#armands fear is SO palpable

[armandposting]

need a fic post qotd but pre devils minion breakup where poor armand just gets to take a nap after all the Akasha shit and maybe get held a little

[ravennawritesfanfiction]

Imagine Being a Loyal Patron of the Theatre des Vampires and Catching Armand's Attention

Pairing: Armand x Reader

Word Count: 1933

Summary: You visit Theatre des Vampires and you notice things are exactly what they seem. You catch Armand's attention.

For months you had watched Santiago come out on stage and tell everyone what they were about to see was real and that he loved them for it. Every night, audience after audience was splattered with red syrup. Every night ending with a murder, a couple of hundred witnesses none the wiser. Assured by the same man that had previously stated that it was real, now telling them it was fake. Patrons convinced that the victims were part of the cast. Willful denial. 

You had been one of them once. However, you quickly realized you couldn’t fake that kind of terror. The fear that was palpable in the air. The look of impending death. In the end, Santiago had them greeting death like an old friend. It was not natural and you were hooked. 

You started watching the cast more intently. Their eyes were unnatural. The way that Santiago spoke to the victims, still he wasn’t the most interesting theater cast member. Each night he would “fly” up to the catwalk, the man up there never failed to meet your gaze. At first it seemed coincidental, like he was looking in your general direction making it appear as though he was looking at you. Then it didn’t matter where in the audience you were, he found you. You stopped watching the shows. Your eyes searching him out in the darkness. His calling to you. 

You attended every performance for two years. You had learned a few members' names. You had met Sam in the ticket booth; he sold the tickets to the shows he wrote. He always had your stubs waiting for you, the spot expertly tailored to your mood of the day. Each offering a new view of the shows you had memorized. It didn’t matter where you were sitting, you were still in view of him. It was as if Sam could read your mind. 

You had met all of the cast over the years. They were all particularly nice to you. It was hard to tell if it was the frequency of your patronage or if there was something more sinister at foot. After all, you knew they were actively killing people every night. Did they know that you had figured it out? That Theatre des Vampires wasn’t just clever or avant garde? 

Tonight was different. Sam wasn’t alone in the ticket booth. He didn’t have your ticket waiting for you. And as you approached, you were met with four unnaturally alluring eyes. The man for the catwalk.

“Would you accompany me tonight?” no introduction. Just an inquiring look that felt like a challenge. “We mean you no harm.” he softened his approach, likely noting that you shifted your weight towards the door. 

“On the Catwalk?” you were confused. Perhaps there would be a terrible accident resulting in you falling to your death. The only one that could tie the theater to the string of missing persons plaguing Paris.

“Yes, on the catwalk. No, you will not fall to your demise.” He smiled both breathtakingly stunning and terrifying. They knew. You had to realize how monumentally bad this was for you. 

“You never have anyone up there with you, save Santiago occasionally. So, why me?” you weren’t digging your heels in exactly, but you weren’t entirely ready to follow a vampire into the dark without knowing so much as his name. 

“We have been doing this for a hundred years. And no one had figured it out. If they did, they never came back, let alone returning every night.” He looked at you as if you belonged under a microscope, fit for study.

“So am I more of a curiosity or a threat to you?” your posture was as far from at ease as one could get. 

“Neither, Ma Cheri. You are more special than you know,” his eyes looked earnest.”Now, will you join me tonight? Otherwise we have a regular ticket for you.” you wanted nothing more than to say yes. It was an uncontrollable impulse. 

He led you into the theater, through the crowds of patrons and vampires. Celeste eyed you suspiciously. Santiago looked like a cat that was about to eat the canary. You were both mystified and terrified. As you approached the stairs to the catwalk, the actors were now far scarier than you had ever thought them to be. 

“Enjoy the show.” Santiago purred into your ear as you passed him, the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. He who had not yet been named led you up the stairs to the area you would be spectating from.

He stood there in silent appraisal, looking out over a sea of fresh spectators. You sat there appraising him. Even in his outward youth, you could see all of his countless years. You had so many questions but made no move to voice them. He volunteered nothing. 

The show began as it always had. Santiago addressed the audience and started his monologue that wound up with him flying up to the catwalk. This time, when the spotlight shifted, you were in it as well, and you saw something that both blew your mind and completely disarmed you. Santiago was not truly harnessed in. It was clipped to a random loop that looked like it could have been a harness, but in the end you realised that Santiago really was flying about the theater. Your dawning realisation was met with a wink before dropping back down to the stage. Your head was spinning. 

The rest of the play passed in a monotonous blur. You memorized the lines, knew all the queues. The only difference was now you could watch the mystery man up close. He was unmoving. He has a script with him, though he didn’t reference it much. The director?

The night’s victim was brought out and from here you could see the glimmering fangs. The screams echoed up here. The blood that made it onto the stage was visible where you had never seen it before. The body was dropped through a trapdoor and you could see down below the stage. You felt your legs give out. The ringing in your ears overpowered Sanitago’s closing remarks. You never felt the ground. Rather, two strong arms wrapped around you breaking your descent. 

“I told you you wouldn’t fall.” he offered you a soft smile as you fought back the tears of your own panic. You wanted to pull away, You wanted to puke. Too many feelings fighting to be the first released. “I’ll let you go if you promise to stay calm.” You looked at the theater, still full of patrons, and nodded.

“I need air.” you were gasping and your vision was fading to black around the edges. Like a brain shortcircuiting. You were gasping, panicking and grasping at anything to try and stay grounded. As it happened, the only thing for you to cling to had been him. 

“Let’s get you outside.” He helped you down the stairs, all but carrying you. You passed the theater vampires who appeared amused by your reaction to tonight’s show.

“I don’t understand.” you stated once the cool air of the night pricked your skin, reviving you into the nightmare your brain attempted to escape.

“Of course not. You were just faced with the impossible. All of the things you were taught are fiction just became fact.” he shifted away to give you space and was intrigued to see you moved with him, having to be near. 

“Why show me at all?” you looked at him as though this answer would solve all of life’s greatest mysteries. 

“Because you saw and accepted what no one else would. You saw a coven of vampires , pretending to be human, pretending to be vampires and called bullshit. But you kept coming back anyway.” He was the supernatural being, but looked at you as though your existence was the impossible one. “No it’s my turn, why?”

“Ummm,” did you lie and risk him calling you on it or answer honestly?

“Honestly.” he laughed as you jumped. It wasn’t the first time he had done this, but this time it was unnerving. 

“Two reasons I guess. First, I was curious about the impossibility of it all. And then there was you.” you glanced his way to gauge his reaction, but you found none. 

“Me?” It was a mock surprise. “You risked being right and possibly dying for it because of me?” the more he pondered the admission, the more confused he became. Surely he had known what your answer would be, but knowing and understanding did not equate the same thing.

“Yes, I guess so. Though the possibility of death didn’t occur to me until tonight.” he stood there looking at you slack jawed.

“Maybe you are a bit of a curiosity.” he joked, you relaxed.

“Two impossibilities?” You looked at him and made eye contact for the first time. He was saddened that this may not have happened. If only you could have known that Santiago had been the first to realise you knew. It had taken Him and Sam both to stop Santiago from following you home that night and draining you. 

“My name is Armand.” he offered, still searching your eyes for a flicker of home. “I have a question, if you’d permit me.” he looked so young, your heart felt like goo in your chest. You nodded for him to continue. “Would you ever consider joining me?” he looked slightly to your side, breaking eye contact.

“For a show or joining you more definitely?” Big difference.

“As my companion. You’ve called to me every night just as I have called to you.” he returned to your gaze.

“What does it mean to be a vampire’s companion?” even the world felt supernatural.

“The closest thing humans have is a spouse. Though a companion is far more than that. The life of a vampire is a lonely one. A companion is a shelter from that loneliness. A comfort in the dark painful existence.” for the hundredth time tonight you asked yourself why you. You hardly felt qualified for the task, though you understood the loneliness Armand described. 

“I do not wish to rob you of your mortality. I only long for your companionship for as long as you'll grant me.” It wasn't as if you had anything to lose. You had your flat and your own suffocating loneliness. 

“I accept. I will join you as your companion along with everything that comes with it.” maybe you were signing your own death warrant, but you quickly realized that you  didn’t care. “How does this work?” Armand closed the miniscule distance between you until your noses were touching. 

“However, you are comfortable.” he smiled as he stroked your hair. “But first, there is one thing you have to see.” He stepped back from you far enough for you to see his whole face. Out of nowhere, two sharp fangs appeared. 

Your response was unexpected. You pulled him in for a kiss, fangs bared and all. And he let you. 

“I agreed to be a vampire’s companion and you thought that your fangs were going to be the deal breaker?” you giggled and he just shook his head at you. Taken by the complex little creature you were. “I do have one question.”

“Anything.” he looked at you like you were the entire galaxy.

“Your place or mine?” you found yourself in a strange apartment before the syllable died on your lips. “Yours I guess.” You answered your own question.

[virginiaisforvampires]

Initial thoughts for 2x06 (Episode 13) — SPOILERS INCLUDED!

We’re in the thick of it now! 💔😭

The nod from Raglan about switching bodies with Daniel! *cue the Leo pointing meme* But I think there’s more going on there than meets the eye.

Daniel and Rashid lying to Armand about Raglan and the bathroom? The Talamasca wants Daniel to ask a specific set of questions? No postage on the tapes? Very interesting and especially combined with Jacob’s episode insider comment about Louis and Daniel being “kept things” for Armand over the years.

The Talamasca will be the ones to publish the interview? Again, very interesting.

“You fear Armand. You should fear the other one.”

Madeleine and Claudia. No words. Such a beautiful relationship. Madeleine is already an incredible character and so elevated from her book counterpart. As Jacob said in the episode insider, those two deserve to be free more than anyone. 😭

Louis’ exasperation when Claudia brought Madeleine home and the way he was instantly defensive when Claudia insulted Lestat’s blood. *ahem*

Louis’ comment to Claudia about “I had you covered” and then later telling Claudia the “without the burden of her” comment was a manipulation to get Armand to do what he wanted. Remember the theories about Louis initially starting the relationship with Armand to buy Claudia’s safety? 🤔

Soooooo no Loumand sex scenes at all? That lack of intimacy is loud af. 🙃

Finally the clock passage Rolin was obsessed with getting into the show! Also Santiago’s initial dialogue from Arman—, I mean, *coughs* “Sam’s” script? Dialogue spoken between Louis and Lestat directly from the book.

CLAUDIA DE LIONCOURT!

Hard and cold Louis comes out when he let DreamStat go. Remember this?

The scene between Armand and Madeleine. Stunning. I can see now why Assad loved that moment so much. They both spoke volumes with body language alone. Just incredible.

I love Daniel. I really do. His facial expressions are amazing and him clocking that Louis being “Maître” had always been a farce? Hoooo boy.

Ooof! They were not kidding when they said Dubai is spicy. The bitterness between Louis and Armand is palpable.

Madeleine’s turning? FINALLY the show is delving into the intimacy of the blood and how the heart/mind/soul transfer into the maker from the fledgling and how the bond is 1000x more strong if the fledgling is made in love. Louis says he made Madeleine in obligation and feels nothing. Their bond is nothing like Lestat’s bond with Louis or Claudia as they were both made in love. Beautifully done scene! It also wasn’t lost on me that Louis said nothing when Armand mentioned makers and fledglings come to hate each other and mentioned that Lestat made Louis. Interesting when you remember Armand’s curse upon Lestat and Louis’ irritation when Claudia scoffed at Lestat’s blood.

Madeleine later remarking she can’t read Louis’ mind, but saying she can feel him. She notes she could feel that Louis loves Claudia. Then she notes that Louis doesn’t want seemingly Armand to know that he loves him. Meanwhile Louis has already made his “love” to Armand known by verbally telling him. It’s become a running theme in that Louis is inwardly confronting the fact he never allowed himself to accept his love for Lestat and also the guilt in that he never told Lestat he loved him. The last person he genuinely said those words to was Paul. The conversation at that point was about makers and fledglings, and Louis repeated Lestat’s words from 1x02 about the architect of their creation humbling them when they sealed off maker-fledgling minds. Louis was thinking of Lestat in that moment, and that is what Madeleine was feeling. She was feeling Lestat through Louis. Not Armand, which goes back to Claudia not wanting Madeleine to have Lestat’s blood and Louis instantly being pissed and defensive at the insult to Lestat.

It’s amazing how so much of this is orbiting around Lestat! Lestat! Lestat! Lestat!

And with this revelation and now knowing that Louis and Lestat could feel each other and Lestat could feel Claudia….it puts many events from S1 into a totally different light. (It also means Lestat will feel Claudia’s death and Louis and Lestat will feel each other during the trial).💔

I don’t buy anything Armand is selling in Paris or Dubai. Bet on it. The coven and Santiago seeking out Lestat? Mmhmm. We’ll see. 😬

“….and the Vampire Lestat de Lioncourt!” Chills. Here we go with big bad villain Lestat seeking revenge. 😭

The trial is going to be brutal. BRUTAL. I am dreading it, but here we go! It’s all been building to this!

[monstersinthecosmos]

Vamptember Day 15 - Ghosts

{puscifer - bullet train to iowa}

tapestries & tile - part iii

And Marius knows how Daniel gets.

The way the blood is still too wild in him, how he hasn’t figured out where to put all of it.

Marius remembers it well, when he was a fledgling. It never really stopped for the first couple centuries, but Pandora had been there to tame him. He could submit to her in a way he hadn’t submitted to anyone as a human, and even with the blurred edges around sexuality he found release there.

So he knows the hazy look in Daniel’s eyes, that soft pleading. 

They pull away, just enough to see each other better. Marius’s hand anchors on Daniel’s left pec, so that he can cradle the frantic heartbeat.

“You remind me of him,” Marius says gently. “In the most surprising ways. Sometimes I think you’re nothing like him at all, and other times…”

Daniel’s bottom lip quivers, and he leans in for a kiss, but Marius holds him back. Where he might be frustrated, it seems that the show of force only arouses him further.

“How? What do you mean?”

“Oh, exactly this,” he says. He hand gropes at Daniel’s chest to emphasize how his heart skips. “He was a naive young boy in love with a monster.”

How strange, Marius thinks, as the realization dawns on Daniel’s face, that these two wanted it. 

“It would thrill you, wouldn’t it, to feel so helpless again?”

Daniel’s face flushes, and the pinch of thirst is so palpable that Marius feels it shock between them. 

“Isn’t that why you felt so neglected in the end? Was he too gentle with you?”

Something like hurt flickers across, gone just as quickly as it arrived. Ugly truth that he doesn’t like to admit to. It’s safe now, though, as if mixed into a game. 

A collage of memories passes through his mind as he settles—Armand, holding him down. Biting him on the throat, holding him too hard by the hair. And awful fights, where Daniel was convinced Armand might hit him. Armand, subjecting him to the strangest humiliations—medical procedures, nipple piercings, stuffing him with food until he was sick. But all of that chaos had felt passionate at the time. He’d missed it later, when he was too sick to participate.

He thinks of Marius, too, though. The equal parts of fear and intrigue when they’d first met. The eerie way he can stare. That he can feel Marius’s age permeate every room they’re in.

And Marius’s teeth, his effortless strength. Times he’s come home so glutted on his blood that his cheeks are red and his skin is hot, and the times he barely disguises the blood under his nails and the aura of shame. 

A monster.

Seeing so much in Daniel’s thoughts invokes that same shame. Just a little—enough to twist in his stomach. But the hunger in his eyes quells it all the same. Heady reminder that it isn’t repulsive.

Marius slides his hand up Daniel’s chest, feeling his breast bone, his clavicle. Tracing the bulge of his Adam’s apple. 

How easily he could sink his fingers into the still-young flesh. Still fledgling soft. And how easily he could wrap his fingers around the rubbery larynx, the trachea, the esophagus. Injury like that might even kill a vampire. 

“I could tear your throat out,” he whispers, and such revealing shaky desire flickers on Daniel’s face. The hard edges of his nails scrape gently across the skin—still as freshly shaved as the night he died—and without the need for prompting, they both think of Armand, so tenderly dragging the razor across him.

“Marius—”

“No,” he scolds quietly. But there’s a quiet blank space between them, unsure what word to use. Not Master, no, that’s laid to rest. And neither are sure that Daniel is ready for something like Daddy, even as it almost blooms on his lips. Something to work towards, perhaps, when Armand’s ghost is less present. 

Daniel swallows, his eyes glazing for a moment like they used to when he wasn’t present.

“Sir,” he amends.

He strokes his fingertips along the line of Daniel’s jaw. Traces Daniel’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Daniel’s mouth opens, without being asked, and Marius presses inside.

Just warm enough from Little Drinks. Marius considers scolding him for going hungry, and wonders how Daniel might take to killing, if he’s ready for it. Doesn’t have to be the messy way that Marius kills these days. Marius could find someone for him. Some perfect victim to fill him up.

Not now, though. Tomorrow, he thinks. He imagines the way the blood will color Daniel’s face. How hot his mouth will be after, still tasting of all that violence.

Pleasure shivers through his ribs at the thought.

“Knees,” he says, heart racing at the easy way he slips back into the role. His insides flush at the sight of Daniel’s lidded eyes, at the faint gleam painting across his bottom lip. He looks drunk as he sinks down to the floor, fists balled at his sides as he obediently gazes upwards, waiting for more.

Something monstrous about it, Marius thinks. Not in Daniel—in himself. Strange urge that he’s kept locked away, too ashamed of it after everything.

But the dreamy look on Daniel’s face. The way he hangs there, floating the way Amadeo used to. The way he’s craved this. 

You’re just like him, Marius thinks. Naive boy in love with a monster.

“Open,” Marius commands. And he’s biting his tongue, letting it bleed for a moment, tasting himself as he squeezes around Daniel’s jaw. 

He squeezes too hard, and he knows it. Sees the pain flash across Daniel’s face, but feels the hunger all the same. Hears the way Daniel’s heart skips, sees the way his pupils blow wide.

You like this. He presses his wounded tongue to the roof of his mouth, and wraps his next thought up tight. And so do I.

City noises rise around them, and the breeze off the ocean is cool at his back. The bass of a car stereo rattles the windows, and a girl scream-laughs from the street below.

New century and there are still things to learn. 

Daniel’s tongue shines glossy as he obeys, as he waits, and the light pollution that hovers around them shines pink in his eyes as Marius spits into his mouth.

[xasha777]

In the year 3024, the galaxy was a vast expanse of interstellar kingdoms and ancient dynasties, ruled by powerful warlords and enigmatic emperors. Among them was Charles IV of France, a figure whose legacy had transcended time and space. Once a king of a small terrestrial nation, he had now become the ruler of an intergalactic empire, feared and respected across the cosmos.

Charles IV, known for his strategic brilliance and unparalleled combat skills, stood in the grand hall of his flagship, the Fleur de Lys. His blonde hair flowed beneath his obsidian-black armor, each piece intricately designed and bearing the scars of countless battles. In his gloved hand, he wielded the legendary Crimson Blade, a weapon forged from the heart of a dying star, glowing with an intense, fiery red light.

The galaxy was at war. The Alliance of Free Planets, a coalition of rebel factions, sought to overthrow the ancient dynasties and establish a new order. Charles, with his vast fleet and loyal armies, had been the bulwark against their advances, maintaining the balance of power and protecting the legacy of the old empire.

As he gazed at the holographic map displaying the current state of the galaxy, his piercing blue eyes narrowed. Reports indicated that the Alliance had discovered a relic of immense power, hidden on a distant, uncharted planet. This relic, known as the Chronos Crystal, was said to have the ability to manipulate time itself—a weapon that could turn the tide of war.

"Commander Armand," Charles called, his voice resonating with authority.

A tall, armored figure stepped forward, bowing his head. "Yes, Sire?"

"Prepare the fleet. We depart for the coordinates immediately. The Chronos Crystal must not fall into the hands of the Alliance."

"As you command, Sire," Armand replied, turning to relay the orders.

The Fleur de Lys surged forward through the fabric of space, accompanied by a fleet of formidable warships. They traversed wormholes and navigated asteroid fields, driven by the urgency of their mission. Charles stood at the helm, his mind focused on the task ahead. He knew the journey would be perilous, but failure was not an option.

Upon reaching the remote planet, the fleet encountered heavy resistance. The Alliance had anticipated their arrival and fortified their positions. The ensuing battle was fierce, with laser cannons and energy shields lighting up the dark void of space. Charles led the charge, his Crimson Blade slicing through enemy defenses with precision and power.

On the planet's surface, the final confrontation took place in the ruins of an ancient temple. The Alliance's leader, a cunning strategist named Elara, awaited him. She was a formidable opponent, her dark robes contrasting with her sharp, calculating eyes.

"So, the great Charles IV comes to claim the Chronos Crystal," Elara taunted, her voice echoing through the temple.

Charles stepped forward, his blade casting a crimson glow on the ancient stone walls. "Surrender the crystal, Elara. You cannot hope to control its power."

Elara smirked, drawing her own weapon—a sleek, silver blade humming with energy. "We'll see about that."

The duel was a dance of deadly precision, their blades clashing with sparks of energy. Each strike was met with a counter, each movement calculated and deliberate. Charles's strength and skill were unmatched, but Elara's agility and cunning kept her in the fight.

As the battle reached its climax, Charles disarmed Elara, his Crimson Blade poised at her throat. "It's over," he declared.

Elara's eyes burned with defiance. "You may have won this battle, Charles, but the war is far from over."

With a swift motion, Charles incapacitated her and retrieved the Chronos Crystal. The power contained within the artifact was palpable, a shimmering blue energy that seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of the universe.

Returning to his flagship, Charles knew that the crystal's power could change the course of history. He would use it wisely, to protect his empire and ensure the survival of his people. But he also understood the weight of such power and the responsibility it carried.

As the fleet set course for home, Charles IV of France stood at the helm, his gaze fixed on the stars. The legacy of his ancestors was secure, and with the Chronos Crystal, the future was his to shape. The galaxy would remember the name Charles IV, not just as a king, but as a guardian of time and a symbol of enduring strength.

[oficariian]

He was toying with fire here, Armand was well aware, dropping the phrase Louis had reassured Daniel with that night in San Fransisco into the conversation, casually, as if in passing. He was toying with fire and, oh, how it excited him. The prospect of únearthing long forgotten memories, of seeing those echantingly alive eyes blink once, twice, until it was undeniable that they recognized the sight of his face. What would Daniel do, then, Armand wondered. Recoil in disgust and fear, trip over his own feet as he scrambled away from the table and ran for his life ? Would Armand follow, starting their chase anew ? Or would Daniel leap across the table once the fog had cleared from his mind, pulling Armand in by the collar of his shirt ? To slap him, perhaps. To draw him into a kiss, too, no doubt. And, oh, how Armand longed to hear the other call him an 'immortal idiot' once more, how he longed to once again forgive him every indiscretion, and gladly so ! Indiscretion he would've ended others for, without a second thought. And gladly so.

It was a dangerous game he was playing, toying a thin line leading to mutually assured destruction. A part of him knew, or was convinced at least, that if Daniel remembered he would just up and leave, and that would be the end of it. After all, no one had ever stayed, not for Armand's sake. Some seperated from him by force, some choosing to put as much distance between them as possible the second Armand, inevitably, drove everything around him to ruin. Then there was the Louis of it all, staying with him out of sheer spite, and Armand cleared his throat, took a barely noticeable steadying breath. Reasoning with himself that 77 years with Louis had been more than he could have ever asked for, more than he had ever expected. When it came to love, devotion, connection, he was, at his core, still Arun. Still Amadeo trailing behind Marius like a love-sick fool, eager and happy to take every crumb of affection offered to him. And if Daniel remembered, how much would he remember ? As young as he was, at what point of the story had a black hole opened up underneath him and transported him here ? Of their story. For an instant, Armand felt nauseaous.

Feeling the sudden need to exercise caution, Armand but mirrored his weak smile and made a mental note not to provoke Daniel's memories any further. "Yes, colour, background. That was the idea." In his mind, Armand could already picture leading Daniel to his director's booth, best seat in the house, the palm of his head gently resting on the small of Daniel's back as he guides him, fingers brushing as if on accident. He could picture Daniel, enraptured in the play, while Armand was enraptured in his mind, making note of every detail Daniel noticed, no matter how minute. The way his mind worked had always fascinated him. His fascinating boy. Armand's eyes darkened slightly.

Daniel's desire for a cigarette to ease some of the palpable tension between them brought Armand's attention back to his own cigarette, perched neatly on the crystal ashtray, long forgotten. The smoke traced a ladder between the two of them, high into the sky, and Armand followed it for a moment, then pulled out an old-fashioned case, offering it to Daniel. "Do you smoke? I know it isn't exactly the fashion anymore, but you strike me as someone .... timeless." He was holding it out across the table, leaning forward, staring into the beauty that was Daniel's eyes and it struck him then, how easy it would be for him to break the spell. Stop the charade. How easy, to cross the distance entirely, press his fingers to Daniel's temple and watch the mess unfold as years poured back into his head. Watch resentment unfold on his features, watch him slip away into the night. Penance. Awfully eager to ruin this for himself, wasn't he? Or eager to start the chase anew? Eager for Daniel to see his true self, the gremling, the evil that lurked behind his angelic face ? Eager to drop the pretense that he had a drop of humanity left within him.

His eyes flicked down to where Daniel's carotid pulsed beneath his skin when a drop suddenly landed his lash, obscuring his vision. And in the matter of seconds, the spell was broken. Other patrons scrambled to pour inside the café, waiters rushed to collect cups and glasses, only Daniel and Armand stayed for a moment longer than appropriate, in the pouring rain, staring each other down. Armand wanted to freeze the scene but without keeping the rain from falling. Freeze the moment and stay in it forever in the constant downpour. The downpour which obscured the view of Armand's face and for a second he allowed himself the luxury of letthim his bottom lip give the slightest of trembles, letting this gaze lose a slither of the intensity with which he regarded Daniel.

Thunder roared and, faster than he probably should have, Armand got up, pocketing his belongings and holding his jacket above Daniel to shield him from the rain. "Shall we seek shelter?"

Okay, yeah, that was weird. Daniel stared at Armand as he explained that he hadn't used his surname in lifetimes, that he probably couldn't remember it. His languid wave, his casual shrug, that had to bullshit, right? He'd hit a nerve. He could see it, exposed and pulsating. It had been a half-joking question, but yeah, he'd stumbled on something here. That was just too freaking weird, man. He looked down at his notes, scrawled and sloping on the page. He wrote, Lifetimes??? and then No surname?! and underlined both. He looked up at Armand again, and saw that he wasn't looking at him.

He was staring behind him, into the middle distance, his gaze unfocused. Just like that, all the hypnotic and surreal poise was gone from the guy. What was he thinking about? Daniel took the opportunity to look at him, to really look. He spoke like a character out of a freaking classic novel, like he'd walked out of the seventeenth century or something, but he was young. Younger than Daniel had first thought. What? Twenty-five? Not much older than him. But who spoke like that? Like, seriously, he was using ten words where two would do. And what was that accent? That musical, flowing, undercurrent? Hints of French in the pronunciations of certain consonants, but others were more sharp, more like Estuary English, and underneath it all, a cadence of a Middle Eastern language, but he didn't know which. Daniel had never heard anything like it before.

When Daniel spoke again, Armand hummed, and leaned back against the chair, and Daniel felt his theories about accents and surnames slip away. He said that phrase again, the one he'd said twice already. A bright young reporter with a point of view. Man, he'd heard that before today, hadn't he? He felt like he had, like it was a jingle in an advert or a slogan or something. He recognised it, but as he stared at Armand, he had no freaking idea where from. Without looking down at his notepad, he scribbled it down. A bright young report with a point of view. He could come back to it later.

He wanted to keep control of the interview, to steer it towards Armand's past, to follow up on the young man who'd got Armand started in the theatre, to ask why he'd chuckled like that, as if the question was funny. But none of that happened, because Armand asked the next question. Have you had the chance to attend one of our performances, Daniel? Armand wasn't looking at him when he spoke -- he was making a show of studying his nails, but then, when he said Daniel's name, he looked up. If not, allow me to correct that and invite you to our midnight performance tonight. And Daniel felt the cafe, the whole freaking interview, fade again. Like he'd never been in control of it in the first place. Like it had never even been an interview.

"I... sure, man," he said, the last word slipping out like a nervous tic. "I'm not busy tonight. I can totally make it. It'll be good for the interview. Give it some colour... background..." He trailed off, and thought, pathetically, what interview? He'd asked two questions, three at most, and all he had to show for it was half a page of random notes. He smiled what felt like a weak smile. "I'd love to come and see you -- the play -- tonight. Yeah. Thanks." It was true. He wanted to see more of Armand. He'd felt more present, more naturally high, during this whole psychedelic conversation, than he had since he'd arrived in London.

But, God, he wanted a cigarette. He wanted to get high, to shake off this weird feeling. He felt restless, and he tapped the end of his pen on the notepad, realising too late that he was emulating Armand's drumming on the table without meaning to. Instead, he bounced his leg up and down to try to get the energy out. He should ask a question, to try to salvage this shambling mess of an interview. "So, why d'you put on plays at midnight anyway? I'm guessing it's part of the whole avant-garde, out of the box, stuff you guys do?"

[nosferatu-pvssy]

The more I watch the trailers, the more I'm angry about Daniel treating Louis as a particularly dumb moron who is making him loose time, a little kid who is wasting the time of the adult. Is that an attempt to make him look special? Daniel's original personality and appearance wasn't enough to make him interesting?

Oh, but I get what they're doing. This is the very typical trope of lazy writing in tv series (typically with very low budget): in a tv series where there is only one human surrounded by monsters, to make them look special and worthy of the attention of these immortal entities they make them so intellectually superior that they simply were born with the ability of handling monsters, too brave to tremble and be cautious as they should. These humans like Amc Daniel live in the "I'm not like other girls" syndrome, but in the human version. I'm not like other humans!! Who are pathetic and get scared!! Because they're dumb and plain!! While look how smart I am, a genius. I treat monsters out of this world as dumb fucks who have to keep up with me because I'm superior to them too. I, a random human who nobody will remember, am outsmarting creatures who biologically had a genetic mutation in their brains that makes them 10 times faster and therefore more efficient than mine. Creatures who have a knowledge of the world 1000 times wider than yours.

Oh, sure. All very realistic. I'm totally believing that Amc Daniel (just like all his other copies in horror movies) had such incredible experiences in their lives that now meeting a vampire is absolutely no threat. Someone to treat as if they're a nuisance. And it's absolutely not ridiculous and not pathetic the fact that Louis, a deadly monster, would make himself be treated like that while that man (who compared to him is just a child) plays the part of the Smart One in The Room.

I repeat: Daniel's original characterization wasn't enough, huh? The reverence he had in front of Louis during the interview. Not only for the true and genuine fear such a monster provokes in you, because believe me that can't be ignored by no human, but for the sheer respect a weaker creature has for an immensely stronger one. Daniel psychologically bowed down in front of Louis, Armand, Lestat, all of his new idols. Because that's what they were to him. He thought: I am weak. They are strong. They have knowledge, they teach me. They are above me. Not the contrary, with Daniel speaking to (and maybe even over) a goddamn vampire with that condescending tone, a sassy man who is even playing the part of the one doubting the words of someone who you know very well, since you've already interviewed him in the past. A fucking creature from hell that not only TOOK HIS TIME contacting YOU to have that interview a SECOND time. And you act like a fucking Ceo of some company with some particularly dumb employee that is making him loose time???

Daniel was a awesome character for his BRILLIANCE. For how REAL his reaction felt. Because if you want to have human characters that leave a sign in the audience, you have to make them as real as possible. Because that's what's hard. To put aside our pride and represent us in all of our frailty, our flaws. AND NOT CREATING A FAKE MASK OF ASININE SASSINESS TO FEEL REPRESENTED BY A ✨NOT-LIKE-THE-OTHERS✨GUY WHO BELITTLES THE INTELLIGENCE OF FUCKING VAMPIRES.

The value of Daniel, the real courage that man had, was that he managed to go on with the interview even though his hands were shaking so much in fear that Louis at some point had to help him to change the tape. He smoked a mountain of cigarettes. He was feeling on his SKIN how palpable the monstrosity of Louis was. And in the end, just like the human he is, inevitably fell in their spell. He was special for his courage in a moment of pure terror, for how he's clearly a natural at his job as a journalist since it powered his sense of curiosity. But he stayed a human for the whole time, even in his "scared bravery" and then inevitably fell under their spell. Like all humans would do. All. Even the Talamascans are. Even them, who had extraordinary lives that lead them to interact with ghosts, witches and vampires on the daily are very scared when it comes to meet them and take all the precautions they can before meeting vampire face to face. EVEN THEM. But no, amc Daniel who is mister no one, plays the sassy bitch smarter of the class part. EXCUUUUUSE US IF WE'RE DISTURBING YOU. But weren't you the one who fucked up the first interview because you were so high and drunk that you ruined your first chance to talk to a real paranormal creature?? At this point YOU were the one making Louis lose time back then, uh? And maybe even now, all things considered. Why is Louis so determined in contacting this bufoon??? Louis where is your self-respect...

And then they say that they called a team OF EXPERTS to write their interactions the best they can. Oh, I see the results already. They did such a good job, these experts.

[vampyrebond]

( @ichorlet )

𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥. his limbs feel heavy & floppy, his chest somehow hollow and filled with a cotton-esque substance at the same time. there would be no peace, but the tidings of war quell some as he's taken into louis' loving arms. armand stares at the tv wall behind him, watching daniel. all he seems to do is keep watch, vigilant & stricken with a faint fear that their end was coming.

“ 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬 - ” long, pale fingers grasp at him, tangling into the fabric at louis' ribs. his panic rises up again, like a cold, cruel bite and for a moment armand almost pulls away from the kiss. in his heart the matter is no closer to being settled than it is to starting, yet the fright gripped him and he tries to eat it, swallow it back down, but it's fighting it's way up his throat something terrible.

he breaks the kiss, panting, bottom lip quivering. armand rests his temple to the man's chest. in an attempt to have louis hold him tighter, armand grips him harder around the middle, shrinking into his neck.

“ 𝐈'𝐌 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃. ” i've done reprehensible things.

“ he hates me. you should be prepared for that. ”

the tension is palpable, despite the inevitability of the actions they have delayed for so long. louis never saw this ending a different way. the love story created here was meant to last as long as they could. . . and they could only last as long as the world might allow them ( which isn't long enough ).

louis wonders for a moment if these same things happened to lovers stuck in the fall of the roman empire. as the bricks came crumbling down, walls smashing both physically and metaphorically, did lovers embrace and admit the truths they kept hidden in plain sight? armand says he's frightened and that is a truth he'd say to no one else. which may be the reason louis can look down at him as he kisses the top of his head and hold him that much tighter.

" and i love you. " that word used to be so hard for him to formulate. it got stuck in his throat for decades with lestat, never forming on his lips the way it should have. and even with armand, it took him time to understand that this too could be love. their love doesn't come from their souls, but it comes from their understanding that each moment together is more important than the next. it's simple in it's complexity. it's sad to see it end.

" i always will. "

[platoapproved]

#I don't know how anne does it but even tho we're seeing him from Daniel's pov while they're going to the concert#and daniel is off his fucking rocker on new vampirism#armands fear is SO palpable#like he just almost lost his lover then turned him for the first time ever#and now any minute akasha could just explode him with her mind and there would be nothing armand could do#and then he'd be alone again!#and even tho daniel is there he's already so alone in that part because Daniel's attention is elsewhere#and he does not understand the gravity of the situation#which is ALL armand is thinking about#and then he might also lose lestat and louis#AND he has to see marius again for the FIRST TIME IN 400 YEARS#someone please give that man a break (tags @armandposting)

need a fic post qotd but pre devils minion breakup where poor armand just gets to take a nap after all the Akasha shit and maybe get held a little

[monstersinthecosmos]

All VC of course.... characters/pairing... well that's up to you ;) 142, 95 and 65

(Prompts from this list! Feel free to send me some!)

OH BOY, RAPH. LOOK WHAT YOU WENT AND DID. 

142: “It’s just your imagination.”

Shaky fingers are clawing at the pale arms, and the whole body is curling in on itself, and there’s sweat and blood, and Armand feels something heavy sinking inside when he realizes it’s familiar.

Blonde hair this time, and the palpable, overpowering smell of human fear filling the room. He takes a step back, away, watching the way the shoulders hunch, the way the vertebrae bulge out like spikes.

“They’re in my skin, Armand,” he’s crying, and scratching, and his pathetic human nails are only raising the most fragile little white lines. Barely breaking the skin.

His throat feels dry and he takes another step back. “It’s just your imagination,” he mumbles.

And he’s cold suddenly, even in the Florida heat. In the air so humid and heavy that it enfolds you. He feels the chill and remembers the way the drafts used to cut through the tower, and how it would hover around stones as if they were ice.

His hands had still been bloody, and his forehead pressed to the heavy wood door. Whimpering beyond it, and the pitiable wet thump as he’d attempted to pound at it without the use of fists.  

“Armand,” gasping and screaming. “Please, please, they’re crawling all over me.”

Eleni’s hand, gentle and loving on his back as he froze there.

It’s just your imagination.

The sun would be up. He’d backed away from the heavy tower door, barred and sealed like a tomb. Left him there where he’d be safe from the dawn.

But this.

Daniel’s chest heaving, bones contorted into rigid, unnatural lines. And Armand had to go now.

“They’re everywhere Armand.”

Yes, everywhere. These broken things.

95: “Give it back!” 

“Give it back!” Daniel sways on his feet and his voice is tangled in his throat, slurring as he makes the demand. Armand is strung between cold worry and the creeping red heat of his impatience turning to anger.

“I didn’t take anything, Daniel,” he holds his hands up in a condescending gesture for calm.

“You took it, I know you took it.” He’s trying to glare but his eyes are filling with tears.

“What, Daniel? What did you lose?”

He pulls his shirt open so that the top buttons pop and clatter on the floor, and Armand sees. He’s rubbed his chest raw, blotches of angry pink skin over the stark lines of his bones.

“The amulet, Armand,” trying to sound angry but it ends in a sob. “Give it to me. You can’t have it back.”

65: “Did you do something different with your hair?”

Daniel is always a little envious when Armand shows up with his hair short. It’s fascinating and magical and intoxicating like everything else about him, but it seems like such a practical trick. Sometimes Armand doesn’t cut it until they’re together, and Daniel will watch from the doorway of the bathroom as the auburn curls float down into the sink. Sometimes Armand lets him do the styling. He was especially excited when Daniel showed him electric clippers, and eagerly allowed Daniel to buzz his hair down to the scalp. They both ran their hands over it and Daniel felt it aching in his chest. His wouldn’t grow back in a day. He couldn’t afford to be so wild.

But he dreams about it. He lies awake as the sun comes up and imagines what it would be like when he’d finally be turned. He pictures the way Armand will smile and comment and praise the changes every night when he sees the handiwork.  “Did you do something different with your hair?” he’ll ask.  “Do that to mine, Daniel. It’s good on you. We should do this every night.”

He reaches up and touches his own hair, and there’s the dull pain as he watches the morning light glow from behind the curtains. Somewhere in the city, Armand is concealed in the dark and his hair is growing back and he’ll be the same vital teenager that he’s always been, and Daniel will just… continue.

As he curls on his side he looks at his hand, next to his face on the pillow. The way the sunlight filters through makes his skin seem unhealthy and yellow.

He should savor this, he should. He still wants to hold onto the hope that Armand will turn him one day, that they can be together. He should cherish daylight while he still can.

But it burns already.