GUILT / SACRIFICE

ind. MATTHEW DE CLERMONT.

[declermont]

# 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓 :  𝙰 𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚂𝚄𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚂.   ind.  writing  blog  for 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖 𝐃𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓  of All Souls / ADOW.  book based. mutuals  only.  private. mostly iconless. mature  language  and  themes  present.  written  by  mara  ( she / her,  25+ ). CARRD (wip). BOARD.

heavily affiliated with @sacraementals' diana.

[letheanwater]

eileen, ottessa moshfegh

[valtsv]

i do enjoy "living weapon" characters but specifically living weapons who did in fact do absolutely horrific things which at least a part of them enjoyed and thought was good and right at the time, and that no amount of not knowing any better or guilt they feel in hindsight will ever make up for. i love living weapons who are "irredeemable", and no it's not their fault that they were made that way or pointed in the directions they were by the hand that wielded them, and yes they are victims, but so were their victims. living weapons who some people will never be able to forgive, but who still wake up every day and try to do better than what's expected of them. a sword that uses its blade to cut wheat to make bread for the people who once lived in fear of its arc falling on their heads.

[daweyt]

Anne Sexton, from “The Double Image”

[metamorphesque]

Willie Perdomo, "Maybe Under Some Other Sky"

[orpheuslament]

Herakles, Euripides (tr. Tom Sleigh)

[laylaslibrary]

It is only September. I don’t know how many seasons I will be allowed to love you yet.

—A Simple Love Poem by Megan Falley

[declermont]

@ my 5 followers - if you'd like a starter, just let me know. but also, here's my meme tag, too. <3

[mortisha]

blud Rachel McKibbens

[sictransitgloriamvndi]

[13thwitch]

@declermont / plotted starter.

A nonstop flight between New Orleans and London is nearly nine hours. The Mayfair fortune means she can afford to fly first class, which grants her some measure of comfort, but all the comfort in the world couldn't soothe her restlessness. She chews the inside of her cheek until she tastes copper on her tongue. The metallic sweetness of her own blood makes her feel ill, but at least it's not as sickening as thinking about what she's running from, and why.

And then from London it's the train to Oxford, and then the cab to the university, nursing a bottle of tepid water and trying to ignore the gnawing hunger creeping up through her abdomen and into her chest, her throat, to sit at her tongue. And then from the university she has to walk to the lab, and then she has to stand there, duffel bag slung over her shoulder, the hand holding her water bottle shaking, while she argues with a very polite but firm woman who explains that no, she can't simply walk into the building without an appointment, all while trying to stay upright—

The scent of cinnamon and clove hits her without warning and she closes her eyes and takes in several shallow breaths; the world spins around her, the combination of travel and stress and her condition making her unsteady and uncomfortable in equal measure. When she opens her eyes it's to the sight of a man, tall and broad-shouldered, lovely in a way that makes her uneasy and reminds her, all too clearly, of Lasher.

That must make him Matthew Clairmont. And here she thought she was done with vampires.

"Dr. Clairmont." She clears her throat, takes a quick drink of her water, tries not to feel self-conscious for the way her hair hangs, limp and greasy, around her face (she hasn't showered yet, hasn't checked into a hotel, hasn't done anything but try to reach him) or the sweat glistening on her brow. There is very little of her mind that isn't consumed by anger and grief and fear and sorrow and the sickness of memory, but the corner that is free hates him on sight, as though her insecurity, her piteousness, were his fault.

"I'm Rowan Fielding." And then the rest of the name tumbles out of her; people do things for her that they wouldn't otherwise when they know that part of who she is. "Rowan Mayfair. I need your help. I really need your help."

[declermont]

" Greta, thank you. " The dissonance is unexpected; a myriad of noises like tree branches, overgrown, coiled limbs, impossible to recognize or work out. And Matthew breathes in, once. Only once, and lingers in the scents that follow, grasping nothing but the chaos already before him. A witch seeking a vampire. A Mayfair witch, on top of everything. ( A witch with a child. )

" My associate is correct, Miss Mayfair. " The blue of her eyes catches like steel in the sun, a blinding, hypnotizing sight — another gift of her lineage, coupled with her singing blood. Only a human would be ignorant enough not to recognize her as anything other than otherworldly, anything other than a creature.

She was impossibly loud.

And for a brief moment, just before he dismisses her too along with the rest of his staff, the vampire indulges in the fragrance of her panic, in the way her anger sharpens his already intense fixation. A terrible pull, a familiar gaping maw. Nothing good ever waited there. 

He forces it down.

" This is a lab, not a clinic. We do not accept walk-ins. " Matthew's voice remains flat before he runs a hand through his hair, and turns in a rush. More than ready to leave her side. " There's a health center two blocks away, with an excellent obstetrician. Give them a try. "

[calisources]

IN LOVE AND WAR, EVERYTHING GOES. a sentence meme based around the subject of allies, enemies, war and enemies to lovers and more of the same tropes we all love. change pronouns, names and locations as you see fit. these are all scrambled around.

“Friends ask you questions; enemies question you.”

“You can live safe and be protected by people just like you, or you can stand up and be a leader for what is right.”

“Where do we find allies?"

“War created bizarre allies, while peace itself could be divisive.”

“I promise you, nothing will happen to you.”

“I choose my allies carefully and my enemies more carefully still.”

“People fight wars over ideas.” 

“Wars begin when you will, but they do not end when you please.”

“I was raised in hatred, Roma. I could never be your lover, only your killer.”

“We were enemies, no matter the truths. No matter that I loved him.”

“He’d set fire to the world around him but never let a flame touch her.”

“She's not the type to swoon for pretty lies.”

“The feud keeps taking and hurting and killing and still I couldn't stop loving you even when I thought I hated you.”

“These violent delights have violent ends."

“Men without morals are dangerous beasts.”

“The spiteful, little stars.”

“Death is real. Death is inevitable. Death comes when you're not ready for it. Be ready.”

“I was alive, but I wasn’t living. You took things from me. My soul―my heart.”

“You’re supposed to keep your enemies close. Therefore, it stands to reason that your sworn enemy should be kept closest.”

“When will you see I'm not your enemy, but your weapon. Wield me.”

“Can’t even get out of my grasp? Or is it because you secretly don’t want to?”

“Why are you confessing all of your crimes?”Are you trying to get hit?”

“You're a hero and I'm a monster. There's only one way that story ever ends.”

"Tell me you came to find me. That you changed your mind."

"How--how can you even say such things,on an evening you are meant to choose another as your bride?"

"My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned."

"I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else.”

“The road for hell for me is paved with everything I would do for you, and that list never ends.”

“You have consumed my thoughts since the moment I met you."

“You have no idea what I could give you."

“If you mean to take me captive, you need only ask. I would come willingly.”

“I see you truly for everything you are and everything you will be and I claim you as mine.”

“I don't think I've ever met anyone as vexing as you."

“Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.”

“A wise man gets more use from his enemies than a fool from his friends.”

"We're on opposite sides, you know."

"You're the one claiming we're all villains. There's no black or white, only gray area. We can coexist somewhere in the middle, can't we?”

“A man with no enemies is a man with no character.”

“I smile to myself knowing that they may be dead.”

“I like your savage brutality."

"That's a poetic observation, coming from such a savage creature.”

"And you are mine, Victor Nox. whether you agree is irrelevant.”

“Bitter people are not interested in what you say, but what you hide.”

“Enemies can't break your spirit, only friends can.”

“In order to know your enemy, you must become your enemy.”

“Such a pretty face, but so weak and emotional. Just a regular man, after all.”

[declermont]

the more i'm reading and focusing specifically on matthew, the more i'm starting to appreciate just how embarrassing this man is.

for example, diana asked him to take a sip of wine and tell her what he tastes. AND THIS IS HIS GODDAMN REPLY

“Violets—I agree with you there. Those purple violets covered with sugar. Elizabeth Tudor loved candied violets, and they ruined her teeth.” He sipped again. “Cigar smoke from good cigars, like they used to have at the Marlborough Club when the Prince of Wales stopped in...”

wow. so smooth, matthew. name-dropping in front of a historian..... so smooth.

[declermont]

how does a vampire live with inheriting memories from those he drinks from, you ask? idk. but we'll sure find out

[declermont]

rereading adow at the moment before i return to this blog, and i'd just like to remind everyone that this is matthew's reputation in academic circles:

“Does Clairmont get grants?” “Oho. Yes. He’s funded up to his eyeballs. Don’t you worry about Professor Clairmont’s career. He may have a reputation for being contemptuous of women, but it hasn’t dried up the money. His work is too good for that.” “Have you ever met him?” I asked, hoping to get Chris’s judgment of Clairmont’s character. “No. You probably couldn’t find more than a few dozen people who could claim they had. He doesn’t teach. There are lots of stories, though—he doesn’t like women, he’s an intellectual snob, he doesn’t answer his mail, he doesn’t take on research students.”

[freudarchives]

Love After Death: Concepts of Posthumous Love in Medieval and Early Modern Europe

[declermont]

tags.