#amc cut me my check!

[portraitoflestatonfire]

I am a propagandist 🙂‍↕️

"If I had an ounce of self-respect I would cut your dick off!"

Louis de Pointe du Lac // Carmela Soprano

[ghouldump]

hi i love your writing unfortunately there aren't many fics for the iwtv so tysm!!

i was wondering if you could write something about louis lestat and claudia with a (vamp?) reader that accidently timetraveld

Back In My Arms | Lestat x Reader x Louis

ෆ time traveling accidentally and you're able to relive bittersweet memories.

thank you and I agree, especially the amc version compared to the movie. The other posts are coming, but I had to rush and get this one out because it was so gut wrenching for me 😭 LOL

“What do you think? The blue or the purple,” you held the dresses to your body.

“I prefer your birthday suit,” Lestat said over the classical music, making you roll your eyes at him. Could he ever be serious when you needed him to be?

“Louis,” you called out, wanting a real opinion.

“Hm? Oh, the purple” he was hardly listening, more focused on the pages of the book.

“So the blue, got it,” you grumbled, storming away, to finish packing your things.

“Ma chèrie, why are you leaving again? It truly makes no sense to me why you remain friends with this mortal,” Lestat said.

“I don't see why you care, it's not like either of you will notice I’m away,” you said, as you closed the bag.

“Don't say that, we do notice,” Louis said, defensively.

“I'll only be away for a night,” you mumbled, checking your appearance in the mirror, and slinging the bag over your shoulder.

“Stay, you can give us a more detailed visual representation of the dresses,” Lestat said, straightening his posture when you scoffed.

“Sex doesn't fix everything”

“It is a start”

“And maybe that's why we’re in the situation we’re in, now, if you'll excuse me, I’m going hang with my mortal friend, who communicates with me and doesn't want to block out our problems with Mozart, books, and sex,” you said, storming out of the townhouse, making sure to slam the door.

Getting into your car, you began to drive to your close friend, George, or Georgie, you called him both. He was middle-aged, although he was closing in on becoming elderly. He'd oftentimes been told he resembled Bill Nye, but those comments usually only made him red in the face, before he sent a storm of swear words at the person, in his thick Cajun accent. Divorced and cut out of his kid's lives, he was lonely, but so were you. Georgie was the only mortal to ever know that you were a vampire, and he made you feel normal.

Although having a few questions at first, he eventually let the matter go, and hardly ever brought it up. The two of you had been friends for nearly a decade now, and you planned to hold on until the bitter end. He wasn't too keen on being turned, scorned by his wife leaving him and his children siding with her. Lestat and Louis weren't comfortable with your friendship at all, but after realizing your relationship was completely platonic and you weren't cutting him out of your life, they grungily accepted him.

As you finally parked in front of Georgie’s house, approaching the door, you shook your head, discovering it was unlocked. Letting yourself in, you locked the door, going to where you'd both hang out for hours, his basement.

“You need to keep your door locked old man, anyone could just walk in here,” you said, going down the stairs. Tossing your bag onto the couch you'd usually sleep on, in the windowless room.

“Nobody comes here but you,” he said, making you laugh.

“So how is it going?” you asked, sitting in a nearby chair.

“A little more progress than last time, how are things at home?”

“Lestat is…well Lestat and Louis will always act like our issues aren't there,” you shrugged.

“Have you tried talking to them?”

“Of course, Lestat doesn't take anything seriously enough, and Louis wants to brush over it all,” you said.

“Hopefully, this is a success, because then we can fix everything,” Georgie smiled.

“Maybe you, but I don't see my problems being fixed”

“Don't underestimate science,” he told you.

Georgie had been working on an actual time-machine portal. He believed if he could go back in time, undo his mistakes, could prioritize his family over work, maybe that would stop his wife from having an affair with the neighbor, from leaving him and draining his wallet, and taking his children who he couldn't even get a happy birthday from.

He insisted that you would be able to use it, to repair your companionship. A long time had passed since 1910 and much tragedy and heartbreak happened. Separating from each other and eventually reconnecting, recently everything had been so stagnant and bland. No energy to argue about obvious conflicts, but unwilling to leave each other again and be forced to deal with the pain.

“Oh, my goodness,” Georgie stood up, his hand going to his chest. Your eyes widened, worried that he would croak.

“What is it?” you asked, you couldn't sense any internal issues, noticing his thoughts were jumping for joy.

“I think…I think it works,” he said, as he began to type on the nearby computer. The pod he'd spent years building, lit up, the white light faint.

“It turns on, how will you know if it works for real?” you asked.

“Could you maybe catch a few raccoons, rats, birds, anything, we can try on them,” he asked. Standing up, you went outside, quickly grabbing a rat from near the drainage, bringing it to him.

“Done,” you smiled, holding it firm, tossing it in the pod, as he opened the door. The rat squeaked a bit, running in circles, as Georgie typed.

The machine began to make a noise before the rat burst. It’s guts splattering on the door.

“Ew, what happened?” you asked him, pressing against the door, to look inside in disgust.

“It seems like it is releasing some sort of radiation, too strong for animals and people, I'll have to keep working on it,” he grumbled disappointedly.

“I could try it if you want,” you offered.

“The radiation will be damaging-

“In case you forgot, I’m hardly human anymore, I am a bit intrigued, the worst thing that could honesty happen is I get burned up, and I’ll heal,” you said, as he faced you.

“Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like you have to do this, Y/n,” he said, but you brushed him off.

“Trust me, I don't, but you've put so much time into this, almost as long as I've known you, I want this to work out for you,” you said.

“Okay, let me get suited up, to clean it first,” he said, changing into the nbc suit to clean the inside of the pod. While waiting for him, you checked your phone, seeing a message from Louis.

“Sending a picture of the dress, I’m sure you look beautiful as always��

Smiling softly, you set your phone on the counter, taking your shoes off, watching as Georgie scrubbed the blood away. Little did Louis know, you wouldn't be wearing the dress to go hunting tonight. As soon as he finished cleaning, he was back at your side, typing on the monitor.

“We’ll do, let's say 5 minutes into the future, I’ll think of a number and when you come back, tell me the number, and time it to see if there is a significant change in time,” he said, as you nodded in agreement, accepting the small stopwatch, stepping into the pod.

Your arms at your sides, you briefly gave him a thumbs up, hoping to reassure his anxious thoughts. Typing on the computer, the pod began to light up again, the noise leaking out before it started to shake. Standing up, Georgie stood with his eyes wide, his jaw dropping as you vanished.

“Oh my Lord, it's working,” he said, his hand shakily went to his mouth.

Back at home, Louis and Lestat were relaxing, leisurely lounging around when it happened. A sudden feeling of dread washed over them as if you were gone. Glancing at each other, both of them stood up, rushing from the house to your friend, George's home. Bursting through the door, they went downstairs.

George looked back, gasping, surprised to see the elder vampires. However, before he could say anything or move, Lestat had him pressed against the wall, his hand around his neck.

“What did you do?”

“M-machine,” he choked out, looking over at the pod.

“Lestat, look,” Louis said, staring at the pod, fog seeping from the bottom.

“What is this?” he continued, looking to George.

“Time machine,” he struggled to say, before Lestat dropped him.

“You didn't put her into your experiment,” Louis said out loud, shaking his head, already pacing the floor.

“She offered, and it was only five minutes into the fut-

Suddenly, within the fog, you could be seen, smiling in excitement from the exhilaration of the atoms passing through your body. Your smile quickly faltered, seeing your lovers and a nervous Georgie.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Get her out of it, now,” Lestat told Georgie.

“Leave him alone,” you argued.

“This isn't safe, Y/n, we thought you were gone,” Louis told you.

“Don't parent me, Louis”

“Get her out of it now, or it will be destroyed,” Lestat said, shoving George into the computer, his hands smashing against the keyboard.

“Stop it, Lestat,” you yelled.

“What did you do?” George stressed, as the machine lit up. Typing as quickly as possible, he couldn't see the results that he needed.

“Y/n, he made me press a few buttons, it is going to the past, I don't know how far, but I’m going to fix it,” Georgie said apologetic.

“What?” Lestat and Louis said at the same time.

“Do not kill him, fucking asshole,” you said before vanishing.

“Can you bring her right back?” Louis asked.

“I don't even know how far it has brought her”

“Well figure it out,” Lestat snapped.

“This is your fault, she told me all about you and your ugly ways,” George said. Tilting his head, Lestat was about to reach for him, but Louis grabbed his arm.

“He has to bring her back to us,” he reminded him.

“She is going somewhere in the 19th century, I can't pinpoint where and when. Time should be a little longer through the pod, so I’d estimate a few hours for us if it is a success”

“For us?” Louis asked.

“IF it is a success?” Lestat screamed at the same time as him. George truly didn't understand what you saw in the dramatic man, other than his good looks.

“I've been studying this for some time now and with time travel, it could feel like days, or even longer, but in reality, it should only be a few hours, and I say if because we haven't tried going to the past. The pod isn't sustainable for the undead and Y/n getting in was the first actual progress of real-time travel,” he explained.

“Maybe one of us could go in and-

“No, that is the worst solution, we don't know where she went, so I wouldn't know where to send you and it is only one pod, and overloading the database is the last thing that needs to happen, we’ll give it a few hours,” George said, standing.

“Where are you going?” Lestat asked him.

“Have a glass of wine, if it could take a few hours, I’m going to relax for a while, you're free to make yourselves comfortable,” he said, stepping out of the NBC suit, before going up the stairs.

“We just have to wait,” Louis reassured Lestat, who stood staring at the pod, unable to believe this was happening.

As the pod finally stopped shaking, you peered outside at the change of setting. You were outside, Georgie nowhere to be seen. Turning on the stopwatch, you muttered an apology to him, before punching the thick glass and pushing the door open. Immediately, you recognized the familiarly different environment.

Your bare feet touching the dirt, you recognized the small, poorly built houses. You hadn't seen these houses in ages after Katrina wiped the remaining pieces away.

“Hey, what are you doing-

“You saw no one here, and you won't let anyone get near this precious contraption, now go on inside,” you glamoured the man, watching as he went back up the stairs, into the house.

Sighing, you began to leave the area, ignoring the strange stares. From the way everyone dressed, you were somewhere between the first three decades of the 19th century, and you were sticking out like a sore wearing the knee-length sundress. There was only one place you knew to go, to be sure of the date.

Coming to a complete stop in front of your home, you could see the lights on. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that if they were here, this wasn't the same Louis and Lestat you were having issues with, and so you'd have to act accordingly.

Opening the door, you could hear the shuffling of feet and the sound of furniture being torn apart. Furrowing your eyebrows, you went upstairs, surprised to see them in that room. Making eye contact with Louis, he did a double take.

“Y/n,” he said, taken away by your beautiful, he hadn't seen a dress made in such a way before, shorter than average, but still classy.

Hearing your name, Lestat opened that lovely pink coffin, climbing out, and tossing the diary to the side.

“Ma chérie, you stopped for shopping?” he asked, a small smirk in place.

“Did you see her?” Louis finally asked. At a loss of words, you struggled to speak for a moment.

“I'm sorry, I'm not feeling like myself, what year is it?” you asked.

“1920, you alright?” Louis asked, approaching you.

“Look who finally decided to crawl home to her coffin and write about her psychosexual behavior,” Lestat spat.

“You read my diary?” hearing that beloved voice, your eyes began to sting.

“Only a little bit,” Louis confessed.

“I read all of it and you are a little deviant brat,” Lestat said, as you slowly turned around. The bloody tears began trickling down your cheeks, as you stared into her eyes. She was real, in the flesh, not a figment from your dreams or old photos, but was here in front of you.

“Claudia,” you said, her name flowing from your lips caused you to visibly tremble.

“Mama,” she started, concerned, her eyes widening as you rushed over, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.

Weeping bitterly, you held her close, unwilling to let her slip away this time, whispering sweet words of love to her. Confusedly, she hugged you back, as you both sat on the floor, holding her in your arms.

While the two men were originally set on disciplining their wild daughter, their concern now shifted to you.

“Claudia, you've been reckless-

“They're buried in Chalmette,” you interrupted, Lestat, your hand comfortingly brushing over her curls.

“How do you know that?” Louis asked, but you ignored him.

“My beautiful girl,” you whispered, hugging her one last time tightly, before letting her go.

“Are you okay, mama?”

“I couldn't be better at this moment,” you reassured her, kissing her forehead.

“Let her off this time, please, for me, she's still a child, and there will be a time when we wish we still had our beautiful girl staying here with us,” you said, facing them, seeing your blood-stained face, they were beyond concerned.

“It's still a little early for bed, perhaps you'd like to play a game of chess?” you asked her, wiping your eyes and accepting her hand, as she stood up.

Going into the living room, Claudia couldn't help but think about how unusually attentive you were being. Sure, she was just as spoiled as other children, but you never stopped her from being disciplined when you all agreed she needed to be.

“Claudia, you know I love you, right?” you asked her, watching as she set up the game.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Without you, an eternity isn't the same,” you admitted, as Lestat and Louis came downstairs, joining the two of you.

Your lovers watched you intentively, as you played the game with Claudia. Lestat noticed how you were letting her win, purposely moving to the wrong places, as she took your pieces while showering her with praises.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about the interaction seemed different. Any other time you played chess with her, you gave her a challenge, expressing where she was improving or where she needed work. This time, you were treating her like a little child, like you hadn't seen her in forever, or would never see her again.

Time flew and after two long rounds, Louis stood, announcing Claudia needed to go to bed. Groaning, she stood, wanting to stay longer, but you shook your head.

“It's okay, you need your beauty rest, I love you so much, sleep well,” you told her, hugging her firmly once more.

“Love you too,” she mumbled before she was stomping up the stairs.

“Are you sure you are okay, ma chérie?” Lestat asked, as soon as her bedroom door shut.

“I am, I just, the thought of one day losing her, or being apart hurts my soul, our relationship would probably never be the same,” you said, smiling sadly at him.

“Why would we never be the same?”

“Because she's our daughter, and it would take losing her to see how much she is loved, even you, she's so much like you and that's why you clash so much,” you laughed.

“Wouldn't that make us stronger?”

“I wish that was the case, but holding onto the past makes you unable to communicate like you're supposed to-

“Where is all this coming from? Talk to us, what's on your heart?” Louis asked.

“Please don't question me, but there will be a time when we are so weirdly uninterested in each other, and we try to block out our issues with reading, music, and sex,” you said.

“Why though?”

“Holding onto the past”

“Then you'd have to remind us of what is ahead and not behind,” Lestat said, leaning down, pecking your lips.

Feeling your face burn from the passionate kiss, you looked down, your eyes widening noticing your fingers faded. You have watched enough sci-fi movies with Georgie to know it was time for you to leave.

“I need to make a quick run-

“The sun will be up in another hour,” Louis told you.

“I know, I won't be long, love you both,” you said, pecking both of their lips, before running out of the house.

As you ran back to the backyard, you were surprised to see the man back outside.

“What are you doing?” you asked him, seeing as he sat on the steps, watching the pod.

“I saw some kids run back here, so I’m just watching this contraption,” he shrugged. Staring at the man, you recognized him, Georgie’s grandfather, but much younger. You had seen the few photos hanging up on the house and you identified the face quickly.

“If you had advice for a future relative, a son or grandson, what would you tell him?”

“Life gets hard, we make mistakes, and we lose people, but we have to hold onto the better part of things. I get divorced, but I was able to experience a beautiful marriage, same with children, I was fortunate to experience fatherhood”

“Beautifully said, go get some rest,” you said, glamouring him, watching as he nodded, going inside.

Carefully stepping over the broken glass, you cautiously stepped inside, shutting the door, as the fog came back, the machine lighting up, before you were gone.

“Anything?”

“You just asked me that a few minutes ago, please, have some damn patience,” George said to Lestat, who was pestering him about you. The man was trying as hard as he could and Lestat did not care one bit.

Suddenly, the pod lit up, the fog coming back. Typing on the computer the door opened, before you stepped out, your feet dirty.

“I was away 6 hours and 40 minutes, how long has it been?” you asked, tossing Georgie the stopwatch.

“2 long hours, you've been crying,” Louis said, going to pull you into a hug.

“I saw her, our girl, she was perfect,” you said, feeling him stiffen in your arms before his shoulders shuttered from crying.

“What was she doing?” he asked.

“She had gotten in trouble, but I convinced you both to let it go, and we spent time together,” you said, as he smiled, nodding.

“You told her you loved her?” he asked, hopeful.

“Yes,” you nodded, as the hug tightened before he pulled away.

“And you told me something, so valuable,” you said, shifting to Lestat.

“Of course I did,” he smirked.

“You told me to remind you both of what is ahead of us and not our past,” you said, watching as he dabbed his eyes, stopping any tears on his part.

“Sounds like something I’d say, I guess,” he grinned.

“Are you ready to come home? I know you're probably exhausted from all of this?” Louis asked, grabbing your bag when you nodded.

Glancing at Georgie, who stood awkwardly waiting for you to finish with your reunion. Moving away from Lestat, you stood in front of your good friend, before pulling into a hug.

“Someone dear to you told me some valuable advice I want to share with you,” you smiled.

“Okay”

“Life gets hard, we make mistakes, and we lose people, but we have to hold onto the better part of things. Our past isn't meant to be changed, but rather we embrace the experience, both good and bad, because it shapes us into who we are. You might not be able to get your marriage back, but you could try to reach out to your children, Georgie,” you said, smiling as he teared up, agreeing with you.

“We have our own affairs to handle,” Lestat groaned, ready to leave the tiny basement.

“Shh,” Louis nudged him before you followed the two out of the house.

“Now that I think about Lestat was more charming back then, but now it's you, Louis,” you said, both of you laughing as Lestat scoffed, going on a rant about his greatness.

You missed Claudia greatly, but you had to keep moving, you all did. You still had an eternity of life, but maybe one day, just maybe, when you're reunited, she'll be where she belongs, back in your arms.

[hekateinhell]

Thank you so so much to everyone who contributed to and supported my little event! 🥹 Because I hosted this via my personal blog and not an event blog, I thought it would be nice to throw together a masterpost of all of our creations to have in one place to showcase everyone’s talent and efforts. Armandblr, you really are the best! ♥️

The Tumblr tagging system is far from perfect, so please let me know if I missed you somehow!

𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖋𝖎𝖈

*some of these were written specifically for ArmandShipFest from beginning to end, while others are multi-chapter fics where a specific chapter was written for this event—with that in mind, I’m listing the fics in their entirety so they can be enjoyed as they deserve!

ARMAND/MARIUS

A blending of sadness and simple grace [M | 1.9k | VC & AMC]

ARMAND/LESTAT

revealed at the ball. [M | 1.1k | Genderswap | VC]

tied together. [T | 332 | Genderswap | VC]

So Pretty In Your Pain [E | 3.2k | Genderswap & Human AU | VC]

Men of Honor [M | 3.1k | Human AU | VC]

I loved him, I knew it [G | 3k | VC]

Down Where The Church Bells Cry [E | 2.2k | AU | VC]

Untitled Lesmand Elf Fic [E | 2.3k | AU | VC]

ARMAND/LOUIS

Let Me Get Close to You [G | 1.7k | VC]

Crucible of the Flesh [M | 5.5k | VC]

ARMAND/DANIEL

Hold tight to me [G | 384 | VC]

Cold to the Touch [T | 1.3k | VC]

Glass Towers, Spring Flowers [M | 3.3k | VC]

ARMAND/OTHER

A Dog With No Bite [M | 9.1k | Armand/Nicolas | VC]

Venus and Adonis [E | 1.8k | Armand/Bianca | VC]

a laughing boy [M | 2k | Armand/Denis | VC]

A Mother’s Love [E | 1.1k | Armand/Allesandra | VC]

Untitled Denis Fic [M | 5.3k | Armand/Denis | VC]

The Path to Peace [T | 11.8k | Armand/Nicolas | VC]

MUTLISHIP

You took my blood and it made you my slave [M | 1k | Armand/Lestat, Armand/Marius | VC]

On the Grave of Our Old Love [E | 2.9k | Armand/Lestat, Armand/Marius, Armand/Lestat/Marius | VC]

Farewell My Fallen Idol [G | 6.6k | Armand/Marius, Armand/Daniel | VC]

All Grown Up | [E | 16.7k | Armand/Daniel, Armand/Marius | AU | VC]

DRABBLE COLLECTIONS

A Little Night Music [E | 850 | Armand/Marius, Armand/Riccardo, Armand/Antoine, Armand/Claudia | VC]

"so innocent, so passionate, so brilliant!" [M | 3.2k | Armand/Everyone | VC & AMC]

𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖙

ARMAND/MARIUS | VC

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

ARMAND/LESTAT | VC

1, 2

ARMAND/LESTAT | AMC

1, 2

ARMAND/LOUIS | VC

1, 2

ARMAND/DANIEL | VC

1 (+ Marius), 2

ARMAND/OTHER | VC

1 (Bianca), 2 (Sybelle)

𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘

ARMAND/MARIUS | VC

1, 2, 3, 4

ARMAND/LESTAT | VC

1, 2, 3, 4

ARMAND/LESTAT | AMC

1

ARMAND/LOUIS | VC

1, 2, 3

ARMAND/DANIEL | VC

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

ARMAND/OTHER | VC

1 (Pandora), 2 (Santino), 3 (Riccardo),

𝖈𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞

ARMAND/MARIUS | VC

1, 2

ARMAND/LESTAT | VC

1, 2

ARMAND/LOUIS | VC

1

ARMAND/DANIEL | VC

1

Re: late submissions - I’m trying to cut back on my Tumblr time for the rest of the month due to the holidays and having to figure out some real life work stuff, but I’ll be checking the #ArmandShipFest tag sporadically.

Thanks again, my loves! Happy Holidays and don’t forget to check out @vamptember’s 12 Nights of Christmas Event! ❄️♥️

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV Trailer (me losing my freaking marbles - YOLO) Pt2

I'm just going frame by frame thru AMC'S BEAUTIFUL new IWTV trailer. But I had to split this into 2 parts cuz Tumblr won't let me post 30+ pics. 🙄

They transition from Louis telling Claudia "It's you and me," to BB!Dan being "disrespectful"--yelling at Louis wanting him to make him a vamp, like we heard in S01E01.

And they immediately cut to the clip we've seen before of Louis crying & being dragged off by some old dude (if that's a vampire I feel bad for him, LOL). This might be Claudia/Madeleine's execution, rather than the Trial itself, cuz Louis was wearing a different outfit. (And Claudia's wearing the YELLOW DRESS! Imma be sick! 😭)

So I wonder when the "best outfit" Jam Reiderson said Claudia wears is gonna take place--which I'm assuming is the red Flamenco dress from the posters.

It is SO incredible that we're actually gonna see The Trial, and LESTAT BEING THERE, and seeing Madeleine & Armand & Santiago.

It's interesting that they cut from Armand saying it wasn't SanFran where he failed Louis but Paris, and jump to hallucination!Lestat mocking Armand, yelling "HA!" Is Louis' outfit the same as the one where the old dude dragged him out crying? It kinda looks the same. So is Louis imagining Lestat being FURIOUS with Armand for what's about to happen to Claudia? I wonder why Les is in THAT suit, cuz it looks like the same one he wore in S1E03 the night he kicked Jelly Roll Morton out of town & ragged on Louis about not wanting to kill humans.

Good lord, here we go. #GoneTooSoonMadeleine. U_U And I LIKE THE IMAGERY of the joint/shared transformation, nodding to Claudia desperately wanting Louis to be her (blood) spouse, as they make Madeleine together.

Jfc Louis really did almost kill BB!Daniel. O_O He shattered all that plaster--that's brain damage for sure--no wonder he can't remember the interview, LOL. (I still think Armand used the Mind Gift to make him forget everything.)

A lot of paintings and canvases--art heist Armand?! Are we finally gonna see how he made all that money, going around stealing priceless treasures!? (You can see Armand's feet floating, LOL.) Or is the inside of that chateau his coven raided, "we own dominion!"?

Daniel asking Louis: "YOU BUY THAT?"

AMC thinks they're FUNNY! Cuz they cut right from Armand stealing art he didn't BUY, to lovebomber!Lestat laughing in the townhouse and Louis yelling in what looks like a train station? So he's freaking TF out in public (just like Paul).

Ooooo--then they have Lelio!WolfKiller!Lestat about to attack someone (Magnus? Nope, I double-checked it's Armand cuz ofc it is), looking like the freaking BEAST in his red cape--

--right before we get Lestat's POV of Louis and him fighting in Ep5.

Cuz yeah, Lestat had snapped, and was beating Louis like he was a DOG, like he wasn't even seeing a PERSON, let alone someone he was supposed to be protecting from vampires/monsters LIKE HIM--and OMFG Louis was in blue just like Belle was during the wolf attack--I hate this show.

And they immediately jump from Louis getting beat by Lestat to what I assume is Louis getting jumped by the Theatre--trapped in the coffin they were gonna bury him alive in.

What on earth is Claudia throwing? I swear I think these are bombed/blown-up body parts--pieces of someone's life gone cuz of the WAR. (And immediately cut to Loustat fighting.)

"Who are you, Louis? If there was no ME, if there was no HIM." So yes, the fan theory that Louis WANTS those pieces gone are correct. Or rather--Louis THOUGHT that having those pieces removed would help him. He thought he could recover the lost parts of himself if he wiped his mind of the painful memories. But something must've triggered him--likely finding Claudia's diaries after the 1970s--we are SOOOOO deep in Merrick territory. Cuz Louis wants those memories BACK now--with a vengeance.

*squints* Are they really GOING THERE with Lesmand!? O_O That's not Nickistat, right? Cuz the very next clip is Armand--using telekinesis on Louis (or Daniel?) WTF?!

And then we see the familiar clip of Armand using the Fire Gift when he first meets Louis. Just paralleling how much Armand openly flaunts his many gifts in front of Louis, while Lestat tried to hide everything he could do to not scare Louis away--until Ep5 ofc.

Doomed "happy" "family." YELLOW DRESS ALERT ☝️. The calm b4 ish hits the fan. They immediately cut to Claudia being "welcomed" by the Theatre and Santiago zooming thru the tunnel--

--DEATH to all of them! "F**k these vampires"--Claudia never lied!

Louis, you are just too dang pretty--GTFO off my dang screen. 😍

Another YELLOW dress--these images are cursed.

Loustat reunion at the Trial, if that's the same outfit Lestat wore here.

Give him hell, Armand! 😈 He wanted to be the Devil's Minion so bad--here you go! Look at all that glass shattering around him; no wonder Daniel's scared for his life, LOL! (If this is actually Louis throwing a fit I will DIE.)

Louis finna GO OFF on this BUFFOON! So THAT'S why Armand was mad! XD Louis (or Claudia?) was about to rip Santiago's whole jaw off! XDDDD

The sound of Louis just crying has me in a STATE. AMC is doing something SO freaking different from the film & the books. Louis is actively trying to make sense of things, as we see this poor man just suffering with PTSD and mental illness; with no one to HELP him but some crotchety old man who borderline hates him, and an old AF vampire who'd loves him so much that he'd rather have Louis forget everything cuz ignorance is bliss. 😩

Louis WANTS to remember everything. Armand does NOT want the interview. And Daniel is scared.

Holy freaking goodness, what an incredible trailer. 👏 May 12th can't get here fast enough!

[thatswhatsushesaid]

more salty commentary about.... salty fandom commentary, but for a fandom i'm not really involved with

ftr this is about the gay-ass (affectionate) vampire show

squinting at some of super vitriolic anti-armand commentary that tumblr's algorithm keeps throwing at me like 'this? you want this one bestie? no? what about this one instead?' when in fact i want none of these takes, actually. "i don't believe a word that comes out of that lying liar's mouth!!" "of course he could have stopped claudia and madeleine's murders, he's the most powerful vampire in the world!!" (uh, i'll come back to that one later. maybe. if i feel like it) "he was onboard the 'let's murder claudia!' train from the very beginning!!!" etc. if you're even peripherally keeping your finger on the pulse of this fandom's discourse, you've probably seen some of this, too.

and... okay. bearing in mind two things:

it's been about 20+ years since i read the original novels, and

the show's relationship to the original novels, as well as the 1994 movie, is both conversational and subversive,

two seasons into this delicious mess, how are we still collectively failing to recognize that the central conceit of amc's retelling is that, intentional or not, all recollection of louis' past is both catharsis (for louis) and performance (for ???)? that all of louis' recollection of his own actions, as well as the actions of the other vampires in his orbit, is filtered through the lens of his own feelings about those vampires in that moment? like this isn't a subtle storytelling device, this is something the show is repeatedly bashing us over the head with again and again and again: louis' reliability as a narrator of his own experiences can't be trusted even when he isn't so consumed with rage that he tries to drain twenty year old daniel molloy dry for the unforgivable crime of /checks my notes, mouthing off at him like a dumbass, or goes into vulgar detail describing to lestat precisely how he is going to kill him, cut his head off, and then feed his decapitated head to lions at the zoo. which, it bears mentioning, is not the version of events that we were presented with during s1, but it is the version of events that louis himself comes to reluctantly believe is the more accurate recollection of the past.

does that make lestat into The Real Victim™️ who did nothing wrong to louis or claudia, ever? please tell me you're not actually asking me this question. be serious.

the point is that louis is right in the thick of feeling his intensely passionate vampire feelings about armand in real time, in the present day, while looking backwards through time at the 77 years they have spent together, and he is questioning everything. justifiably so, for the record! why wouldn't he question the actions and motivations of the supposed love of his life after discovering that such an important memory from his and daniel molloy's shared past was erased from his mind? but seriously, if you have reached this point in the story and your takeaway from the last episode boils down to "THIS TIME louis' recollection of the past is definitely 100% accurate! the rose-tinted glasses are OFF and we can see the TRUTH about you now armand!!!" then i just. i don't know what to say to you. lmfao.

anyway rather than getting into the weeds with anyone actually in the fandom about which of these diva vampire daddies is right, actually, find me hanging out with claudia and madeleine's ashes giving all of them the proverbial finger. because honestly, fuck all these vampires (affectionate).

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Ch 6

My boy my boy... it's been a long time, Becky. This is a response to the writing game prompt "You will love it." "I will hate it." "Nah, you won't."

Thanks to @whositmcwhatsit and @be-my-ally and @vintageshanny and @ellie-24 and @missmaywemeetagain and @from-memphis-with-love and @arrolyn1114 and for playing this game and supporting me as I write, thanks too to @ab4eva for just being an all around mensch....

Summary: Elvis calls Becky, or rather, watches as Charlie calls and asks her to come on tour. She doesn't realize this tour is not going well. But once she is there, she decides to just roll up her sleeves and jump right in. Because Elvis.

WC: 7.3K

Warnings: Swearing, implied drug use, oral sex. This could have been very angsty but it is actually a big ball of unpolished, fantastical, indulgent fluff. I wrote this today and didn't have anyone read it. So beyond typos, expect historical inaccuracies and probably mischaracterization of everyone, including my OC.....

If you need to catch up.... Chapter 5: Salty Lips

Chapter 6: Out of the Frying Pan and into the Fire

6 pm Sunday, July 20, 1975

Geiler’s Hardware Store, Jackson, MS

Harriet’s key clicked into the back lock of her parent’s hardware store, and she pulled the handle to double-check that the door was, indeed, locked, before turning to look at her cousin. Becky’s mind was elsewhere and she stared down at her Chuck Taylor sneakers, raising her head only after Harriet coughed, and the two women made their way to Harriet’s small, yellow AMC Pacer. Becky looked out the window, playing with her hair, purposefully avoiding Harriet’s curious stare.

Keep reading

“Earth to Becky, where are you? You haven’t said anything about the date Ida set you up on Thursday.”

Becky pulled on the ring she wore on her right hand, a band of platinum with a diamond flower at the center. It was the ring Elvis had given her, and she could still almost feel the caress of his hand as he slid it on her and told her how beautiful she was, how she deserved beautiful things. That had been a month ago, but it could have been yesterday when Charlie, Billy and Jo had all been rounded up to drive her home to Jackson after a whirlwind week at Graceland.

Becky tilted the ring back and forth, then looked up to watch the businesses in the Fondren go by as Harriet drove her home. Why did it feel like cheating on Elvis to go one blind date. An innocent blind date. An innocent blind date that had fizzled out and ended with a very platonic hug.

“Ugh, he was nice enough. I don’t know.”

Harriet looked over, then back at road.  “It’s Elvis. Ida says he calls you every few days.”

“Yeah, he does. He asked me to come with him for his show in New York. Then well, when I said no I guess he went down the list.”

Becky sighed, thinking of the photos in the newspaper of Elvis with a very thin, very blonde woman who definitely was not Linda. The thought made her frown, and Harriet looked at Becky with sympathy as she turned the car on to her parent’s street.

“I thought you said that you left things on good terms, and that he wanted you to move up there? I can’t believe you would rather be here in Jackson than in Memphis.”

“Yeah. I mean no. I like, him, I mean, I cannot help it. I used to day dream of dating this man. But look at me, Harriet.”

Becky grabbed her purse and got out of the car,  sweeping her hand over her body to showcase her tee shirt and jeans as she stood.

“I’m not groupie material. And I can’t up root my kid and move to a new city just so I can join Elvis’ harem for a few months. We left things on good terms, but I don’t even know if I am cut out to be a harem member.”

“You are a knock out, Becky. You are totally groupie material. No, wait. You're better than groupie. You are at least favorite girlfriend number two or three material. I cannot believe you aren’t on your way to Memphis. Or New York. You only live once!”

Harriet grinned as Becky shook her head and sent her off with a bang to the yellow hood, before turning to walk into the house.

She was a greeted with a yell from Ruth, who was coloring with Ida at the dining room table. Becky could smell Saul’s pot roast wafting from the kitchen as she crossed the room and kissed Ruth on head, checking out her drawing of what looked like a dressed up mushroom in a pile of rocks standing next to Father Christmas.

“What do you think?”

She looked at Ida, whispering as she tried to decipher the words her aunt was mouthing.

“The mob-bit? The Hobbit! Yes, of course, it's The Hobbit. There’s Bilbo. Wow, Ruth, you really captured what I thought he looks like.”

“I’ve been practicing my hobbit form. And see, he’s talking to Gandalf.”

“Ah, yes, I can tell from the beard.” She had to stop herself from giggling at Ida’s wink. “SO amazing, you have become a very talented artiste!”

“Well, she learned from the best.”

Becky smiled at her aunt as she went to grab a beer. “I think the student has surpassed the teacher, I can’t wait to hang this one the fridge.”

 The phone rang while Becky was at the fridge, and she watched Ruth run to get it as she slumped into the chair next to Ida, who reached over to rub her forearm.

“Oy, Rebecca, was the restocking that bad today? You should have stopped Saulie from leaving. He is only 60, he could have helped finish -”

“Oh, no, Ida. Unless Saul has an in-depth knowledge of waterbed installation, his presence wouldn’t have made a difference.”

 “Why do people want to sleep in those things? What if they leak. Or break? I get sea sick just thinking about it.”

“I’ve heard they can be really relaxing. I don’t know, but there is a new waterbed store two doors down. The owner spent an hour trying to figure out what materials he needs us to order, so I guess business is keeping him pretty busy.”

“Can you imagine getting busy in a water bed?”

“Ida!”

Ida grinned, fluffing up her short, silver bob. ”I’m just saying, I couldn’t make whoopee on top of a big bag of water, oy vey, I’d be so nervous, what with the sound of the sloshing - “

“Wait, hold that thought, although you know I love hearing about your sex life.” Becky held up her finger for her aunt to stop talking, pausing to hear what Ruth was saying on the phone.

“How do I know you are really a friend of Elvis’? Well can you ask him to come over again? The  kids next door don’t believe he is my mom’s boy friend. And he promised to take me for ice cream again.”

Becky strode over to the phone. “Ruthie, who is it?”

Ruth covered the receiver with her hand, a mischievous look crept up her little face. “He says his name is Charlie, and when I asked how he knew you, he said -”

Becky held out her hand, taking the phone from her daughter. “Uh huh, ok, that’s enough from you , chatty Kathy, go help Ida clear up the art studio and set the table for dinner.” She paused, smoothing her hair, as if Charlie could see her from the other side of the phone.

“Hi Charlie. What’s up?”

She heard a single nervous “ha” on the other side of the phone, and took a deep breath. “Well, a, heya there Becky.”

It seemed to Becky like there was a more anxious desperation behind Charlie’s perfunctory niceties.

“Hiiiii? What’s up?”

“Look, um, Elvis asked me to call and see if you might reconsider coming out on tour? You know he misses ya somethin’ awful, ain’t stopped talking bout that cute chick back in Jackson.”

Becky took a deep breath, thinking of the photos in the paper of Elvis and that model.

“Hmmm. I’m sure. You know I want to, but I have a kid, Charlie - and it’s her  last little bit of summer, I don’t wanna leave her  twiddling her thumbs while I go traipsing around the country-”

“So bring her. Priscilla brings Lisa all the time, you know, they make it work,  Elvis is a family man, hon- I mean Becky, tour is not some wild orgy. You’ve been there. The guys, the band, were all like a big happy family.”

“One big happy family, huh? I don’t know.”

“I can hear it in your voice, Becky girl, I can tell ya wanna come.”

Becky sighed, looking as Ruth paused her place setting to look up and grin at her mother. Ida was behind her, eye brow arched up as Becky motioned her over, whispering with her hand over the mouth piece if it would be ok to take off for a few days. It was disconcerting how much Ida nodded and how quickly an excited gleam grew in her eyes. Becky shoed her off and carried the phone to wonder down the hallway so no one could hear her.

“Maybe. You really think I could bring Ruthie? How long would it be for ?”

She heard Charlie breathe a sigh of relief, and then there was a kerfuffle and the bang of the phone handle dropping on the floor.

“Hey Becky Butt.” Elvis’ deep voice filled Becky’s ears and she realized he must have been sitting there watching Charlie ask her. “Honey, I ain’t stopped thinkin' bout you since you left me. I need you, need you bad."

Becky started to blush, just at the needy, low tenor of his voice. "I have been thinking about you to."

"That's good baby, real good. Let's get you out here, see if I'm still the same as you remember. Can’t wait to see you, baby. Tonight ain’t soon enough.”

“Tonight? Uh - Elvis, I - Charlie said I should bring Ruth? Is that really ok? Is it safe?”

“Honey, I’m a black belt with a gun. Ain’t no safer place on earth. Hell, probably the safest place for your baby. You know how crime is getting in our cities. Bring her along. Charlie can babysit too, he’s basically a child himself. Got the brains a one, any how.”

Becky stood there, tapping her toe as her mind raced. Every bit of sense screamed at her not to meet Elvis on tour. She had just told Ida last week she was ready for her aunt fix her up with any nice single guys her age, in a conscious effort to try and get Elvis out of her system. Be a normal, responsible adult. Having, normal, responsible relationships. But now, talking to Elvis, all she wanted to do was give in and rush to be near him.

“Ok.” She whispered out.

“Good, good girl. I’m having Charlie run get Joe, fly ya out tonight. Go get ya self packed up.”

********************************

The Norfolk airport was pitch black when they landed, and if it weren’t for the lights along the landing strip, Becky may not have been able to make out Jerry’s scowl from across the tarmac.

“You shouldn’t have come.” His voice was clipped and terse as he grabbed her traveling bag, looking her up and down as she wobbled behind him in the high heel suede boots Elvis had bought her.

“Hello to you, too.”

“He said you were bringing your daughter, so at least you have some sense.”

Becky gulped as Jerry opened her door, and she flipped the sun visor down to fix her make up.

“Yeah, I guess… I um, changed my mind. I thought she would have a good time, but then, I don’t know,  I thought the schedule would throw her off. And I guess I don’t want her to get too attached to him. Or the idea of me and him. This is all just a little fun.”

Jerry looked over at her, his shoulders seemed to clench with his jaw as he drove

 “Fun. Ha. Well get ready, I think you’re in for more fun than you bargained for.”

Then Jerry pulled over, and his voice went from sarcastic to earnest as he turned off the car. “Or you can just say the word right now, and I’ll turn around, take you back, and you can catch a flight home. I’ll tell him you never showed.”

Jerry’s hopeful expression gave Becky a strange sense of foreboding and all the excited, giddy anticipation drained from her body.

“But Jerry - there are no direct flights to Jackson, and it’s midnight.” Her lip quivered as she pushed her lipstick back into its case.

“And I - I can’t afford to pay for a hotel and then all the connections I would have to make to get back home. Why are you acting like this? What happened?”

The drove under a streetlight, and Becky saw the bags under Jerry’s eyes more fully as he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

��Elvis has been getting into it with the band all week. Kathy and two of the Sweet Inspirations stormed off the stage mid-show tonight cuz he was talking shit at them sideways.” Jerry looked over at Becky. “The big man can dish it out, but he cain’t take it. No sireee.”

He drew out his “sireeee” as he pulled the white Lincoln into a parking spot at the back of a hotel. Becky shifted back and forth during the elevator ride up, arms crossed in front of the white floral dress she had excitedly wiggled into with glee three hours ago, as Ida kissed her good luck, and Ruth had glowered,  asking again why she couldn’t come. Now she felt ridiculous. Ugh, why couldn’t she ever listen to the voice of reason in her head that told her something was a bad idea. Leaning against the cool metal of the elevator, Becky kicked Jerry’s shin and tried to keep her voice light, positive.

“Ok, so level with me. Why is he fighting with the band, he seemed fine when he called me earlier.”

Jerry stepped away, grimacing at her familiarity. “That is because he is the master manipulator, and he wants you to come keep him company. But the last few days he has been stoned out of his gourd. More than usual. Cuz he’s in pain from all the performances, cuz he’s tired, cuz he’s bored. And he does not want to be on tour.”

“Then why is he?”

Jerry sucked in his breath and held up his hand, and a look of sharp contempt framed his smile as he rubbed his thumb and his forefinger together.

“Money money money, Becky! Linda needs a bigger apartment in LA! Dr. Nick needs a new house! Joe’s swindled him into starting a racquetball club! And of course he needs a different, gold plated plane.”

Becky swiveled in front of Jerry, looking him square in the eye as they hit the twenty first floor and she stepped backwards into the hallway.

“And what about you, Jerry, are your needs being taken care of?”

Jerry shook his head, and a sharp chuckle escaped his lips while he hung back and threw Becky’s blue travel case at her feet.

“Hmmm. I reckon you gotta from here, Becky. He’s in the Presidential Suite. Just down the hall.” He looked away, stating in a matter of fact tone. “Have fun.”

Becky’s mouth dropped as she watched Jerry tilt his head to the side through the closing doors, his eyebrows arched in a challenge. The elevator clanged shut, and Becky steadied herself, then opened her purse, as if all of life's problems could be solved with a tissue or some lipstick. There was the paperback copy of The Hobbit at the bottom, the one she’d been reading to Ruth. The one Ruth had shoved in her hands at the last minute, demanding that she call home and read to her while she was away. Becky smiled, thinking of Ruth’s big brown eyes as her small, stubborn mouth announced that she would be telling the neighbor kids all about how her mom was going to meet Elvis at his concert, even as Becky begged her not to.

“I guess if one good thing comes out of this, it should be Ruthie one upping those Ledbetter brats.”

Becky dug around in her purse, and decided to pop a tic tac in her mouth, the mint was refreshing, it washed away the bad taste her conversation with Jerry had left in her mouth. Then Becky took a moment to look herself over in the mirror. Ida had helped her pin her hair half up in the front, and her floral, cotton dress hung down in a flattering way from the embroidered empire chest to hang loosely over her hips before stopping at her knees. The suede boots gave her some height, and she liked the fringe along the side, she liked the way she could feel it dangle as she walked. She just had to keep her balance and everything would be fine. Looking at herself in the mirror, she blew herself a kiss and took a deep breath. In a moment of inspiration, she broken off one of the yellow roses from the vase on the table, and pinned it into the side of her hair, then strode down the hall.

She pulled on the ring Elvis had given her, once more finding reassurance from rubbing the metal over her finger again and again. But her confidence faltered for a moment outside the suite when she heard the smash of something being flung and breaking against the wall, followed by stomping and shouting. Elvis-like shouting.

“Fired, they’re all FUCKING fired. ‘Cept Myrna, she’s the only one with any sense a loyalty or professionalism. I don’ care if them other bitches come back here, begging, BEGGING, on their knees for their jobs back. They revealed their true colors here tonight. It’ll be a cold day in HELL before I take ‘em back.”

The shouting paused, and Becky leaned into the door to try and hear what the chorus of male voices muttering indecipherably were saying, before a loud voice, deeper than the Mississippi delta, bellowed back.

“Nah. Nope. I ain’t apologizing for shit. They need to ‘apologize to me, Felton, for not bein’ able to take a  GODDAMN joke. There’s a hundred back up singers out there  starving fo’ work. Who’d slit their momma’s throats for a chance to sing with us. Why don’t you do YA job and go find me some a them? What the hell I pay ya for? ‘Sposed to be producin’ this show, go produce some back up singers.”

Becky’s excitement at seeing Elvis again had now been replaced by a tense ball of nerves shifting in her stomach. Suddenly the sound of footsteps came towards her, and she jumped back from the door just in time before three or four men pushed by where she stood back, sucking in her stomach and gripping the wall as she watched them trudge down the hallway. Then she turned to find Charlie at the door, looking at her as his face scrunched from unease into a wide grin.

“Why if it isn’t Becky from Birmingham. Whatcha doin’ hugging  the wall out here, Becky? Git in here, girl.”

Charlie stood back, and Becky braced herself as she entered the hotel room.

It was a mess, plates of half eaten food lined the table and bar, several of which had been flung against the wall, where mashed potatoes and gravy now dripped down the wallpaper onto pieces of broken porcelain on the carpet. Becky shivered, and then tried to compose herself as she looked around. There was Joe, smoking and pacing on the other side of the room, he turned when he saw her, unable to hide the disdain that grew on his face. She recognized Red and Lamar on the couch, Sonny hunched against the wall, but didn’t know the younger, skinnier guy with long brown hair.

Becky suddenly felt very awkward and out of place and brought her blue, vinyl travel bag up to her stomach where she could hug it for comfort. She smiled at Lamar as Charlie patted her back.

“You know the fellas, aintcha Becky?” She nodded, her walk stilted as she came further into the pent house. “The big guy just went to his room, but man are you a sight for sore eyes, he sure is gonna be glad to see you.”

Sonny let out a laugh, then stood up and walked towards her.

“I thought Jerry was picking you up?”

“He was, I mean he did, but I guess he - um - had other stuff to go do.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. By now I bet he’s kissed Myrna’s ass so hard his lips are glued to it.” Sonny rubbed his hands together, looking Becky up and down, and she hugged her bag harder at the resentment in his eyes as he went to pour himself a drink.

“Don’t pay him no mind, Becky, he woked up on the wrong side of the bed is all. For the last ten years.” Charlie laughed loudly at his own joke, as he guided Becky through the tense, silence of the living room towards the master bed room, where he knocked on the door to the old “Shave and a hair cut, two bits” pattern.

“I said to FUCK OFF.” Was the response, and Becky looked at Charlie imploringly.

“He seems - out of sorts. Maybe I shouldn't be here.”

Red snorted behind them, muttering under his breath that was one way to put it.  But Charlie shook his head, whispering.

“Nah, it’s jus been a rough night with some a the personnel.” This elicited another snort from Red, but Charlie continued, undeterred. “He wanted to know the second you got here, trust me.” Then Charlie cleared his throat, calling out.

“Hey boss, guess who is here? It’s lil ol Becky! Just in from Miss’ppi.”

“Well why the didn’t ya say that in the first place.”

The door flung open with a bang to reveal Elvis, still wearing the blue jumpsuit with the silver zebra pattern rising on either side of his chest. A matching zebra patterned belt was at his waist and his hands held an old fashioned looking quilt in patriotic red, white and blue around his shoulders, like the comfort blanky Ruth still slept with sometimes.

 Becky immediately dropped her bag and went to him, cupping his face with her hands as she looked up into his eyes. In spite of all the shouting, the gruff stance, he looked like a wounded puppy. She would whatever she could to take all the pain out of his eyes and hold him until he knew that everything was alright.

The side of her pinky crested against a taut choker, as she shook her head at the dark make-up smudged around his eyes. His lips pursed together at the center as he looked down sheepishly, like a little boy, biting his lip as his hands let the quilt drop to the floor and found her waist.

“Are you cold, Elvis?” She asked, looking at the quilt.

“What, oh that? Nah honey, someone gave it to me at the show and I like." He exhaled slowly through his nose. "Aww Becky, is it good to see you.”

Elvis picked her up and swung her around, bouncing her against his slight belly. His face lit up, and Becky could almost swear he wiped a tear from his eye as he placed her down and drew her into his side, walking her out to the living room.

“Now, this is what a good gal looks like, a loyal gal. Drop ev’ry thin when her man needs her. Man ‘o man, baby. You look like an angel, sent from heaven. How’d I get so lucky, have an angel come visit me, huh?” He grinned, looked at the others before kissing the top of her hair with gusto, so much so that his chin knocked the rose out of it, and then he accidentally stepped on it when he moved to pick it up. Elvis bent at his knees, wobbling as he tried to gathered up all the petals, his voice was high and babyish.

“Aw, no no no no. I’m sorry baby, I trampled all ova ya pretty flower.”

Then he dropped it an octave yelling forcefully.

“Charlie - boy, where’d that dumb ass go.” Before he had even finished uttering the words dumb ass, Charlie was there, chuckling as if Elvis and he were two frat boys yanking each other’s chain. Instead of master and trained dog, Becky mused, then pushed the thought from her mind.

“Charlie, run out and get Becky some fresh roses -”

Becky bent down next to Elvis on the carpet and stilled his hand to pull him back up, notching herself under Elvis shoulder as she turned to Charlie.

“Don’t you dare, Charlie. I just stole it on my way in, I can always go get another one.” Then she leaned up on her tippy toes and kissed Elvis’ cheek. “It’s a sweet thought, though. You’re sweet a sweet boy. Thanks for inviting me to join you, wished I hadn’t missed the show.”

Then she ran her fingers through the sweaty matted hair at his temple, stroked out the sticky hairspray that had kept his coiffed, high pompadour in place. Elvis’ blue eyes locked with hers and his whole body softened.

“S’ok, honey, probably all for the best. Was a sorry ass excuse for a show anyway.”

Becky trailed her fingers lower, over his chin and down along his chest hair.

“Impossible.” She whispered into the crease at his armpit, nuzzling her nose against the edge of his shoulder.

He didn’t even break eye contact as she looked back into his face as he lifted his right hand out and waved the guys off.

“Alright, boys, dismissed.”

Becky smooshed her face back into his armpit, rather than watch the parade of angry, middle aged men depart. Just before he left, she heard Charlie start to say good night and how nice it was to see her, when Elvis yelled for him to stop making eyes at Becky and go find his own gal.

Then they were alone. In a sea of dirty dishes, broken plates, rose petals and one coffee table that looked like it had been turned upside down. Unless it was some sort of new modern design, where you placed your coffee on the marble slab face down on ground.

Looking back up at Elvis, Becky didn’t know what  to say.  The screaming she had heard through the door had terrified her., yet looking at him now it seemed so clear how tired and how much pressure he felt. Jerry’s words rang in her ears, and they summoned all of Becky’s stupid, nurturing instincts. She began to pull off his scarf, peppering his chest with a few soft kisses to sooth the heart beat she heard, running as fast as a loose rail car thundering down a mountain.

Looking back up at his face, she licked her thumb, without consciously realizing what she was doing, and started to clean up his eye make-up, and he started to babble about the whole world going to hell. But he quieted as she shook her head, and gripped her hand tightly, shakily. Feeling him tremble, she remembered how exhausted he must be. So she paused and led him through the master suite and into bathroom, when she sat him on the toilet, stopped him again from protesting that he was fine, with a finger to his lips. Then she took a wet washcloth, and straddled his lap to clean his face.

Elvis grinned up at her, and when was done, he clasped both her hands in his and brought them forward to kiss her knuckles, his eyes level with her breasts. She let out a gasp at the way he sucked at her knuckles, before she shook herself free so she could reclaim her hand and undo his choker.

“What’s the matter, baby boy, hmmm? What’s all the fuss bout tonight, huh?”

She soothed his forehead with her fingers, cracking her neck as she steadied herself on his lap. The texture of his blue, gaberdine suit was soft underneath her bare thighs.

“Ah, nothing honey, jus the doggone back up singers can’t take a joke. Walked off in the middle of the set, make me look like a damn clown.”

Becky steadied herself.

“I find that hard to believe. Don’t look like a clown to me. If anything,” she begun to unzip his jumpsuit, her hands smoothing over the cool sweaty, hair she found there as she pushed against his belly. ���If anything, they’re the ones who look foolish. Walking off like that.”

Elvis' lip hung down, just the slight hint of a double chin grew there, before they widened into a smile, pushing the apples of his cheeks up towards her.

“Ya sweet honey, ya know that? Wait, whatcha doin’ woman?”

Becky giggled as she pulled off his belt, and leaned into smell his chest.

“I am undressing you, Elvis Presley. Shower time.”

He tried to dismiss this idea with a wave of his hand.

“Honey, I don’t need a shower.”

“Oh yes you do.” Becky rubbed her hands under Elvis’ jumpsuit, trying to push it off his shoulders. “When was the last time you took a shower, you stinky boy.”

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. “Uh, uh, uh -”

“Ha, if it is taking that long to answer, it has been tooo long.” She jumped up, and went to start the water. Elvis stood, bringing her back against the bathroom wall.

“Think you can come in here, and order me around, huh?” He smirked. “I like how I smell. Smell like a man. S'natural, s'way God made me.”

“Good little boys.” Becky worked her hands back under his suit. “Who take good little showers.” She got the fabric off the side of his shoulders. “Get good little rewards.”

He stilled her hands, enveloping her with his scent, a staunch mix of sweaty musk doused with a bottle or two of brut. Becky wrinkled her nose.

“And what about bad little boys who do what they want, huh?”

She threw her arms around his neck. “They get loved on until they learn to behave.” And she began to kiss his chest and neck with a swift barrage of pecks.

“Alright, alright crazy woman. What’s my reward, then, huh?”

Becky pulled her dress off with a speed that made Elvis' head spin, but before he could make a snarky remark, she bent over to take off her boots, and all he could do was stare at her bottom as she motioned for him to unclasp her bra.

“Your reward is me. In the shower. Washing you.”

Becky giggled self consciously as she took Elvis’ hands and drew him into the shower. She didn’t know where her chutzpah had come from, all she knew was that when she was with him, she was a woman transformed. Her walls came down, and she wanted to be as close as possible to him, do whatever she could to put him at ease. Being around Elvis had warped her entire way of thinking.

The way his smirk rippled across his cheeks as he watched her lather up a wash cloth and start scrubbing over his hair chest made her tummy feel funny. Like she was about to jump off a diving board. She watched the soap drizzled down over his waist and down his happy trail. Becky swallowed hard, unable to stop herself from rubbing over it with her hand and wiping the soap into different shapes around his belly button. A triangle, a circle, a heart.

Elvis chuckled as he squeezed his eyes shut under the water, letting it rinse everything off as he muttered that she was a weirdo. Then he took the wash cloth from her hands and spread the lather over the top of her breasts. Back and forth, as if mesmerized. His attentive gaze made her vibrate, and Becky’s nipples became hard nubs. She pushed his hand aside, stepping close to rub the soap from her bosom against him, playfully.

“I think they’re clean.”

“Never can be too sure.” He pulled her closer, nudging his nose over hers as he took the washcloth back and began to caress her butt. “Just bein’ thorough. Wanna a get all my reward.”

“Your reward was me washing you, not the other way around.”

Elvis winked. “I’m renegotiatin’.” And he carefully turned Becky around so that she was leaning into the shower wall, while he slowly moved the washcloth over her shoulder blades, the small of her back, her bottom cheeks and the backs of her legs. His movements were so soft and tender, that they made all the thoughts drain from Becky’s head with the water. Her knees turned into jelly.  And all she knew was the warm sensation vibrating up her spine and tingling between her legs.

It was 3:45 am when they finally collapsed into the master suite’s large, king bed in matching pajamas. Becky could rest assured that every part of her body was clean, and while she hadn’t scrubbed him behind his ears, she had done her best with Elvis.

He had taken the cute, sexy pink fluffy negligee she had brought to sleep in from her hands, and thrown it in the trash, reiterating that just because they were on the road, they were never safe from commie drug dealers. Arsonists. Assassins. Any number of dangerous threats that could result in an instant need to evacuate the hotel.

“Trust me, Becky, you’ll be greatful ya wearing something decent if that happens.”

Becky rolled her eyes, saying to herself that Elvis was worse than her grandmother. But she obliged and reasoned that Elvis’ pajamas were probably more comfortable than the gauzy peignoir she had brought. The she settled back, watching him take his medication from the black, doctor’s bag, before folding her arms around him when he snuggled up and lay his head on her breasts,  murmuring to her in a low, babying tone.

“Aw Becky, don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t come.”

She stroked his soft, dyed hair, shhhing him as she smiled to her self at the hint of grey she saw at the peak of his right side burn.

“You’d be fine, you always are.”

“Nah, honey, none a these fools love me for who I really am. None of them would be here if it weren’t for the money.”

“That’s not true, your friends love you. They’ve known you all your life.”

“Nah uh, they don’t, baby. No one loves me. You might be the only one in the whole world who doesn’t want anything from me. Won’t take my goddamn money, even when I mean it as a gift. Because I do love givin’ gifts.”

Becky trailed her fingers across Elvis’ forehead, enjoying the way his warm skin felt under her knuckles. “I know you do. You really do.”

“But no one appreciates it, they just want more. Won’t be happy til they suck me dry. Ugh, I don’t know if I can even sleep, so keyed up about the band.”

Becky kissed his forehead, as an idea percolated, and she rose from the bed to grab The Hobbit from her purse.

“Here, why don’t I read to you, take your mind off things?”

Elvis’ took the book ins hand. “This the book Spock was singing about?”

Becky giggled, thinking of Leonard Nimoy’s record few years back. “I believe the song you are referring to is ‘The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins.’ And yes, it was inspired by this book. But I know you've heard of The Hobbit, Elvis. Have you ever read it?”

Elvis shook his head, but before he could protest that he didn’t read children's books, she brought his head back to her bosom and began reading it, doing the voices the same way she did with Ruth. They passed out at some point in the “Roast Mutton” chapter,  after pausing from time to time debating what their hobbit names would be.

“I think you are probably too tall to be a hobbit, Elvis, probably more an elf. Your name is practically the same as their language.”

“Well, that don’t make sense, no one names their kid after a language. English. Spanish. This is ma son, German. So then, what do you ’spose my elf name would be?”

Becky yawned. “I guess that will be our proooooject over the next few days, figure out what our hobbit and elf names are.”

“Guesss sooooooo.” Elvis yawned back.

**********************************************************

Becky found her paperback copy of The Hobbit open and smashed between them where Elvis had fallen asleep with his head on top of her chest. Several pages were bent back, and she tried to get them straight by bending them the other way, before deciding to put the lamp on top of it with the hope it would weigh them back into place. The room was still so dark, it surprised her to see that the clock read one p.m. It had been five or six when they passed out, and Becky could hardly believe how quickly she adapted back to Elvis’ schedule.

Looking down at him, she returned to cuddle into him, thinking how sweet he looked with his mouth wide open, asleep, completely unperturbed about the weight of the world that he carried on his shoulders. Then, as she shimmied her legs next to his, she felt the distinct, outline of an erect penis. I guess he slept well, she thought, and suddenly felt an aching tingle light up between her legs and a naughty thought enter her mind. Becky bit her lip, wondering how to wake him up without making it obvious. She began to nestle her knee into his cock, then blow air over his eyelids, faintly at first as she watched his long eyelashes flutter and waited to see if it woke him. When he remained asleep, she blew harder, emptying her lungs, until she saw his eyelids move and he opened one eye, with a blank, confused, slightly drugged out stare. This prompted her to plop back, not so stealthily, and pretend to be asleep herself. She also stopped moving her knee over his penis. Sleeping people don’t do that.

“Ha, now watcha think ya doin, Becky Butt?”

Elvis narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. A chuckled escaped Becky’s mouth, and her hand replaced her knee to slowly sweep over the outline of Elvis’ length, teasing his tip with the swirl of her thumb. Elvis seemed to instinctively move back up against the pillows, while also trying half-heartedly to swat away her hands from his pajama bottoms as she moved her head to his crotch.

“Now, honey, you’re a good girl, good girls don’t do that.”

Becky pulled at his waist, leaning down to nuzzle against the silk over his thigh, looking up and batting her lashes.

“Baby, you’ve been so stressed out, this tour got you all worked up. I’m just trying to help you relax and clear your head, so you can figure out what you want to do about your band.”

Elvis released her hands from where he had stopped them at his pants, and flopped back against the head board, resigned and moaning as her hand feathered over him. He closed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling and muttered, “Lord have mercy. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

Becky did a wiggly, little triumphant dance as Elvis shook his head, grinning as she pulled his pants down and very slowly and reverently bent down to kiss the tip, savoring the way his breath became heavier as she did. He bit his lip watching her look at him as she swirled her tongue around his foreskin where it now crested back above the head. In a leisurely, affectionate way, she moved her tongue hesitantly around him, using one hand to loosely palm up and down his shaft as she sucked the tip once more. Kissing it delicately, relishing how sensitive he was, how even just moving her mouth down an inch made his leg jolt. She laughed onto his cock when his knee knocked her head, and she looked up to see a warm, boyish smile beaming back down at her.

“Hey now, be gentle with him. He's, uh, he's, ughhhh, he's shy.”

Becky smiled as best she could up at him with a penis in her mouth, and worked to just move along the end of the foreskin to the top of the head, waiting as he moved her hair to guide her forward. His gasps sent a sharp ping to her core and Becky realized that the sound of Elvis’ hushed pleasure was like an aphrodisiac that she wanted to chase. And chase it she did, hollowing her cheeks to bob further down, seeing how far she could go with out gagging, seeing what happened when his tip hit the back of her throat, savoring the feeling of how it almost choked her.

His mouth now hung open, and he let out a loud moan as she delved deeper with the next thrust. Looking, she saw that his eyes were squeezed shut  and his mouth hung open, the bottom lip shaking tremulously as she began to speed up her tempo, following her mouth with her hand and breathing through her nose as she tried not to gag when she plunged downward. Then she felt Elvis grip her hair with a tight fist.

“Ah honey, oh Becky, oh honey, Imma about to burst!”

She watched his face contort as she nodded her acquiescence and continued to move her mouth over him, possessing him and at the same time giving herself to him as he arched his back up into her and came with a loud, breathy, high pitched cry. He was tangy, and salty, and she looked at him with a seductive wink as she flipped her hair and tried to swallow it all, before gagging and coughing most of it out of the side of her mouth and onto the duvet. This performance was followed by loud belly laughs from both parties as Becky rolled over in a fit of giggles at her clumsy attempt to be sexy. She hid under the pillows and blushed when Elvis moved over, threw the pillow away, and pulled her onto him with a goofy smile.

“Ya sure are sumpthin', Becky Butt. Man ‘o’ man." He sighed, stroking her shoulder. "Haven’t done anything like that in a while. Prolly since last time I saw you.”

“Elvis, you don’t have to lie to me, I see the photos of you with your other girlfriends on tour.”

He sucked in a deep breath, taking her chin to look up at him.

“You mean that girl I invited on tour after you turned me down? Honey, she don’t mean a thing, just someone to keep the bed warm. Wasn’t getting busy with her, tell you that.”

Becky arched her eye. “Really?”

“Mmmmhmmm. She is pretty, but she don't turn me on, not like you, baby. You’re my little snake charmer, member? And man, honey, every time too. Something special bout you. Gonna need you to come on the rest of the tour with me." His arm dropped, and his eyebrows furrowed and Becky realized he must be thinking about the tour. "Fuck, man, gotta figure out what to do bout these singers, goddammit. I don really wanna train new gals to sing, with only a few nights left.”

Becky patted his arm. “So don’t. Just apologize.”

A nervous squeak escaped her throat when she saw his lips purse and his eyes narrow in disbelief at her suggestion.

“You don’t have to mean it! I believe you were right, they are being bitches. Baby, trust me, you know how singers can be, premadonnas. And they are women. You can’t win with us. But you can know in your heart that you were joking, and also do what needs to be done to keep the show going by mending fences. S’easier to catch more flies with honey, E.”

Becky felt like a traitor to her fellow womankind, as she felt fairly certain that whatever had happened, the back up singers probably had every right to be upset. But the end justified the means, right? Her reasoning seemed to have some effect, as Elvis' pinched lips released and he grunted.

She watched as he looked at her, and repeated "easier to catch more flies with honey" in a high, mocking voice, while he rolled over and picked up the phone, asking the operator for Joe’s room. “Get Lowell on a plane, tell him to bring everything in the store. I don’t care, jack, do you work for my daddy? No, that’s what I thought, huh. Yeah, Imma have Felton take it all over to the girls, to everyone, tell them I know things got outta hand this week, let’s leave it in the past. Oh, and I wanna get Myrna a new Caddy, so she knows what loyalty means to me.”

Elvis was patting Becky’s thigh as he did this, his fingers playing a rhythm only he knew. But it made Becky feel special, needed, close to him, and she found a strange contentment just being there, receiving the song his body was tapping out. After he hung up, he called room service and asked them to send two of everything from the breakfast menu, explaining he didn’t care if it was 2 o’clock in the afternoon.

“Ever been Asheville, ha, honey?”

“MMmhmmm. No, can't say I have. Guess we'll have a few days there to figure out what our hobbitses names are.”

“Already know what your’s is. Becky Bobbit.” He grinned wide at her quizzical face. “Cuz you bobbit so good on my nobbit.”

Becky hit him as he burst into a fit of giggles. “Dirty, nasty, mean man.”

“Awww, honey, s’compliment. Wanna keep you round with me always, my lil bobbit hobbit.”

“Ha.”

“Comin’ to Memphis after the tour?”

“Elvis - I -”

“I thought we were talkin’ bout getting you moved up there. You will love it."           

“I will hate it.”

“Nah, you won’t.”

“Hmmm, you might be sick of me after the next few days.”

Elvis squeezed his arm around her tighter, looking down at the stain on the duvet, and then back at her with a silly smile.

“Nah, I won’t.”

***************************************************

For fun...

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[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 69

daryl dixon x f!oc

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Summary: As the walkers flood into Alexandria, everyone takes cover. After barricading themselves inside, Rick and Iris come up with an escape plan. Daryl, Sasha and Abraham are held up along the road. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; walker bite; significant injury; first aid; arguments; barricading doors; gore; cutting walkers open and using their entrails as camouflage; dark humour; blockades; threats via guns; violence; attempted robbery; explosions; murder; blowing people up; burning bodies; this is one of my favourite episodes

Chapter 69 - Defence

Iris was yelling, pulling Rick off the ground as the herd broke through.

“Everyone get back!” She screamed, the two of them running into town. “Lock your doors! Run! Walkers!” Then came the gunshots.

“Rick!” Deanna called.

“You need to get back!” He replied.

“We need to get back!” She corrected. She loosed a few shots, still having trouble with her aim.

“The brain, Deanna, the brain!” Iris yelled. She grabbed the two of them, hauling them along with her as they staggered back from the horde.

“Iris get to the house! Find Carl!” Rick yelled. Iris nodded, leaving him to protect Deanna as she made a break for it. She spotted Carl and Ron running down the street and waved them down. They bolted for her, Gabriel and Michonne in tow. 

They met up with Rick and Deanna at the street and ran together, staying as close as they could. They just made it to the street corner when a swarm of them came out of nowhere, turning around to face them. Deanna cried out in surprise, Rick practically carrying her. 

“Come on, I have Judith!” Jessie yelled. She emptied her magazine on the walkers in front of them, clearing the way to her front door. They all flooded into the house, locking and barricading the door behind them. 

-

Rick had deposited Deanna on a sofa bed upstairs, going straight to find Judith. Iris knelt beside her, tying up a tourniquet on her leg and assessing the damage. Deanna fell onto a bandsaw blade, which could mean a lot of things in terms of future infection. She was bleeding from a wound on her side, but Iris took them one at a time. 

“How is she?” Rick asked, jogging up the stairs.

“No offense to Iris, but whatever she’s doing hurts like a son of a bitch.” Deanna murmured. Iris smiled softly.

“Fresh out of morphine, boss.” Iris replied. She pulled up Deanna’s shirt a bit, pressing a wad of gauze to the wound staunch the bleeding. “I just finished with the leg, and that seemed to be the worst of…” She trailed off as she wiped the blood away, staring down at the clear teeth marks marring Deanna’s side. She looked up at Deanna, then to Rick. 

Deanna sighed, looking down at it before looking to Rick. His solemn expression told her everything she needed to know, and tears began to line her eyes. She took a shuddering breath, looking up at the ceiling.

“Well, shit.” She whispered.

Iris bound her wounds and tried to give her some pain killers, but Deanna refused them, saying they should save them for people who had a chance. She cracked jokes, but Iris could see the disappointment in her face. She left her to think, to process, going downstairs to check on Carl and Judith. Michonne kept them busy before going up to pay Deanna a visit.

“What happened?” Carl asked, looking up from the game of cars he was distractedly playing.

“She got bit.” Iris said quietly. He nodded as Ron paled, tossing his cards onto the table. Ron stood, and Carl followed after him, leaving Iris to cradle Judith gently, soothing her anxious cries.

Judith began to cry loudly as a large crash sounded down the hallway. Iris ran to the noise, trying to get through the garage door, but it was locked. Rick came bounding down the stairs, Jessie on his heels.

“Carl! Carl, open the door!”

“Ron!”

“Carl, let me in!”

“Ron, open the door right now!”

“Back up!” Rick yelled, pulling the hatchet from his belt and swinging for the lock. A few good hits and it was broken, Rick kicking the door in just as the walkers broke through the glass door to the outside. The boys ducked into the house as Rick barricaded the garage door. Iris hushed Judith from the living room, bouncing her as she cried loudly. “What happened in there?”

“We were looking for tools and knocked over a shelf.” Carl replied quickly. 

“We heard yelling.” Jessie protested.

“Yeah, Ron saw them break through the gate.” He explained. “We had to move. That’s what happened.”

“Carl, there are nightstands in my mom’s room. We can grab them.” Ron suggested.

“Hey." Jessie said, stopping them. “I heard fighting.”

“Yeah, we were fighting them.” Ron argued. Iris raised an eyebrow at Carl and he gave a very subtle shake of the head, Rick focused on holding the couch to the door.

“Carl? It’s okay?” Rick asked.

“It’s okay.” Carl insisted, following Ron to Jessie’s room. Iris had a feeling they weren’t just going to get the nightstands. They returned a bit later, everyone ransacking the house to barricade with more furniture. The noise was drawing more, and Iris handed Judith to Rick so he could take her upstairs. 

When he returned, Jessie, Gabriel, Iris Carl and Ron were holding a bed frame and a console table up to the front door, just as the walkers tore down the wood board Jessie had replaced the broken door with.

“There’s just too many of them.” Gabriel cried. Iris lunged for the other door as the walkers shoved the furniture aside. She threw herself against the desk and table, keeping the set of kitchen doors behind her back. 

“Everyone get upstairs, now!” Michonne called. She pulled out her sword, Iris ducking out of the way as she swung at the nearest walkers. Rick guarded the rest as they all ran up the stairs, using the furniture to block the stairway. He and Michonne held it there as the walkers threw themselves forward. 

“I got this one, you get the one behind it. We’re gonna need at least two.” He explained. They used the gaps in doorway to grab two of the walkers, killing them and pulling them through the gap. He motioned for Iris and Gabriel to follow, but for the rest to stay. “Stay here. You see anyone get through, you get me.” Iris followed him, helping him and Michonne to drag the walkers to one of the bedrooms.

“We’re gonna need bed sheets. Enough for everyone.”

“Bed sheets for what?” Jessie asked, rounding the corner. Iris blanched as she realized what his plan must have entailed.

“Oh god.” She whispered.

“We all go to the armoury.” Rick explained. He looked over to Iris, who sighed before kneeling at the body of the walker opposite his. “Gonna do the honours?” He asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Iris replied, none too joyfully. 

“How?” Jessie asked, looking between the two of them. Iris answered by pulling out one of her longer knives and eviscerating the walker in front of her, neck to navel. 

“We’ll cover ourselves with the insides. It’ll mask our smell, make them think we’re like them.” Rick explained. Gabriel looked sick as he came back with a few bed sheets. He chose white. “I’ve done it before. We stay calm, we don't draw attention, we can move right through them.”

“They’re in the house. They’re making noise. More are coming.” Michonne added.

“Just don’t think about it.” Iris advised. Rick split his open, Gabriel handing Michonne the sheets so she could cut holes for their arms and heads. Iris grit her teeth before she plunged her hands in. 

“Anyone who stays here is going to die.” Rick argued, looking at Jessie and Ron’s astonished faces.

“What about Deanna?” Gabriel asked. Rick didn’t answer. 

“Who wants the spleen?” Iris asked. Rick gave her a sour look and she winced, going back to pulling out the guts. 

-

Carl almost laughed as Iris slathered him in walker gore, and she was proud he was taking it so well. Her own bloody poncho was absolutely disgusting, as was each of theirs. Iris tossed a strip of skin at Gabriel, and he caught it with disgust before tenderly placing it on his shoulder. 

Jessie knelt down to slather herself, Rick doing his own bed sheet. She did Ron’s, trying to explain herself to her other son, Sam. He was teary-eyed, deathly afraid. 

“Everyone ready?” Iris asked quietly. They all nodded and she led the way down the staircase. Rick had Judith tucked in with Carl, safely under multiple layers of bedsheet. Gabriel had already promised to leave them all behind if he had to. 

They were dead silent as they weaved through the herd, none of them turning to look despite their still beating hearts. They made it out of the house, standing on the porch and looking out at the sea of dead now flooding the streets. They each took a hand, forming a tight line before stepping off the porch into the horde.

-

“Daryl.” Sasha murmured.

“Yeah, I see.” He grunted in response. He slowed the truck down as they looked out at the road, completely blocked off by a group of men sitting on motorcycles. They stood beside the bikes, waiting patiently as the truck squealed to a stop.

“What in the holy shit?” Abraham mumbled. They all grabbed their weapons, not daring to move. 

“Why don’t you come on out? Join us on the road?” The one in front called, waving with an inviting smile. Though, the rifles on his comrades’ shoulders were not so inviting. “If you wanna resist, try something… I mean, it’s a choice, I guess. But we will end your asses, split you right in two, straight through to the sinuses. So come on.” He waved. Daryl turned off the engine, he and Abraham opening the truck side doors and stepping out. “Yeah, that’s great! It’s going well right out of the gate.” He remarked to the others. “Now, step two, hand over your weapons.”

“Why should we?” Daryl grunted in reply. 

“Well, they’re not yours.” The man said simply.

“What?” Abraham bit out. Sasha looked around at them incredulously. 

“See,” the man started, stepping forward, “your weapons, your truck, the fuel in your truck, if you got mints in your glove compartment, if you got porn underneath the seats, change in the seats, hell, the seats themselves, the floor mats, your maps, the little stash of emergency napkins you got there in the console, none of those things are yours anymore.”

“Whose are they?” Sasha dared to ask.

“Your property now belongs to Negan.” They started out at him, waiting for someone to make a move. “If you can get your hands on a tanker, you’re people our person wants to know. So lets get those sidearms, shall we?” He gestured to Daryl, looking him up and down. “Right now.” Daryl pulled out the pistol he had, handing it over. “Thank you.” He took Sasha’s, then Abraham’s. “If you have to eat shit,” He explained. “Best not to nibble. Bite, chew, swallow, repeat. It goes quicker. Thank you.”

“Who are you people?” Sasha demanded.

“I get the curiosity.” The man admitted, walking back to his bike as he put their guns away. “But we have questions ourselves. And we’ll be the ones asking them while we drive you back to wherever it is you call home. Take a gander at where you hang your hats. First though, your shit. What have you got for us?”

“Yeah. You just took it.” Daryl replied sharply. The man chuckled.

“Come on.” He protested. “I mean, can we not, okay? There’s more. There’s always more.” He sighed when they made no move. One of the men stood at his beckoning, walking over. “T… take my man to the back of the truck. Start inside the back bumper, work your way to the front.” The man shoved Daryl back and they moved to the back of the truck. “Bite, chew, swallow, repeat.”

“Who’s Negan?” Abraham asked loudly. The man cocked his gun, pointing it forward at the pair of them.

“Ding dong! Hell’s bells!” He sang. “You see, usually, we introduce ourselves by just popping one of you right off the bat. But you seem like reasonable people. I mean, you’re sporting dress blues, for Christ’s sake. And like I said, we’re gonna drive you back to where you were. I mean, do you know how awkward it is carpooling with someone whose friend or friends you’ve just killed? Oof. But, I told you not to ask any questions. And then what does this ginger do? I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me.” He cocked the gun.

“Wait!” Sasha blurted. Abraham whipped around to look at her. “Wait. You don’t have to do this.” He pulled out a second gun, pointing at both of them.

“Shut up.” Abraham murmured.

“I am taking to the man.” She hissed.

“No,” the man corrected. “You’re not.” He cocked both guns, looking them dead in the eyes before sighing, slouching back down on his bike. “I’m not gonna kill you. Wait, wait. You know what? Yes, I am.”

Sasha and Abraham were knocked back by a sudden explosion, every man and his bike blown to smithereens before their eyes, a plume of fire and smoke rising to the sky. 

Daryl sauntered back out from behind the truck, a rocket-launcher smoking on his shoulder. He lowered it, whistling at the carnage before them. The other man, ’T’, was dead behind the truck. Daryl examined the enormous weapon, nodding in satisfaction. Abraham and Sasha groaned as they stood back up. They rounded the truck, peering at the body on the ground.

“Son of a bitch was tougher than he looked.” Daryl murmured.

“Did he cut you?” Sasha asked, examining the slice through his leather vest, a small bloodstain blooming on the back. 

“A little.” Daryl shrugged. Sasha clapped a piece of cloth over the wound to stop the bleeding. “What a bunch of assholes.”

“Let’s get you fixed up at home.” Sasha said with a grin.

“Yes ma’am.” He replied, opening the door to the truck. She and Abraham walked around to the other side, the latter pausing to spit on their dead bodies. 

“Nibble on that.” He huffed. 

-

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[i-want-my-iwtv]

♥♥♥ Carbonated Blood ♥♥♥

(ノ°∀°)ノ’.:*・°☆

Inspired by recent interest in this blog, and for ppl newly landing on it, I made this pinned post as a welcome, a warning, and some tags I would recommend that are specific to my blog for my favorite stuff. Here's why it's called i-want-my-IWTV.

🤘 A welcome: I'm Burnadette (21+) and this blog is an unofficial Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles appreciation blog started in July 2013, but it's not an authoritative resource, I'm just collecting fanworks and other dash goodies based on my own rubric, sprinkling catnip out to the fandom, and answering asks for ppl who are curious about my opinions on things. I encourage positivity and optimism! ✨

My AO3: Burnadette_dpdl

Co-mod @wicked-felina and I typically run the @vcsecretgifts exchange, you can check out the archive there. We had to take a 2 yr hiatus for real life reasons, we hope to revive it in 2024 💕 In the meantime, go check out @vamptember (@hekateinhell and @monstersinthecosmos), for a wealth of VC fanworks!

⚠️ A warning: You may encounter things you dislike on this blog, such as ship art of ships you dislike, discussions about dark fiction, problematic characters, and other such topics. My free time for fandom is limited and I do this for free for my own entertainment, so I don't engage in bad faith discussion, and I'm generally picky about engaging* in all discussion posts or personal posts.

You may have noticed that I don't post/reblog much about it if I can help it: While I do not like the current IWTV AMC 2022 adaptation, I can talk about it, and I do appreciate that it's brought fresh blood 🩸 into the fandom, a lot of talented fanart and writing! And yes, ppl can enjoy IWTV '22 and other adaptations and canon and absolutely whatever 🤝, these things are not mutually exclusive 😎 (I tag it #iwtv 2022 and #iwtv amc if ppl need to block those tags.) With that said, I think there are some fabulous ppl who can embrace it all, like @xxhellonursexx! There are role models like Nurse, able to venn diagram the VC content with a sense of humor and respect.

So I welcome new fans, and encourage them to ask questions and engage with ppl like me, there is limitless room for everyone.

ANYWAY.

Behold, my STUFF: Some of my favorite tags in no particular order, this may evolve over time:

(Cut for length)

Lin, get in here and settle this - (Not a tag but this is my 20 second magnum opus 😎✨)

vampire physiology - Both about Ricean and other vampire media, studying them like lab animals and talking about it!

Fandom laws - Fandom's been around a long time, and I think a big part of having a great experience in it is mutual respect, which ppl have codified in fandom laws. When/if you break them, you may turn other ppl off and that can spread quickly; you build your reputation by your actions.

digging up an oldie from the archive - when I need to throw an older post on the dash to share again, maybe there's a reason, or a great addition.

hello dinner - Various amusement about vampires and their dinner.

messy eater - Related to the above, it's less common (canonically) for a Ricean vampire to spill a drop of blood, so it used to be more dramatic when we'd see art/fic of spillage! There are vampires from outside VC in that tag, too, I couldn't resist reblogging them.

vampiredevelopment/interviews and rec - this is some of my favorite textmeme content 😂

memeything - y'know, memes, some are embedded in more serious posts, but I think when I first heard the word "meme" I didn't think mine really counted? So I made it "memeything" so as not to land in a "meme" tag if they didn't count, but eventually I decided that "meme" can be pretty widely defined, so mine kinda do, but by that point I was far into the habit of using my own word, so there it is.

how to make a post a vc post - when you just gotta insert your fandom into an unrelated post bc it FITS.

VC fandom hunters - when you're looking for other VC fandom ppl to role play with, etc.!

Lestatiquette - Lestat ettiquette.

Lestatuesque - Someone/something is acting like Lestat.

Lestats closet - Something you might find in Lestat's closet, a resource for fanartists/writers looking for inspo 🙏

Its a coffin - fanart and works involving coffins!

We appreciate and love Louis in this house - There was a wave of sentiment criticizing Louis for various reasons and these are thoughtful responses to that criticism. Tag started by the magnificent @covenofthearticulate/@theballadofmrslovett (go check out her ideas, and her AO3 covenofthearticulate, she is so so good 💞)

Defending Antonio - There's periodic discussion about Antonio Banderas as Armand in the '94 IWTV movie, I love him, and I'm totally rational about it

Louis has canon hair I know that will make at least 2 ppl I know very happy - and idk if I would even reveal privately who they are but definitely not publicly! I don't want to put them on blast! 😅 I appreciate Louis with different hairstyles and I've debated about it enough that like... I can appreciate Options but some ppl would prefer to see his hair as it's described in canon 😙

VC wedding hysteria - What it says on the tin.

iwantmyiwtv has opinions - a way to signal that these are my opinions only and not presented as fact.

Iwantmyiwtv rp - I sometimes take asks for Lestat or Louis to help inspire my fanfic. Specify who you're asking and they might respond 😎, Lestat response starts with ♛, and Louis with ♠.

vc news/vc casting - For sharing news and post casting ideas, as there are multiple adaptations and there's always fantasy casting! It never ends.

not vc/vc adjacent - I see some ppl have adopted these two! I made these out of a kind of purist approach, I wanted to reblog smtg and share it but it wasn't exactly VC, soooo, it's my acknowledgment accordingly.

VC - I may have used this in the past but I don't anymore, bc there are tons of things that could have that abbreviation, I assume, so I don't find it too be descriptive enough for use as a Vampire Chronicles tag 🤷🏼‍♀️

*You may see older posts that were written in a bubblier/sassier manner than I'd be comfortable with now, but I find those to be charming now, it's a 10+ yr old blog, after all! Our internet experience has evolved. What's cringe or even rude now was normal then and I know that my intention was always positivity and anti-censorship, so that includes not censoring myself. ✨ I ask that you have patience with those responses that may not have aged well as you have patience with an artist or writer's earlier works, or your own growth over the years! 🌱

[dixonsdarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Nine

Masterlist

AO3 link Wattpad link

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, reference to nightmares

Word count: 2.8k

Several days had passed since Daryl left. I’m not gonna lie, I missed waking up after falling out of bed and hearing my door open, peering up to see him standing there, making sure I was alright. Before he left, I was insisting to him that he didn’t need to keep doing that, but I hoped he would ignore me and continue when he returned.

When I wasn’t treating someone, I was helping around Alexandria in other ways. I helped with laundry, cooking, playing with Judith and some of the other kids (they had lots of questions about me being a doctor), tending to the garden, and figuring out how to make Aaron a prosthetic foot. I found a pair of scissors and nail clippers in the infirmary, so I finally got to clip my nails and cut a few inches of dead ends off my hair. I also invited Maggie, Glenn, and Rosita over for dinner one night and cooked for them. Every day, I felt more and more a part of the community and like I belonged there. At times, it would become overwhelming, and I would step away from everything to cry. After being on my own for so long, finding somewhere with good people that welcomed me so warmly was heartwarming, but it also made me ache for my parents, my brothers, and my best friend.

Having the house to myself for a week gave me plenty of time to think about Daryl. Think about our first run, think about every interaction we’ve had, think about what Michonne, Maggie, and Rosita had said, and think about what Carol said. That that wasn’t the first time he had talked to her about me. That he “didn’t hate me. Not even close.” I thought about what I was going to say to him when he got back. Thought about what he did with the note I left as I didn’t have it in me to check the trash can and possibly see it there.

It was starting to get dark out, and I had finished my duties for the day, so I went back home to make dinner. I had found a slow cooker in one of the cabinets in the kitchen, buried away, so I elected to make something I often made in college as I could just start up the slow cooker and leave it. I grabbed various ingredients out from the fridge and cabinets, washing produce off and dumping everything in the pot with water. I turned the timer on and headed upstairs to take a shower. It was a hair-washing day, so it was good that the food was going to take a few hours as I would have plenty of time.

I stopped in my room and grabbed a pair of pajamas. I had originally just been sleeping in my clothes, but the nights were getting chillier, so I needed something warmer. Rosita helped me find a red plaid flannel pajama set that fit perfectly. I had been bringing my clothes with me into the bathroom when I showered to avoid having to scurry around in a towel in case Daryl came back. I got the water running and undressed, stepping into the warm cascade of water.

Earlier, when I had been hanging out with and entertaining some of the children, they asked me what my favorite movies were when movies existed. I told them about my favorite Disney movie from when I was growing up—Sleeping Beauty. I told them all about the tale of Princess Aurora, the fairy godmothers, Prince Philip, and Maleficent. How Prince Philip slayed the dragon to save the princess. How they fell in love and got married. The music was one of my favorite parts, and as I washed and rinsed my hair, I found myself first humming, then singing the song “Once Upon A Dream” from the movie.

I kept singing as I finished my shower. I didn’t think I was perfect by any means, but at least I could hit the higher notes comfortably. The acoustics in the bathroom were stellar. I dried myself off and got into my comfy pajamas, grabbing my glasses off of the sink and putting them back on. I left the bathroom and gave my hair a quick run-through with the towel as I walked back to my room, continuing my serenade as I went.

I grabbed a couple of hair ties off my dresser and shook my hair out again, brushing through it with my fingers and parting it down the middle. I tightly braided each side so that it would turn out wavy again in the morning. I smiled, thinking about all of the times Preston would call me Wednesday when I did this with my hair. Apparently, long black braided hair immediately equals Wednesday Addams.

I grabbed my towel to take it back to the bathroom, and as I stepped out into the hallway, I heard a familiar, gravely voice from downstairs.

“Smells good.”

It felt like I jumped a foot off the ground with how startled I was. The adrenaline was pumping hard, and I turned to steady myself on the railing by the stairs. I looked up and saw Daryl standing in the kitchen, leaned back against the counter, a whiskey in his hand. He was dirty from head to toe, and his hair was disheveled as hell. Despite all the dirt and grime, he was still as handsome as could be. And even though I was startled to high hell, it was wonderful to hear his voice again.

“Christ dude, you have got to stop doing that. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” I said, “but hi, you’re back. When did you get back?” I came down the stairs into the kitchen to check on the food. He shifted from leaning on the counter to the island as I entered, stopping to grab a ladle to stir the contents of the slow cooker.

“Long ‘nough ta hear ya in the shower,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, his other arm folded across his chest. I immediately started blushing, and I felt nauseous at the thought of him judging my vocals. I wanted to die in that moment.

“Fuck. Sorry about that,” I said, gazing down at the floor, hoping he wouldn’t notice how red I was.

“Nothing to be sorry ‘bout,” he assured, “what’re ya makin’?” I lifted my head and met his eyes for just a second before I took the lid off the slower cooker and stirred it. This might’ve been the most I’d ever heard the man talk.

“Ok, you can’t laugh,” I said, chuckling a little and putting the lid back on, turning to him, “it’s something my best friend and I came up with in med school. It’s, umm…it’s called a dump ’n pray. You basically just take a bunch of stuff that would probably go well together, dump it all into a slower cooker, and pray that it turns out good. Usually it does. It’s got like a 98% success rate in my experience.”

“Smells real good,” Daryl said, and I gave him a small smile in response, “I uh, got ya somethin’ while we was out.” He leaned over and grabbed a bag off of the floor, and my heart rate picked up again. He opened the bag and pulled out something wrapped in a dirty beige scarf, “thought of ya when I saw it.”

I tried to think about something else to keep myself from turning red. Not just at the fact that Daryl got me something on his trip, but that he thought of me when he was out there. I wondered how often he did that, how often he thought of me exactly. Did he think of me as often as I thought of him?

I unwrapped the scarf carefully in case whatever was inside was fragile. I saw a navy blue fabric with a flower on it peeking out at me, so I grabbed it and let the scarf fall to my feet. The item in my hands was a long navy blue dress with large white flowers and a slit up one leg. It looked like it would fit me perfectly. Despite how dirty Daryl looked, the dress appeared clean, probably thanks to the scarf it was wrapped in. I immediately lit up, smiling big, running my hands on the fabric over and over again. The kind gesture, the fact that he wrapped it in a scarf to keep it clean…my heart swelled, and I felt that warm sensation in my chest again.

“Daryl, I…I don’t know what to say. This is beautiful. I love it. Thank you.” He simply nodded, and I had to ask the question that was scratching at the insides of my brain. “Did you remember?”

“‘Member what?”

“That my favorite color is blue.”

“Got lucky I guess,” he scoffed. He grabbed his things off the ground, including the scarf at my feet, set his drink on the counter, and slipped past me upstairs. I wouldn’t blame him for just wanting to be alone and going to bed to pass out. He was probably exhausted. However, I heard the shower turn on instead.

Once I heard the bathroom door close, I went upstairs to my room and folded the dress neatly, placing it in one of the drawers on the dresser. I grabbed my notebook and a pen and went back downstairs to the couch to do some writing while I waited for the food to finish.

I sat down on the couch and crossed my legs. I ran my hands over the cover of my notebook, my fingers gracing each sticker that they passed. There was a U.S. Navy one, a variety of flowers, a Johns Hopkins one, and some at gotten at a Ke$ha concert as she was my favorite artist. This notebook was my most recent, and it was one of my most prized possessions. I felt like it painted a picture of what my life had looked like over the course of the end of the world so far.

I got lost in what I was writing, eventually being pulled out only by the sound of the slow cooker beeping at me, telling me it was finished. I set my notebook down to get up, but as the beeping finished, Daryl came down the stairs, motioning for me to stay put. He looked clean as a whistle, small residuals of water still dripping from his hair. He had changed into a long-sleeved black shirt that hugged his arms and chest perfectly and a pair of black pants. I bit the interior of my bottom lip to focus on the pain in an attempt to keep myself from blushing or from my eyes lingering for too long.

“Stay sat. Ya made it, least I could do is get ya some,” he said. His gentlemanly attitude surprised me. Just over a week ago, he would hardly look in my direction and was frustrated at the thought of having to share a house with me. But I wasn’t going to say no.

“Oh, umm, okay.” I sat back down on the couch, crossing my legs again. I watched him move through the kitchen, grabbing bowls out of cabinets and spoons out of drawers. I did take just a moment to check out his butt as he moved around. And damn, did it look good in those pants. I quickly averted my eyes as he turned around and came over to me, holding a bowl out. “Thank you.”

He handed me a spoon and took a seat in the chair adjacent to the couch, propping his right foot up on his left knee and letting his body melt back into the chair. I had hoped that maybe he would come and sit down next to me, but I didn’t blame him for wanting his own space to stretch out. And he seemed to have a rather large personal bubble.

I stirred my concoction with the spoon. This one resembled a chili of sorts, not authentic considering the variety of vegetables. But Daryl was right—it did smell good. I scooped some up with my spoon and blew on it before taking a bite. I was impressed with how tasty it came out.

“Told you. 98% success rate,” I said. I set my bowl down on the coffee table for a moment while I adjusted my body, turning so I could stretch my legs out on the couch and grabbing it again. “How was the hunting trip?” He seemed to be more receptive to conversation tonight, so I was going to take advantage of that.

“Went good. Caught a big sum’ bitch. Probly still guttin’ 'em up outside,” Daryl explained, “sorry. We’re eatin’. Might make ya squeamish.” I laughed mid-bite and almost spit my food out.

“I’m a surgeon, Daryl. Nothing makes me squeamish. But I appreciate the consideration.”

“How’d ya sleep while I was away?” he asked. I thought it was nice that he was asking, wanting to know that I was still ok even when he wasn’t coming to check on me. Nice, but it also confused me. He didn’t seem to be the type to…I don’t know, ask questions like that? He was so cold and calloused towards everyone, me included. But right now, Daryl was warm, and dare I say, sweet.

“Alright I guess. The nightmares are getting more…vivid.” I immediately felt ashamed and stopped myself before I said too much “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” I stared into my bowl, stirring my food again, regretting what I had said.

“Keep goin’ if ya wanna,” he encouraged. I blinked a few times in surprise and looked up at him. He was looking at me, those beautiful blue eyes of his piercing through the few strands of hair that fell on his face. His bowl was in his lap, and it looked like he hadn’t touched it yet. I felt bad that he was waiting for me to finish talking because he was probably ravenous after his trip. But apparently, listening to lil’ ol’ me talk was more important than satiating his hunger.

“Umm…well they started off as just a blur of colors and physical sensations. And each night, something else becomes a little more clear. Now there’s sounds, but the visuals are still pretty fuzzy. I, umm…” my voice trailed off, and I felt small, a little scared even as I thought about how my nightmares were becoming more and more vivid. I knew what the nightmare was. I knew what it was going to look like when everything was clear, and that terrified me. I blinked a few times and shook my head a little to bring myself back to reality, and I realized I had started absentmindedly doing my little habit of scratching at my thumb with my index finger. “Sorry. Could…could we maybe talk about something else?” Rather than replying with a yes or no, he changed the topic.

“Ya likin’ it here so far?” Trying to shake the thought of my nightmares from my mind, I felt tears starting to well up in my eyes. I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, faking a yawn to make it look like I was just sleepy. I blinked back the last little bit of tears and wiped the sides of my hands on my legs.

“Yeah, a lot,” I said, putting my glasses back on, “everyone’s so nice. I had Maggie, Rosita, and Glenn over for dinner the other night. They seem like really good people. I like them a lot. It feels good to be around other people and wake up in the same place every day.” I looked up at him, his bowl still in his lap. “You, uh, you can eat. You don’t have to just listen to me yap on.”

“They’re good people. Some of the best,” Daryl said, ignoring my statement about him eating, “ya really on ya own ‘fore ya got here?” His gravely voice and cute little Southern way of speaking was a match made in heaven for my ears.

“I was. Gimme just a minute and I’ll tell you all about it.” I set my bowl down on the coffee table and got up to use the bathroom and grab my blanket. As I got to the top of the stairs, I heard Daryl finally start eating. And judging by the sounds, he certainly was ravenous. I grabbed my blanket off my bed after I went to the bathroom and came back down. I was gone for no more than five minutes, and he had set his bowl on the coffee table as well, empty this time. I sat back on the couch, wrapped up in my blanket, chuckling lightly in amusement. I met his gaze again to continue my story.

“Food was good,” he said, “ya should make it again.”

“If you insist.”

[garygoldenbignaturals]

pinned poast

they/them, 22, tme | hi my name is (psy)chix and i'm from some place called jakarta indonesia + am jawa if u care. alongside being a muslim i also practice haterism but don't worry i like plenty of things too. sometimes i even blog about them here.

links - art blog [finished work only, check under the cut for art tag] | spotify | backloggd | beastcouture [gangrel sideblog] >> GAZAFUNDS | SUDANFUNDS << click the links and donate to a vetted fundraiser today

transmasc nb + bi, ok with gendered terms such as dude, bro, girl, etc. being used on me as well as gn ones. hi i'm mx. chix ^_^

i may be a hater but all haters are first and foremost lovers. currently interested in the elder scrolls, vampire: the masquerade, amc's iwtv, mad men, ace attorney with an emphasis on dgs, mass effect, brba/bcs, among other things. i've never heard of star war. i also like talking about fantasy worldbuilding, music, and of course being an oc pervert, my ocs. the ocs i most often talk about are jaden, iggy, alfyrrha, and saai.

i'm from the global south. please don't get surprised and seethe when i say something unsavory about the US empire and its allies. don't follow me if you can't handle that, much less be mad at me for it. and do notttt follow me if you think misandry is real or exists in the same capacity as misogyny !

minors be wary when following me, sometimes i reblog crass or more than suggestive things. they're not always tagged, but go ahead and block #nsft if you must. and everyone, too, should be wary, bc i can get really fucking annoying about lacroix vtmbloodlines.

tags for navigation #my art - art tag👍 #chixtalks - talking tag, and word of caution, this gets used a lottt #about me - posts that are hashtag mecore #exquisite - pieces of art, words, etc, that are, to me, exquisite #gnomeposting - for those little guys with an affinity for berries and mischief #cookbook - recipes! tag me in em. just make sure it's halal lol

[critical-chris]

65 (2023)

Holy shit, I demand a documentary of how this movie was made.

Good 'noon everyone, nice to talk to you again. I took a week long break from the blog due to a few factors including long hours at work, a random and inexplicable desire to start watching Succession for the first time ahead of the upcoming new season, and most importantly a complete and total lack of movies coming out that I had interest in.

There was one exception, Cocaine Bear, which I still do want to see. However, every time I had a reservation with my AMC membership and the time would come to leave the house and head to the theater, the lackluster reviews would crawl into my brain and I couldn't justify the 2 hour trek outside. I would crawl back in bed and dive into an episode of The Mandalorian, 1923, The Boys, or piecemealing the slog of a movie I find The Aviator to be. Lots of TV, not so many movies, but I'm back with a vengeance, baby.

Let's kick things off with why I wanted to see this movie in the first place. Have you seen the trailer? Exactly. The trailer sells you on a futuristic soldier played by Adam Driver finding himself stranded on a strange world that turns out to be Earth, 65 million years ago. This badass is strapped up with crazy weapons and about to fight some dinosaurs for survival. I'm all the way in.

I love science fiction movies when the creators that be get them right. Star Wars is my clear cut favorite sci-fi franchise, although Disney (not including Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni) has done whatever they can to create more shit properties under the umbrella than good ones. I love a good one-off sci-fi movie too, the most recent hit for me being Dune, what I felt to be a great epic adaptation of the book. Can't wait for that sequel and the talking baby, which better be in the film.

I love Adam Driver, too. I was not one of the early watchers of Girls (or a watcher at all, frankly), so my first introduction to him was Star Wars: The Force Awakens, the only film from the trilogy I loved and have since dampened my feelings on. I like him in the movies, despite my major beefs and issues with the plotting and directing, and continued to be excited by his more traditional dramatic work.

If you need some fantastic recommendations, check out my favorite Spike Lee joint BlacKkKlansman, a great paced marital drama Marriage Story, a creative crime dramedy Logan Lucky, and the period piece The Last Duel. A lot of people liked House of Gucci, and I thought it was decent although I'm not sure why Driver is now being tapped as Hollywood's "It Guy" for biographic films of Italian businessman with him portraying Enzo Ferrari next. With all of these great movies in his back pocket, I was sure that Adam Driver could not lose and would be coming in with another banger with replay value out the buttocks. I have to use clean language at some point in this blog for how explicit I am in my feelings on finally seeing 65.

When I saw that this movie came out to just over 90 minutes, I got that old fashioned bad feeling in my gut that maybe I was in for some trouble instead of some good dino-fighting. It's not very typical you get a slapstick comedy runtime out of an expensive science fiction film, and when you do it's a sign that perhaps there were some big problems with the longer cut and someone had to make a watchable storyline out of the scraps. And boy, does this movie feel exactly like that.

I have problems with almost every part of this disaster, so why not tick them off chronologically. 65 opens with some film school level text on screen letting the cat out of the bag right away. It explains that before mankind existed on Earth, there were other beings in other galaxies traveling the universe. Then we go to Planet Who Cares where Adam Driver is sitting on a beach with his wife and child. They quickly and briefly mention the daughter is suffering from some unknown illness and Driver must go on a 2-year journey to get paid enough to "cure her". LMAO CURE HER? Like the pharmaceutical company is withholding life-saving medicine because you can't afford it? Actually.... I guess that is realistic. Anyways, he teaches her to whistle with her hands and they showcase absolutely 0 familial chemistry that you care nothing about.

Smash cut immediately to Driver on a spaceship carrying a dozen or so passengers who are in cryo-sleep pods. The ship is suddenly hit by an asteroid, Driver attempts to control it, but they crash through the atmosphere of a strange planet and all of the cryo-pods get sucked out of the ship and are presumed dead. Adam Driver stumbles out of the ship, wades his way through some mud (where a creature lurks around him but then just never does anything so you wonder why even show there being a creature in the mud??), and discovers the bodies of the passengers who were tossed out of their cryo-pods.

Adam Driver stumbles back onto the ship and records a message asking for someone to come and rescue them, but deletes it before sending and re-records the message. In the second message, he tells anyone listening to abandon them and not to send a rescue ship because he's going to kill himself..... Why would he do that? We know his entire goal is to get back to his daughter, why would he not just ask for help and see if someone actually comes? Anyways, he decides not to kill himself, AND THEN THE TITLE CARD FOR THE MOVIE COMES UP. AT 20 MINUTES IN, THE TITLE OF THE MOVIE COMES UP AND READS:

65

Million Years Ago

A Visitor Came To

Earth

..... Seriously. All of that text comes on screen for the title card. Pardon my Portuguese, but what the fuck.

Driver is moping around when he sees an alert come up in his ship that one of the cryo-pods was not damaged and the girl inside survived, played by Ariana Greenblatt. He drags her out of the pod and while she rests he ventures out to a geyser field which is clearly included as foreshadowing for later in the film. He realizes that far away one of the escape pods from the ship also survived the crash and is a viable means of escape.

I felt the plot device included in this film of the girl speaking a different language than Adam Driver was unnecessary and forced. Besides the quick minute they spend in the final act of the girl being upset with Driver for lying about her parents being alive, there really is no reason for them not to be able to communicate. They try to force a couple laughs from their misunderstanding, but come across as generic and recycled gags. The part where Driver smushes a bug, and playfully chases the girl with his gooky hand is embarrassing.

Then there are the actual dinosaurs, which don't get incorporated until about 45 minutes in. The first dino the duo comes across is a baby stuck in a little tar pit, which is immediately killed by whatever those miniature predators from the opening of Lost World are, an attempt at a gut-wrenching moment that I found eye-rolling and stupid.

The other main predators featured are lizards mixed with raptors? They sulk low to the ground with their tails raised high and chase our protagonists around the trees and a beach, quickly dispatched by Adam Driver's futuristic assault rifle and grenades. There is a moment where one lizard seems to have gotten hold of Ariana, but Driver saves the day right at the last moment as is typical in every movie ever ever ever.

There were two scenes in the movie that I actually found entertaining and twinkled with potential of what this movie could have been. The first occurs after Driver and Ariana are driven into a cave by a modified T-Rex, and Ariana is able to crawl out of the cave before a cave-in traps Driver. He shimmies around in the dark and is stalked by an unseen dino, which creates some good tension and anticipation for when the creature finally emerges. The dino doesn't end up being scary or that menacing, but the lead up was decent enough.

The other part I enjoyed were the T-Rex's. I found the final minutes of the two T-Rex's trying to finish off Adam Driver and Ariana's ship with them inside, and even the moment where the last T-Rex chases Driver into the geyser field only to be stabbed and scalded to death very well done. The whole movie should have been scenes like this showing danger instead of pretending the main two characters have any chemistry or relationship worth watching.

All in all, this is a derivative sci-fi "thriller" reliant on jump scares, overused tropes, and it's budget for making dinosaurs seem sort of real. I would never, will never, and can never recommend anyone spend even the short 90 minutes to watch this movie. If you're suffering pure boredom I would recommend sitting on a porch and imagining dinosaurs in your front yard instead of sitting through this. In today's world, there is always something better to watch somewhere else instead of 65.

I do have one conspiracy theory related to this movie that I think holds weight. I read an article online that mentioned this film had a budget of $95 million, and after witnessing what I did play out on the screen, I have to assume a majority of that went to Adam Driver. Otherwise, why would he put his name at the top of the cast list for this pile of dinosaur shit? I'll take it one further, how much do I think he got paid out of the total budget? Wait for it, $65 million. Following that logic, I have to assume he asked that the name of the movie then represent how much it takes to get a big name actor to star in a film that is destined to fail and ensure its director never works again.

In conclusion, THIS MOVIE SUCKS.

65 - 2.0/10

[guywrestlingaddiction]

What turned me gay (not really) - Tarzan Fight Scenes

Continuing my exploration of impressionable "gay" moments, in this chapter I examine my fascination with another major contributor to my sexual journey. Again, this post is inspired by the sidelineland.com blog in the author's tongue and cheek look into "what made me gay (not really)".  The blog holds up well with time and although this author no longer posts on a regular basis, it's still worth checking out today in my opinion.  So without further delay, here is :

What turned me gay (not really) ... 

Tarzan (Mike Henry / Miles o Keeffe)

Tarzan, specifically his fight scenes in film/shows turned me gay.  And while I know this is cliché for me to crush on Tarzan; it is cliché for an obvious reason - Tarzan cemented my gay origin story.  While I had an interest in guys before Tarzan, my obsession with this character truly cemented the idea in me that I was in fact gay.  Life was different back in the 1990's / early 2000's, and admitting to yourself that you were gay was a huge step, essentially the equivalent of potentially cutting off all your friends and family.  Don't get me wrong things were better than earlier periods however, you honestly never knew how some of those difficult conversations would go and I personally found myself dumped by all my high school friends after coming out.

But I digress and to put it simply, Tarzan was proof that girls didn't do it for me as I would go to long and difficult lengths just to catch a few minutes of a muscled, shirtless Tarzan fighting off some villain.  I recall staying up past midnight waiting to record some old Tarzan movie on AMC or kicking myself later when I missed some appearance on TV. 

Tarzan and the Lost City - Mike Henry It was all worth it to stay up until dawn and shift through the entire movie for just a few minutes of Tarzan looking hot and sweaty wrestling with a villain.

Another point I want to clarify is this post doesn't include just Tarzan but all of this "type" meaning a shirtless, muscled, tanned, and most importantly masculine protector in the jungle or otherwise "badlands" battling villains.  In addition to Tarzan, I'd place Deathstalker, Gor, John Carter, the Beast Master, even George of the Jungle, in this genre.  

George of the Jungle - Brandon FrazierIt was a confusing time to be a young boy and attracted to George.  Admitting it was like telling someone you had a thing for a cartoon character.

Tarzan represented a pattern for me; I would get giddy when I saw a show of this type was airing, I would sit through hours of parts that were of no interest to me, just for a few minutes of payoff.  I also need to mention that this guy is most likely the mold for my ideal type of guy today - hyper masculine but compassionate, tanned, tall, and strong enough to fuck someone up.  Lastly, one thing that is hard to acknowledge but I need to for the sake of self-discovery, this "hero" was almost always a white guy and I do wonder what part this plays into my current tastes in guys.  For example, how often am I attracted to a certain guy because he was imprinted on me in my youth as the masculine stallion to idolize? 

Mike Henry as Tarzan Tall, masculine, and Hairy. A young me fantasizing about him gave me no doubt I was gay.

In any case, the sexy, nearly-naked Adonis left a deep mark on my subconscious and has repercussions on me to this very day. Watching a strong, masculine guy fight off the bad guy will forever be a small part of my origin story on what made me gay.  

Selected Appearances [Not all shown]

Now the biggest question ... who is the hottest Tarzan?  Without a doubt Mike Henry is the hottest Tarzan to me.  Feel free to disagree but again this is just an opinion. 

Hottest (Mike Henry)

Tarzan and the Valley of Gold - Mike Henry  Hairy, Tall, shows lots of leg and plenty of fight scenes

Runners Up

Tarzan in Manhattan and a Television series - Joe Lara 

Tarzan the Ape Man - Miles o Keeffe

Tarzan, the Ape Man - Denny Miller Hot, but too bad Tarzan was hairless back then

The Legend of Tarzan - Alexander Skarsgard I did try to like this movie, but one of the most appealing things about Tarzan is his legs and we don't see a lot with him 

Tarzan and the Lost City - Casper Van Dien  I also tried to like this iteration (after seeing him in Starship Troopers) but there was just something I couldn't enjoy about it.

Similar movies 

George of the Jungle - Brandon Frazier

Gor - Urbano Barberini

John Carter - Taylor Kitsch

Deathstalker II - John Terlesky

-

For the original post, check out:

[sw33tpotatoh3ad]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.

On Tuesday, 9/10/2024, I decided it was time to stop deleting my journals and focus on writing more consistently and improving my skills. That day, instead of working out, I learned from a coworker that the movie Beetlejuice had a sequel, and they said it was good. I had left work about 1.5 hours early, intending to sleep more, but I didn't. I slept around 8:00 AM, woke up late, and felt lazy.

After work, Vanessa called me, and as usual, I missed her call. I mentioned that we should check out the Beetlejuice sequel since I’d heard positive things about it. When Vanessa got home, we playfully argued, as we always do, and she bought tickets for the 7:00 PM showing at AMC Plaza Bonita. We needed to leave by 6:30 PM, so we did some chores, fed the dogs, and made sure they had water before leaving them on the front porch.

Once we arrived at the theater, we checked in, and Vanessa bought snacks—two hot dogs, nachos, a soda, and some chocolates, though I can’t recall the candy’s name. While I used the restroom, Vanessa cleverly prepped the nachos. She asked for scissors and cut the top of the nacho bag, so the cheese wouldn't soak through the cardboard tray like it did last time when we watched Deadpool. Last time, I poured liquid peppers over the nachos, and the box leaked, soaking my pants before I even realized it. This time, we avoided that mishap.

We headed into Theater 4, and while munching on snacks, noticed the place was relatively empty. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, although it felt a bit short for some reason. Vanessa laughed and giggled throughout, which made it even more fun. I’d give the movie a solid 5/5.

After the movie, we agreed we had to re-watch the first Beetlejuice to catch some references we might’ve missed. We went home, gave Whim a bath, and called it a night.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep2 Musings - At the Chateau

More random musings; this time specifically about The Hunt at the Chateau.

I hate these two wenches specifically, but NGL, they look cool here.

Ohhhh, AMC knew what they were doing, going RIGHT for my ovaries! 😍 DADDY TUAN PHAM! 😍😍

Sincere is one thing. HONEST is another, though. Y'all knew those Americans were sus, Armand. They're not buying that "Bruce" BS, Louis, don't sleep on them!

I am SO BUMMED that we didn't get to SEE this scene; I was so excited!

Now I'll never get to see Louis so bored out of his skull by Santiago's thespian charms that he starts snoring in the middle of the play. U_U

Mr. I Could Not Prevent It, what were YOU doing to protect your man? You slaughter random innocent fledglings just for blinking, but you let your whole coven plot Louis & Claudia's demise right under your nose?

Bull frikkin crap!

Daciana been knew. U_U

Who is the coven LEADER, and the coven MASTER?

"COMPLICIT" finna be my favorite word this season, istg.

SO well said, Louis; as this beastly monstrous coven has TWO heads, these SNAKES, this immortal Hydra that only dies when Hercules cuts its head off and cauterizes the wound.

I am SO ready.

I loooove this transition frame; the Moulin Rouge as the most famous French theatre in pop culture, as Louis snaps his sad photos and Claudia whoops and the Theatre Louis sets on fire takes them hunting to a chateau they'll set on fire.

Reminds me of what Lestat said: "there is a veil between us; but it is a THIN veil." Louis will never be "one" with y'all. He's already bound by "a cord you cannot see, but it is real;" all your Mind Gift's mindscrewing can't un-screw Lestat out of Louis' blood! 😜 Louis drags that camera EVERYWHERE, ducking behind the lens, seeing the world thru a Glass Darkly; a warped perception of time & space. Cuz he's STRUGGLING; looking for God; looking for ("the wrong kind" of) love in all the wrong places.

Look at the things he takes pictures of! He's documenting DEATH; a MASS MURDER--"you are chronicling a suicide"--as the coven rides their bikes to the house they're gonna KILL everyone in. This isn't a mere road trip; this is a HUNT.

Equestrian statues & triumphal arches--monuments of blood-soaked imperialism & colonialism.

Hedonistic bacchic revelries. "I want food, I want sex, I want to go home."

Meanwhile, Claudia's high as a kite, on cloud 9.

EVERYBODY, Claudia? As they pan to Louis? "I hate you both!"

I wanna throw up when I remember Claudia's ashes got mixed with the coven's when the Theatre burned down. U_U No justice, and no peace. Claudia, I would've become the most notorious Parisian poltergeist in history--the Pope himself would've had to come up to perform the exorcism, on god I'd make my death everyone's problem.

But the LOOK on Louis' face, omg.

Whole 5 stages of grief in reverse:

Acceptance: he TRIES to "be one with us," taking on the "collective hunger;" smiling (fake AF) as he tries to soak in Claudia's ecstasy; riding in Armand's sidecar, flirting with the "Maitre," cozying up with his potential new beau

Depression: knowing full well he hates the rampant bloodlust & violence, the carnage in the chateau on fire behind him

Bargaining: Mr. I Only Eat Once Every Other Day, refusing to take part the the slaughter but still standing by--you are all COMPLICIT--while they were being killed; and agreeing to have Armand teach him how to be a better killer by honing the Mind Gift, etc.

Anger: The Fire Gift WHENNNNNNN? Foreshadowing AF! Claudia, you WILL be avenged!

Denial: Lestat WHO? Being told straight to his face that Armand knows he's lying, knows he's been collecting alimony & child support checks from Roget, knows Claudia wants to join the coven that set up a frikkin shrine to the dude, knows Santiago's a cheap imitation of Lestat, knows DreamStat's gonna keep haunting the narrative, I can't

An EFFED UP Gothic Romance.

The book stans who keep complaining about this show are just willfully ignoring what AMC's doing here. There is PLENTY we can complain about absolutely! But overall this adaptation is a slam dunk.

[cbrownjc]

This is rather like me. I joined the fandom pretty much about a few months after the 1994 movie came out. I got a computer for my HS graduation present in the spring of '95, in prep for me going to college in the fall, and it came with a dial-up modem. So that was my first foray online. And the two fandoms I joined up with were Star Trek and The Vampire Chronicles. Message Boards, mailing lists, etc.

So yeah, I too was there when the hammer came down on fanfic after Memnoch. Unfortunately, I didn't have the idea to save fics and RPs and stuff until it was almost too late. And the stuff I DID save was all saved on 3.5in hard disks, which I don't have the ability to access anymore.

And yeah, for a time there we all did think Memnoch would be the last book in the series. At the time I was sad but I don't think it was too long before Tales of the Vampires was announced, which was billed as stories about other vampires in the world who weren't Lestat, which I was excited to read about. Pandora was the first of what was supposed to be those books.

And then the book Symphony for Sybelle was announced which had everyone confused but interested . . . before the title of that book was announced to have been changed to The Vampire Armand and then everyone went nuts. Because, if you read Memnoch, then you know what he did toward the end of that book. Everyone thought Armand was dead and was never coming back.

Now, this is just my own perception of things, but it was right after both Pandora and The Vampire Armand were released, along with the legal stuff from Anne about fanfic, that I really felt cracks beginning to happen in the fandom. And the cracks really were very much between the fandom and Anne Rice herself, not within the fandom itself. Even though, even back there, there were people who refused to acknowledge any of the books past Queen of the Damned. (Yes, there are people for whom only the first 3 books exist and no others).

I pretty much started drifting away from the fandom after Merrick came out. Before Blood Canticle, Merrick was the most hated book in the canon I think, passing Memnoch which had held that title before then.

And I, personally, think it all had to do with David Talbot.

Merrick was the third book in a row that featured David, but this time he wasn't just a means for another character to tell their story but was the main actual character. In a book that, before it had come out, was promised to be about Louis dealing with the grief he still held about Claudia, and some powerful revelations about her that would be revealed.

And yeah, that all happened but, the fact that the main POV of the story was David's and the actual main focus was on David . . . people were freakin' livid. Back in the day, I actually only read scans of the relevant Louis and Claudia parts (which my mailing list called the "Louis Cut") of that book. I didn't read the whole book, meaning all the David bits, until recently.

I checked Blood and Gold out of the library and Blackwood Farm was the last book I both bought and read, and where I consciously said goodbye to the series and the fandom.

And yeah, there really were no ship wars going on back then. Even the hatred of David wasn't really so much about him being with Lestat in any way as much as it was Anne herself trying to replace Louis with David and shoving his character on everyone. He was clearly a favorite character of her's and it was clear she wanted everyone to love him as much as she did.

I was wary when I heard the announcement about the TV show. Mostly because I heard about the original plan of wanting to start the TV adaptation with The Vampire Lestat first, and I knew that was never going to work. I knew it wasn't going to work regarding the Broadway musical back when that had first been announced back in the day, and I was right. So I didn't understand why they were trying that approach again with a TV show.

But then I heard that, after AMC got the rights, they were going to start with IWTV. Good move. And then I heard Jacob Anderson was cast as Louis and I was intrigued, reading about how they were updating the setting to the early 1900s along with that. Making Louis and actual black creole sounded like an inspired choice to me.

Claudia's age being upped to 14 is the one real thing that threw me off, and wasn't sure if it would work. Though visually, when it came to the trailers, it looked really good. So I figured I'd give it a chance, once I was done with Season 1 of House of the Dragon. (Another show I decided to give a chance, even after despising Season 8 of GOT).

But it was around the time of Episode 6 or so of that show when I saw the image/gif of Louis and Lestat floating naked in the air on Twitter with that (now famous) caption "What kind of interview is this?" that had me doing a double take and going, "Wait a minute --!?"

So yeah, I went and watched the first two episodes (which were already out by then, with episode 3 coming up in a few days) that same day. And I was just stunned by how amazing the show was. How bold it was. How hypnotically erotic it was, just like the books and 1994 movie was.

And I straight up recognized how the show was doing actual color-conscious casting when it came to Louis and Claudia's characters . . . that there had been actual thought put into how their race would factor in and enhance the story and arcs of their characters.

And I just knew, in my gut, by the time episode 4 was over that I was going to see The Devil's Minion finally be adapted on screen at some point, something I never thought would ever happen.

I had known about the Prince Lestat trilogy before the show started, but the show actually made me buy the books to read them, something I didn't think I would do since I had left the book series and fandom behind so long ago by the time they were being written and published.

But yes, one thing this show challenges you to do is think. You can't just watch it passively and understand what is going on. Not many shows do that these days. Nor are there going to be things that will be easy to digest, especially as we head into the very deep gothic horror elements of the story.

These characters are all monsters, yes. That is one of the hearts of things in the book, and the show isn't shying away from that. Which, given vampire stories of late, is a bold thing to do and challenge your audience -- who haven't read the books and don't know/understand that fully yet -- with.

So yeah, it's been a long time since I was in fandom, but it wasn't overly huge, even back in the day when fanfic was still being allowed before the crackdown happened. But I'd say it was pretty decently sized. But between many people just not liking what and where the book series was headed along with the fanfic crackdowns (with lawyers being involved and such) I feel like many in the fandom just did like I did back then, which is just leave. Or just stopped actively being deeply involved in things.

And given that, for a very long time, the last book in the series was Blood Canticle, that also might have contributed to the shrinking of the fandom as well.

But yeah, real talk, there were no ship wars like you see in the fandom now, even back in the 90s and early 2000s when I was in it and was still mostly book fandom, with only one movie. People had their favorite pairings, of course, but people were much more low-key about it all and such, even without having a true endgame set in stone about all the ships back then. Hell, I still remember all the primary ship abbreviations people used to use back then for all the most popular ships: LnL = Lestat/Louis, ALes = Armand/Lestat, ALou = Armand/Louis, and of course DM = Devil's Minion = Armand/Daniel.

But, in the end, book fandom just kind of got that once you became a vampire in Rice's world you a.) didn't have human-type sex anymore, because blood drinking became the expression of that b.) you became inherently bisexual/pansexual and c.) you became inherently polyamorous. So there was kinda no point in really fighting about that stuff.

I was watching a YT video breaking down the trailer and the person mentioned that before the show, the online fandom was quite small. Is that true? And if so, what has it been like seeing it explode? The first fandom I ever got into was for a little Australian period detective show and it was so nice. It was very small and there was literally zero drama. I would imagine it would be annoying as hell to be in a nice little “coven” (if you will) enjoying all the many and varied canonical relationships within the series only for the show to open it up to people with zero media literacy screaming their fav ship is the only one true ship and this vampire character is a bad person while this other vampire is baby boi.

Well, to be frank, I wasn't "in" the VC fandom before the show, though I heard that while enduring it wasn't too big.

I had been, kinda, once upon a time. I had been around before Anne's wrath came down. (She literally had fanfictions removed, sites closed down, threatened to sue, etc etc). That was... back then. I used to be in forums, and mailing list before that. I still have fanfiction of 20 years back printed out.

Her coming down hard on the fandom threw me back, so to speak, and also reading the end of "Memnoch the Devil", which, at the time was meant to be the end to it all... broke my heart.

I stepped back from it then, for a while. You know, real life, playing WoW, studying, starting to work^^. Had a daughter :)

The love for it stayed though, I kept all my stuff.

When I heard about the show I wasn't overly impressed by the head shots (lol, I stand corrected, but I mean given Rolin's comments in the podcast at least I'm in good company^^), nor the shifts in the story that were published - because who could anticipated it being THIS?! :))))

And so I tuned in for Jacob Anderson, who I'd loved in GoT. And I was actually sold after the SDCC 2022 trailer. That trailer... hit it.

I cannot describe it.

And yes, from what I saw the fandom then exploded.

The changes to the narrative in the show however split what had already been there and what was coming in up a bit, let's put it that way. For ME this is an ingenious adaptation. They "get" it, imho. They focus on the important bits, and they dare. Just... brilliant.

For some the changes were reason to withdraw though.

It is a bit... annoying to see all the "ship wars" in this content, yes. But I get it, I've spoken about it the other day. I don't think "we" (as in most of the audience) are used to a show like this.

We are not used (anymore) to be challenged as much while watching, we are not used to a show daring to put its fingers into wounds like that. We are not used to a show going full mess wrt relationships.

We are not used to a show that dares, and does so on a level I have seldom seen.

I call this show the "show of the decade" and I stand by that. In quality and approach it is and will be.

But yeah... moralizing these characters... will fail *laughs*

They're all terrible. Killers, murderers.

I currently see none of the drama (if there is any?!), my timeline is utterly peaceful, and I do want it to stay that way. I've had my say on that. That subset can keep it.

I'm here for the brilliant mess that will be the upcoming seasons :)))

[i-want-my-iwtv]

Lestat, why didn't you simply lie about your time before you met Louis? Marius told you not to expose the secrets but he didn't stop you from telling "stories". And you have told plenty.

Hello! Sorry for the delay on this. I used to really love taking asks for Lestat (and I still do!) and I tried, but I can't summon him to answer this topic with a palatable attitude, so you're stuck with me 😅

(FYI this response is for my VC opinions outside of the AMC show, I'm referring to the canon characters or '94 movie)

[^X my edit, not a screencap!]

@codenamecesare's fic the Secret History is one of my absolute faves, in which Lestat told several different stories about where he came from, so Louis in disgust wrote it all off as lies and didn't bother repeating any of it in IWTV! So I highly recommend you check that fic out 💖

Ultimately, I think Lestat loved them too much to lie to them, even for fun, as a "story." In TVL, Lestat says to Armand, "I never lie, at least not to those I don't love." He says it after telling Armand that Les Innocents is going to be destroyed, which I assume was the truth as he knew it. So Lestat claims he doesn't lie to ppl he doesn't love. And I think we can assume he didn't love Armand at that time!

Anyway... I think Lestat knows that telling even a small lie leads to chains of lies, and it would be hard to keep track of the "facts" of these stories... and Lestat might've felt like even in lying, he might accidentally let something slip he didn't want them to know. Even informing them that a vampire's hands can be cut off and reattached later is technically a "truth" that could endanger them by reference to Nicki, even if it didn't name the specific vampire. Another vampire sneaking around could pick it from their minds and use it against them somehow. Or maybe Claudia might try to try it for fun? The possibilities for harm are endless!

(Hit the jump for more, cut for length.)

Plus, the stories could have motivated Louis and Claudia to leave Lestat just as much as the truth might have. Nicki knew most of the truth, Gabrielle knew all of it, and both of them left Lestat 😭

Keeping in mind that even tho Lestat was being a controlling POS*…. he was also right that Louis and Claudia would be obvious targets to any other vampires. (Of course part of what made them such juicy targets was their ignorance, Lestat, but never mind.) So, given that it was a real danger (especially to Claudia) he really might've been unwilling to risk that they'd glean anything from whatever he said, even lies, and just kept completely mum.

*I think part of why Lestat was so controlling towards Louis and Claudia is somewhat in the direction of how we control children for their protection, you'll grab an arm at bruising pressure if it stops them from waving open scissors in another person's face... it can be hard to calibrate the amount of control force to avoid the potential danger, and especially for Lestat, who had suffered so much loss before Louis and Claudia, couldn't bear to lose them, too, so he may have erred on the side of overdoing it 😭