trompe l’oeil. @saintbelleamy - Tumblr Blog

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀.

𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯, 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭-𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐫 penned by HIRAYA. 27 years old. non-binary, they/them. born in Clairefontaine-en-Yvelines, Ile-de-France, France, later moved to Paris. third child of the Saint-Fortiers, luxury goods magnate. relationship status: single. currently living in new york & working full-time as an actor (mainly on-stage).

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐒

𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐍

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒

#INTRO.#ABOUT.#PSD CREDIT: AUREACOR

•18+ Adults Only

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𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐀.

The truth of the matter is this: August believes them.

August brings their slender fingers up to his lips. Their hand is warm and Bellamy smell of some perfume or other, and just for a second he allows himself to indulge in all that they were before.

He remembers the summers surrounded by concrete skyscrapers that swelled with an oppressive heat; the way droplets of sweat would roll down the side of Bellamy’s neck like freshwater pearls ( the saltiness of their skin on his tongue ). He remembers the stifling smell of vintage curtains being drawn apart; the perverse way a spotlight could follow his fae’s every movement ( like the earth which revolves around the sun, endless and in constant motion ). Most importantly he remembers their wit, their defiance, that kept him enchanted. A mythical being of silk and gossamer dreams, Bellamy was a vision that eluded him — made him believe he could be more than a man lost in an endless, labyrinth, forest. They were different people then, and perhaps in some other story August would have remained, beguiled, in this reverie.

Things could have been different had Julian not been murdered died.

August pulls away from Bellamy, but keeps their hands intimately intertwined, moulded together like marble carved from nothing. He does not loosen his grip even against the silent questioning of his fairytale.

“I don’t love you.”

Cruelty never made sense to August, but the look on Bellamy’s face reminds him that the depth of one’s love can only be measured by the hole of its absence. What is pain if not the force of one’s devotion? He levels a stare with the other, forgetting for a moment the way he would rather drown in their softness.

The truth doesn’t matter anyway, they will never be the same.

“The difference between you and I is that I have never needed you. You could change that, you could change everything. All you need to do is trust me.”

He’ll kill them both if he has to.

#[ ft. august ]#[ infamia. 002 ]#reblogging for this ending.

𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐀.

He’s silent, severely so.

There’s an accusation, a confession, a witness statement to machiavellian misdeeds that’s lodged in the back of his throat — threatening to destroy their peace. August almost professes it, almost ruins his chance at redemption, but he holds it for the sun strikes Bellamy’s face just right, and it reminds him of an abandoned statue in an English garden. He forgets to think, forgets to breathe.

It’s easy to remember why August adored them.

“Are you angry? What did I do?”

It’s just as simple to remember why they deserve their fate.

“I ask of you something simple, and yet you fail to do even that,” August places his hand at the back of Bellamy’s headrest, leans in, and catches their gaze with something dark in return. “It’s no wonder you left me. You’re so easily influenced, so naive. Who was it, Dante? Hector? Sutton? What did they tell you to make you believe you would be better off? Did they say you deserved better? Did they offer to do better?”

The car is suffocating. He locks the door.

“Why did you do it Bellamy? If you wanted my attention you could have asked for it. That’s all you ever need to do. I admit I was cold, but remember that it was you who left me devastated, not the other way around.”

It’s a game of push and pull with Bellamy, a dangerous endeavor that breaks any semblance of decorum. August tucks a stray piece of hair behind their ear. He pushes down the urge to comment on its appearance.

“Just tell me why you did it. Why I found you and [redacted] fucking last night.”

It’s oppressive, the space between them. He wants to close the gap, but it’ll be Bellamy who has to succumb first.

“Don’t you remember what I promised? You’ll always be mine, and I, yours.”

They wanted to cry. Did they truly believe they’d formed a true sense of self outside of their relationship with August? How foolish. They are truly useless without him, and even now they useless to him. So was there any point to them existing, to them being? “Nothing. They didn’t tell me anything, you know... it wasn’t them,” they deny, desperation leaking from each word, pleading. What exactly they were pleading for, they couldn’t tell. “It was me. Julian got to my head. It’s all my fault.” They choke on the words, trying to suppress impending tears. What would August say if they cry now? They have to hold it in. “I simply wanted to know if you would fight to keep me, to stop me from leaving,” they whisper in shame, “but you let me go, and that made me think maybe Julian was right, that you don’t need me, and I was only dragging you down. I thought maybe you realized it too.” A shiver runs through their entire body when he tucks the stray hair behind their ear, waiting for the insult that normally follows. The insult doesn’t come, but the demand that replaces it is just as devastating. “Just tell me why you did it. Why I found you and [redacted] fucking last night.” Their head whips up to see his face, to gauge the extent of their former lover’s rage. A part of them knows he has no right to ask them anymore, but in truth, they will never truly escape the chains August had on their heart, their very soul. “I didn’t fuck anyone last night,” another denial. Please, believe me. “I promise, August.” The tears start falling now, and there’s no way to stop them. They desperately reach for his face, trembling hand holding his cheek gently, like they were afraid he’d explode if they weren’t careful. “I know I’m yours.”

#[ act ii. scene ii. ]#[ ft. august ]#[ infamia. 002 ]#I TRIED HARD NOT TO MATCH #but HERE WE ARE ig #why is toxic august so hot tho

𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐀.

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Nearby restaurant 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: July 1, 2021 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓: @saintbelleamy

There is an ode to sorrow that swells in the image of Bellamy, and it has created a martyr. They’ve become an iridescent light that moths flutter toward, a beacon of despair that insects finds solace in, as though they could touch the untouchable. Attain the unattainable. At once, Bellamy has become the center of their world, their devotion, their love — and at the core of this fantasy is a spire who holds nothing but their own melancholy in the palms of their hands. They could drown the world with tears.

“Come with me,” he whispers it into the ear of his beloved. At some other time, in some other world, it would have been a request, a sigh of earnesty, but time is cruel and has morphed it into something of a command. August moves without looking back, holds tight to the hand that would have otherwise vanished. He does not speak again until they have left the Castillo, does not dare look at the betrayal wearing last nights clothing.

—

He parks them at the edge of a cliff.

“Explain,” it’s cold, calculated, “Don’t act stupid, you know what I’m talking about.”

What objects of devotion tend to forget is this: all things must succumb to nothingness after a time. It is only the illusion of time that creates immortality.

The infernal clicking of August’s parked car comes in time with their thudding heartbeat. Tick, tick, tick. Time passes by as his demand for an explanation hangs heavy in the suffocating, cold air. They identify what they feel as... fear? It must be, what with the chill that kept running down their spine anytime they catch a glimpse of his clenched jaw, of his grip on the steering wheel. But try as they might, they cannot fathom what it was August wanted them to explain. With pleading eyes, they brave a look towards him, gaze lowering immediately in instinctive submission. “My lov—August, please. I do not understand what you mean...”, they begin, throat tightening. Their voice is sweet, low, placating. A twisted part of them is glad to have him breathing down their neck again, glad to feel this familiar fear of him. Want to be owned by him again, pinned down, kept hidden from everything and everyone. He could strangle them right then and there, and they might beg to die by his hands. “Are you angry? What did I do?”

#[ act ii. scene ii. ]#[ ft. august ]#[ infamia. 002 ]#tw death #?

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐕: 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍.

the same interview, five years later.

𝙹𝚄𝙻𝚈 𝟷, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

an episode of talking too much, and then not enough.

#pg.tempt

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niimph

“Please — consider me a dream.”

— Franz Kafka; ‘Once while visiting his friend Max Brod, young Kafka awakened Brod’s father, who was asleep on a couch. Instead of apologizing, Kafka gently montioned him to relax, advanced through the room on tiptoe, and said softly: “Please – consider me a dream.”’ from Franz Kafka (Franz Baumer)

#musings.#thank u for sending this annie <333

𝐋𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀.

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦-𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦, 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘵?

⸺ bellamy wears one of marilyn monroe’s iconic looks: immaculate white fur, long satin gown & gloves, mask made from real diamonds; all courtesy of their family’s company, Cadieux-LUNARI (cL).

One night in August, they said, she died from a drug overdose. The same thing happened to Julian. If his mother thinks that was murder, then Bellamy figured showing up as Marilyn is exactly on theme.

#pg.mascarada #all drag make-up and hair probably courtesy of dante

𝐋𝐔𝐗𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐀.

Ah, a treasure has escaped its chest and lays discordant against the mezzanine floor.

Dante should probably pick it up⏤like one would a very special tissue, delicately pinched between two fingers⏤and gently deposit it back into its baroque abode. If only Dante did the things he should. Instead, he joins in on the impervious sprawl, stretching out his limbs like an overzealous octopus. A leg here, an arm there. His head ends up cushioned on Bellamy’s lap, and he silently sends his gratitude to whatever unlucky bastard listening that the raggedy artist lifestyle has yet to reach their wardrobe. Dante likes it rough, but not cheap-denim rough.

“Ghosts,” he muses, “are mere pimples⏤white, protrusive, and satisfying to pop. The real horror is the haunting itself.” Languidly, he opens his eyes, surprised to have found them closed. “You don’t need to believe in it for it to be true.”

It was like instinct⏤the way Bellamy’s hand instantly buried itself in Dante’s hair, fondly carding their fingers through the soft mane, repeating motions they have done countless times in different ways, always with the same end result: satisfaction. A small chuckle escapes the confines of their ribcage. “Then... Julian must be a pimple,” they pronounce, amused by the thought as much as they were disgusted. “Oh but you’re right. And this⏤” they gesture aimlessly, as if meaning for this to be the Castilo, or the situation, or their own poetic predicament earlier, “...is his haunting.” A sigh, melodious and melancholic. Their hand pauses in their repetitive journey through Dante’s hair. “Sometimes I wish he could have brought me to hell with him, and I would have dragged August with me.”

#[ act i. scene i ]#[ ft. dante ]#[ luxuria. 001 ]

⊙

I think you are:

#[ ask meme / answered. ]#[ ft. august ]

⊙

I think you are:

#[ ask meme / answered. ]#[ ft. nikhil ]

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⊙

I think you are:

#[ ask meme / answered. ]#[ ft. jasmine ]

✧

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧ I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧ I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

#[ ask meme / answered. ]

✧

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧ I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧ I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

#[ ask meme / answered. ]

lcvesque:

BELLAMY:

“Forget?” they echo, throat tightening around the word, eyes desperately searching August’s face. Bellamy did not even know what they hoped to find, and yet their delicate face was twisted in silent determination, perhaps hoping for find another crack to slip into, just like they did those many years ago. Unfortunately, today, August seemed to be a fortress. Impénétrable. “Fine. So we’re strangers.” Bellamy concedes, breath caught in their lungs and holding their heart hostage. “You may not have wanted to come back, but I suppose you are stuck here for two weeks…like the rest of us,” they hesitate around the words, because it implied their guess about how Julian was able to gather all of them again, 5 years after death. Bellamy doesn’t elaborate, and a silence ensues, until the next second: inspiration strikes. A small smile brightens their face, spreading slowly from their lips to their twinkling eyes. “Strangers,” they repeat. “Well, since we are both here anyway— would you let me be an acquaintance? Again? At the very least?” Perhaps it was up to them, Bellamy thought, to create the crack. It could be just like the beginning many years ago, a repeat performance. They slice open their own chest and pull their own heart out. August only needed to take it.

The thing about loneliness is that it does not require company to keep it occupied.

“Acquaintance it is then, Saint-Fortier,” there is an ending to his statement and it lingers quietly between them. “If that is all, I will be retiring to my chambers for the evening. I wish you a good night.”

Acquaintance. What a delightful word. Acquaintance. History was repeating itself, only this time it would not be him stuck with a the knife in his back. August leaves and does not look back even as he wishes so desperately to revel in the crestfallen face of his fae. Would their lip quiver, pink and plump for the taking, or would his fold into itself like a harsh line across a sea of sorrow.

He steadies himself and refuses to give into his own satisfaction. There will be much to celebrate in the end after all.

+

BEFORE THERE IS TRIUMPH, THERE IS TRIAL. On a boy’s 10th birthday he is given a plethora of presents presented to him on a long white table. His parents watch as he scans the room, smiling at the appropriate donors and thanking them where needed. He is a child but he is charming and no one can fault him for having a peculiar taste in gifts.

A red box sits next to him and he is never seen without it. It is a beautiful box, an expensive box, and carved into the side of it is his name in elegant script. The boy does not open it for he already knows what is inside. He created it after all.

Pinned against black velvet are the remains of a butterfly haphazardly preserved. Beautiful blue wings are torn in half, and it appears lopsided from not being struck hard enough. It is not beautiful, not by any means, but to August Lévesque it is the most exquisite thing he has ever possessed.

—

END.

#[ act i. scene i ]#[ ft. august ]#[ infamia. 001 ]

✨ silas, hector, nikhil

summon - hector

banish - silas

absorb - nikhil

#[ ask meme / answered. ]#sorry silas :/#bell thinks if they absorb nik they might get smarter

•18+ Adults Only

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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions

Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

⊙

I think you are:

#[ ask meme / answered. ]

✧

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧ I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧ I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

#[ ask meme / answered. ]

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