She's Trembling.

She's trembling.

She's trembling in his arms but there's such calm stillness in her eyes. As if Death was a fine wine she knew had been poisoned. He couldn't comprehend.

"You're afraid." He said, hoping that would shake her from her stillness.

"Yes." She said and her voice was shaken like her body.

But she didn't run. Didn't scream. He could tell she was thinking about it, every instinct on her body demanding it. But the strange, strange creature in front of him did not move.

"You're going to die."

"I'm aware."

"Won't you try to run?" He crooked his head. "To beg?"

"Would it change anything?"

He scoffed, half amused, half incredulous.

"I suppose not." She nodded at his answer, her eyes curious as they shone to him. "Are you suicidal?"

"No." She blinked. "Why would you think that?"

"People who want to live usually try to do something to ensure they do."

"Good point." The corner of her lips turned up. He could hear her beating heart wildly inside her ribcage. "I suppose I like the idea of dying in the hands of a vampire. It's an interesting death, even if no one will know."

"An interesting death?" He was captured by the insane idea as if her words had been a trap for an innocent prey.

But he was no prey.

"It's better than the alternatives, I suppose. Every death I can think of living is either boring, painful, too quick, or all of the above." She looked him in the eyes, fearful but not wavering. "Are you going to do it now?"

"Why would you want to die?"

"I don't but I don't suppose you'll let me go as well" He didn't respond. She hesitated. "Will you?"

"Would you like that?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation this time but they still danced around each other like they were aliens, other species completely. Which, to be fair, he was to her. "But will you?"

"I don't know." He was honest and she got quiet. "Why are you so complicit in your own death?"

"I don't want to die like a human, I guess." She laughed a bit at the irony of it all. "I don't want to be afraid even if I don't want to die now because if I am afraid... fear is the last thing I'll ever feel."

"What do you want to feel like as you die then?"

"Warm"

He blinked, that only word feeding at his heart like predators over carrion. It had been a long time since he had died but he couldn't help but try to remember what it felt like, his beating heart matching hers as memories long forgotten flooded his brain.

"If you died, would you tell me?" He asked then, his voice as soft as summer rain. "What it feels like?"

"I don't want to." Her quick comprehension made him chuckle.

"Why not, doll?"

"What future is there for you, or me, or anyone who lives forever? Where will my loved ones be in thirty years? Fifty? Where will I be when humanity finally manages to destroy itself? What will be left but despair and death and a touch of amused malice?"

"Strange. You seemed like the hopeful type."

"My hope lies in the present. Not in the future. I don't hope for things I know are just a fickle possibility, an echo of what shines bright and loud right now. And I won't trade the burning flames of the present for the certainty of the future. I can live with my anxiety over what's next. I won't live with the empty promises of tomorrow."

He felt his temper flaring.

"Don't you wanna know what it's like to be powerful? What on Earth wouldn't you trade your pitiful human life for eternity and the ease of a darker kind of life?"

"I fear I'm not that power-starved." She sounded amused by his impatience. "Nor am I so easily swayed by promises of a better existence. We're made of the same stuff, you and I, even if yours is better utilized. We're stardust and connected energy, we're freaks of the Universe and still, we're both suffering. Again, we cry and weep over and over. What is there for us, creatures of the same element, then to make the best we can with what we have, and hope the randomness of the Universe grace us with some kind of mercy? I cannot bear to be the protagonist of this story. I cannot bear the thought of suffering without my bright lights and my feet on the ground. I am not made for the intensity of eternity or the pain of idle life. To dream about grandeur is a better thing than to live it."

"So it's a coward's choice." He was disappointed.

"Could be." She said looking at him with the same confusion he looked at her. "Do you like it? Your meaningless existence? The loneliness drenched in despair you wear like a coat? The memories that haunt you every minute of every day against the cold reality of this existence for eternity? Drowning in arrogance and beliefs of Darwinian self-importance so that you can bear it? The fear of going mad slowly in a spiral because you can't remember how it feels like to be human anymore?"

He was heaving. Her lips touched his ears, a shiver running down his spine.

"What are we but desperate creatures, clawing our way through the dirt of our own cores?"

You knelt down.

You knelt down in front of me.

For me.

You looked up to me

Knelt down on the cold hard floor

In front of me like some old ages knight

You knelt down

Your sins and your mouth laid down on my feet

On my lips.

You knelt and that has been all I can think about since then

To Decadent Poets - Summary

Hey, guys! That's my book here, I decided to post a few chapters (or maybe more) after translating it from Brazilian Portuguese to English. I really wanted to share this work and hope you enjoy it.

Here's a quick summary of the book:

Title: Taigh Hill Dedications

Series: To Decadent Poets

Tags: Dark Academia, Poetry, World War II, Scotland, Art;

If you liked... you're gonna like this: Chronicles of Narnia, Harry Potter (especially Marauders era), Anne with an E, Enola Holmes, Pride and Prejudice, etc.

Trigger Warning: child abuse/neglect, abusive relationships, racism, antisemitism, xenophobia, biphobia, homophobia, anxiety crisis, mentions of abortion, PTSD, post-partum depression.

Add: The book didn't have a Sensitive Editor, so any problems with how people of color, disabilities, or queer people are portrayed can be discussed directly with the author.

Synopsis: When the war begins Christian is sent to the North of Scotland to live with his estranged godfather in his isolated property. He couldn't imagine he would've found his kindred spirits at that forgotten place, his family in every way but blood.

Noah is a jew, Oliver is German, and Annie has a strong head that can rival his own. All of them were very different but their love for art and an old mystery of the old property can be enough to join them forever or never again allow their friendship to flourish.

Author's note: Historical accuracy is not something this author tried to pass on in this story, dear readers. There are a lot of historical changes happening in the books and in no way should this book be considered a good account of real events of the time they represent.

Summary (with links):

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 - Coming soon...

The thing about Armand to me is that he strips us of any preconceived or prejudiced notion of what it means to be a manipulator or a narcissist. Most people who'll emotionally abuse you in your life won't be this evil character who is out to get you, they'll be people who actually feel and experience the emotions and feelings they manipulate you with.

To them, the reality of those feelings is there, raw and feeling like an exposed wire. That's why it's so hard to get out of toxic and/or abusive relationships — because you learn the way your abuser see and experience the world and it makes sense to you, even if it doesn't on a rational level. You get it. You empathize with it. And it becomes so much harder to leave.

So yes, Armand is this abused, traumatized man who regrets things and is so desperate to be loved he'll do anything to have it. But he also will do anything to have it.

It's why forgiveness is earned, not deserved. If forgiveness was about deserving, the whole world would be made of saints.

Being an adult while watching iwtv means that you really can't pick a character to hate on because of nuance - and they're all equally horrible lovable hateable complex beings, can't even be mad at armand because he's not some evil mastermind manipulator, while at the same time he is, but he has the cadence of doing all of that while being a shivering, quivering scared chihuahua and that's what makes it worse because 'evil' is not some big tough infallible guy. It's a 17 year old guy with glowing orange eyes with enough anxieties in him to melt a planet and he's always plotting in such a loser yet scaryy way. You get me ?

YOU WANNA TELL THAT I'M WRONG?!?!

This makes me feel kinda cruel, BUT...

I have kinda of a love/hate relationship with IWTV because at the same time I'm invested af in this story, I really think these guys have no business being this manipulable and/or pathetic ally in love at +100yo

And I get that's kinda cruel but honestly, are you even worthy immortality if you're gonna be manipulated by someone one third your age after living all this time? I'd kms from the embarrassment alone (and yes I'm throwing shade)

And this is kinda why Armand is my favorite vampire in the tv show, I guess?? No one be manipulating more than my cancelled wife and that's what a respectable 400yo vampire should strive to be tbh