I'm a little surprised at the tone of the new promos tbh.. if only because it's so different from the s2e8 reunion. Why is Lestat suddenly on top of the world? Where's his grief about Claudia? The beef is entirely based on misunderstandings??
I mean, it's going to have been a few years since the reunion, anon. The interview was explicitly in 2022, and I'm pretty sure the new season will be set in 2026. Lestat's at least had the time to record an album and build a career, and Jacob's said too that Louis' expanded his business ventures and had the time to grow bored since he and Armand parted ways.
I would hardly say that Lestat's on top of the world either? He might be performing and doing so loudly, but that's Lestat. He is loud, and mercurial, as Sam has said quite a bit in this flurry of press, and pushing out instead of looking in is fundamentally how he copes with trauma. That's the character, and we see glimpses of that already in the trailer from him crashing out and vomiting blood and hallucinating in the middle of shows, and given ghost!Claudia has been pretty much confirmed now, and Rolin's said that Lestat's having a nervous breakdown and seeing if he can push himself hard enough to see if there's peace on the other side, I think this is him grieving. Not even just for Claudia, but for Louis, for himself, for the things he's done and the things that have been done to him.
Lestat does have periods of reclusion and introspection, which we saw in the reunion, and are often characterised by long sleeps in the books (which we know he slipped into after Nicki's death already in the show), but when he claws his way out of that, he's never healed, and it's never in a way that's healthy. Yes, Louis' arc was about processing and acceptance, but that's just - - not really something Lestat's capable of. He re-casts his abusers and predators - Gabrielle, Magnus, Armand, Akasha - as lovers, he re-writes the things they do to him as things he invited or deserved, he throws a dust cloth over his traumas and pretends the room he keeps them in is empty, and he goes on living even as that dust cloth slips off and the door of the room keeps cracking open and the people he pretends loved him remind him that they didn't, or don't, because that's Lestat.
i did the thing. i used my words. i have been as clear as i know how to be with more people than is in any way comfortable. i have been honest, said “no, i’m really not doing well and don’t have much energy to reach out” and then i’ve kept reaching out. i’ve said “i’m actually really not okay at all, it would be great to hang out with someone because it’s really hard to be alone all the time. let me know if you’re ever free” and so far i guess no one is. i’ve said “i’m actually starting to get really scared about being left alone, so i’d really appreciate hanging out” and people are kind about it, but don’t follow up. i’ve said “i am having a really hard time with scheduling. it would be great if you could give me some specific times you might be free” and people don’t reply. i’ve done all the things people keep telling me i have to do if i need human contact and it still doesn’t work. this is how we fall through the cracks. this is how we disappear.
*tosses more nsfw sharkbait Angels and Demons AU into the void, vaguely in the direction of @pyrrhy*
Uthvir is not expecting Thenvunin to come back to the mortal world soon, even with their… increased cordiality, in light of recent events.
They head back, for their own part, feeling very strange about the whole thing. It’s not what they expected to have happen, by any stretch of the imagination. Thenvunin had thanked them. And somehow, he had managed to avoid breaking their offering, and had discovered something of their true nature, and had let them kiss him even afterwards.
And he’d kept their feather.
Uthvir’s not entirely sure what to make of it all, truth be told. They’re in uncharted waters. Part of them thinks they should be glad for the practicality of a reprieve. Some time and distance to focus on other things, to keep an ear to the ground of Sariandi’s wandering Lord of Hell, and make some more headway on a few deals.
Part of them is more conflicted.
Thenvunin really is amusing, after all. And the apartment seems very quiet, and sparse, and yet there are things in it now. Magazines and clothing and those funny paperbacks that the angel had started to get really taken in by, leftover angel food cake in the fridge, and bedsheets still mussed up from the night Thenvunin spent sleeping in them.
Uthvir could put it all back in order with very little fuss.
They leave the bed still unmade, and head off instead. They’ll go seed their sigil on some college campuses, they think. Students are good targets. They’re almost always in desperate need of something, and since the whole world tends to undervalue them, they generally don’t know their own worth very well, either.
They flit around for several hours. Moving between planes to traverse the globe more easily, choosing their locations carefully. Singular bargains have their place – they make up the majority of any demon’s summonings, all tolled – but the real bread and butter are the repeat customers. The ones who don’t bargain so steeply that they undo themselves in one go, but are also never satisfied with just one deal. Families are good. Parents who owe their success to misbegotten bargains, whose children inherit spoils that they are often afraid to lose, who carry the cycle on and on, making deals to keep things they never learned how to acquire in the first place.
Though there’s always a risk of getting attached.
By the time they’ve finished selecting a few targets, and leaving some choice clues lying around, the sky beyond their apartment is dark and raining. Uthvir slips inside, and finds that they feel the lingering tension of some fatigue themselves. Devoting their efforts to Thenvunin was not utterly without cost; though, they do not feel it in their ledger, at least. Instead it lurks in their muscles, it feels. In the tension of their shoulders, and the base of their wings.
Maybe they’ve over-taxed their body a little.
They strip off their outer layers, and find themselves sighing, as they head for their bedroom. Stretching out might not go amiss. They’re tensed, and haven’t really gotten any relief since their ‘worship’ of Thenvunin. Probably a contributing factor, all things considered. After a moment of contemplation, they activate a few sigils that should keep minor demons away, and climb into the bed. A few stray, pale hairs linger on one of the pillows, but the blankets have long since gone cold. Uthvir settles on top of them, and eases their legs apart; and slides a hand beneath the loose waistband of their briefs.
Better to keep some clothes on. Just in case. They’ve been summoned whilst naked before; it’s not an experience they would care to repeat.
To a similar end, they keep with a less conspicuously aroused arrangement of their lower body. They soften their nails and slide their fingers into the slickness of their own arousal, and call to mind Thenvunin, in the chantry basement. Strung up before them. Warm beneath their hands, and against their lips. They could worship him like this, they think. Could take him into themselves, the way they slip their fingers into themselves, and hold him still, and whisper more benedictions as they rocked their hips against him. As they plied him with sweet kisses, and traced old, old symbols across the surface of his skin.
Their eyelids flutter shut, as they press more firmly against themselves, and let their breaths come more rapidly. They turn their head, and stare at the few, pale hairs on the pillow beside them…
The air shifts.
Uthvir freezes.
A bright light splits through the room. White wings fill up the space.
A bedside table falls over.
“Uthvir! I believe I have…”
Thenvunin stares at them, and trails off.
It is a rather conspicuous position, Uthvir supposes. Legs spread, hand between them, head tilted back against the pillows. They remember the last time they caught him at this, and a fresh surge of heat rushes through them, even as they pull their hand out of their shorts. Their fingertips glisten, and their eyebrows go up.
“Thenvunin,” they greet. Trying for unruffled, but coming out considerably more breathless than that.
Thenvunin blushes from his chest to his ears. His eyes go wide, and his wings flare out, and thump against the wall behind him hard enough that the other bedside table topples over in response.
“Wh-what are you doing?!” he demands.
Uthvir blinks, and finally recovers from their own surprised enough to muster up a certain degree of wryness.
“I would think that would be obvious,” they say, straightening up on the bed. They’re still so worked up, it’s actually making them a little dizzy.
Thenvunin opens his mouth, and then closes it again. And then he just sort of vibrates, a little. Feathers shaking.
“Wings away, babe?” Uthvir suggests. They did just go to a lot of trouble to get him some energy back, after all, and they don’t really want him passing out again. Then it would just be more trouble. They stand up off the bed, and Thenvunin stares at them for a few more seconds, before finally folding his wings away again.
“I – you – you…” he manages.
They’re actually a little surprised.
“What?” they ask. “Not going to tell me off for your greeting you with such a lewd, obscene tableau?”
Thenvunin swallows.
“You… could not have known I was coming…”
Uthvir chuckles.
“Are you sure? I can usually tell when you’re coming, you know,” they quip back, a warm delight settling into them as the angel’s expression contorts into affront, and embarrassment, and some other emotions they can’t quite place. His hands flutter, since his wings can’t.
He clears his throat.
“I did not mean to intrude,” he finally settles on saying.
They smirk, and move a little closer. Up into his personal space.
“Who said it was an intrusion, babe? There I was, just thinking about you, and now you’re here.”
To Uthvir’s amazement, then, Thenvunin actually lifts up both of his hands, and covers his face with them. His flaming face. They can practically see the motes of his aura, wavering in the air around him, even with his wings away. His halo is a barely-visible circlet of light above his hair. So, if nothing else, he isn’t still exhausted. That took less time than they imagined. Especially with the current state of world affairs.
They sigh, and relent. Backing up a little.
“What did you need?” they ask.
Thenvunin shakes his head for a moment. And then he finally pulls his hands down from his face, and folds his arms instead. Lifting up his chin, and clearing his throat.
“I was going to say, that I have devised a solution to the problem of spending time on this plane. One of my old heralds has awoken, by virtue of the… well. Ancient worship sometimes rouses other ancient things. Regardless, my herald should be able to collect the accumulated faith from the heavens, and ferry some of it back to me here. So I need not abandon my quest,” Thenvunin explains.
Uthvir blinks, and takes a minute to parse all of that. In their defense, they have to cut through the lingering fog of their arousal to manage it.
A herald.
“One of your birds?” they surmise. They can barely recall the days when he still had those. When most angels still had their affiliates and servants and extensions, heralds and messengers, even.
Thenvunin nods.
“Yes, the highest of them, in fact. The others are still sleeping,” he explains. “The world’s faith is not great enough to move them back towards flight. But Screecher has always had something of a guardian’s nature to them. They tend to wake at the slightest provocation.”
Screecher.
“The hellbird?” they blurt.
Thenvunin scowls.
“Screecher is a divine celestial being,” he corrects. “Ancient, stalwart, and true! There is nothing of ‘hell’ about it, and I do not know where such slanderous rumours began! Just because it does not look like most of the heralds does not change its being.”
Uthvir is, in fact, pretty sure that Screecher is some ancient abomination from the days before faith even took remotely the same shape it does now. Something whispered into being by mankind back when they were still precocious primates, and the concept of ‘bird’ was synonymous with ‘death from the skies’. Most angelic affiliates are, ostensibly, born from the ‘abundance of an angel’s aura’. But Uthvir’s pretty sure that Screecher just sort of wandered into one of Thenvunin’s aviaries at some point, and just decided to stay.
They’d also mostly assumed it was dead by now.
“If that thing attacks me, I will defend myself,” they declare.
“You will not lay a hand on even one of Screecher’s feathers!” Thenvunin counters, sternly. “Especially not when it will be assisting me in remaining here! You can hardly blame a divine herald for being unfriendly to a demon. Just don’t antagonize it, and everything will be fine.”
Uthvir resists the urge to curse.
“I make no promises,” they insist.
Thenvunin huffs.
They stand at an impasse for a moment. And then the angel’s gaze slides down Uthvir’s figure. Stopping at their waist, before flitting back up to their face. His fingers twitch against his arms, and he swallows hard enough for them to see his throat bob.
They run their clean hand through their hair, a sly comment making its way to their tongue, but then sticking there when Thenvunin surprises them by moving closer. Inching into their space, as his gaze moves across their features, and doesn’t quite seem to know where to land.
After a moment, it locks with their own.
Uthvir clears their throat.
“Was there something else you wanted?” they ask, lowly.
Thenvunin unfolds his arms. One of his hands stutters at his side, and then, with a very tentative sort of gesture, reaches out to settle on Uthvir’s waist. His face is still red. All the way down the sides of his necks. And he opens his mouth, but nothing much seems able to come out. His chin is still titled upwards, as if he’s caught in some strange limbo between propositioning them, and denying them, and his usual protestations that they will ravish him, that certainly they are much too riled and depraved to simply let him go, that he clearly has no choice but to put up with it, don’t seem to fall out. For some reason.
Uthvir gives it a few more seconds, and then they snake their own arms around him.
They can make it easy for him, they suppose. They often do.
“It was a long trip,” they say. “Perhaps a little more worship is in order?”
Thenvunin’s grip tightens, just a little. His robe feels softer, and so much lighter than the mortal clothes they got for him. Almost incongruous. They can feel the faint tingle of his energy around him; vibrant enough to make them appreciate how much it had depleted, before. His held tilts down towards them, and he frowns, just slightly.
“I suppose… of a fashion…” he allows.
Uthvir kisses him.
It’s surprisingly pleasant, kissing Thenvunin. Almost like getting just a little bit drunk. In the spaces between stars, he had tasted like starlight; and in the mortal realm before, he had tasted like cake, or soda pop, or ice cream, or whatever other treat they had plied him with beforehand. But now he tastes like neither. Only like the heady warmth of himself, as Uthvir forgets the tone of worship, for a moment, and instead commits to devouring him with all the banked intensity still thrumming in their veins.
They grasp the side of his robe, and pull him insistently towards the bed. Their own wings flaring, and wrapping around him, as their exhaustion seems to ebb away at the promise of release. They don’t think they can be all give and no take this time. But they don’t have the desperate need to be, either. Every part of him that their energy touches feels vibrant with it. They must have been more pent-up than they realized; they have to fight the urge to sink into him completely, to try and reach for the wings that the put away, and entwines themselves as thoroughly as they can amidst his feathers. As it stands they tear his ‘divine’ robe away with a low, impatient growl, and even rip their own clothing as they pull it off. Pinning him to the mattress, while he stares at them with his wide, green eyes, and his cheeks all flushed, and his cock twitching in anticipation.
Mine.
They pause.
Take a breath, and ease their hold on him a little, as they loom over him.
No.
They’re not like that. Not that kind of demon. Not like Sariandi, or his ilk. They won’t steal Thenvunin from his heavens.
Not entirely, anyway.
Slowing down, they trail a hand down his chest, and then back up to his face. Cupping the side of it, as they lean in and kiss him again. He likes being kissed. They nip at his lips and draw his tongue between their own, and coax him into exploring their own mouth. Then they still in surprise as they feel Thenvunin’s hands settle against their sides. As his touch slides towards their back, and up, towards…
They grasp his arms, and pin them down.
“Don’t,” they whisper, roughly, against his mouth.
Thenvunin stares at them.
“Do they hurt?” he asks.
Uthvir lets out a breath, once against falling a bit short of the nonchalance they’re aiming for.
“No,” they say, simply. “They just… that’s not a good place to touch.”
Thenvunin’s throat bobs, and he looks perilously close to pity. Uthvir smirks, instead, and presses their teeth to the edge of his jaw. Reminding him how sharp and dangerous they are. How strong they are, as they take one of his wrists, and guide it pointedly to the heat between their legs.
“I mean, if you want to touch my somewhere, this might be a better place,” they purr, just shy of mocking, before they let go his hand. Of course, Thenvunin wouldn’t sully himself to…
They still, as instead of moving his arm back to his side, he hesitates only a moment; and then presses his palm up against their skin. A shiver of surprise escapes them, as his large hand settles on them, and his own fingers move searchingly against them. Uncertain, a little reluctant, maybe. But Thenvunin has an odd look on his face, and though he pauses when his digits finally slip into the wetness of Uthvir’s folds, he doesn’t withdraw his touch then, either.
“Like this?” he asks them, instead.
They blink, a few times.
“Y-yes,” they manage. Because the invitation was theirs, after all.
Thenvunin’s fingers move slowly. Teasing soft flesh, testing new waters as they find Uthvir’s clit, and gently press against it. Enough to have them angling down into his touch, but he doesn’t quite seem to realize what he’s found – or else he’s being a tremendous tease – as he moves on, after just a few brushes, and slides the first finger inside of them instead. Testing the give of their entrance, and then fitting another one easily alongside.
Uthvir slants their hips downwards, and tries to take him deeper. Their breath catches as the angle of his touch shifts. When they look at his face, Thenvunin is biting his lip, and staring at them in something perilously close to fixation.
They swallow, and gently pull his hand away again. He moves it without complaint, his cock flushed and ready, now, as the settle over him. Locking gazes with him as they fit it into themselves. It’s a long, slow stretch, made all the better when Thenvunin shifts a little, nearly squirming beneath them, and then lets out a startled oath.
Uthvir’s eyebrows go up, as they finish taking him in.
“Did you just say ‘damn’?” they ask. Voice only a little shaky.
“Uthvir,” he protests, hips twitching. His hands twist in the blankets, but the scolding pulls like an invocation, and they feel all the heat of their possessiveness flare up again. They wrap a few more tendrils around him, binding him against the mattress, and force themselves to go deliberately slow. Barely sliding up, clenching themselves around his cock, before inching their way back down again. A strained sound passes between Thenvunin’s lips – neither oath nor name – and his arms strain as if he wants to clamp a hand of his mouth.
Uthvir watches his face, driven by a deep intensity, as they repeat the motion. Slow and tantalizing, as they take him. Lifting themselves up, and then coming back down. Driving themselves more to the brink than anything, maybe, as their nails dig just slightly into Thenvunin’s torso, and leave red marks behind.
Up, and then down.
Thenvunin squirms, and strains. His hips fight to move. He sucks in a few sharp breaths, and meets their gaze.
“Uthvir,” he pleads.
They pick up the pace.
Rocking against him with increasing intensity, then. Feeling the delicious, hot friction fire up their nerves, as they bring a hand to themselves, and add to it. The sound of flesh hitting flesh, and the ragged rhythm of their breaths, both fill up the room, as Uthvir tries to take him deeper. Closer. More, more…
More.
Their wings shudder. Twisting, rippling for a moment, as Thenvunin’s own snap back into being on the bed around him, and they come with light and shadow whirling in their vision. The rush of it is far more intense than they expected; enough so that it takes them a moment to realize that Thenvunin has come, too. Filling them up, calling their name, and their own throat burns as they realize that they’ve replied in kind. For a moment, the room bleeds away, and their head swims.
In that intense, bewildering span of seconds, the world only seems to exist as Thenvunin, spread out beneath them.
And then the bed gives out.
The frame breaks with a considerable crack, the angel lets out a surprised yelp, and Uthvir catches him and rolls them both away like they’re on a battlefield and not in a bedroom; old instincts kicking in, setting them to wrap themselves and Thenvunin in a blanket of shadow in the corner of the room.
They blink, after a second, and let the illusion drop back down again.
Thenvunin stares at them in astonishment.
“…Well,” they manage, after a long, awkward moment. Breaths heavy, arms still locked around him. “This is new.”
I'm petty with who I share myself with, in every aspect.
Some people don't deserve the rare delicacy that is me.
Sometimes I forget that I'm that bitch crippling aniexty , depression and all. I'm awesome but that doesn't mean it doesn't come with negative things. I'm human. But an incredible human.
My sadness is deep but so is the love and joy I spread
And I really be sad because I feel like there's no one who knows how to love me the way I want to be loved platonic or romantic in any relationship. My friends try but at the end of the day I'm really too much for most.
That's why I try to spread myself because no one person can handle all of me.
And I always hurt myself believing someone could fit the bill. I settle for close enough nothing less. But people don't even get close to enough ...
And there are those who really don't realize I'm a gem until I'm gone. I'm a season you'll miss.
If you need proof ask anyone who has been graced with my presence from school to work or any event I've attended. Even when I'm feeling low. My depression will make you look at your life differently I promise you that much. And when I can fake it, it's really an experience. Even my silence is loud.
Fuck around and loose me if you want. I might cry about it but at the end of the day you'll cry more than me. Especially when I die. That's on everything 💯
My depression is deeper than being sad over loosing someone in my life. At that point it just makes it difficult to hide. But once I'm used to the idea of that person not being on my life and I start thinking about my presence and soul and once I decide to no longer let you affect my ability to function on the surface regardless of the dysfunction and turmoil inside its really a wrap. I get to save more energy for myself and you'll be stuck.
And tbh I may not miss you if you choose to leave...
When I miss someone it's heavy. Unpredictable but always intense. I don't miss very many people.
At the moment
My cousin
My great aunt
My nephews
Pop smoke lol he shouldn't count but I do miss him
3 out of the 4 listed are dead.
I think about my little sister and cousin a few others but I can't really say I miss them. But I do think of them.
Hearing me say I miss you might be even more rare than me saying I love you.
For me to miss you I have to crave your energy or presence.
I AM MOVING HOME TO UTAH!!! Eeep. There is gonna be a lot of happiness and adventures and running and trail running and just general joy✨ I made a quick stop to drop some things at home before going on a family vacation so it doesn’t feel real yet but my heart is happy.
A good 250 yearsago, she was positively s m i t t en with a sorceress who went by the nameof Sanguine (who would, centuries later, give birth to a son who grew up tobecome the infamous Vilgefortz of Roggeveen). Their relationship was anythingbut healthy – Sanguine shamelessly exploited the fact that Philippa would have givenanything, done anything to make her happy. Eventually, Sanguine grew tired ofher, leaving her feeling completely and utterly heartbroken. Those who knewPhilippa before her time with Sanguine would all agree that the relationshipchanged her for the worse, and that she was never the same again after itended.
Then there wasYennefer. Philippa loved her obsessively, furiously, violently. She never toldher so, at least not out loud, an omission that she would come to regret forthe rest of her life. In many ways, their relationship was a recreation of thedynamics between Philippa and Sanguine, and it ended just as badly.
Sile deTansarville soon took Yennefer’s place. Philippa was at ease around her,respected her, and appreciated the fact that Sile was never afraid to disagreewith her, challenge her, even call her out on her behaviour. Philippa, quiteunexpectedly, found security in this dynamic. With Sile, Philippa felt grounded.She’d never intended to fall in love with her, looking only for distraction,someone to occupy herself with in order to not have to feel the aching voidthat Yennefer’s absence had left behind. Yet, she did grow to love her in herown way, although never as unconditionally as Sanguine or as fiercely asYennefer.
