with us.“

„Ruby likes you, friend. Ruby likes your smell.“

„Did your master treat you well?“

„Master fed Ruby. Ruby slept in his bed. Ruby was alone a lot.“

„We will feed you very well and you can sleep in our bed.“

Ruby's tail was brushing the floor excitedly and she lunged forward to lick my face. I stood up, walked to the table and picked up a plate with the remnants of our breakfast. These were all sweets and certainly not proper dog food, but they were good enough for today. I placed them on the floor and Ruby lunged at them eagerly. They were gone in a second and she licked the plate clean.

I glanced at Astarion almost hoping he'd display signs of annoyance towards Ruby, since i allowed her to sleep with us, but he was occupied with other matters. He had pulled off his shirt, bundled it up and was pressing it against his wound.

„Do you need help, dove?“ I asked.

„No, thank you, i'm just trying not to dribble my blood everywhere.“ He rolled his eyes. „It's starting to feel like the good old days. Throbbing wounds, parasites, apocalypse – ah, the nostalgia. We haven't been this occupied in a long time, have we, dear?“

I strolled over and placed my hand on his blood-soaked shirt, pulling it down to look at the wound.

„It does have a sense of familiar excitement, but the only one whose world shall end will be Cornelis.“

His wound was fresh, already displaying signs of healing, but still a bloody hole in his perfect flesh. A sting of bitterness washed over me, then a sudden wave of arousal – he was hurt by some lowlife whom i loathed, hurt yet still so beautiful. I could never get enough of him. I traced the outline of his wound with my finger.

„Next time hide behind me. I don't want you to get hurt.“ I spoke, unable to remove my eyes from that wound. „We have to coordinate our attacks. One shields, the other assaults.“

Astarion glanced up at me.

„I'm not going to use my consort as a shield.“ He stated calmly.

„I want you to. Use the momentum to slaughter. Make me proud.“ I looked at him with a seductive smile. My finger danced around his wound and pushed inside. It was a completely impulsive response. Something foul and indecent. My finger slid deep into the rawness of his flesh, his muscle felt soft and tender against my skin. I pulled my finger out and brough it to my mouth, sucking it eagerly, tasting his blood.

„I want you to avenge my pain. I want you to kill for me.“ I said passionately.

Astarion was staring at me in silence, the look in his eyes was captivating.

„I will avenge you in tenfold. All you have to do is ask.“ He uttered sensually.

He stuck his finger into his wound and reached out to my lips, enticing me with his blood. I bit his finger, then sucked it clean. Violence made me even more aroused than i already was. The taste and smell of blood awakened a feverish desire in me, both an unyielding hunger and lust. Astarion observed me with a gaze clouded by desire. Becoming a vampire had intensified all my vices and he adored that part of me. At times i behaved like a wild animal.

I got down on my knees and caressed Astarion's hips. His lips parted in anticipation. I pressed my mouth against his wound and pushed my tongue inside his flesh. The rich flavor of his blood made me salivate. I licked and slurped the fleshy orifice without holding back. Astarion shut his eyes and moved his hand to the back of my head. The sound that he made was something between a groan of pain and pleasure.

I tastes his blood like it was our first time, my tongue raking against his exposed flesh. All the lust and violence mixed inside my head, corrupted and unholy. Driven by a sudden impulse i bared my fangs and bit into his wound. Astarion gasped in sweet agony, succumbing to the pain and allowing me to ravage him. When he had enough he pushed my head away with force. I stared at the rough bite marks around his wound and licked my lips sweetened by his blood. My actions reached my brain and i stood up quickly, grabbing his face and coating it with kisses.

„I'm sorry, my love. Look what i did to your beautiful skin.“ I cooed as i was kissing his cheek.

Astarion let me apologize, staring at my bloody mouth.

„Don't worry, darling, i know you got very worked up today.“ He moved up to me and licked the blood that surrounded my lips. His tongue brushed my skin with self-indulgence, then his lips followed and he kissed me. Our kiss was needy and unrestrained. When it ended i glanced over at Obreon and found that he was observing us from the settee. He smiled to me as he raised his glass.

„Your flesh tastes so comforting to me. Your blood tastes like home,“ i mumbled lovingly as my hand brushed through Astarion's curls. „You're my savior, beloved. I might have become a little frozen back there.“

„I wasn't going to watch that beast rip your face off, flame.“ Astarion said. „You are my treasure, after all.“

„Mmm,“ i hummed kissing his forehead. „I know that.“

„Frozen in combat? That's so unlike you, my sweet.“ He cooed as my hands were relishing the softness of his hair.

„I have to agree.“ I said nuzzling his face gently.

Astarion was enjoying my touch, yet he pulled me away to look at me.

„Is everything alright, Arsenia? It's unusual for you to get stiff in battle.“

I was trying to cast that part aside and forget it, but Astarion made me remember. Images flashed behind my eyes and i blinked to get rid of them. „It reminded me of something. Something from the past. It's very old and not worth the time.“

Astarion frowned as he stared at me.

„Tell me. You can tell me anything and i will listen. I can't promise you any earth-shattering words of advice, but i will always listen.“ He spoke and i tried to fight the wave of memories that built up in my brain. The events of something that had happened so long ago were pushing against me, trying to be known. Haunting me. Was i ready to spill my most traumatic event?

I sighed and pushed my face against Astarion's shoulder, looking for comfort. His arms embraced me tenderly.

„You can tell me anything, my sweetest desire. I will not cast judgment.“ He added.

The pictures were lining up behind my eyes, ready to unwind and i was finally ready to let me roll.

„It's going to be a long story,“ i said.

„We have all the time in the world,“ Astarion replied.

I pushed my cheek tighter against his skin. I felt so small, so frail.

„It happened when i was twenty-one. We lived in the forest, in a wooden cabin my parents had built. It was small but they made an attic just for me. I had my own room and it felt like luxury. My father was working on another recipe. He wanted a sample of a manticore's venom. He knew it had paralytic properties and that it could be a valuable ingredient in potion making for healing purposes – for surgery, he said. He wanted to go after the beast but my mother wouldn't let him out alone. I wanted to join and so we left together.“

The events of that day returned to me, while simultaneously feeling fuzzy as if i was watching them through a warped lens. Reliving it felt hurtful, yet i was unable to cry. Time had dulled my memories, yet it was incapable of healing me.

„The journey was long, we traveled for days. Father questioned every farmer he met. My mother was really good at tracking and she led us to the creature. Locals had seen the beast, it had taken a few of their farm animals. My parents decided to set a trap. My father was against killing the beast. He wanted to sample its venom and set it free. Mother hunted some meat for the bait and set up the trap. We hung a net above the meat, it was going to trigger once the creature pulled the bait.

Father gave me a set of darts that were filled with a sedative and wanted me to launch them trough a blowgun. I was supposed to put the creature asleep once it was inside the net.

Mother tracked the beast for days, she sprinkled blood around the forest to lure it to the bait. The days were long and full of waiting. The time spent waiting for the manticore was honestly amazing, we sat by the fire, talked, father played the flute. One evening the creature approached and mother demanded we get in position. My parents hid behind a large boulder, while i was sitting behind an old tree.

The manticore walked carefully, sniffing the meat on the ground. The beast picked it up and tried to carry it away. The net fell down, covering the creature. It started rolling on the ground, thrashing around. I jumped out to shoot it with a dart but the creature rolled on the ground and discharged it's tail spikes at me. I had to dive down to prevent myself from getting impaled.

I heard a loud crashing sound and when i peeked out i saw that the creature had rolled over to the far right and the net got caught on a tree. The manticore stood up and slipped out from the net, it smelled the ground and ran in my parent's direction. I tried to fire another dart at the beast yet it was too fast and i missed. I started running away into the woods, screaming and banging against trees to lure it further away from them.

I heard my mother screaming, she was telling me to stop it an escape. She wanted me to save myself. My father yelled me to do it, to listen to her. I simply couldn't do it. I couldn't leave them behind. I ran to them as fast as i could. They were fighting the beast, using the boulder as a shield and the beast was chasing them around it. I reached them, cast a few spells, helped them. It all happened so fast. It's a blur, really.

The manticore jumped on top of the boulder and fired its spikes at us. I heard my father make this odd sound and when i turned to see there was a spike sticking out of his eye. Another one was right through his forehead and there was one in his neck. He teetered and fell. I rushed to him but my mother grabbed my arm and told me to run. I held her tightly and we both started running. There was a giant abandoned den close by and we were running to it.

The den went deep into the underground but the entrance was wide enough for us, it also formed a big cave before tunneling into the earth. I was the first one to reach it and i just slid in feet-first whilst holding on to my mother's arm. I pulled her down with me and i saw a smile of relief on her face. She fell in head first and i kept pulling her inside. Suddenly she grimaced in pain and something yanked her out. I held on to her arm and got pulled halfway out of the den. The manticore had its teeth in her legs and was tugging her away. I held on and cast a fireball at the beast's face. It screamed and discharged its spikes. I felt them hitting my face. I was so shocked and confused that i didn't even understand what was happening. I backed away into the den and pulled my mother back inside. I pulled and pulled until something released and i tumbled backwards into the den. I looked at my lap and saw my mother's arm, it was still clenching my hand, ripped cleanly from the socket. Then the sounds commenced, wet, ripping sounds of flesh and crunching of bone. I sat there, staring at the cave wall, just staring and listening.“

I saw the cave wall vividly in my mind, the dry earth and exposed stone. A lonely centipede crawling on the surface. I remembered the blood dripping down my face. The weight of my mother's arm in my lap.

„Is this how you got your scar on the cheek?“ Astarion asked tenderly. His voice pierced through the fog and brought me comfort.

„Yes. I just sat there, listening to the beast eating my mother. It returned to devour my father and i was too scared to go outside. I spent the night there. Then a day. I had to piss in the cave. I got brave enough to peek outside once it was twilight. My mother's bloody bones were scattered at the cave entrance. My father's corpse was also half-eaten. I stuffed them inside the net and dragged them home. By the time i reached it they were swarmed by maggots. I buried them in our yard. The buzzing of flies lasted day and night. Sometimes i can hear it in my sleep. The phantom buzzing.“

A sudden touch on my back surprised me and i glanced behind me. Obreon had moved from his comfortable spot and was embracing me. His head was pressed against my spine.

„What nightmarish memories you've been hiding, my love.“ Astarion sighed. „Why didn't you tell me?“

„They were my whole world. I loved them more than anything. When i moved to the city and started working as an assassin i showed no mercy to anyone. Life was unfair, cruel and unpredictable. If i had to lose the ones that i loved and deal with it alone, then so could others. The pain of others brought me a sense of fairness. If i had to suffer, then so must they. In many cases those who i killed were in a good financial position, they had a social status, money, lovers, things to live for. Though, it was not always the case. I was the bringer of death. The manticore.“

„Did you feel better after killing them?“ Astarion asked gently.

„I don't think so, it was a distraction. Sometimes i cried after finishing the job. It reminded me of my pain, of the look in my mother's eyes when the beast dragged her away, but i faced my pain every time i went to work. I punished myself for not sedating the beast.“

„Darling, catching a large beast is no easy task. You cannot blame yourself for the way things ended. You did more than most people. Anyone else would've run as far as they could. Not you, you tried to save them. You fought for your love.“

„Fought and lost.“

„You were young and stupidly brave. You risked your life. I cannot believe that i came so close to losing you. That there was a chance we would have never met. Dear, your parents would hate to see you suffer. They wanted you to live.“

My eyes burned, yet i was unable to cry. I pressed my face against Astarion and clenched his body. He accepted my pain, though he had plenty of his own. He was right, my parents wanted me to live, but i was grieving all the things they never got to see. They never got to meet Astarion. Obreon wrapped his arms around my waist and it made me choke. Even our spawn was compassionate towards me and i felt protective over him.

„I wish they could meet you.“ I whispered.

„I would've given them titles, money, anything to impress them. I would've tried my best to win them over and justify my love for their daughter.“ Astarion spoke softly.

„They would have accepted you once they saw how much we love each other.“ I said. „Even if they hated you for giving me immortality i would convince them to love you. They would like you once they would get to know you.“

„They would be proud of you if they knew you saved your city. If they knew how many temptations you refused.“

„They would not be proud if they saw what i have become,“ i smiled bitterly. „My father would not approve my assassination career. My mother would be worried for me. She wasn't overflowing with love towards humans and she was sceptical of elves and other beings. However, she would be scared for me. She raised me to be strong, to be a survivor, and that is what has led me to this point of my life.“

Astarion was rubbing my back.

„They gave you everything that you need to succeed.“ He said.

I could see things clearly now, there were no illusions anymore.

„My parents would not approve our plans or our lifestyle. However, they would want to see me happy. What they would or would not approve doesn't matter to me anymore. They're gone and i regret nothing. I will never forget or stop loving them.“

Astarion smiled.

„We should visit their graves one day. Make sure they have a nice resting place.“

„I'd love that,“ i smiled back.

Next few days were quite busy as we visited the tailor and a few accessory shops to organize our costumes for the ball. The big event was creeping closer and we decided to attend it dressed to the nines. It wasn't a simple soiree but a masquerade ball and it started at midnight. Oneressa warned us about lord Enwald's events, saying they had a tendency to go wild, that drinks poured freely and attendees who got overly excited didn't hold back. Enwald's events dragged out into early mornings and guests who got too drunk, or tired, were welcome to stay the night. It was also a good place to meet people, thanks to the unrestricted atmosphere, people were in high spirits and easily convinced.

„First party where we're invited to and it's one of those,“ i grumbled as we stopped at a small coffee and baked goods shop. It was a quaint place with wooden furniture and evergreen garlands decorating the counters and windowsills. We sat at a round table in the corner of the shop, drinking hot coffee and sampling our treats. The view from the window looked like a postcard – a snowy, romantic, old-fashioned street lit by lanterns.

„Oneressa thinks it's the best introductions to high society and i agree with her. Besides, we're going be masked, we can prowl and creep in private without approaching anyone.“ Astarion kept his gloves on as he drank his coffee. „I thought you would be more excited.“

„I'm just not in the mood. I don't like big crowds. When we visited Obreon's palace we were hidden by a spell. This time we will be out in the open.“

„You have nothing to worry about, dear. You're naturally charming. Flex that delicious biceps of yours and the guests will be at your feet.“

I was staring out the window and taking small bites from my pastry. I was far away, stuck in the night i killed that merchant and hunted the dog man. It had been such a thrill that the return to the mundane felt jarring. I was still in hunting mode and thinking about Cornelis, social climbing was the last thing on my list of priorities.

„I don't feel like talking to any titled folk. Will you lead the evening so that i can sulk in the corner and drink?“

„Of course, my flame, you can leave all the important things to me. However, i won't allow you to sulk. We will have fun. I'll find a way to entertain you.“

„I keep thinking about hunting. I want to go out tonight. Creep around the Inn. My hands have been itching for this. If only i could catch one of Cornelis' minions…i'd savor every second of squeezing the juices out of him.“

I pushed my thumb into my pastry, crushing it until the red jam filling spilled on the plate. It spread out much like the brain matter of that merchant. My stomach growled, i wiped the jam with my finger and stuck it in my mouth. It tasted like strawberries and vanilla.

„It's in the paper, dear.“ Astarion pointed at the newspaper he had bought with our coffees. „A gruesome robbery, killed with exceptional cruelty.“ He quoted the article, whilst sending me a mischievous peek. „It's always a pleasure to read your beloved's work described with such passionate acclaim. That robbery was a brilliant idea, by the way.“

„Mhm, the money won't be a problem, but the jewelry is useless. We must sell it elsewhere. I'm sure they have notified all the pawnbrokers in town.“

„There's no need to rush things. We can take care of it later.“

Later in the evening i changed into simple clothes and went out hunting. Astarion stayed home with the dogs. I returned to the Longhorn Inn and cast a disguising spell over myself. I tried to manifest a tall, muscular elven warrior woman and the result ended up pretty accurate, i checked my reflection on the window before entering the beloved establishment.

The inn was half full and the same innkeeper was hard at work behind the counter. I approached and ordered myself a jug of cherry beer. You could say many things about the Longhorn Inn but it was always clean and the drinks were good. As my drink was handed to me i put my hand on the innkeeper's wrist and leaned closer.

„I'm a traveler passing through. Would you know of any jobs available for me? I'm up for anything. As long as i get paid, everything's a deal.“

The handsome orc looked at me with a friendly smile.

„Not much now, i'm afraid. The city is looking for street cleaners and the Northern Star coach company is looking for staff in the stables. You may ask around the shops, sometimes they'll hire help if the season is busy.“

„Is that all? I was hoping for something more suitable for a person with my talents.“ I pulled a dagger from my belt and swung it around, then bounced it off the back of my hand and caught it swiftly with my other hand.

„Impressive,“ the innkeeper nodded, „the underground has been pretty quiet lately. We lost a patron not long ago. In a house fire. Dreadful stuff. He would've known people.“

„Tsk, tsk. Fire safety is no joke. He probably fell asleep with a candle on. Or he was smoking in bed.“ I shook my head, pretending to be shocked.

The orc nodded again as if agreeing.

„People were talking that he was half-eaten by his own dogs. Those beasts pulled their chains and ran off. Makes you shudder. Those beasts are too dangerous to be loose, so watch your back.“

„I have eyes on the back of my head.“ I grinned, drinking my beer.

We had a nice casual chat and once i had finished my drink there was nothing holding me there. I gave the orc my coins and left the building. The rendezvous ended in disaster but i was not ready to return home. Not that i enjoyed being on the streets but there was something tranquil about a late night walk. The city was quiet and peaceful, the houses with brightly lit golden windows appeared so inviting and nostalgic. So warm in the midst of the coldness and gloom. I strolled down a street without thinking where i was heading to.

As i was bassing a dark alleyway a muffled scream reached my ears. I glanced into the darkness and saw a man who had shoved a woman against the wall, his hand was covering her mouth. I took off running and tapped the man on the shoulder. As he turned his head i punched him in the face. He lost his balance and slumped against the wall. The lady stared at me with two ginormous eyes.

„Go! Now!“ I barked.

She gathered her belongings from the ground and ran off. The man straightened himself and turned to me with balled fists. His first right hook was aimed at my face. I caught his fist in the air, then kneed him in the stomach. He groaned and his upper body crumpled, yet i pushed him up again and kneed him in the crotch. This time he backed away from me, drooling and grunting from the pain. I made a few steps forward, lifted my right leg and kicked him in the head. The man fell over and stopped moving. I picked him up by his neck and slammed his head into the wall, repeating it again and again until his head caved in and his cheekbone obtained the texture of a soft cake. Pieces of bone tore up his flesh, leaving him unrecognizable. His face was covered in blood and it woke my appetite. I pushed my mouth to his face wound and drank his blood until i was full. I couldn't risk biting anymore, so this was a working solution. I dropped him in the snow and left, a small part of me felt satiated.

When i returned home Astarion was reading by the fireplace, wearing slippers. The sight of him embodied my domestic ideal and i greeted him with a kiss. He must've tasted blood on my tongue because he looked up from his book.

„How was the hunt? Did you catch someone, dear?“

„The hunt was a flop, but i came across a two-legged swine and smashed his head in.“

„Oh dear. You've been awfully peckish lately. You even took a bite out of me.“ He smiled suggestively.

„I don't do well on diets,“ i chuckled. „I need my regular portion of blood or i get cranky.“

„So much for absolving us of our weaknesses.“ He joked.

„Clearly, being hungry isn't a weakness.“ I stated playfully and left to change.

Oneressa visited us the next day. She froze by the door, taken aback by the gigantic hounds. The two beasts didn't even move an ear when the lady entered the room, but Ruby ran to greet her with a violenlty spinning tail. Oneressa watched in astonishment as the dog was smearing its snot and saliva on her dress, it was jumping around her and whining happily. Finally she snapped out of her stupor and crouched down to pet the dog. Ruby took the opportunity and licked her face.

„Come in, they're totally safe.“ Astarion yelled from the back.

Oneressa pushed past Ruby and joined us in the bedroom. Ruby followed her and jumped on the bed. We were in the middle of sorting our clothes. There was a pile for what needed washing and mending. Certain outfits needed to be ironed and stored together. We were both used to taking care of ourselves and Astarion didn't want anybody in his private business.

„Good day! I see you have acquired some household pets?“ Oneressa asked nervously.

„Yes, but it was more of a forced adoption rather a planned decision.“ I smiled, folding my nightgown.

„I dare not to ask any further questions.“ Oneressa shivered. „The midnight ball is speedily approaching. Are your costumes ready? I can send you to my seamstress, if there's a need.“

„They are about done. We should be able to pick them up in a few days.“ Astarion said, dusting one of his jackets and laying it on the bed.

„How wonderful. I struggled choosing mine. I don't think i want to stand out this time.“ The lady sat on the bed and Ruby attacked her with kisses. She fought the dog and got it to lay beside her as she was petting her head.

„That might be a wise idea,“ i said. „Will you take guards to the ball?“

„Absolutely! I'm taking my most trusted ones and i'm paying them generously. Should i notify lord Enwald? No! What a stupid idea! He mustn't know about the kidnapping. This will only lead to unnecessary questions.“ Oneressa sighed and held her forehead. She looked so anxious that i got up, walked to her and took her hand.

„We will be close during the ball. If you need to go anywhere then we will follow you. He won't have a chance to get close.“

Oneressa smiled gratefully and covered my hand with hers.

„Thank you. It's appreciated, however, it doesn't change the fact that he might try something. Things are unpredictable and that's what scares me. Even an army wouldn't make me feel safe when he's around.“

„We took care of one of his henchmen. So there's that.“

„Good. Good!“ She nodded. „I'll ask a servant to bring your dogs some food.“

„That would be great.“ I smiled.

„By the way, who are you going as? Any fictional characters? Classics or something improvised?“

„Improvised,“ Astarion said mysteriously. „We didn't want to stand out either. Dark gowns, skull masks. Very understated.“

„How tasteful! I was planning to dress in black as well. Maybe we should coordinate our outfits?“

„That would be fun.“ Astarion grinned.

„I'll be wearing a skull mask too.“ Oneressa promised.

The evening of the midnight ball was hectic. We bathed and groomed ourselves to perfection, rubbed perfume on our necks and chests. I asked Astarion to fix some iridescent gems into my hair and his handiwork was marvelous. Two hundred years of neglect had made him proficient in many self-taught skills. Our costumes were home, freshly ironed and perfumed.

My dress was floor-length and a deep blue color, the shade close to nighttime sky, and with a deep neckline that reached down to my waist. Two long slits on each side engaged the viewer with a delectable peek of my thigh as i walked. The fabric of the dress was shimmery, catching the light in beautiful silvery waves of shine. My nech was encircled by plentiful rows of black iridescent stones and my earrings were made from the same stone, yet impossibly long. I wore a black skull mask that molded to my horns. My fingers, wrists, horns and tail were decorated by lavish silver jewelry.

Astarion wore a shirt and suit from the same material, his plunging neckline was as bold as mine, it was decorated with tiny black iridescent beads. His shirt was slightly more blue, providing the viewer a subtle contrast which framed his pale chest. The jacket was tailored impeccably and closed with a row of large ornate silver hooks. The fabric around his shoulders and decolletage was emblazoned with stylish beaded embroidery made of black iridescent stone. It also framed his back, accentuating his shoulders. His trousers were slightly tighter than necessary and the fabric glimmered with silver each time he moved, highlighting his shapely thighs. He, too, was wearing a black skull mask. Astarion had pierced his ears and was wearing silver earrings, as well as, many silver rings on his fingers.

We looked beautiful together and it was by design. Oneressa knocked and slid in through the doors while looking slightly anxious. She was in her full costume and it was spectacular. She wore a long black gown that was covered in thousands of tiny sparkling glitters. Her gown was very structured around her torso and open to show off her magnificent soft curves. It had long sleeves which were decorated with beads and the gown itself was very formfitting. She wore a narrow skull mask and a black lace veil.

Oneressa told us that she will arrange our ride to the ball and that we didn't need to worry about anything. Seeing her in our room made me think that it was time to leave, yet her ladyship wasn't in any hurry. She took a few deep breaths and approached us.

„You two look incredible! I love your outfits!��

„Astarion chose the colors, but the masks were my idea. I love your gown, you're glimmering like a diamond.“ I said, unable to turn away from Oneressa's delicious curves which were emphasized by both the tailoring and spellbinding glimmer of the material.

Oneressa smiled warmly. „It's the beetle wings. There's a farm that grows beetles and harvests their carapace when they die. They have them in all sorts of colors. These beetles live about two years, so it's very luxurious. I'll give you their address.“

„Sharing your secrets with us, milady? Aren't you afraid that we might outshine you one day?“ I asked flirtatiously.

Oneressa eyes glimmered playfully through her veil.

„It takes a lot more than a sparkly dress to outshine me, however, i welcome competition. A little excitement will do me good.“

She walked around me to admire me from all sides. Oneressa seemed to relax and the tension from her shoulders faded away.

„I like your hair! Did one of my servants do it?“

„It was me,“ Astarion said, „we help each other get ready.“

„How romantic. Lord Ancunin, you have many hidden talents.“

„Oh, i do,“ Astarion replied alluringly. „There's plenty more to discover.“

Oneressa gazed at him, being absolutely enchanted.

„I was planning to have a glass of wine before we go. Will you join me?“

„Why not? I'm all for picking your poison.“ I agreed.

„Wonderful!“ Oneressa walked to the door and pulled the cord. A servant knocked not long after and took her orders. He brought us a silver tray with three glasses and an open bottle of wine. We took our glasses and clicked them together to celebrate the evening. The wine was exquisite and sweet. The welcomed feathery buzz spread around my body. It will dissipate soon as vampires sobered quickly, so i enjoyed it when i could.

„I needed this. It's not the wisest thing to look for bravery at the bottom of a wine glass, but i shan't be wise tonight.“ Oneressa smirked.

„We will be close to you and you will stay close to us,“ i said.

„It will be an easy task. I must introduce you to everyone.“ Oneressa finished her glass. „Ready yourselves. There will be many new faces tonight and they shall all adore you.“

Lady Melidrient took us outside where a lavish sleigh pulled by two decorated stags was waiting for us. A second sleigh with her private guards was already there, awaiting command. We drove quite far outside the city. Lord Enwald's estate was surrounded by a tall stone wall with spikes, the building itself was made of dark grey stone and elegant. It was pretty common to see elaborately designed manors around these parts. The snowy garden was ablaze with lanterns, decorated with evergreen garlands, ribbons and brightly-colored glass baubles.

The garden was also full of sleighs and arriving guests. We drove to the gardens and waited for the newest sleigh to leave so that we could ride closer to the main doors. Servants greeted us and invited us inside, taking our coats and assigning them a paper tag with our names. We presented ourselves as married and sharing a name, once again. Astarion bent his arm and offered it to me. I slid my hand into the crook of his elbow and we walked to the ballroom. Oneressa was beside us, smiling and looking for her friends among the crowd.

The ballroom was magnificent! The music was playing, drinks were pouring and the candles were lit. The giant glass chandelier held an unholy amount of candles and their combined glow reflected through hundreds of dainty glass hangings, which covered the room in glimmering dapples of light. The ballroom was giant, decorated with flowers and more evergreen branches. Tables pushed against the walls were full of foods and drinks, all served on immaculate tableware. I was astonished by all the grandeur and effort that went into this soiree. The costumes of the guests, however, were on a level of their own! Oneressa touched my arm gently.

„There's lord Enwald himself, let us meet.“ She guided us to a handsome elf in a dark green costume and a mask with antlers. He was draped in jewelry.

„Good evening, dear friend,“ Oneressa cooed. „You hosted this party just to show off your costume, didn't you?“

Lord enwald's face lit up as he recognized his friend. He rushed to give her a kiss on the cheek and Oneressa kissed him back.

„Looks like you came to show off, as well!“ He laughed. „You're stunning! And mysterious.“ He added meaningfully, dropping his voice.

„These are the friends i was talking about. Lord and lady Ancunin.“

„How enchanting to finally meet you.“ He said, greeting us with a nod.

I made a light curtsy and Astarion graced him back with an elegant nod.

„Oneressa spoke very fondly of her new renters. I have yet to meet any refugees from Baldur's Gate. I heard it went through brutal carnage.“

„It's early to call us refugees, we're still looking back at our beloved town. We're simply traveling, trying to put the ghosts of past behind us.“

Astarion took over the entire conversation just as he promised. I had to do very little and could look around the room. Look for something out of place, but it was all cheerful and calm.

Their conversation was lively and dragged on for a while. Then lord Enwald excused himself to meet another guest and promised to return to us later on. Oneressa brought us to another set of nobles that she knew and we spent a long time greeting new faces and engaged in small talk. It went surprisingly well but i got tired pretty quickly and my mind started to wander. Astarion was superb at charming others, carrying the heaviest load in the conversations. All i had to do was smile and add a confirmation here or a compliment there. My eyes scanned the crowd until a familiar feeling tickled the ends of my nerves. I sensed a presence and tapped Oneressa's arm to whisper to her that i will be leaving them for a short while. She nodded to me and i left.

I followed the smell of a familiar perfume like an animal. It took me to a white-haired elf in a white costume. I put my hand on his shoulder and the elf turned around with a frightened surprise.

„It's nice to see you here,“ i grinned.

„I decided that i had to come.“ Obreon said in a low voice. He was wearing a white owl mask and all of his jewelry was a blood red color. His eyes slid down my costume, stopping briefly at my deep neckline. „Where's Astarion?“

„He's social climbing with Oneressa.“ I chuckled.

Obreon started at me intently.

„Oneressa bedded you, didn't she?“

„Or we bedded her? Why does it matter? Do you want to join the fun?“ I glanced at him darkly.

Obreon blinked slowly and looked away with an annoyed expression.

„As long as she doesn't know about me, it doesn't concern me. Was she even good?“

„She's creative and generous. And lonely. Overall a good asset to possess.“ I said without giving the topic a deeper thought. Obreon pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes.

„She may have kept your secret but we must keep an eye on her. Telling her was a great risk.“ He whispered.

„It was, but she's returning the investment. She's helping us meet the big noses. You seem to have an issue with her?“ I glanced at him and Obreon looked me in the eyes with a worried expression.

„They're telling all sorts of tales about her. That she's a seductress and a cheater, a schemer and a snake.“

„Tall tales. She told us that they were both cheating in the marriage. She got tired of the game a long time ago. She knows about the stories, Obreon.“

„I'm sure she does. She's very smart. I'm just worried about you.“ Obreon whispered.

„I appreciate it.“ I looked at him with a smile, then noticed a glass of wine in his hand and took it. I drank it swiftly and placed it on a servant's tray that ran past us. „You don't have to feel jealous.“

„Wh-hat? Why should i?“ He frowned quickly.

„I know jealousy when i see it. There's no need for it. We chose you for a reason. You're our special one. You belong to us. Forever.“ I said quietly as i leaned closer to his ear.

Obreon blushed under his mask.

„Alright, maybe i was…a little. But for good reason.“

„You're our favorite.“ I uttered as i bit and tugged his ear.

Obreon gulped and touched my arm.

„Even Astarion said how much he admires you. You've grown so much.“ I added and Obreon clenched my arm passionately.

„Really? That's….sweet.“ He mumbled and i could hear the flurry of emotions and desire in his voice.

I kissed his neck and pulled away quickly before anyone noticed. Obreon tried to hide his smile.

„So, do you attend such parties often?“ I asked to drive the conversation in a new direction.

„Not really. I have been here a few times in the past. Lord Enwald knows me. Do you…?“ Obreon leaned closer to me and i stooped down. „Do you think he might come here?“

„We suspect it. Oneressa is very scared of him. We're staying close just in case he pops out of someone's skirt. She brought bodyguards, who are disguised in the crowd, but we're still watching.“

Obreon nodded and snatched a glass of wine from a passing waiter. He drank it greedily.

„Very well then.“

„Did you get an invitation?“ I smiled deviously.

„I asked for one.“

„You naughty boy.“ I mumbled and Obreon gazed at me with a playful smirk. I was glad he was here – at least one person i knew among the sea of strangers.

„Nobody knows i'm here. I don't want to stand out. Someone might recognize me, though.“ He said.

„Should've dyed your hair.“ I smirked.

„I thought about it, but forgot. I got very busy.“ He shrugged. Suddenly his eyes fixated on something in the distance and his gaze followed someone in the crowd. „I can't believe it! It's…him.“

I looked in the direction he was staring at. A tall, broad-shouldered, handsome elf in a dark red costume was walking around the room with confidence that was hard to ignore. He was wearing a simple black mask. His hair was white just like Obreon's, reaching to his waist.

„It's my brother.“

„Does he attend such soirees?“

„Oh, he's a regular. He's trying to distract himself from his pitiful existence.“ Obreon said with contempt.

We observed him greet a lady elf, the two exchanged a few words and playful glances. Obreon's brother was a bold flirt, he carried himself elegantly, with a hint of smugness, yet something in his posture seemed stiff. It appeared very overplayed to me.

„What an asshole.“ Obreon cursed.

„Tell me about him. What's his name?“

„It's Amadorn and he's life mission is to make everyone feel like they're beneath him. It's comedic to say the least, as if he could trick his own flesh and blood. I know him better than he knows me. We drifted apart a long time ago, he treated me like dirt when we were younger and he continues that tradition. He was the one who clung to our mother's skirt the most. Used to fight me for her attention, until i stopped trying, that is. He never did. He's trying to drown himself in wine and romances, trying to look confident and capable, but he's starved for love and attention. He feels abandoned. Always has. Always will.

He has the biggest crush on powerful women and he thinks i don't know about it. Of course i do. He reads romances with strong female leads and fondles himself every night to the point that i'm scared to enter without knocking. The bastard has a problem with intimacy, i think. I bet money his love life isn't as colorful as he makes it look.“

Obreon was clever and observant, i trusted his opinion without a doubt.

„Is he single right now?“ I asked as my eyes remained glued to said elf. He was younger than Obreon, but his demeanor was brave and grand. It was like looking at a peacock shaking its tail. His face was even more angular than Obreon's and his eyes were dark brown, but they looked so much alike! The family resemblance was strong.

„He's single. Has been for a while. His last mistress got tired of his antics. He was ignoring her for long periods of time, you see, then returning with a puffed chest. I'm not quite sure what happened there but my brother tends to lose interest rather quickly. Anyway, that moron was sulking for a month, drinking alone in his room. He hates getting rejected.“ Obreon was rejoicing when talking about his misery.

„You said he treated you badly.“ I asked.

„He did. Amadorn has called me many things – a pushover, weakling, know-it-all, childish. Once i started working for my father he called me a bootlicker. He was bursting from jealousy when my father told me he was proud of me. He never understood why i stopped craving for my mother's affection or why i pulled away from everybody. He was always jealous of my father referring to me as his oldest child.“

I watched Amadorn as he took a glass of wine and smiled to another lady with a deep decolletage.

„He sounds so broken. Do you think i have a chance at messing with his head?“

„A cupboard in a corset would have a chance with him. You're just his type. He'll cum in his trousers at the sight of you.“ Obreon scoffed.

„Should i torment him a little?“ I grinned widely.

„Oh, please do. Make him suffer. It would make me happy if you knocked him down a peg.“

„Lets go. I want to run into him.“ I said evilly, eating the target with my eyes.

Obreon chuckled loudly, he was staring at his brother with viciousness that was comparable to mine.

„He's going to the hallway.“ Our spawn noted.

Obreon wanted revenge and i was glad to provide it to him. It also fit into our plans with Astarion. I was bored and deadly.

Amadorn was heading to the hallway which led to the bathrooms. We circled the area and Obreon remained in a position suitable for a private viewing. He watched with a glass of wine in his hand. I ran around with my vampirical speed, darting into the bathroom he was heading to.

Amadorn opened the door and as he rushed inside i jumped out to meet him. The noble elf walked straight into me, his face smashed into the deep cleavage of my gown. Amadorn froze in genuine astonishment, i felt his hot breath between my breasts. The elf shifted his face up to stare at me. I gazed down at him with my full regal coldness. He was tall but still not tall enough to be at eye level with me. His eyes widened in horror and he backed away from me with such vigor that his feet tripped on the carpet and he fell backwards against the wall. I watched as he struggled to regain his balance but failed miserably, sliding down the stone wall until his rear hit on the floor. The elf looked terrified, though, my intense staring did nothing to help the situation. It must've been unnerving.

I leaned forward, placed my hands on his waist, and lifted him up as if he weighed close to nothing. I held him in the air for just a second longer than necessary, before putting him down on his feet. Amadorn was speechless during the whole ordeal, staring at me with his huge brown awestricken eyes. His expression reminded me of the way children looked at statues depicting old forgotten heroes of the past.

„Madame! I'm deeply sorry for running into you. “ He finally spoke.

„You're forgiven, though i must admit that it was entirely my fault. I didn't see you entering. You're really swift for someone your size.“ I replied alluringly.

„My size, madame?“ Amadorn smiled awkwardly, gulping down my backhanded compliment like a starving suckerfish.

„Tall people have a tendency to be clumsy,“ i explained with a twinkle of evil in my eye, while touching my chest as if referring to us both.

Amadorn followed my hand but was unable to notice anything other than my cleavage.

„That is an unflattering stereotype, madame. Tall people are no more clumsy than your average person. Such slander angers me, as an appreciator of statuesque builds. I'm Amador Anvegg.“

I reached my hand to him and he pressed it to his mouth, lingering against my skin while barely touching it, then kissed it affectionately. He didn't let go of my hand, holding it gently instead, allowing me to slide it out of his grip in my own pace. I pulled away without a hurry as our eyes caressed one another.

„Arsenia Ancunin.“ I smiled sweetly, sensing his excitement.

„I haven't seen you before, i would've noticed someone of your grandiose beauty.“ Amadorn was back in the saddle, back to being his usual charming and friendly persona.

„You have a good eye! I'm vacationing here and attending this soiree with my husband.“ I smiled back to him, enticing him to keep talking and looking in my eyes.

„Aah! And where is your dear husband? I would like to meet such a lucky man.“ Amadorn wasn't taken aback by me being married, not one bit. What a little shit.

„We'll have plenty of time to meet him. I got bored and was left to peruse the crowd.“ I grinned. „Lord Anvegg, i'm holding you from your companion. They must be searching for you by now.“

„You mustn't worry. I came alone and i'm completely free to accompany you.“

„Hmm, it proves to be a fortunate night. I will leave you to attending your needs, lord Anvegg. I'm sure you're excited for some privacy.“ I made a few steps to the door, then turned to smile over my shoulder. „I'm looking forward to meeting you in a more dignified setting.“ I left him in the bathroom and walked over to Obreon. He was beaming with joy and anticipation.

„How'd it go?“

„It went well. He couldn't take his eyes off me and wanted to meet my husband.“ I smirked as we started moving back to the ballroom.

„He has fallen in headfirst. Meeting the partner of his conquest is a dead giveaway.“ Obreon laughed. „But he was destined to. If you pick up a sword and show off a few of your fighting moves he'll be propped up by three legs. Strong, warrior ladies are his fantasy.“

„It's almost terrifying how well you know your brother.“ I teased.

„How else am i supposed to humiliate him?“ Obreon sent me a playful glance.

I spotted Astarion and Oneressa in the middle of the crowd, we started making our way toward them. It looked like the social climbing had been paused.

„I'm going to wait by the window.“ Obreon whispered and disappeared into the crowd. I stood beside Astarion and the vampire observed me with a curious little smirk.

„You were absent for a long time. Did you meet anyone interesting, darling?“

„I was fishing and you have no idea who's on the hook.“ I looked him in the eye and he was immediately intrigued.

„Shopping around, my lovely? There are many fruits to be picked here, though, most are, at least, somewhat rotten.“ Oneressa added.

„The rotten ones make great compost. I'm shopping around for new furniture, so the attendees are safe from me.“ I replied with a smile and sent Astarion a meaningful look. He cocked his head, emitting waves of burning interest. No doubt he could sense my excitement.

„I'm going to get some champagne. It's right at that table in your field of view.“ Oneressa sighed tiredly as she pointed at the table that was a few meters away from us, pushed against the wall.

„We'll be watching,“ i smiled and Oneressa left. As soon as she was far enough Astarion leaned closer to me.

„What furniture did you find, my love? Is it expensive or another fixer-upper?“

„Obreon's brother is here – the serial bedder of forlorn spouses. Obreon painted me a picture with all the pitiful details. Mommy issues, problems settling down, a kink for warrior women, general volatility. We already met and he showed great interest in my cleavage.“

„Ah, another fixer-upper it is then. So, Obreon is here? What a crafty little bugger.“ Astarion laughed. „And why did he come? To feed us his brother?“

„No, he was just worried. Amadorn is a regular at soirees and Obreon gave us his heartfelt blessing to torture him.“

„There's nothing like sibling rivalry. Does anybody even like each other in that mighty Anvegg household?“ Astarion added sarcastically.

„I hope not, it would make it easier for us.“

Oneressa was back with three glasses of champagne.

„Take them or i'll drink myself under the table.“ She said flirtatiously.

We took our share and tasted the drinks. Musicians ended their piece and started playing a cheerful repeating tune, signifying the start of the first dance. All three of us watched as people freed the center of the room and couples talked to each other. Needless to say we weren't planning to join.

„Thank gods my dancing days are over,“ Oneressa said, sipping from her glass. „I still remember the time someone stepped on my train and ripped a hole.“

„I thought nobles excel at dancing?“ Astarion chuckled.

„Not when they're drunk and horny.“ Oneressa said evilly.

„Yes, it must be hard to dance when a pole is pushing you apart.“ I added and Oneressa laughed.

A figure was making his way to us. I couldn't believe my eyes! Amadorn was bolder than i thought, or simply too eager, and either thing suited me very well. Amadorn stopped in front of us and his eyes inspected us without even a hint of shame. He was wearing a pleasant smile and his eyes were radiant.

„Lady Ancunin, may i have this dance?“ He asked with a flirtatious tone.

„I don't dance.“ I said seductively, as our eyes were glued to one another.

„Please, you would make me very happy, if you did.“ Amadorn's smile lingered on his lips. „ You ran off so suddenly, many unsaid things need clearing up. Would you indulge me, my lady?“ Amadorn reached me a hand.

„Go on, love. Give him some happiness.“ Astarion said with a devilish glint in his eyes.

I took Amadorn's hand and he walked me to the dance floor. Couples had circled the area and the musicians started playing a waltz, it was an oddly dramatic piece, full of beautiful melodies, but with an eerie underlying tone of anxiety. Amadorn placed a hand on my waist, i put my hand on his shoulder and our free hands squeezed together. Amadorn pushed us off the floor and we started twirling around the room. Everything merged into a colorful blur. Amadorn was good at leading us, even though he was shorter than me and his face was awfully close to my cleavage, his eyes remained fixed on mine.

„You're good at dancing.“ He said with a smile.

„So are you.“ I smiled back and Amadorn looked down at my cleavage. Something in his self-indulgent stare was predatory, devoid of any shame. I felt his hand squeezing my waist and sliding down to my lower back.

„You look stunning in this dress, you know that? I could only dream of getting this close to your beautiful curves.“ He purred in a low tone. „Your man knows how to dress you. I'm almost jealous that he gets to sleep next to you.“ His indecent stare was devouring me and something about that felt painfully familiar.

„Cornelis? You dragged yourself here, you bastard.“ I chuckled in disbelief.

Amadorn grinned widely.

„I saw that fella run face first into your tits. I can't say that i'll be able to forget that image…ever.“ His eyes were glinting.

„Why are you here? Did you get lonely sleeping in your garbage heap?“

Cornelis uttered a little laugh.

„You killed my man. Tsk, tsk, Arsenia, i saw the body and it was not pretty.“

„I don't know what you're talking about.“ I replied with the widest of grins.

„I know it was you, no need to be modest. I know that you got my message too. What did you do to him? To your spawn?“ Cornelis gazed at me with sadistic passion.

„We killed him,“ i smirked.

„How callous! I thought you cared about your spawn. I guess not all spawn are equally important, not all can work in high places.“ He said meaningfully.

I squeezed his shoulder, but Cornelis tried his best to hide his pain behind a smile. I felt the pressure of his hand on my lower back. Finally, his face twitched in agony and i eased my grip.

„You know what i want, Arsenia. I won't leave you alone until i get my money. I will pick off your spawn, everyone you care about, one by one, until you give it to me. I'm getting impatient, girl.“

„You mean broke, Cornelis? Are you even wearing anything if i take off that spell?“

„Do you really want to know?“ His voice was barely a whisper and suddenly i felt a gust of breath against my face. Cornelis was taller than me, yet the spell masked him as someone shorter. His cheek touched mine and i felt his breath on my ear.

„I wouldn't recommend you to do anything rash. We have Amadorn and my friend is going to tip the palace about a possible vampire spawn. I know you turned one of Anvegg's sons. Gods, that was bold.“ He moved his hand to my hip.

„I'm not the only one whose friends are getting picked off, Cornelis. Now you're here, in my arms. You're begging me to strangle you, aren't you.“ I cooed back to him.

„Are you going to burn this ballroom down? Beat the crap out of Anvegg's son? You're cornered, girl. It's okay to admit it just this once.“ He laughed. „And, as you mentioned it, i prefer being strangled with legs.“

„Do you want to seduce or blackmail me? Make up your mind, chicken brain.“ I said evilly.

Cornelis gave me a deep indecent stare, meanwhile a smug smile danced on his lips.

„Why not both? I saw you with Amadorn and what's with the sudden interest? Are you planning to turn him too? That's quite nasty, Arsenia. I take my hat off. I'm giving you two days to decide. Come to the post office on Lethran's street, there will be a letter addressed to you with instructions inside. Bring the money and we will be even.“

I couldn't let him go now that he was so painfully close. However, i also couldn't risk exposing myself to the crowd. My mind was working quickly, i needed a distraction. I focused my energy on the table with drinks and candles. A flame sprouted on the tablecloth, growing fast and spreading along with a bright flash. Gasps and murmurs breezed through the crowd and heads tarted turning. The fire had nearly engulfed the whole table and started climbing up the wall. Guests began moving away from the blazing wall and rushing to the center of the room. Someone yelled „Fire!“ The music stopped playing and i could hear the creaking floor.

Now that the crowd was distracted i used the moment to kick Cornelis in the legs and trip him to the floor. He lost his balance and fell. I pretended to fall alongside him and grabbed his head, slamming it into the floor. Since he was under a disguising spell my hand touched the air. Cornelis groaned and tried to push me away but i didn't move. Suddenly the shape of Amadorn started shimmering underneath me and faded away. I was staring right at Cornelis in the flesh, he was wearing simple clothes – dark leather trousers and a brown linen shirt. He stood out like a sore thumb among the elaborately costumed people.

Cornelis pulled out a dagger and pushed it against my stomach.

„You know it's not going to harm me, but if you ruin this expensive dress i will crush your head like a pimple.“ I warned him.

Cornelis grinned widely, the tip of his dagger moved up until it was between my breasts. He tilted his head as he was looking at me with amusement. He was playing with me, testing his limits.

I snatched his wrist and tried to twist his dagger away, yet he pushed me to the side, rolled over me and wrapped his forearm around my neck, pulling us both up. He pressed his dagger against my neck. People close to us gasped and moved away. Cornelis turned us around, inspecting the crowd. The fire had been put out and a large blackened stain dirtied the wall.

„Move aside or i will cut the lady.“ Cornelis barked with a manic grin. He started moving to the entrance, using me as a shield. „Stay calm now, you don't want to blow your cover.“ He whispered in my ear as we scurried to his freedom.

I spotted Astarion's face in the crowd, his red eyes narrowed as they studied us, then he vanished.

„What is this? Who are you?“ Lord Enwald yelled, rushing toward us through the people.

„What are you planning to do next, you criminal mastermind?“ I asked Cornelis quietly. „A dagger on the throat? You have a serious lack of imagination.“

„I figure it's not the first time you felt it, since you're such a connoisseur?“ He purred.

„It's how i met my husband, actually.“ I said.

I felt Astarion's emotions, he was somewhere close, so close, in fact, i could sense his perfume. I didn't move, leaving him all the glory of saving me. Then it hit me, a subtle motion of air. Cornelis froze and inhaled sharply.

„Shit.“ He groaned and fell down behind me. I turned on my heels and there he was – my Astarion. He was standing next to Cornelis, who was lying on his side with a dagger sticking out of his spine.

Astarion was looking down at him with a look of finely crafted disgust, then he averted his eyes to me.

„Sorry that i made you wait,“ he said.

„You're just on time.“ I smiled and hugged him.

Lord Enwald ran up to us with a worrisome frown.

„Are you two unharmed?“

I nodded, rubbing Astarion's arm.

„I must call the guards,“ lord Enwald started but i cut him off politely.

„Please, could you wait? We need a room, something private, to question him.“

Lord Enwald seemed confused, but Astarion rushed to explain.

„We have enemies and this is an assassin sent to collect our heads. It's important that we ask the necessary questions. We'll deal with him ourselves and we're deeply sorry to have caused such a fuss at your delightful party.“

Lord Enwald pressed his lips together with a hint of understanding in his eyes.

„It is i who should apologize for not having the appropriate security. I will show you a room you can use.“

„Thank you.“ Astarion snatched Cornelis' collar and pulled him up, then hoisted his arm over his shoulder and supported his waist.

Lord Enwald was surprised to see Astarion lift such a tall, heavy man, but said nothing.

„Please, return to enjoying yourselves, dear guests. This mess shall be cleaned up shortly!“ He yelled to the crowd and the music started playing again.

Lord Enwald guided us to a room in the back of the palace, although not too far away from the ballroom, it was still far enough to have total privacy. He opened the door to a large room with a stone floor. It was a simple space with minimal furniture and a fireplace. Astarion and i dragged Cornelis to a chair, then Astarion yanked out the dagger from his back, and we seated the man down.

„Let me know if you need anything.“ Lord Enwald left and shut the door.

Cornelis was glaring at us intensely, being paralysed from the waist down made him completely helpless.

„This is the second time you thrust something into me, lord Ancunin,“ Cornelis smirked impudently whilst trying to hide his anger. „Did you know that daggers and knives are considered phallic symbols?“

„And i will happily do it again. This isn't going to work on me, so you can end your moronic yapping.“ Astarion stated coldly. „Don't embarrass yourself more than you already have.“

Cornelis stared at him with intensity that was hard to describe.

„He knows about Obreon and threatened to expose him. Gave us two days to pay and they have Amadorn.“

„Oh my, another kidnapping? Aren't you overcompensating your failures?“ Astarion smirked. „I'm assuming you brought a friend? A little bitch named Amara, who cast a spell on you. Where is she?“

„Do you really think i'll talk?“ Cornelis raised an eyebrow. „You're just a pretty mattress.“

Astarion lowered himself to eye level with him.

„Do you think you can handle pain? Time starts moving really slowly once i start ripping your flesh from bone. Every minute feels like an eternity.“

They stared at one another and something dimmed in Cornelis' eyes.

„And what happens if i tell you? You give me a quick and painless death? Looks like i have nothing to lose.“ He smirked bitterly.

„The only person who wins from this is Amara. If you don't give her up she will continue blackmailing us. Obreon is a valuable asset and we're keen on keeping him alive. We might feel the urge to pay her and since you'll be dead she gets all the money. Do you really want her taking your reward?“

Cornelis' face turned serious, his piercing eyes cut into me with loudness.

„You know what's going to happen, right? She'll be walking around, boasting how she cheated some dense oaf out of his grand prize. Maybe she's already doing that, maybe it was her plan all along? You do remember that she used to work for The Watch and stole from them, before changing her field.“

Cornelis's muscles twitched.

„She left that part out, actually,“ he said with contempt. „The lass told me she bought the rope from someone.“

„You talked our ears off with your praises for loyalty. It's hard to find it in the gutter. Every man for himself.“ Astarion smirked. „Maybe she won your trust by other means?“

„I didn't fuck her,“ Cornelis hissed.

„She was using you and you didn't even notice,“ Astarion gloated.

Cornelis grimaced, baring his teeth.

„Maybe we can make some sort of a deal?“ He asked after a pause.

„Sorry, no deals for you. Not after your little games. It's either a quick death or a painfully slow one.“ I stared at him.

„And the satisfaction of knowing that Amara dies screaming.“ Astarion sweetened the pill.

Cornelis looked away with a bitter look on his face. Little did he know we could read it all. The disappointment of his failed endeavor, the sourness of betrayal, the fear of death. His masseter muscles were dancing under his skin.

„Where is Amadorn?“ I asked calmly.

Cornelis kicked his head up.

„He's in the closet upstairs. Second floor, left side, room with green walls.“

„And where is Amara?“ Astarion added.

„I have no idea. She's disguised as a servant.“

„Come on now,“ i wrinkled my nose. „Give us the details. Man, woman? Hair color? Height?“

„A blond elf girl, medium height. Green eyes.“ Cornelis looked tired and worn.

„What a good boy,“ i grinned, walking around the chair and standing behind him. I pushed both of his arms tightly against the armrests. „My beloved, you know what to do.“ I glanced at Astarion.

The vampire hesitated for a second.

„Are you sure, dear?“

„Absolutely.“

Astarion sat on Cornelis' lap, clutched his shiny black hair, pulled his head to the side and bit his neck. Cornelis struggled underneath him, he was fighting instinctually against the overbearing death, yet this was a battle he was destined to lose. I held him still and soon the man's head fell limp. Astarion got up, wiping his lips.

„He tasted nice, i'm pretty surprised. Thought he'd taste like a pound of bile and venereal disease.“ He frowned.

„I'll get Amadorn, lets meet at the ballroom entrance,“ i said kissing him on the cheek and running out the door.

I flew up the staircase and opened every door on my way until i found the one that Cornelis described. The room was dark and smelled like old furniture. A giant wooden closet loomed in the back of the room, swallowed by darkness. The handles were tied together with rope. I walked up to it and touched the rope, setting it on fire. It fell apart and i smothered the flame with my foot. Then i reached for the handle to open the doors.

Amadorn was sitting in a fetal position, pushed against the wall and appeared to be sleeping. I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. Amadorn woke up slowly, he couldn't see anything but my glowing eyes and it made him gasp. The elf pulled away from my hand, the fear in his eyes gave him a childish, vulnerable expression.

„It's me, lord Anvegg. I was looking for you.“

„Madame Ancunin?“ His voice was high and strained. „Where am i?“

„There was an incident in the ballroom. A couple of assassins were sent after us and you got in their way. You were taken.“ I offered him a hand, touching his fingers in the darkness to help him find me. „We caught one of them and questioned him.“

Amadorn accepted my hand and i pulled him out of the closet. A light glow was seeping in through the window, coming from the lanterns outside, which made us look as nothing more than hazy apparitions. Yet, i could see him clearly, he was gazing at me with admiration.

„Assassins?“ He asked with concern. „I didn't know you had such bloodthirsty enemies.“

„We gained many enemies in Baldur's Gate after defeating the Elder Brain.“ I dropped that fact casually into the conversation and it worked like a charm. His eyes widened in pure awe.

„You were in that battle?“

„Indeed, me and a few of my friends. I'm surprised you've heard of it.“

„Of course i've heard of it! That city must be cursed! I can't believe that i'm standing face-to-face with one of its heroes.“

„Shh, it's our little secret.“ I smiled.

„It's safe with me.“ Amadorn took my hand and brought it to his lips. „Saving must be your second nature, madame. I thank you for finding me.“

„Do you remember who kidnapped you?“

„Hmm,“ he furrowed his brow as he tried to remember, „someone hit me in the back of my head. I tried to get up but darkness washed over me. She must've put me under a sleeping spell.“

„She?“

„An elf woman in a servant's uniform. I didn't see her very well.“

I asked him a few additional questions and told him to remain in that room for a little longer. I needed him to stay out of my way. Then i ran to meet Astarion.

Astarion was standing near the entrance to the ballroom, hiding behind the wall. I accompanied him in the shadows.

„He's safe and sound. I told him to wait in that room. You should've seen his face. He was looking at me like a starving puppy.“

„So, you liked my plan after all,“ Astarion smiled. „Sinking your claws into the prey.“

„I'm sowing seeds for the future harvest. Did you see our thunder girl?“

„No and if she was in the room during Cornelis' little flop then she'll know that their plan has failed and try to escape.“

„Amara knows how to open portals, but she will need a private space. She could be anywhere right now.“ I sighed, looking at the dancing couples. The ball guests had recovered from the dramatic hostage situation and resumed their merrymaking.

„Exactly. If i were her i would be out of here at lightning speed. It's safe to say we have lost her.“

„She'll find her way back to us. No one can resist the tang of money.“ I smirked.

„I think you're right, my flame. Lets bury the body. If we'll be quick nobody will even notice our absence. I got a sudden urge to dance.“

We picked up Cornelis and changed into our bat form, making sure to cast the invisibility spell before leaving. We carried him to Crow's Call, buried him in the yard and returned to the ball. The night was still young and our detour didn't rob us of anything valuable. As we entered the room with my hand in the crook of Astarion's arm, we were approached by a small crowd of concerned people – Oneressa, lord Enwald, as well as some other fresh acquaintances made at the beginning of the night. Obreon was standing nearby, peering at us curiously. Amadorn was out of his confinement and peacocking about with a glass of wine in his hand.

„How was your endeavor? Did you find what you were looking for?“ Lord Enwald was the first to ask.

Astarion calmed our host, explaining that we had, indeed, learned all that we needed to know and the unwanted guest has been dealt with. He was more than happy to hear it and left us with Oneressa, who was visibly shaking. Lady Melidrient was as upset as i thought she'll be, it took a lot of explaining to reassure her that the evening was safe. She wasn't too thrilled to hear that Amara had escaped but nothing could be done about it. She asked us to stay in her palace for a while longer, to which we agreed. Our new acquaintances were also glad to hear that we were safe.

Astarion invited me to dance and we dominated the waltz. It was time to enjoy the evening.

#ascended astarion smut #ascended astarion #ascended astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #ascended astarion fanfic #ascended astarion x female oc #ascended astarion x female tav #astarion fic #astarion fanfiction #dark romance #astarion brainrot #astarion x tiefling

2 notes · View notes