acestor
Recent works
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refreshing conversation for the mind. by acestor
Fandoms: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! (Video Game)
11 Jan 2025
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Summary
It was always in the moments like this–where he was alone and in pain and comforted only by the music that echoed from his stereo–that Mammon laid down and began to wonder where the fuck he went wrong.
Mammon had put off his own descent into sin to ensure that his brothers were safe, and he didn’t hold a grudge when they never returned the favor, regardless of the hurt it inflicted. Then for a short while, as the dust finally settled, everything was peaceful–Satan grew rapidly before his eyes, and the rest of the Devildom eventually came to tolerate the Fallens that had landed in their home realm.
But with the never-ending passage of time, his greed became increasingly difficult to satisfy.
And in turn, so did his brothers.
The music rang loudly in his ears. He had to accept that his brothers would not change, or attempt to rekindle the tenderness in which they once considered each other.
Too caught up in the flurry of his hysteria, Mammon did not see the six pairs of worried eyes that quietly watched him fall apart from the stairs.
or, where a disheartened mammon takes a trip down memory lane.
Series
- Part 1 of songs left unsung
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Summary
Il Dottore, for all his percipience and practicality, never learned how to swim.
It hadn’t ever been a skill he considered important enough to master–most certainly not when it stood in the leering shadow of his greatest projects; it was a trivial concern, nestled in the dusty corners of his omnipresent mind. But perhaps at one point in his existence, centuries ago, the importance of knowing how to swim had occurred to him.
No body of water could swallow him, let alone control him. He was beyond mortal fears, above them, and he repudiated to be ruled by them. He would not–could not–succumb to them. It wasn’t until the reckless Eleventh Harbinger crashed into his dreary, extended life, that Dottore damned his own negligence; the raw nature of the boy was akin to the violent sea colliding with the stagnant sand.
Drowning was such a humane fear.
And he would not be ruled by it.
or, il dottore and his fear of drowning
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"Why would he even make you that handsome?"
If Omega was at all irked by Beta’s commentary, he made no show of it.
“No sharp teeth, no stupid blue eyelashes,” Beta continued, waving his hand in Omega’s general direction, “do you even count as a segment? You barely look like the rest of us.”
Beta could see the smirk that pulled at Omega’s lips, reflected in the flask currently he held in the air as he swirled it beneath the harsh light. When Omega finally spoke, his voice was low with amusement, and it made Beta want to pluck out the fool’s vocal cords.
“Consider washing your hair just once, Segment Beta, and you might be handsome too.”
Beta sneered, but could make no witty remark worthy enough to be said.
Omega continued, having taken Beta’s lack of an answer as answer enough, “besides–it’s not like you have any qualms about my differentiating features. On the contrary, I rather believe you possess a perverse fondness for them,” he turned to Beta with a drawn-out slowness, and the smile on his face was sinister and quite befitting of a Harbinger, “don’t you?”
or, beta gets his world rocked by the prettier version of himself.
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Summary
The sun didn't rise in Snezhnaya.
Of course, there was a shift from dawn to day, then from dusk to night–signified by the change in shade of the ever-gray skies. However, there was no distinction between the mist of morning and the mist of midnight. It was only ever just mist, dulling the world and impairing the senses. It could be daunting to outsiders who never learned to navigate it.
It reminded Childe of himself, in a way.
He was familiar with the darkness, despite his complicated relationship with it. He hated hearing the abyss whisper seductively in his ear as it promised him blissful numbness and thoughtless carnage whenever there wasn’t anything else to occupy his mind. Or his blades.
However, the whispers went blissfully quiet when music resonated throughout the halls of Zapolyarny and through the canals of his ears.
For as long as a symphony played, Childe almost felt human.
And when it ended, he was reduced to nothing once more.
uhtceare (n.) - an old english word referring to anxiety before dawn.
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