vaquelin

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im kinda tempted to name him

Vespasian

(short. Vesp)

after the roman emperor who founded the Flavian dynasty under which the famous amphitheatre, the Colosseum, was built

[vaquelin]

i think i like this guy

[vaquelin]

Goodnight kiss

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Did you think I would forget?

Your eyes like mirrors,

Your lips like poison ivy

Did you think I would be another one?

So lovely and submissive,

So easy to take

I didn’t forget

Your eyes full of fear,

Your lips whimpering

There won’t be another one

So lovely and vicious,

So long gone mad

I will kiss you goodnight

And whisper softly

Rest in peace, fucker.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

more of occasional poetry

[vaquelin]

🥀 Occasional poetry

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Ashen glow | June 2025

Posthumous story | June 2025

I love… | June 2025

You are my punishment | June 2025

Goodnight kiss | June 2025

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

[vaquelin]

You are my punishment

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You are my punishment and the sweetest reward.

When I look at you I have the urge to curse myself

for the thoughts born in my twisted head,

but each of them tastes like ambrosia.

Are you sure that in your veins flows the blood

not the godly ichor?

I could pray for you every day

on my knees, with profane intention.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

more of occasional poetry

[vaquelin]

I love…

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

I love…

When you pound your nails in my skin

Moan my name

Between the tears

I love…

When I see your face against the stars

And Berenice’s comb

Ties around your neck

I love…

When you look at me with longing

Which turns into

Tenderness

I love…

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

more of occasional poetry

[vaquelin]

Posthumous story

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

One day death will take my hand

And I will join the damned

If sinners ask me: “Why are you dead?”

I’ll tell them our story’s end

Angel lost his silver feather

It fell from his wing whether

He was in the demon’s tether

Or they were embraced together

There is no hope for lovers’ ties

None of us sees paradise

We will choke on our dirty lies

Because we have sold our skies

If you’re curious how I fell

And got punished by depths of Hell

I will say my last farewell

Before the wedding bell…

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

more of occasional poetry

[vaquelin]

Ashen glow

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The Moon was shining red

Street lamps reminded me of your eyes

They had the same dying light

Ashen glow / Ashen glow

When you looked at me that night

I was licking blood off my fingers

Which was never mine

Luscious taste / Luscious taste

Tell me you also dreamed of it

That you prayed for my sins

And what do we have left?

Bitter tears / Bitter tears

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

more of occasional poetry

[vaquelin]

“And what is that? Another commission?”

“Oh,” Kaveh seemed a bit flustered. “It’s just, umm, it’s the plan of my house.”

“Your house?”

It looked nothing like the building they both were in right now.

“Yes, I… I’ve sketched it to clear my mind from the newest commissions. Once I make enough money, I’m going to build it and move in.”

Alhaitham became speechless.

“But for now it is just a remote dream.”

#kavetham 🌱🏛️

More of my works 🍃

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[vaquelin]

Vultur Volans x Paradisaea #1

Alhaitham sneaked into the house and closed the front door as quietly as possible. Nevertheless, as soon as he crossed the threshold, a voice called out from inside.

"I swear to the Lord of Dendro, if you keep disappearing like that, one day I will change all the locks in this house!"

The Scribe rolled his eyes. A moment later, Kaveh appeared in the corridor, looking him up and down as if assessing the damage.

"And who would open the door for you when you lose your keys?" Alhaitham shot back with a smug look.

Kaveh glared at him and muttered something about dinner being ready to heat up on the stove.

#kavetham 🌱🏛️

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[vaquelin]

“I need to ask. Have you guys ever thought about it?”

The clinking of glasses and the low murmur of conversation from other tables created a soft buzz around them. Cyno was shuffling the cards once more even though no one wanted to play another round. It was his force of habit whenever he had drunk too much. But to be fair, they all were a little bit dizzy. It was late in the evening and they met not so long before sunset.

Only one person seemed equally—or perhaps even more—drunk than Cyno.

“About what?” answered Kaveh with an absent smile.

“You know, about that. With each other,” he briefly glanced at another side of the table.

Tighnari sighed and took Cyno’s half empty glass away from him. Alhaitham frowned. He couldn’t stand not knowing what is the topic of the conversation.

“What does it—?” spoke up the Scribe but Kaveh came in.

“Never about that!” Kaveh snapped.

They both repeated the word ‘about’ with those suggestive smirks as if they were twelve again.

“So about what?” Cyno repeated, just as insistent. Tighnari and Alhaitham understood nothing of their chit chat. The Forest Watcher didn’t seem to have any interest in them but Alhaitham was getting annoyed because of the unawareness. They both just sat in silence, counting the minutes to finally go home and get rid of these two chatty drunk men.

In the meantime Kaveh and Cyno seemed to have lost themselves in thought when suddenly the Architect tilted his head back, fixing his hair.

“I mean, when we were kids—“

“Where is it going?” Alhaitham silenced him.

While drunk, Kaveh loved starting the story with “when we were kids”, showing how much everything had changed between them much to the other man’s embarrassment. Alhaitham multiple times had told him to keep those things to himself, but his dizzy mind didn’t remember it.

Kaveh looked at the Scribe with a surprised look. “Cyno has asked—“

“We get it,” stormed in Tighnari, his ears laid down.

He also seemed to have enough of those stories. They always ended up in heated argument and tonight, none of them had energy to repeat this.

The Architect and General Mahamatra stared at each other for few seconds with stoic expressions. Then they both bursted with laughter for no genuine reason.

Alhaitham and Tighnari twisted their faces. Forest Watcher grabbed his ears, while the Scribe covered his with headphones. The two drunks were chuckling until they run out of breath.

When they both calmed down, Kaveh said:

“Wait, wait, wait, did you think about it?”

There was silence across the table but it didn’t last long. They both started to laugh even louder than previously.

“I hate them,” growled Tighnari, squeezing his ears. “Guess it’s time to head out.”

Alhaitham didn’t have to agree to that, he wanted to say it an hour ago. Alhaitham helped them both get up, Kaveh, slightly less stable on his feet, leaning against him for support while Cyno, almost smaller in stature, had his head barely reaching the height of Alhaitham's shoulder. Somehow he managed to lift up them both and they went out of the restaurant.

The streets outside were colder than they expected, but it didn’t matter—they were still laughing too hard to care. The cold didn’t help them to sober up. Their carefree bickering filled the air as they made their way to Alhaitham’s place. Even in front of the door, Kaveh and Cyno didn’t drop their silly conversation.

“I don’t know how about him but you for sure thought about that!”

“I bet you did too!”

Alhaitham and Tighnari were standing few metres away from them, but still could hear everything perfectly.

“What do you think they meant when they—?” wondered the Scribe, but Tighnari wasn’t keen on focusing on this topic.

“Nothing logical, that’s for sure. Don’t worry about it, they will forget it before tomorrow.”

Soon, he and Cyno left, bickering with each other as General was trying to lift up Tighnari’s mood at all costs much to the Forest Watcher’s despair.

As soon as they were alone Alhaitham noticed that Kaveh’s smile disappeared. Did the joke stop being funny when Cyno wasn’t around? The Scribe opened the door and let his roommate in. He just wanted peace and quiet now.

He let Kaveh go to the bathroom first and sat down on the couch. He felt the tiredness in all his limbs caused by the loud atmosphere. He was longing to already lay down his head on the pillow and fall asleep in his warm bed. When he slightly closed his eyes, he felt a hand running over his cheek and jaw.

“I may be thinking about it,” Kaveh said with a suggestive smile.

He bit his lips while looking Alhaitham’s face up and down. Then he went to the bathroom without any further explanation.

Alhaitham blinked, his mind racing to catch up. What did it mean? But before he could ask, Kaveh was already out the door.

“About what!?” shouted Alhaitham but there was no answer.

#kavetham 🌱🏛️

More of my works 🍃

All short stories on ao3 ☘️

[vaquelin]

Alhaitham had gotten himself into a strange habit.

He would take a random book from the shelf and then sit down in the living room, pretending he had been reading it all afternoon. In reality, the book was merely a cover—an excuse to steal quick glances at Kaveh, completely immersed in his work.

That sight was one of his favourites. The Architect, lost in lines and dimensions, lightly biting a pencil as he skimmed through his project. He always seemed so deeply involved, as if he were pouring slivers of his soul into the blueprints. Alhaitham couldn’t help but be impressed by Kaveh’s pure devotion to architecture. It was beautiful in its own way.

“Have you gazed your fill?”

The marble statue that was Kaveh suddenly spoke. He didn’t even turn his head, yet still caught Alhaitham red-handed.

The Scribe almost dropped his book, a painfully red blush carving itself across his face. He panicked. He wasn’t about to admit the truth.

“You working is such a rare sight.”

Kaveh stopped sketching. Without a word, he slid the pencil into his pocket, rolled up the blueprint, and stood.

“Back off,” he snapped, turning away.

Alhaitham watched him leave, following his movements with his eyes. Then, with a quiet sigh, he closed the book and smacked himself in the forehead with its hard cover.

#kavetham 🌱🏛️

More of my works 🍃

[vaquelin]

MY TOP 5 POSTS (II)

🌿 (mar ‘25 — may ‘25)

Caught red-handed | March 2025

About that | March 2025

What happened to your back? | May 2025

Don’t make him pity you | March 2025

How is it two a.m. already? | April 2025

[vaquelin]

TW (!) death, violence, suicidal thoughts

If he had known…

If he had known that was their last conversation, would he have said something different? Would he have put aside all the years of pain and insecurity to remember the good times? Had there ever even been good times?

Till stood in a puddle of blood, above the still body of the person he had once known. He had known him — more than known him — but what did it matter now? What did anything they had done or said to each other matter, when he was no longer breathing?

Till should have known this would happen. The moment they were drawn by lot, forced into that bloody competition, there had only ever been one possible ending. Had he been too afraid to think it through? Or had he simply chosen not to? Chosen not to imagine what would break his heart first?

And what if he had faced Mizi instead? Could he have sacrificed himself like that? Mizi —his only light of hope — was gone, probably dead. And still, he stood here. Still in the game.

All because of him.

Till clenched his fists. How had he dared to do it? How had he dared to give him a chance to live, when there was no reason left to? How selfish. Exactly what Ivan would have done.

Till felt his hands around his throat again.

“You fucking idiot,” he whispered into the black void.

He remembered their final conversation, just before stepping onto the stage — their first words in months, and the last they would ever share.

“Are you nervous?” Ivan asked, eyes black as always, voice deep and empty.

Till hadn’t answered. He was distracted — not thinking about Mizi, not thinking about anyone. Just imagining his long-awaited death. A peaceful escape from this cruel world. He was looking forward to eternal silence.

“Don’t worry, Till. We’ll be alright.”

That didn’t sound like him at all. But Till didn’t care. He had already accepted his fate. As he was pushed toward the stage, Ivan spoke again.

“We both will be alright. I promise.”

Three minutes later, he was lying in his own blood, shot — who knows how many times.

“Fucking liar,” Till muttered through clenched teeth.

Tears slid down his cheeks. He wasn’t even sad — just tired. Why hadn’t he died in the first round? Why hadn’t he given up, instead of living through all this pain? Idiot. He shouldn’t be here. They all deserved better. Mizi, Sua, Iv—

More tears fell. Why him? Why had he sacrificed himself for him? Why not the other way around?

Of course. That’s what he had planned. That’s what “we’ll be alright” really meant. But they weren’t alright. Ivan already knew the cold peace of death, while Till was still waiting for his turn.

Soon.

Soon, the final round will come. Soon, he’ll see his friends again. Mizi. Sua. And that idiot who dared to think Till’s life was worth more than his own.

If he can kill Ivan again up there, he just might.

Till smiled. He knew he wasn’t going to miss him for long.

Full story on AO3

[vaquelin]

10 minute draw of my friend in a green house for her birthday