HATEMETHOD ⸻ a systemic demon of two thousand years, 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓, engrained so deeply that he cannot be erased like a disease in your blood. he DESTABILIZES, RUINS, and THRIVES in your suffering at a great cost: the LOSS of himself. say to him, what is a tool that no longer wishes to serve its purpose? USELESS. should he lie down and die or carve out a new existence by force?
𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.
this is an independent, fandomless character of original creation with modern, fantasy, and comic verses. themes include sovereignty, the chosen one, choosing the darker path, and the sacrifice of self. minors prohibited. mature themes ahead.
※.·:·.※ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐖 ··· a collection of chosen bonds, found family, & unconditional belonging roleplay sentence starters. genre: platonic love, hurt and comfort, loyalty.
• You know you don't have to keep checking on me, right? I'm fine.
• How are you? Wait, did I ask that already?
• I don't know what I'd do without you. I mean that.
• Oh, God. I thought something happened to you. Don't scare me like that.
• You're not alone in this. You know that, right?
• We're family. That's what we do. We show up.
• Make yourself at home, okay? This is your place too now.
• Get out of here with that. You're not a burden. Don't ever say that again.
• Is there anything you need? Food? A blanket? Someone to just sit with you?
• So, what's next for us?
• I have to admit there's a small part of me that's terrified you'll wake up one day and realize you don't need me anymore... that you'll leave.
• It's just... I've never had this before. People who stay.
• Why are you still here? I mean, you could go anywhere. Be with anyone.
• I know I'm not easy to deal with. But thank you. For staying anyway.
• [Name], I don't know what I'm doing half the time, okay? But I know I'm not doing it without you.
• I don't really know where else I'd want to be, except right here.
• You're the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?
• I really think you saved my life. Not dramatically. Just... by being here.
• Hey. Bad dream? Come here. I've got you.
• You don't owe me anything. This is what family does
• Stop apologizing. You're allowed to need help.
• I made your favorite. Thought you could use some comfort food today.
• You look exhausted. When's the last time you actually slept?
• I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, remember?
• We've been through worse. We'll get through this too.
• You don't have to be strong all the time. Not with me.
• I brought you something. It's stupid, but it made me think of you.
• Come on. Let's get you home.
• You matter to me. More than you know.
• I've got your back. Always have, always will.
• You're shaking. Here, take my jacket.
• I know you're scared. It's okay to be scared.
• You did good today. Really good.
• I'm proud of you. I don't say that enough.
• Stop pushing me away. I'm not leaving.
• You think I'd let you face this alone? Not a chance.
• I'll stay up with you. I don't mind.
• You're safe here. I promise.
• Tell me what you need. Anything.
• You don't have to pretend with me.
• I trust you. Completely.
• You've got this. And if you don't, we've got this.
• I'd do anything for you. You know that, right?
• You're not too much. You're never too much.
• This is your home now. For as long as you want it.
• I'll fight for you if you can't fight for yourself right now.
• You make me want to be better. A better person.
• I chose you. I keep choosing you. Every day.
• You're allowed to fall apart. I'll hold the pieces until you're ready.
Nunnally felt strangely vulnerable beneath his gaze, almost as though she were standing before him naked. Studied. Examined. But not as a person; not as a human being, nor even as his potential future wife. Rather, like an ancient scroll or a manuscript he was considering whether to publish. An odd thought, certainly. To her, Auguste seemed detached, as if he would rather be somewhere else (or rather with someone else). Perhaps, unlike her, he had already decided that he would not give her, or their marriage, a chance.
Auguste simply waited, offering no hint of what he thought. Only a slight frown greeted her when she hesitantly communicated her decision. Then he looked away. It hurt. But why? Was that not exactly what she had expected? He pulled out her chair, and she quietly accepted the invitation, taking her seat at the table. Nunnally was certain now that he would see their first meeting through with polite courtesy, disappointed by the answer she had given.
Or perhaps she was merely inventing motives for him, weaving conclusions out of silence?
And yet Auguste seemed so uninterested in pleasantries or the careful, polite conversations that usually accompanied a first meeting. Instead, he asked enormous questions, as though she had been given time to consider them beforehand. It felt slightly unfair, placing the weight of every decision upon her shoulders. Discomfort settled in her chest. Yet she had been raised to comply, to please. So instead of voicing her reservations, she chose to entertain his request.
“You make it sound so serious that now I’m afraid of giving the wrong answer.” – she paused – “I don’t think I’ve ever been asked what I wanted before. Not without someone already having an answer in mind…”
“If I’m being selfish, I’d like a husband who chooses to spend time with me even when he has no obligation to. And... I would like to be a wife you’re happy to come home to.” – the words sounded artificial even to her own ears, as though she were reciting lines from a script prepared long ago for this exact moment. Yet what else could she possibly say?
“As for knowing you...” – Nunnally felt something rebellious stirring within her. She should have been able to suppress it. She knew she should. Don’t do that; she warned herself. But neither her heart nor her lips obeyed.
“As for knowing you, I’d like to know why I have the feeling that you expected, or perhaps even preferred, that I would choose the opposite option.” – she hesitated – “Or tell me that my instincts are wrong.” – for a brief moment, silence lingered between them.
“The tulips need water, I assume.” – her gaze drifted towards the flowers – “They’re beautiful.”
adept at following instructions.
quiet in her step.
self-assured.
so far, there were no anomalies, nothing he could write off. even as she obeyed his directive, her scent passed over him like fresh rain, cooling his senses. she smelled better than the tulips, better than the cuisine being prepared for other patrons; it was inviting, and for a split second, he wondered how it would feel to rest his head in the curve of her neck. there was no fear, but he picked up on a sliver of. . .discomfort?
too close.
retreating to the seat across from her, auguste took his time, delaying eye contact while she spoke. her emotions mirrored a gentle evening storm, suppressed, unwilling to flood the earth. it was beginning to make sense now, why celine had chosen her. if her first attempt didn't break his psyche, surely this would. it was nothing more than a ruthless attempt to keep him in line, dangling this headstrong, tender woman before him. in their shared silence, he finally glanced up, resistant and distrusting. it wasn't her fault. she was just a child in an eon's long game of chess, and he was being watched.
❝ i have a great deal on my shoulders, ❞ he said. ❝ and i will not be present as a husband. i must work. ❞ auguste pushed over the manilla envelope. ❝ inside is an amended marriage contract that i will present to my legal team when signed. two years of marriage, an amicable separation, and spousal support for the rest of your life, so long as you do not bear children with unapproved partners, you maintain the integrity of the de viremont name, and you keep up with our public engagements. ❞
reaching inside his suit jacket, he pulled out a pen, clicked it, and set it before her. ❝ my world is not good for you. this is the best i can do to please your father and protect your well-being. ❞
he didn't regard the tulips.
they paled in comparison.
@crimestruck, “Denying your subconscious desires is extremely dangerous to your health.” from ichiro ! / accepting.
auguste's gaze rises with the pace and strength of the morning sun, fixing on his impudent guest. did he think because of a superficial physique that he could just spout off nonsense? even if it possessed an ounce of truth, it was far too late to think of such a human invention. desire. a concept reserved for those with genuine free will, not a tool of a great system such as he. if his subconscious gained the audacity to want for something after everything that had happened, he would tear his chest open and rip it out. he would scold it, lecture it. did we not learn the first time? how much more must we endure before we learn?
there was no place for individual want beyond the mission.
none.
❝ good point. i do have one desire―viremont group is planning to expand into japan. it's a notoriously difficult market for foreign entities to enter and i'm in need of a sponsor, someone to introduce me. in return, i can help you with your. . .organization. what are your thoughts on that? ❞
listen i recently became obsessed with the amount of television shows that have a mystery person knocking on the protagonist's door as a major finale cliffhanger, and it got me thinking, and now we have this list that a few immensely talented people helped me with! that said, we know the drill by now. DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST OR CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN! IF YOU HAVE IDEAS FOR MORE PROMPTS SEND THEM TO ME AND I WILL ADD THEM!
[ KISS ]: sender shows up at the receiver's door and impulsively pulls them in for a passionate kiss that punctuates a lengthy slow-burn between the two.
[ WOUNDED ]: sender arrives at the receiver's door with considerable injuries, in dire need of help and emergency care that only the receiver is either trusted enough or convenient enough to provide.
[ TEARS ]: sender shows up at the receiver's door in tears and in need of comfort after a long day (or week, or month…)
[ DEFEATED ]: sender arrives at the receiver's door after having lost a considerably important battle (metaphorical or literal) and needing a place to recuperate from the loss.
[ FUGITIVE ]: sender, having just become a fugitive from the law, runs to the receiver's home in the hopes of finding shelter and safety with them.
[ GIFTS ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house with gifts for the homeowner themselves.
[ APOLOGY ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to apologize to them for a past wrong-doing (specify if you wish!)
[ DATE ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house to take them on a romantic date.
[ HANG OUT ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house to hang out with them for the day.
[ GO OUT ]: sender heads to the receiver's house to take them out for a day of fun/relaxation.
[ COLLECT ]: sender shows up at the receiver's house to collect something that the receiver has either purchased for them or borrowed from them.
[ DELIVER ]: sender shows up at the receiver's house to deliver something to them that either the sender borrowed or the receiver requested from them.
[ CONFRONT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to confront them about an on-going problem between the two of them.
[ FAVOR ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to ask them for a favour.
[ RECRUIT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to recruit them for an upcoming task that the sender is unable to do alone.
[ ROOMIE ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to move in with them.
[ COMFORT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to comfort them after the receiver has a difficult time or experiences a significantly difficult event.
[ HELP ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to help them with something that the receiver is either procrastinating or unable to accomplish on their own.
[ LEISURE ]: sender goes to the receiver's house for a movie night or a game night.
[ WARN ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to warn them against doing something that they suspect the receiver is preparing to do.
[ THREATEN ]: sender goes to the receiver's house in order to threaten them.
[ REUNITE ]: sender returns to the receiver's house after having been away for a while, intending to reunite with them.
[ GOODBYE ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to say a final farewell after learning they're due to leave town, possibly for good.
[ SECRET ]: sender sneaks out to the receiver's house to meet with them in secret.
[ BAD NEWS ]: sender arrives at the receiver's doorstep to deliver some bad news to them (SPECIFY THE NEWS).
[ PARTY ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house to attend a party that the receiver is hosting.
[ NEIGHBOUR ]: sender, having just moved in next door, arrives at the receiver's house to introduce themselves.
[ ENGINE ]: sender's car breaks down in the same street that the receiver lives on, leading the sender to knock on their door to ask for help.
[ PRETEND ]: sender knocks on the receiver's door to ask them to pretend to know them for the sake of a cover story.
[ VISIT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house for a casual visit.
@kitsunae, i don't really wanna talk about it, okay? tossing hyesu / meme.
oh, look at that⸻he hit a nerve. why did satisfaction flush through his chest and why did he find himself smiling? it was data to be monitored. maybe she reminded him of celine: frigid, calculated, reserved; maybe it was the way her misery nourished him with the caloric density of a thousand grand meals, or maybe. . .he saw potential. though he didn't know the source of her torrential, unbridled pain, there was a force, a strength not many humans could alchemize. he wanted to know more.
❝ alright, alright. why don't we get a drink together, then? you can pout with your wine in silence or tell me about work. how does that sound? ❞
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓆩❤︎𓆪˚.⋆ : I WANT THAT FAIRYTALE . . . a collection of rom-com roleplay sentence starters romance comedies from NUMEROUS FILMS, genre: romance, slice-of-life, comedy, love, fake relationship.
If only you knew what I just dealt with.
A woman never reveals her age.
I wanna write about things that matter, like politics and the environment and foreign affairs, things I'm interested in.
Keep busting your butt. You're gonna get there.
Hey, I got something to cheer you up.
What happens tomorrow night?
You know what I like.
What are you reading, you catching up on your current events?
You know, if you wanna try those out sometime, we should get together.
You finally decided to show up?
Good morning, sunshine.
I'm going back to bed. I have no reason to live.
I'm not gonna let you lose your job on top of everything else.
Where were you?
Oh, this is a good day. This is a good day.
Precious gems aren't exactly my forte.
It's gonna be my pitch, my account, my campaign. This is my baby.
I don't really wanna talk about it, okay?
Why does this always happen to me?
Seriously, I am mystified because it always starts out so well.
You cried? You mean like one glistening tear on your cheek, right?
It was how I felt. I wanted to express myself.
That is both incredibly disgusting and categorically untrue.
Well, I've been working on something that's, kind of, different.
I'm sorry, I wasn't feeling very well.
I can't use my personal life for a story.
I'll keep a diary of it and it will be sort of a dating how-to in reverse.
What are you working on now?
You are never going to pull this off.
You're not gonna burn the apartment down or bite [him/her/them] or anything, are you?
I'm gonna limit myself to doing everything people do wrong in relationships.
What's wrong with that?
What are you doing here? You weren't invited?
Status is the reason to buy diamonds in the first place.
I respect women, all right? And I also listen to women.
I'd like to see you prove that.
Do you think you can make someone fall in love with you by then?
After I win this bet, this pitch is mine.
I was just wondering if you find…
If you'll excuse me, I have a bet to win.
Now do you wanna tell me what's going on?
I'll meet you at the door.
I'm gonna check this one out and see if [he/she/they] the keeper.
I'm doing this for you.
It's not gonna look goofy on me.
You ready to go for a ride, [name]?
What do I think? About the food or you?
Yeah, you can answer some questions for me, actually.
What do you do for a living?
So you think you got me all figured out?
I still got one last question.
Can I get you a cold beer?
Oh, you are such a hussy. You can't hide those lying eyes.
I can practice some self-control, unlike some people I know.
A diamond is a long-term commitment.
Hey, hey, let's not go too fast, okay?
I want you to respect me. And I want your respect.
Oh, you are already falling in love with me.
I'm taking my time. It's a marathon, not a sprint.
Do you have an ethical problem with rifling through someone's purse?
Oh, what have we here?
Listen, I had a wonderful time last night.
Denying your subconscious desires is extremely dangerous to your health.
Does that psychobabble really work on anybody?
Well, you know what, I miss you, too.
Why don't we catch a movie or something?
What if something had happened to you?
So I suppose your mind is a complete blank?
You are my family. You're all I've got.
I'm sitting here thinking about how damn beautiful you are.
Maybe we should get you to a hospital.
That's feeling real nice. It's starting to feel a little better.
I hope you brought your appetite. We've got a feast tonight.
Go ahead and pour yourself a glass of wine.
You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht.
You have to take it away before I gag.
Do I look like the kind of person who knows the score of a game?
No, no, no, no, no, no! Wait, wait. You're kidding me, right?
Can I see you tomorrow?
Look what I got for us. Look at that. Come on. Come on.
You should try it on, otherwise you don't know if it's gonna fit.
I was just gonna save it for a special occasion.
I've been trying to get a hold of you.
You know what? I'm sorry. No, no, no. I didn't mean it like that.
Please show them to me. I really do wanna see them.
It's the most powerful thing I've ever seen.
I'm telling you, this calls for drastic measures.
Look, I have to think of something before tomorrow.
I think you know what I'm suggesting.
You're not mad, are you, [name]?
Look, this is getting really creepy, all right?
You're acting completely insane. You know that?
I don't know if I can be with somebody who doesn't like animals and thinks I'm a mental person.
Listen, can you forgive me? I don't know what I was thinking.
I am way out of line, [name]. Can you give me another chance?
Haven't you had enough?
Hey, look, I'm willing to do anything.
What do you think about couples therapy?
I love you, [name], but I don't have to like you right now.
If you're really gonna commit to this, you're gonna have to open up.
Is that too soon to be seeing a therapist?
You have a problem.
Look, look, wait a minute. The one night that we even thought about getting close to having sex, [he/she/they] decides they are gonna name my private parts!
Methinks thou doth protesteth too much.
What the hell was that?
I'm not a rage-aholic!
Come here. I've seen this before, and I've seen it many times.
You've got more than enough personalities to keep me completely occupied.
How do you think that makes me feel?
I'm not ashamed of you.
Hey, you wanna talk to the whole family, you can talk to the whole family.
What did [he/she/they] say? I didn't quite hear.
Hello? Hello, where is everybody? Hey!
You heard me. I said bullshit.
I'm your daddy, now.
Everything all right? Is this okay?
I love everything about this house. The noise, the smells.
That's it. You're scaring me.
I want you to come with me. As my partner.
Won't tomorrow be the tenth day we've been seeing each other?
I don't see you at a party for ages.
I'm not in love.
I mean, I've only known [her/him/them] for 10 days. I… You can't… I can't be…
Why don't you come up here and sing your song?
You probably think this song is about you, you're so vain.
Tone-deaf and drunk is not a good combination.
You fooled me to win a bet and you should feel ashamed!
Well, do we want everybody to know your lovemaking is lame?
I really think you have to get over that.
Come on. You're so vain!
This is the worst thing I've ever heard.
You used me to get ahead in your work...you arrogant, backstabbing jerk!
Congratulations. You did it. You just lost [him/her/them].
You can't lose something you never had.
If I could do it over again, I'd do some things differently, you know.
You're doing the right thing.
Are you trying to get yourself killed?
I think you're running away.
Why don't you save your mind games for your next bet, okay?
You’re kind; Auguste said, and Nunnally knows it is one of only two things he could probably say. Either that, or you’re pretty. But she is not worried about that. In fact, she almost enjoys that this meeting will be nothing genuine. A set of familiar pleasantries they can both hide behind: talking about something unimportant. How lovely the place is, how good the food is, how enjoyable the last party they happened to attend together had been.
That puts her at ease. The familiar patterns, the artificial interactions -- something she knows (so well), something that will buy her more time to deal with the situation. And time is what she truly lacks now.
“Thank you, Auguste.” – she greets him, actually liking the sound of his name on her lips. But before she can make another move on the chessboard of this first meeting, he steps closer, and suddenly she feels as though he is studying her in a way that is entirely different from her usual. Oh!; Nunnally is used to being looked at, scrutinized, assessed… but this feels different. As though he is trying to look through her, to understand every hidden piece of herself.
That’s just your imagination; Nunnally tells herself; It only feels different because you are going to spend your life with this man.
That is why it feels different. Worse. Still, she cannot help the faint smile tugging at her lips when she feels her cheeks bloom pink once more. She is embarrassed, and perhaps even more unsettled because she doesn’t know how honest she is expected to be today. Nunnally wishes she woulnd’t have to choose, though wishes have a strange way of coming true: their meeting takes an unexpected turn.
“Before we begin (…)”; he says, and those words alone send a cold shiver down her spine. Does he know? Has he heard the rumours? But what follows is worse than any question she had imagined. Nunnally stares at him, blue eyes wide, lips slightly parted.
“Now?” – she asks, as though his meaning had not been perfectly clear. But of course he means now. In theory, it should be an easy choice. She has always chosen the easier, safer path before. One could even say she is living in blissful ignorance already; after all, one gilded cage should be easily exchanged for another. Yet that is exactly the problem. She does not want it. Nunnally has tried to leave it before, and though she never truly succeeded, it still feels wrong not to try again. She doesn’t want her marriage to become two strangers merely existing beside one another. Even if that may be the inevitable end, should she not at least attempt to change it?
“Why are you so serious about this?” – she asks, buying herself time; time she does not have and time that will change nothing regardless. No earthquake will strike to save her from answering Auguste (now). And even if it did, would it truly matter?
“You cannot guarantee my happiness.” – she says quietly – “That is impossible. Happiness is something we either build together or fail to build at all. Comfort, perhaps… but happiness?” – Nunnally sighs softly. She knows this is the moment. And though she dislikes her answer, though she fears what she is about to admit, she sees no other way.
“I feel that with a question phrased like that, I should choose blissful ignorance. It would certainly be easier. But I also know the kind of life it offers.” – an empty one – “I want to know you. I do not want the stranger I marry to remain a stranger forever.”
“I want to be a wife who stands beside you… but only if that is what you want as well.”
“I cannot be the only one trying. The only one who wants it.” – then, more gently, she asks – “And you? Do you truly want to give this marriage a chance… or do you only want a wife in name?” – Had she made her choice just now? Or merely delayed it by asking the question in return? Her eyes linger on him, unexpectedly hopeful; an emotion she had never anticipated feeling. An anomaly.
he did not encourage or dissuade, though he does play witness to her mind's rapid ruminations. initially, she was responsive, then hesitation passed through like darkening clouds in pale crystals. she even had the audacity to question him before launching into doubts of his abilities. what could she possibly know about true happiness?
his expression remained patient, refusing to reveal bias. it was important she came to her own conclusion, but even so, her method of processing information said enough: external, circular, accommodating. at long last, the final answer earned a small frown, having expected the opposite. ah, celine placed a good challenge before him. this one possessed discernment, agency, and desires. . . how unfortunate.
the proper course of action would be to shut these notions down entirely. if he had it his way, she'd be imprisoned in his penthouse never to be seen again, save for formal outings and family visits. better yet, he could purchase a brand new residence in a different city with all the decor and furnishings her heart desired, and she'd have the freedom to go about her life as normal as his existence could permit. that was particularly tempting, but the overbearing hope in her eyes was so blatant, so offensive, so penetrating that he had no choice but to look away, brows set low. how disgustingly innocent. why couldn't she be selfish and cold? uncaring as to who he was and what he desired? it made everything incalculably harder. auguste turned, set the tulips on the table, and slowly pulled her seat out.
❝ i'll keep that in mind. sit, tell me what sort of wife you wish to be, how you wish to know me, and what your expectations are of me. don't hold back on anything. ❞
this blog passed its trial period, so i've expanded auguste's carrd. i'm also officially declaring him a villain with a throne-usurping arc, so that's what he'll be heading toward. bro hates his parents sm. for now, i'm open for friendship, romance, and rival dynamics because everyone he gets close to dies and he has major trauma and paranoia around attachment lmao.
@gracelis, ❛ you seem familiar. do i know you from somewhere? ❜ / meme.
it was quite possible and probable to be recognized in the midst of a networking banquet for social, political, and corporate elites. he was here with both the chief executive and operating officers, and thank goodness for that, as he was not particularly in the mood to put on a charismatic face and mingle about. it was ironic, given his unofficial position as the public face of viremont group.
he didn't need to scan through a million faces for this one; she was well known among higher circles, the ever-coveted daughter of the delwyns. he was more interested in her father, having glanced over his medical company's most recent earnings report. it was impressive, and an alliance with her would bring great partnerships.
still, he had to play the game.
❝ yes, we've seen one another in passing, lady delwyn. i've never had the opportunity to meet you though, which i'm apologetic for. my name is auguste, executive strategist of viremont group. if you have a few minutes, i'd love to chat. ❞
here to yap about auguste's species and his role in the human world.
auguste descends from a secular, primordial spirit with no religious affiliation or origin. his kin are a subsect of self-sufficient demons ungoverned by gods, created to manage humans, maintain global systems, and keep out of the public eye. there are only a few million that exist, and the more powerful, the less common.
auguste is better understood as a manifestation, given corporeal form for a specific purpose, like his so-called parents and their kin. his biology is camouflage; he doesn't need to eat, sleep, or breathe. these behaviors are regulatory and practiced to lower defenses.
now where it gets interesting is his role. auguste is of the architect class. his class is responsible for everyday systems from urban housing, transport, healthcare, to corporate structures. the catch is: he's not in the business of improving these systems. he's the strategist behind their darkest parts: gentrification, unhousing, rising rent prices, inaccessible healthcare and education, mass layoffs, economic uncertainty. he's the reason why humans struggle to exist.
these broken systems keep humans under control, and that's what makes his kin so powerful. their purpose is to erase human potential and feed off their chaotic, desperate, suffering energy. his kin represent a deeply embedded virus that can't be destroyed.
they have grown to become an impenetrable organization who exist completely outside of the concept of humanity. auguste is not supposed to view humans as anything more than a dying group of mammals, just like their ancestors. and auguste will do the same to the new species of humans whenever they arise.
so far, only one human has made him question his methods, but she was terminated. he belongs to a self-correcting, inescapable ecosystem.
fun fact, that explains his username, hatemethods, because he's started to hate his own methods. and ofc, 'hate me' is right there. had to do it.
Nunnally hadn’t seen it coming. Yes, it was customary in her world; her parents had been an arranged match, as had her paternal grandparents. Even her maternal grandmother, who had married for love, had long since declared it the greatest mistake of her life. So, she had always expected that one day the same fate would await her. Yet when it finally came, it still caught her by surprise.
After all, her father knew she had been seeing someone. He had even met him once in passing, and from that brief encounter Nunnally had allowed herself to believe he was not entirely opposed to the idea. So when, over tea in the drawing room, he casually informed her that he had secured a match with an affluent de Viremont family, she nearly dropped her cup and spilled tea across the table, earning herself a sharp, condemning look. She opened her mouth to protest, but before a single word could leave her lips, her father was already rising from his chair. With the matter settled as far as he was concerned, Mr. Ambly des Ayvalles left her with the curt remark that he had hardly raised her to expect anything different.
It left no room for discussion. Nunnally was simply informed that she was to meet the gentleman at a place of his choosing in only a few days’ time. No opportunity to argue, no time to object. Though, truly, what could she have done even if she had been given the chance?
And so here she was, standing at the entrance of the French restaurant, only moments away from meeting the man who had won her father’s favour, and, in time, perhaps his wealth and connections as well, provided he accepted her. Perhaps Auguste de Viremont would not like her. Perhaps he would decide a life at her side was not worth pursuing. But that was wishful thinking, wasn’t it? Their world didn’t work that way.
There he was. Tall, dark-haired, dressed in a pale blue suit, a bouquet of pink tulips resting in his hands. It was all perfect, almost too perfect; Nunnally found herself thinking. The door closed softly behind her. Yet she remained standing across from him, posture impeccably straight despite the faint tension in her hands as her fingers gathered the fabric of her skirt.
“Then… I would be grateful if you called me by my given name as well, Auguste.” – she replied quietly. Her chin dipped in polite acknowledgment, though her expression remained reserved –“Lady des Ayvalles feels rather too formal for our first meeting as betrothed.” – her fingers smoothed once over the crease of her sleeve before she added, more softly – “It is strange, is it not, to meet someone already tied to one’s future?” – her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than strict propriety perhaps allowed before she finally looked away – “I spent several days wondering what sort of man I would meet when I walked through this door.” – Nunnally admitted quietly – “It seems strange that so much uncertainty can exist within something already decided.”
Was she speaking too much, or too little? All her life she had been taught that marriage, especially an arrangement such as this, was a duty to be accepted gracefully. Yet no-one had ever explained what one ought to say when standing before a stranger chosen to become her husband. Chosen not by her, but for her. Still, she had no choice now except to learn as she went, and discover in practice what it meant to belong to a future she had never truly chosen for herself.
she spoke too much, this small, unassuming, innocent woman; but he allows it, gaze softening as practiced. while he'd briefly seen her in passing, her face blurred with the thousands of humans he'd crossed paths with. it was a natural separation, one that required conscious effort to bypass.
here, she clearly expressed expectations of marrying a man--and yet, she wasn't. she wasn't even marrying someone real. worse, he'd never view her as anything more than a pet, a cover to keep celine off his back. he didn't care about her, her family, her upbringing, nor the thousands of hours poured into etiquette classes, her exceptional posture, her trained speech, none of it--even so, he didn't exactly appreciate the way his brain skipped at the sound of his name. . .
it immediately brought him back to her. and what is the difference between the two? one, an anomaly, and this, a perfectly crafted helpmate. what if she stepped out of line? what if she, too, would be used to set an example for dissenters? that's all she was, a walking reminder of his slip-up, only now they were watching closer. would he be stupid, irresponsible, foolish enough to repeat that mistake?
❝ you're kind, ❞ he said, wistful.
with a slow inhale, his chin raised and he stepped forward, taking every ounce of her in. not only her fleeting youth, but the sound of her pulse, the scent of her blood through her cheeks, the refraction of light in her eyes, the smell of her hair. if he made a single mistake, she would be erased. he was her responsibility now, entirely.
why did that feel heavier than anything he'd faced before?
❝ before we begin, you must decide what sort of wife you will be. do you want to truly know me or do you live in blissful ignorance? no matter what you choose, you will be taken care of, protected, and i will ensure your happiness. but once you choose, you cannot go back, and you must accept any consequences as they arise. ❞
if her life is full, then she should not want anything from him. there would be no questions about why he came home late, why their conversations never went past a certain point. she would barely notice his absence. that was best, safer, easier to control.
it was uncommon for corporate to retain external hires; the onboarding took, at minimum, six months, the probationary period even longer, the odds of achieving permanent, full-time status was low, and most were bought out before their first annual performance review. if they could not be outright discriminatory, legal loopholes were well utilized. auguste never thought he'd had to deal with this as an executive, however, but the higher-ups had a way of ensuring his torment after a slight loss in performance last quarter. he smiled, an imperceptible twitch. so, they thought giving him a human to babysit would distract him? or perhaps, spy on him? that was all very well and good. nothing would stop, or dissuade him. perhaps, he would even gain an ally out of this.
viremont headquarters lived in a twenty-floor skyscraper downtown with dark marble floors, gold in-laid accents, dimmed lights, and modern art minimally displayed. several pairs of sentinels lined the halls at different checkpoints, and as soon as he stepped off the elevator, a set assigned themselves to his rear. two males, armed in enforcement attire and modified assault rifles, faces covered with tinted visors, kept ten paces behind. auguste ignored them as much as he ignored his own breath, approaching a moderately sized seating area next to the reception. there were a few guests there, but his eyes set on a rather. . .tiny individual, @risendeads. celine was certainly messing with him.
