Charming The Voices
sta 6 eva 3 str 1 wis 8 arc 8 ability six acc 9| the daughter of fate; isolated and trapped | ──────────────────────────────────────────── |  |
banner by emma van elst
|
───────────────────────────────────────────────── |
❝my mind is my worst enemy.❞ |
𝕿he voices, as always, were spinning in Lauren's head. The insults, the mockery, and the self-hatred that lay underneath threatened to consume her very being. The Slytherin wanted nothing more than to suppress the voices, to experience the heavenly sensation of peace within her mind. She knew that it was too much to hope for, despite the fact that others her age would take every joyous moment, every pure smile, and every moment they spent with their loved ones as granted. The trappings that held her, suffocating, in a relentless torrent of darkness, would always stay with her and no one else. She was truly, and utterly, alone in the world, and Lauren didn't know if anyone who was available was deserving to be called one of her 'loved ones'. Aunt Loratrix had left her a hollow shell of herself ever since the message she had sent her niece in late May. Her selfish threats and so-called 'pledges' had destroyed her. And combined with Briar's leaving? Lauren didn't think that she could survive.
If she could have one wish, she would wish that she was normal. Happy. Free to do whatever she wanted, to have no separate entity taking up the much-valued space in her mind and poisoning it. To be granted the blessing of a normal childhood, where she would be cherished by her parents, loved by her siblings, and to rejoice in the prospect of a family meal. To smile when she saw a friend, not a shadow of someone who was going to leave her in the dark, leaving her world a void without any trace of light. To be able to stare at people straight in the face when they couldn't see the sadness and grief that lingered underneath. To be able to accept the help and genuineness of others without pushing them away due to her mind detecting a hidden threat. To be able to live without wrath, anger, or revenge.
The voices in her mind always told her that she was a monster, and nine out of ten times, she had felt utterly defeated. She believed every single word of it. She believed that she was evil, that she was a monster, that she was undeserving, that she was worthless. That she would never be good enough for everyone, that she didn't deserve Briar, and that that alone had been why she left. That she was always destined for her loved ones to leave her, and for those that stayed to hate her more than death. People who loved making her life miserable, when she had done nothing, absolutely nothing, to deserve that.
No, that was a lie. She deserved it. She deserved it. She did, indeed, deserve all that. She deserved suffering. She deserved death. She was a monster. She was undeserving. She was worthless. She deserved what she had right now. God was fair; everything she got had been deserved. She deserved how her parents hated her and how her siblings wanted nothing but to make her life miserable. She deserved how she had no one to stay with her. She deserved this loneliness that had become normalised. She deserved such torment.
She kept believing the voices, and they had only thus grown stronger. Lauren felt as if they were assembling an army; every day when she was trapped in the torrent of hatred and wrath that she had no escape from, the voices would grow. More voices would appear. There would be more entities craving her demise and her being miserable. Everyone and everything hated her, and they would never rest until she reached death. No one would ever have mercy on her. She would always be in the dark, however much she wanted to be an angel. She never wanted to be a monster. She never wanted to push people away. She wanted to love her parents and siblings, and she did manage, at first. Until she was six, and that had been...
Her own fault.
The voices came back again, louder than ever before. It's all your fault, bitch. Sneeringly. You deserved all that, stupid dirty blonde. Mockingly. They would never have hated you if you never sung your bedside table. They would never have hated you if you weren't a Parselmouth. They would never hae hated you if you'd never been born! If you'd never fucking been born, then this would never have happened! This is your fault for existing! Yours! Yours alone! YOURS ALONE! You deserve all this suffering! YOU DESERVE ALL THIS SUFFERING, YOU STUPID BITCH! YOU THINK THAT IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT, BUT IT IS! IT ALWAYS IS! STOP FINDING EXCUSES OR THINGS TO DEFEND YOURSELF WITH! YOU'LL NEVER SUCCEED! NEVER!
The voices were whirling around her mind, and Lauren almost crashed to the floor with a thud. She spun around, and only realised that she had been settling down on her Charms class. Indeed, Lauren Loratrix Vanes had been too busy attempting to suppress the voices in her mind that she had forgotten that she had been in class, and even worse, she had missed all the content. She was a straight 'O' student. She had to be. She was only on her first week of school, and even though her grades were comparably better-looking than her siblings', she would still break down if she saw another 'A' again. What would she do? Probably, she would bury herself in the Chamber of Secrets and die there, never to be seen again. No one would ever miss her, and she'd never disappoint anyone else. She was the antonym of important.
Seeing as she was sitting on the very back of the classroom by herself, it would be no surprise to see that Lauren had not been interacting with the twelve-year-olds she would've once before called 'friends'. She didn't have any now. Not after Briar, and she had been pretty much Lauren's whole world. The reason why she even had friends in her first year. The reason why her first year hadn't been a living nightmare, but her second year was about to be. At this rate, another 'A' would be coming her way.
No. No. No. No. No-
YOU DESERVE THAT! YOU DESERVE SUFFERING! YOU DESERVE SUCH TORTURE BECAUSE YOU ARE THE EMBODIMENT OF DISAPPOINTMENT! YOU'RE A FAILURE, AND YOU DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO BE SITTING HERE IN THIS MOMENT, LISTENING TO SUCH PRESTIGIOUS INFORMATION GIVEN ONLY TO THE ELITE! YOU'RE A FAILURE! YOU GOT A FUCKING 'A' LAST TERM! HOW WOULD ANYONE GET MUCH WORSE THAN THAT, HUH? REMEMBER THAT! YOU. GOT. A. FUCKING. 'A'. LAST. TERM.
This was too much. She never signed up for the voices in her mind. She never signed up for such torture. They had found their way to her, made it seem like she and the voices were different entities, and tormented her to the brim of life. Lauren didn't even know what she was living for, in this moment. She had no future. She didn't even want to think about whether she wanted to work at the Ministry of Magic or St. Mungo's or Gringotts when she grew up. She didn't care. A bright future was not what was in front of her, despite her grades.
Except for the 'A'. It felt like a nicely collected batch of eggs when one of them exploded and ruined the rest. That had to be the most similar metaphor to what she felt, the hopelessness and sadness and anger that raged inside her. She hated how the voices took control of everything, and she would shatter glass and stab herself with each and every piece just to get them away. She'd swallow all the glass if necessary. All that mattered was that the voices were suppressed.
Or she might have had to try. To attempt to push the voices away.
She concentrated on the textbook that lay in front of her, and with a jolt she realised that it was her Transfiguration one. Cursing under her breath, Lauren pulled out her Charms textbook and dropped it in front of herself in agitation, resulting in a heavy 'thud'. She didn't bother to look up to see if she was being stared at. Embarassment was the thing that she hated most, the next thing to the voices in her head that she would do anything, including giving up years of her life, to disappear from her life.
And then they wondered why teenages had mental health problems. That would be enough to make anyone raise their middle fingers, she guessed.
Lauren attempted to shut off her thoughts and concentrated on the very first page of the textbook, and tried to extend her hearing to include that of her teacher's voice. But she had instead sat there, motionless without blinking, for a full minute. That had pretty much been the best moment of her life. Peace. She craved such simple things, but could never be blessed with them. And those who craved luxury always got it.
THAT'S BECAUSE YOU DON'T DESERVE IT! The voice was shockingly loud, approximately twice the volume of what she had just heard earlier. She felt as if her eardrums would rupture, but did not dare check. She only managed to shut her eyes before she doubled down on agony as a spasm shook her. Uncontrollable pain rushed through her, and she gasped, suffocating on the air. Her eyes watery and her vision spinning, Lauren gritted her teeth, trying to pull herself back to the present. People said that the present was a gift, but Lauren felt that it was more like a punishment. They really couldn't understand the terrors that thrived beyond a pretty face and blonde hair, could they?
The Slytherin supposed not.
Sighing, Lauren attempted to straighten herself in a desperate attempt to appear more dignified than she was, but she doubled down again almost immediately. She had barely any energy left to gasp this time, letting herself close her eyes for a brief second. She felt as if she were slipping away into darkness, and groped to hold any object that seemed to be around her. But when she opened them, she was back in the Charms classroom. Everything was exactly like it had been when she'd left it, except that she was different.
Gasping for breath, Lauren fought to recover, and realised that it had been an anxiety attack. Her first attack, and she was already quaking. And trembling like she'd never trembled ever before in her life. Her vision swimming, the young blonde pulled herself back together, and sat right back down on her seat. Barely a few seconds had passed, and she doubted that anyone had noticed. And she believed that it was for the better, because embarrassment was one of the many things the Lauren could not bear.
But the one good thing that had came out of this was that the voices had been supressed. She had actively tortured herself so that the voices would be gone, and she breathed a sigh of relief -- probably the first she had since first year, but she couldn't remember all that clearly. She fought to continue to keep the voices that way, and combined with her immense headache and gradually clearing vision, she succeeded.
If she had to live like this for her whole life just to be in peace with the voices, she would do this in a heartbeat. They would erupt sometime, that was for sure, but this promise was already sweeter than anything she could ever have imagined. She craved so little, but her wants were never fulfilled.
Fate and destiny were cruel; no one could ever doubt that. There was a burning sensation of rage, however, in her stomach, and she felt that if it was violence and anger that was needed to keep the voices from swaying back into her mind, then it was violence and anger that she would perform. She would do anything to keep herself from turning on the people that she would consider her friends, but she doubted that it would be plausible. She always managed to turn people away, to make them believe that she hated them. But she didn't, and however much she wanted to change that, her tongue would have decided everything for her.
Beneath the craving for friendship, there was something else. A sense of disgust towards anyone who liked her, because she knew that she was dislikable. She respected people who were independent, not those who held weakness in the mask of friendliness and sympathy. She believed that it was a weakness, and sometimes, she would feel a sense of pride towards those who rejected her.
She hated herself from the very core; there was no doubt about that.
| ───────────────────────────────── | ❝it always was.❞ | ───────────────────────────────── |
mentions; @lucille rosenhart
date; 07.09.26
speech and thoughts; lauren; parseltongue; others; thoughts
sorry for posting this so late!! ;ooc notes
link ;outfit
parseltongue adept terrible prescence ability three ability four ability five ability six ability seven| 𝓼𝓽𝓪 2 | 𝓮𝓿𝓪 3 | 𝓼𝓽𝓻 1 | 𝔀𝓲𝓼 8 | 𝓪𝓻𝓬 8 | 𝓪𝓬𝓬 8 | XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX | lauren vanes | parselmouth |
| ❝kill them with success and bury them with a smile.❞ |
Charming The Voices
x x  Lucille was late. The girl always tried her very best to never be late to class, but sometimes, she slipped up. What she wasn't expecting was that she would slip up in the first week back to school. The girl had her textbook clutched tight against her chest, and she was, as always, sprinting through the halls. Run. Run. Run. Run. Hopefully, she wouldn't trip over her robes but she would rather take the risk and reach class on time than slow down. The steady beat of her footsteps was almost comforting, if it wasn't for the fact that they were in time with her rapidly beating heart. Thud, thud, thud, thud. Finally, Lucille reached the classroom. And, just in time, too. She entered with the last few students shuffling in, face red and shining from sweat despite the pleasant weather. She took a seat at the back and nodded at the students around her, offering a smile to a few acquaintances before focusing on the lecture. Lucille would much prefer sitting in the front and taking it all in, but it was quite customary for the front seats in Charms to rapidly fill up, especially with Muggle-born students who were much more excited than the rest to learn about magic. That was just her own observation, though, and often, Lucille was right up there with them, enthusiastically writing down everything the professor said. Her seat didn't prevent her from doing exactly that. The girl quickly pulled out her textbook, some parchment, and her quill, writing down everything amid students who were more interested in catching up on things they'd done during the summer and passing notes than focusing. But Lucille didn't mind. It provided a nice, entertaining backdrop to the Professor's words. She just hoped nobody would talk to her. Lucille would hate to get in trouble for chatting; she certainly wasn't half as sneaky as these more seasoned individuals. But, halfway through the lesson, there was a sudden noise that made everything around her stop. A heavy thud sounded in the room, and Lucille immediately whipped around to see what had happened. The girl next to her, Lauren, she thought her name was, had dropped her textbook on her desk. What she was doing holding it was anyone's guess. Or perhaps she'd just taken it out? It was none of Lucille's business, and she was ready to turn back, until she noticed the look on Lauren's face. Or rather, the lack of one. The girl's eyes stared emptily in front of her, and Lucille placed her quill in the inkpot, no longer listening to the Professor, but now keeping an eye on the girl next to her. It wasn't like the first week back was all that important, anyway. Not wanting to make Lauren uncomfortable, she turned back, but she continued glancing to her left, looking at Lauren over and over, almost scrutinizing her every move. The other girl clearly had a lot on her mind, with a faraway look in her eyes as she stared. And then, something changed. Lauren gasped, as if in pain, and began to tremble, and it took everything in Lucille to not reach out to her. Reaching out might just startle her, and she wondered briefly if she should ask the professor if she could take Lauren to the hospital wing. It wasn't too far, but she decided against it as Lauren seemed to relax. She was still shaking like a leaf, but even that was calming down. And now, her vision seemed clearer, as if she was finally present in the room. Right then and there, Lucille made a decision. She tore off the corner of her parchment, going slowly to not make noise, and scribbled some words on it. It took her a while to decide what to write. Are you okay? No, she'll just lie and say she is by default. What was that? Too accusatory. That looked difficult? Too vague, and a little creepy. Finally the girl decided on Talk to me, Lucille and swiftly set her quill down. The letters were messy, but not illegible, and that was enough. Then, eyes looking up suspiciously, as if she was going to commit a crime, she waited until the Professor's back was turned before subtly throwing it at Lauren's feet. The soft paper landed right on her foot, and Lucille was happy that her aim had worked out. Finally, deciding she had done all she could, she stared straight ahead, back straight and stiff as a board. The girl clearly wasn't used to disobeying the rules, but she had tried her best. Class was coming to an end soon anyway. She figured she could whisper to Lauren until then, and, right now, what mattered was making sure she was alright. Lucille was the kind of person who could never let anyone go unhelped, no matter how much of a stranger they might be. She was quick to volunteer for almost anything, and it hurt her to see someone in pain, and so she was quick to volunteer to help Lauren in any way. But right now, the ball was in Lauren's court, and Lucille was left with the most horrible thing of all: waiting. Waiting to see what would happen next, and waiting to see if her help would be accepted. |  STA 7 EVA 7 STR 6 WIS 5 ARC 6 ACC 4 calming presence x x x  |
| sta 7 eva 7 str 6 wis 5 arc 6 acc 4 calming presence | iNPC: Antoine de Laurent |
Charming The Voices
sta 6 eva 3 str 1 wis 8 arc 8 ability six acc 9| the daughter of fate; isolated and trapped | ──────────────────────────────────────────── | |
banner by emma van elst
|
───────────────────────────────────────────────── |
❝my mind is my worst enemy.❞ |
𝕷auren was drowning in her torrent of self-doubt, the voices in her mind carefully suppressed. Every second of her life felt like a ticking time bomb, one where the voices could explode any moment and overpower her mind. To control her essence. The very thought terrified her, and so the young Vanes couldn't let go of it. Any hope of listening to even one word of which the Charms teacher spoke was shattered, and Lauren sighed internally. She would have to stay up until two to catch up on her classes under the covers. She hated her life.
A tickle on her right foot brought her back to reality. Lauren jumped, knocking the chair backward and grabbed the wooden table to regain her balance. The Charms textbook fell on the ground with another heavy thud, causing the girl's ears to ring. She bent down to grab the arm of her chair and hauled it up, gasping with the effort. The concentration had, quite surprisingly, managed to suppress the voices in her mind in itself, providing the second year temporary relief. She gasped a breath as she picked up her Charms textbook, now dusty, lying on the bare ground.
It landed on the wooden table with another heavy thud, but Lauren couldn't care less. Immediately, the Slytherin began to search the book for tears or folds, and cringed when she found out that the second-to-last page was severely damaged. Cursing under her breath, the blonde attempted to smooth the paper out in agitation, which accomplished nothing but to worsen the condition of the paper. Seething angrily, she yanked the page completely off, ensured that no traces of it was left on what remained of the book, and crumpled it into a ball. She slid the paper under her desk and onto the ground, where a slight sound could be heard.
She bent down again, and to her astonishment, a badly-torn off piece of parchment lay on her right foot, making the girl shake it off in disgust. She kicked the crumpled ball-like paper that she had gotten from her textbook from beneath her desk to that of the student who sat in front of her. Whatsoever her name was, she didn't care. It felt good, somehow, to blame someone else for the damage she herself had caused, even if unintentionally. She half smiled, her curls dangling on her shoulders. She flicked them away with an ink-stained hand, and only just realised that she had spilt ink of it. Whatever. That was the least of her worries.
Hiding her left hand under her desk so that it couldn't be spotted, Lauren turned to see if the textbook was also damaged in any other way. She let out a sigh of satisfaction, barely louder than a whisper, as she saw no crumpled pages, no inkblots. Then the memory of the crumpled parchment occurred to her, and Lauren froze. She hadn't meant to crumple it like that. Her hands had taken control of her. She'd never crumple things. It just wasn't in her nature; a typical Lauren Loratrix Vanes would rather have stepped on glass than have a piece of parchment crumpled. Her perfectionism was presumably the very thread that she was holding on to humanity with.
She wished with all her heart that things hadn't turned out like this. Anger had gotten into her life more and more often than she would've liked, controlling her actions. The Slytherin always thought before she acted, but things had turned now. Her emotions had floated to the surface from a lifetime of withholding secrets and emotions. Her suppressing method was broken, and everything was coming. Her secrets. Her deep, dark secrets, they were floating out of the water, out of their hiding place, and she was powerless to stop anything. When she tried to grab those emotions to put them back in their rightful place, all that appeared in her hand was the flowing water. Water, clear as sky, something to be admired, but Lauren could never.
She never saw beauty in the world again. Not after Briar left. The day she received the fateful letter had been the worst in her life, and the world was black and white. Briar was colourful. Briar was the one girl who had stood up for her when she needed her most. Briar was the one girl who had offered her support when everyone else turned against her. Briar was the one girl who walked to the edges of the world to be with her. Briar was the girl who swallowed her insecurities to be with her.
Then she gasped. Those were the marks of a selfish monster, one with a soul tainted by greed. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve that. She deserved suffering, instead. She didn't deserve such paradise. She didn't deserve Briar. She didn't deserve the soul she was born to meet. In such a sense, she didn't deserve her fate. She didn't deserve any fate, except for the void. The darkness. And nothing else, just the chill of the evil wind that rattled her bones and caused her worst nightmares. Briar went because she was too good for her.
The realisation sunk in her like a thorn, and Lauren almost cried out in agony. Even though such statements were not new to the traumatised Slytherin, they still hurted more than anything she'd experienced, except perhaps her family's betrayal and Briar's disappearance. She gritted her teeth. The attacks had just been the beginning.
Then the voices erupted like a volcano, shattering her mind. THAT'S RIGHT! YOU DON'T DESERVE THAT! YOU DON'T DESERVE SUCH PARADISE! YOU DON'T DESRVE SUCH LIGHT! YOU DESERVE DARKNESS AND SUFFERING AND THE VOID. THE VOID! THE VOID! YOU'RE PATHETIC, YOU'RE A MONSTER, YOU'RE WORTHLESS, YOU'RE UNDESERVING! The voices continued to chant, louder than the last, until Lauren felt as if her mind was about to explode. Her face was white as snow, and her lips red as blood. Her eardrums felt as if they were going to burst, and so did her head and the mind which seemed to also have developed a heartbeat. No. She scrunched up her eyes in agony, biting her lip. She tasted blood, but she didn't let go. Embarrassment was what awaited her if she let her lip roam free. She would scream. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shatter the world with what she felt. What she experienced. The world would pay for what the universe did to her -- and that was far from just being 'unkind'.
The universe gave her her mind, and she would have traded that for deformity in a heartbeat.
After what seemed like a millenia, the voices cooled down, hoarse, but the Charms classroom was indifferent. The professor was speaking. The students were listening. Lauren gasped a shaky breath, and bent down once again to get a grasp of the broken bit of the parchment. Her hands were sweaty and slippery; the paper fell back to the floor easily. Fuck. She bent to pick it up again, resisting to use her nails as she knew that it would crumple the paper.
After wiping her hand on a handkerchief that lay flat on the absolute bottom of her bag, Lauren managed to pick up the broken piece of parchment that someone had presumably thrown at her. What fucking thing did they want her for? Couldn't it wait after the lesson? Then the prospect that someone had thrown that piece of paper with such flawless aim would mean that the girl was being watched occurred to her, and she her lip curl into a snarl. Whoever watched her would pay dearly for that. She'd personally shred them to pieces.
She looked down at the bit of parchment, and turned it over, almost yanking it. Her blood turned to ice when she saw what was written inside. Her blue eyes resembled the frost of an iceberg as she stared, her eyes fixated on the three words that, in quite messy handwriting, were scribbled on it.She didn't know who the fuck Lucille was, but anger erupted in her all the same. Hatred burned in her, her icy blue eyes blazing now. Her cheeks were red as blood, which roared in her ears. The blonde curls turned into a frenzy of colliding metal, dancing like flames. Lauren resisted the urge to shout, but the voices in her mind had done it for her. This time was one of the rare cases when Lauren found them rather useful and a subject for appreciation. Her own thoughts erupted in her a second later, energy filling her.Talk to me,
Lucille
Lucille had thrown a stray piece of trash right at her as if it were some sort of charity project, and she was the target. She'd acted like she was an interviewer and Lauren was a girl with special needs. The sheer arrogance of the three words, 'talk to me', made her blood boil. It was a demand. Not a suggestion. Not a question. Not a statement. A demand. As if she were a professor and Lauren was a student.
HOW DARE SHE! HOW DARE SHE WATCH ME! SHE SAW IT! SHE SAW IT! SHE SAW EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED IN ON HERE! How dared that mangy girl who she barely even knew stare at her as she shook like a leaf in reply to the voices in her mind? How dared she sit there, watching as she suffered? How dare she throw that piece of paper at her feet like she was a pet dog begging for food, for help, for support, for shelter? She was an independent woman. A fucking independent woman. How dare she wander into what was hers, intruding in her territory and sticking her big nose where it didn't belong? She shook in fury.
She glanced to her left, and saw Lucille. She hated her. She hated how she attempted to pity a girl who didn't need help, a woman who managed just fine by herself. The voices in her head was none of Lucille Rosenhart's buisness. The breakdown was Lauren's, and Lauren's alone. She didn't need someone pitying her. She didn't need a fool's sympathy. She felt a sense of disgust towards Lucille, for pitying her and acting as if she liked her. The Slytherin would have respected her more if she mocked her for it after class. It would signify that she was sane and normal. Lauren had a respect for the people who were normal, but not the people who so-calledly 'liked' her.
But even in the midst of such rage, cunningness still thrived inside her. She let out a bitter smile that made the tips of her lips curl upwards. The universe was unkind to her, and she could let that rage out to those around her. But in the case of Lucille Rosenhart, she would be a true demon. She would torture her until she admitted that she was wrong. Talk to me. The three words rang in Lauren's ears, making her tremble in anger. No. She would not have that. She would not tolerate being spoken to as though she were a plaything of Lucille's. She would show her that even though she was on the verge of breaking down, vengeance still defined a core part of her.
She pulled out her quill, dipped it on the ink that still dripped from her left hand, and began to write. Each word was engraved on the paper, her fierce grip almost bending the parchment, but she did not care. They were all of the same size, cursive with a blend of solidness. It differed from her usual handwriting of tight organisation. She couldn't control her anger, and when the session end, Lucille would know what Lauren Loratrix Vanes truly meant. Take to me. She trembled yet again, fury pulsing through her.
On the back of the parchment, she pressed down:
There was no need to include "mind your own buisness" or "have some respect". The two words conveyed her emotions, and that was enough. She put her quill down and flung it at Lucille's table, not looking back. This time, however, Lauren wanted Lucille to look at her, to see the disgust imprinted on her face. Lauren would never look at that girl the same way ever again.No, bitch.
Lucille was just pathetic.
| ───────────────────────────────── | ❝it always was.❞ | ───────────────────────────────── |
mentions; @lucille rosenhart
date; 07.09.26
speech and thoughts; lauren; parseltongue; others; thoughts
sorry if lauren is too harsh to lucille... ;ooc notes
link ;outfit
parseltongue adept terrible prescence ability three ability four ability five ability six ability seven| 𝓼𝓽𝓪 2 | 𝓮𝓿𝓪 3 | 𝓼𝓽𝓻 1 | 𝔀𝓲𝓼 8 | 𝓪𝓻𝓬 8 | 𝓪𝓬𝓬 8 | XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX | lauren vanes | parselmouth |
| ❝kill them with success and bury them with a smile.❞ |