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armandyke · 23 hours ago

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Remember then that it was love: The relationship between Amadeo and Marius in Blood and Gold, and how it conflicts with Armand’s version of events

Now that I’ve read both books I want to look at all the discrepancies between Armand’s original account of his relationship with Marius in The Vampire Armand compared to what Marius tells us in Blood and Gold.

I’m leaving all criticisms of Anne Rice’s possible sloppy writing at the door because we could just go around in circles with that. It’s possible that all of these discrepancies are just results of Anne misremembering what she wrote originally, not hiring editors, etc. but we’re not doing that today. I’m going to be taking everything within these books as intentional and exploring what it says about Marius as a character that he would change/erase/contradict different things.

(Note: there is literally a 10K word essay below)

Blood and Gold isn’t framed as being Marius’ response to The Vampire Armand, at least not in the way that The Vampire Lestat was Lestat’s response to Interview with the Vampire. He’s not being argumentative, or making a point of contradicting Armand, but considering this book follows on from The Vampire Armand in the series, it does feel like this is his attempt at setting the record straight, and putting out his own version of events.

Within the context of the book, Marius is explaining all of these events to Thorne, a new character who has spent hundreds of years asleep and only recently awoken. He is vaguely aware of the events of Queen of the Damned through to Memnoch the Devil, which he picked up on while he was asleep, but beyond that he doesn’t know the rest of the characters. More specifically, he hasn’t read Armand’s book, and I think that context is important to remember as I go through this. Marius is speaking to somebody with no prior knowledge of who Armand is, or of the story he told. Essentially, he has the opportunity to deliver his account of events to a completely unbiased, blank slate. This could also explain why he isn’t argumentative in the way that Lestat was in his first book.

I’m going to try and break this down into sections rather than going through the book chronologically, because otherwise I’m gonna end up repeating the same points over and over. So take my hand and let’s go on a journey into the mind of Marius de Romanus.

(Also, I’ll be referencing page numbers when I include quotes from the books, more for the sake of helping me keep track of the timelines in both books than anything else since I’ll be going backwards and forwards a bit. These numbers are based on the pdf versions that I have which you can download here and here)

Violence

For me the most notable difference between The Vampire Armand and Blood and Gold is the lack of violence in Marius’ account of events. It’s gonna be hard to draw direct comparisons between the two books for this because I’m pointing out an absence of something, so this is mostly going to be me pointing to quotes from Armand’s book and yelling “But Marius never mentioned any of that!!”

I will, however, start by taking a moment to point out these lines, which I read and literally laughed at.

“Now, I am by nature not given to physical combat, but in a rage I pushed him off me with such force that he was thrown across the floor and back against the wall. ‘How dare you?’ I asked fiercely. I struggled to keep my voice low so as not to alarm the mortals in the banquet room. ‘I ought to kill you. What peace of mind it would give me to know you were dead. I could cut you into pieces that no sorcerer could reassemble. Damn you.’ I was trembling with this uncharacteristic and humiliating rage. (Blood and Gold, pg. 134)

I could go into detail about how many times, in this book alone, Marius becomes angry (27), furious (12), or filled with rage (9), but that’s neither here nor there.

From the combined information in The Vampire Armand and Blood and Gold, we still don’t know a huge amount about Marius’ relationship with the other boys in the palazzo. Within his book, he never mentions anything about using any kind of violence with the boys, nor does he ever mention that the teachers he hires for the boys also use corporal punishment. You could argue that this was common practice in those days, so it wouldn’t have even occurred to him to mention, but this is just the first in a long list of cover ups, so it feels relevant to mention. We know for a fact that physical abuse was common within the palazzo, and Marius was not opposed to punishing the boys himself.

“He whipped Riccardo for it. I was full of shame. Riccardo took it like a soldier without cries or comment, standing still at a large fireplace in the library, his back turned to receive the blows on his legs. Afterwards, he knelt and kissed the Master’s ring. I vowed I’d never get drunk again.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 57)

This is the only time we get an explicit description of Marius physically punishing other boys in the palazzo, but I think Riccardo’s ability to take his punishment silently makes it clear that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

Then, of course, there’s the violence towards Amadeo himself. In Blood and Gold Marius only ever describes one instance of him physically hitting Amadeo.

“‘I cautioned you on this, did I not?’ I said furiously. ‘And now you weep like a child?’ In a rage, I slapped him. And in shock he fell back away from me, but his tears flowed all the more.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 361)

Interestingly even in this one account, he mentions Amadeo being shocked by the physical assault, when in Armand’s account of events we get lines like this:

“He approached me and I shrank back, actually afraid. But by the time he struck me, hard across the face, he’d recovered himself, and it was just the usual brain-jarring blow.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 226)

It’s also interesting that this is the one and only time Marius admits to hitting Amadeo, considering the rest of the context of the conversation. This is a moment shortly after Amadeo’s turning, and after being reunited with Bianca for the first time. Amadeo wants to be able to give the blood to Bianca, and Marius is arguing against him.

“‘Master, why can we not make her one of us! Why can we not share the Blood with her?’ I took him roughly by the shoulders. He didn’t fear my hands. He didn’t care.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 361)

It could easily be said that this is an argument where Marius seems, from a completely objective perspective, to be right. Amadeo, still a child and also newly turned, is quickly hurtling towards the idea of turning everybody he loves into a vampire so that he can be with them for eternity. It’s an unrealistic and dangerous idea which Marius then puts a stop to, and by doing so he’s also saving Bianca from being turned. Is that why he’s comfortable admitting to using physical force here? Because it’s a situation where it can be more easily justified? Let’s look at some of the violence Armand details in his book, and which Marius never mentions.

Obviously the most glaring omission in Blood and Gold is the whipping scene. Marius actually uses a whip on Amadeo twice in The Vampire Armand and I’ll get into the second moment in a little bit, but it’s the first scene where we get the most vivid account of the violence he used.

“I felt the nudge of his knee in the small of my back and then down came the switch across my thighs. Of course I wasn’t wearing anything but the thin stockings that fashion decreed, so I might as well have been naked. I cried out in pain and then shut my mouth tight. When the next few blows came, walloping my legs, I swallowed all the noise, furious to hear myself make a careless impossible groan. Again and again, he brought the switch down, whipping my thighs and then my lower legs as well. Enraged, I struggled to get up, pushing vainly on the covers with the heels of my hands. I couldn’t move. I was pinioned by his knee, and he whacked away without the slightest deterrent.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 88)

This is just a small snippet. It’s one of the most drawn out, brutal scenes in the book (five pages total in my pdf). Now let me show you Marius’ summary of events.

“I sent him off to the best brothels to learn the pleasures of women, and the pleasures of boys. He hated me for it, and yet he enjoyed it, and he came home to me eager for the Blood Kiss and nothing else.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 322)

I’m gonna be coming back to this scene again later when I talk about the sexual aspect of their relationship. But for now I’m focusing purely on the physical violence, or, more specifically, the complete lack of it in Marius’ account.

I think it’s important to note at this point, for people who haven’t read the book, that Marius hasn’t been shying away from detailing other acts of violence in here. He gets into physical altercations with Mael, attacks and kills Eudoxia, and kills multiple unnamed vampires. Even when it comes to his relationship with Pandora, he talks a lot more openly about acting aggressively and forcefully with her.

“‘Stop it, Pandora. It isn’t necessary that I give her up. We are not mortals! We can live together.’ I took her by the arms. I shook her. Her hair did come loose and then violently and cruelly I pulled at it, and I buried my face in her hair.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 513/514)

So what’s the difference? Why can he be open about his aggression towards Pandora and the other vampires, but not towards Amadeo. I have a lot of thoughts about this, and I’m gonna go a bit more in depth on the differences specifically between his accounts of his dynamics with Pandora and Bianca compared to Amadeo, but perhaps it comes down to the simple fact that Pandora was a centuries old vampire, and Amadeo was a child. A human child. Perhaps it comes down to the simple fact that Marius knew there was no way to spin this moment without painting himself as a monster.

Moving on to the second time he whips Amadeo, this is when we get one of the more glaring discrepancies. In this case we don’t just have Marius omitting something, we see him actively contradicting Armand’s account of events.

Interesting to note that in this second moment Amadeo is a vampire, though still a child and quite newly turned. This is another scene that’s quite drawn out in The Vampire Armand so I’m gonna break it down by showing the initial assault first, because I think it’s important to emphasise just how violent Marius was in Armand’s version, and then I can explain some of the context of the scene and get into the contradictions.

“I turned away from him. I figured he was being dramatic and that he would go away. The switch came crashing down again and this time there followed a volley of blows. I felt the blows in a way I’d never felt them when mortal. I was stronger, more resistant to them, but for a split second each blow broke through my preternatural guard and caused an exquisite explosion of pain.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 211)

This scene comes shortly after Marius takes Amadeo to Kyiv to see his home and his family again. Pretty understandably (to me at least) Amadeo goes into a bit of a slump after they return to Venice, coming to terms with all of the memories he's finally recovered, as well as the fact that he will never be the person from those memories again. He’s seventeen and coming to terms with the fact that the family he’d forgotten loved him, that they still do love him, and that he’s now had to say goodbye to them forever.

And Marius does seem to understand this. To some extent at least he seems to acknowledge the conflict going on in Amadeo’s head and appreciates why he's become withdrawn. Now let's compare the two scenes.

“‘You’ve had enough time to grieve and to weep,’ he said, ‘and to reevaluate all you’ve been given. Now it’s back to work. Go to the desk and prepare to write. Or I’ll whip you some more.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 211)

“When would he finally pick up the brushes and paint? I didn’t know, but such a question didn’t matter anymore. He was mine and mine forever. He could do what he pleased.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 375)

“He smacked me across the face. I was dizzy. As my eyes cleared, I looked into his. ‘I want your attention again. I want you to come out of your meditation. Go to your desk and write for me a summary of what your journey in Russia meant to you, and what you see now here that you could not see before. Make it concise, use your finest similes and metaphors and write it cleanly and quickly for me.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 211)

“I tried to forget my jealousy or ignore it. After all, what was to be done about it? Should I remind him of his journey and torment him with questions? I could not do such a thing.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 375)

I don't think you really need me to point out the glaring difference between the two. From Marius’ perspective he was understanding and patient with him, waiting for him to return to his activities in his own time. From Armand’s account Marius physically beat him and continued to threaten him with more violence unless he complied and went back to work.

Again we have to remember that Blood and Gold followed after The Vampire Armand. And you have to question what effect Armand’s account had on the story Marius then went on to tell. He claims he understood Amadeo’s feelings and struggles at the time, but did he? Or is he able to understand them now in hindsight, having read Armand’s version?

Sex and Romance

Much like the physical violence, this is another case of omission rather than direct contradiction, so it’s harder to draw direct comparisons between the two books. A pretty significant aspect of The Vampire Armand is the sexual relationship between Amadeo and Marius, but in Blood and Gold this is almost completely erased. The only time Marius mentions any kind of sexual act with Amadeo is in the initial bathtub scene, which remains mostly unchanged between the two versions.

“Taking Amadeo into the bath, I cleansed him myself and covered him with kisses. I drew from him an easy intimacy which he had denied all those who had tormented him, so dazzled and confused was he by my simple kindnesses, and the words I whispered in his tender ears. I brought him quickly to know the pleasures which he had never allowed himself before. He was dazed and silent; but his prayers for deliverance were no more.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 308/309)

“I groaned for all of this. I sank against him in the warm water, and his lips went down my chest to my belly. He sucked tenderly at the skin as if he were sucking up the salt and the heat from it, and even his forehead nudging my shoulder filled me with warm and thrilling sensations. I put my arm around him, and when he found the sin itself, I felt it go off as if an arrow had been shot from it, and it were a crossbow; I felt it go, this arrow, this thrust, and I cried out.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 41)

Throughout the rest of The Vampire Armand we get multiple more accounts of sexual acts Marius performed on him, and I’m not gonna sit here and quote all of them because I don’t think it will add anything to my argument. Instead, let’s look at how Marius describes things, or, more accurately, the way he doesn’t. This next quote is one of the only hints at any other physical relationship between the two of them following the bath scene.

“Yet in the late evenings, when the lessons had ceased and the little boys had been put to bed, and the older boys were finishing tasks in my studio, I couldn’t stop myself from taking Amadeo into my bedroom study, and there I visited on him my carnal kisses, my sweet and bloodless kisses, my kisses of need, and he gave himself to me without reserve.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 315)

This is probably the closest he gets to hinting at his desire for Amadeo, but it’s certainly nothing close to the levels we see in The Vampire Armand. It’s also the last reference we get to the sexual side of their relationship, and it’s soon followed up with this line.

“Here in Venice for Marius de Romanus, there was none. But Amadeo had his suspicions, not as to the kisses that were fast becoming all too chaste for him, but as to the man of seeming marble, who never supped at his own table, nor took a drop of wine from a goblet, or ever appeared beneath his own roof during the light of day.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 316)

This quote references another, much longer scene in The Vampire Armand, in which Amadeo confronts Marius about the nature of their relationship. Specifically about the fact that Marius performs sexual acts for him while not wanting anything in return.

“‘Well, now,’ I said. ‘There’s a great mystery here and you know it. It’s time you told me.’ ‘What?’ he asked obligingly enough. ‘Why do you never… Why do you never feel anything! Why do you handle me as if I were a poppet? Why do you never…?’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 66)

And this is one of those moments where I think it’s important to remember the context of the book. As readers, we know that “kisses that were fast becoming all too chaste for him” is referring to Amadeo wanting more from a relationship that is already sexual. But Marius isn’t speaking to us, he’s speaking to somebody with no prior knowledge of Armand or his book.

From an outside perspective, with none of the additional context, couldn’t “fast becoming all too chaste for him” easily be interpreted to mean there was no sexual relationship at all?

And again, just like with the violence, this isn’t a topic that Marius avoids altogether in his book. He gets quite explicit during a scene with Bianca.

“And as my fingers tightened and caressed her, as his kisses grew more fervent, she grew bloodred with her cresting passion and fell softly against Amadeo’s arm. I withdrew, kissing her forehead as though she were chaste again.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 359)

I’m also including that follow up line, just to emphasise the previous point that Marius absolutely means “non-sexual” when he refers to his relationship with Amadeo as “chaste”.

So, once again, you have to wonder what the difference is. Why is he comfortable sharing explicit details of a sexual act with Bianca, but not Amadeo? Is it, again, down to the simple fact that Amadeo was a child? Or does it go deeper?

When Marius comes upon Amadeo, he takes him home and we get the bath scene, the one and only time he references anything sexual happening between them. It’s after this that he then has the idea to groom Amadeo into the “ideal” vampire companion.

“This was a foundling who could be educated for the Blood! This was a child utterly lost to life who could be reclaimed specifically for the Blood.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 309)

Which then leads us to this thought.

“My mind went back swiftly to Eudoxia and how she had spoken of the perfect age for the Blood to be received. I remembered Zenobia and her quick wits and knowing eyes. I remembered my own long ago reflection on the promise of a virgin, that one could make of a virgin what one wished without price.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 309/310)

Earlier in the book Marius met Zenobia, a fledgling of Eudoxia’s who explained some of her background to him. She tells him that she believed Eudoxia chose her as an ideal companion because of her youth and her virginity (interestingly, she was also a slave, though Marius never reflects upon this additional similarity).

Of course, this completely contradicts what he finds in Amadeo, a child sex slave. Marius is well aware of the abuse Amadeo has suffered, he knows he’s not a virgin, but he still has these thoughts all the same. My personal interpretation is that Marius is referring to Amadeo’s amnesia. The fact that, having pulled Amadeo from the brothel and given him a home, he has essentially been “reborn”, making him a virginal figure in that sense rather than specifically referring to his sexual history. But I still don’t think it's insignificant that Marius makes this observation and then goes on to erase all the subsequent sexual interactions they had, retroactively purifying him in a sense.

This is slightly contradicted by the fact that Marius does admit to sending Amadeo to multiple brothels. It seems that Marius is only concerned with removing himself from the equation, rather than completely erasing Amadeo’s sexuality.

Another very significant omission from Blood and Gold, which also slots into the topic of their sexual relationship, is the blood drinking. In The Vampire Armand, Marius begins drinking Amadeo’s blood after he confronts him about his lack of sexuality. He then continues to do this throughout their relationship all the way through to Amadeo’s turning. In Marius’ account, however, he never mentions this.

We can see how intertwined the blood drinking is with their sexual relationship here.

“‘Amadeo,’ he said, his lips on my throat as they’d come and gone a thousand times, only this time there came a sting, sharp, swift and gone. A thread stitched into my heart and was jerked all of a sudden. I had become the thing between my legs, and was nothing but that. His mouth nestled against me, and again that thread snapped and again.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 67)

This is the first instance of Marius drinking Amadeo’s blood, and it then continues to happen in each subsequent sexual encounter we see.

I think it’s important to consider the use of blood drinking as an allegory for sexual assault throughout the book series, especially in The Vampire Armand. Amadeo, still a child, feels Marius drinking from him, but doesn’t fully understand what is being done. It’s not until much later when he sees Marius drink from somebody else that he fully understands what was happening.

“Astonished and enthralled, I watched as my master closed his smooth eyes, his golden eyelashes seeming silvery in the dimness, and I heard the low wet sound, barely audible but horribly suggestive of the flow of something, and that something had to be the man’s blood.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 96)

It’s easy to draw parallels between the blood drinking and CSA. Amadeo was a child, being sexually assaulted, and still too innocent to understand what was being done to him. So I think it’s significant that, as well as erasing the explicit sexual acts, Marius also never admits to drinking Amadeo’s blood.

The reason for Marius omitting this from his account to Thorne could, again, be because on some level he recognises that the things he did to Amadeo were wrong. But I think it may also relate to Marius’ constant insistence that vampires only drink from “the evil doer”.

“‘I understand it,’ she answered too quickly. ‘So Amadeo told me all that you’d taught him. Only the Evil Doer. Never the innocent, I know.’” “Blood and Gold, pg. 421)

This is one of the most steadfast rules Marius follows, and one he impresses on every other vampire he meets. In fact one of the main reasons for Marius viewing Armand as “lost” to them after joining the Children of Darkness is that he witnesses him drinking from innocents.

“‘Well, he’s no child now, Bianca. He may be as beautiful as when I made him through the Blood, but he is a patriarch in the dust. And all of Paris, the wondrous city of Paris, surrounds him. I watched him move through the city streets alone. There was no one there to restrict him. He might have sought the Evil Doer as we do. But he did not. He drank deep of innocent blood, not once but twice.’ ‘Ah, I see. This is what has so embittered you.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 490)

But surely he considered Amadeo to be innocent. Certainly not evil at least. Well, there’s an argument that could be made about Marius always viewing Amadeo as inherently barbaric, purely due to his nationality, but I’m not gonna get into all that here. No, I think that Marius is aware of Amadeo’s innocence. I think that he couldn’t resist drinking from him, and he redacts that part of his story because he knows it goes against everything he’s ever preached.

I think the most important thing to consider on this topic is, if Amadeo truly enthusiastically consented to all the sexual activities happening in The Vampire Armand, why did Marius erase it?

Personality/Dialogue

Getting now into something that we can compare more directly, I wanna look at Amadeo as a character and how starkly different he is in Blood and Gold compared to The Vampire Armand. To an extent there were always going to be differences, because we’re comparing how a character perceived themself vs how they are perceived by others, but the differences here are so severe that I think it speaks volumes about how Marius viewed Amadeo in general.

To put it as bluntly as possible, Amadeo is barely a character in Blood and Gold. He doesn’t contribute to discussions, or to the narrative as a whole. In essence, he’s Marius’ sexy lamp. It becomes very apparent very quickly how differently Amadeo is going to be portrayed, even from their very first conversation.

“My Master looked at me and in a tongue I knew, I knew perfectly, he said that I was his only child, and he would come again that night, and by such a time as that I would have seen a new world. ‘A new world!’ I cried out. ‘No, don’t leave me, Master. I don’t want the whole world. I want you!’ ‘Amadeo,’ he said in this private tongue of confidence, leaning over the bed, his hair dry now and beautifully brushed, his hands softened with powder. ‘You have me forever. Let the boys feed you, dress you. You belong to me, to Marius De Romanus, now.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 41)

“‘Master,’ he said softly in the Russian tongue. I felt the tiny hairs rise all over my body. I wanted so to touch him once more with my cold fingers but I did not dare. I knelt beside the bed and leant over and I kissed his cheek warmly. ‘Amadeo,’ I said to him so that he might know his new name. And then using the very Russian tongue he knew, but did not know, I told him that he was mine now, that I was his Master just as he had said. I gave him to know that all things were resolved in me. He must never worry, he would never fear again.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 312)

Throughout the entirety of Blood and Gold, Amadeo’s dialogue is very limited. He rarely speaks unless spoken to, rarely argues back, and, for the most part, seems only to parrot the things Marius has already told him. This massively contradicts Armand’s account of himself in The Vampire Armand. Obviously, we can’t rule out the possibility that Armand was also exaggerating his personality in his version of events. Considering the brutal punishments Marius inflicted on him, I think it would be understandable for Armand to exaggerate how often he misbehaved and argued back in some attempt to make sense of why he was treated that way.

Another thing to take into account is that from Marius’ account, we get a much better idea of the severity of Amadeo’s amnesia and the way it affected him. It seems that Amadeo was frequently dissociating whenever Marius attempted to force him to remember his past. Perhaps the dissociation means that Armand simply doesn’t recall a lot of these moments in Venice, whereas Marius had a more objective view at that time. Still, I don’t think that accounts for such a drastic difference in behaviour.

Consider the last quote from Blood and Gold, which is the first dialogue exchanged between Marius and Amadeo. It will be over twenty pages before they have another full conversation (arguably their first actual conversation of the book so far). And between those two exchanges Amadeo has only one line of dialogue.

“‘Do you know her, Master?’ he asked me soberly, surprising Riccardo, who said nothing.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 317)

For over twenty pages Marius describes the development of his relationship with Amadeo, and the progress of his education, and in that entire time Amadeo will speak five words.

I’ve talked before about the issues with Anne Rice’s dialogue, how when the characters speak their voices are all very one note and practically indistinguishable from each other. Despite that, however, there were multiple points while reading Blood and Gold that it seemed noticeable that Amadeo’s dialogue wasn’t his own. The example that most stood out to me was the conversation between Marius and Amadeo after Marius has revealed his nature and killed in front of him several times. It’s one of the few conversations that is directly repeated in both books, but there are still notable differences. Sorry in advance for the long ass quotes but I want to try and show the full conversations here.

“‘If I drink such as that, Master, the blood of the wicked and those whom I overpower, will I become like you?’ He shook his head. Many a man has drunk another’s blood, Amadeo,’ he said in a low but calm voice. His reason had come back to him, his manners, his seeming soul. ‘Would you be with me, and be my pupil and my love?’ ‘Yes, Master, always and forever, or for so long as nature gives to you and me.’ ‘Oh, it isn’t fanciful the words I spoke. We are immortal. And only one enemy can destroy us - it’s the fire that burns in that torch there, or in the rising sun. Sweet to think on it, that when we are at last weary of all this world there is the rising sun.’

‘I am yours, Master.’ I hugged him close and tried to vanquish him with kisses. He endured them, and even smiled, but he didn’t move. But when I broke off, and made a fist of my right hand as if to hit him, which I could never have done, to my amazement he began to yield. He turned and took me in his powerful and ever careful embrace. ‘Amadeo, I can’t go on without you,’ he said. His voice was desperate and small. ‘I meant to show you evil, not sport. I meant to show you the wicked price of my immortality. And that I did. But in so doing, I saw it myself, and my eyes are dazzled and I am hurt and tired.’ He laid his head against my head, and held tight to me. ‘Do what you will to me, Sir,’ I said. ‘Make me suffer and long for it, if that’s what you want. I am your fool. I am yours.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 120/121)

“‘Master,’ he asked, ‘if I drink the blood of those who are evil, will I become like you?’ We stood before the closed doors of San Marco. The wind came mercilessly off the sea. I drew my cloak about him all the more tightly, and he rested his head against my chest. ‘No, child,’ I said, ‘there’s infinitely more magic in it than that.’ ‘Master,’ he said, as I held him close to me, ‘long years ago, or so they seem to me, in some far-away place, where I lived before I came to you, I was what they called a Fool for God. I don’t remember it clearly and never will as both of us well know. But a Fool for God was a man who gave himself over to God completely and did not care what happened, whether it was mockery, or starvation, or endless laughter, or dreadful cold. That much I remember, that I was a Fool for God in those times.’ ‘But you painted pictures, Amadeo, you painted beautiful ikons-’ ‘But listen to me, Master,’ he said firmly, forcing me to silence, ‘whatever I did, I was a Fool for God, and now I would be a Fool for you.’ He paused, snuggling close to me as the wind grew stronger. The mists moved in over the stones. There came noises from the ships.’ I started to speak but he reached to stop me. How obdurate and strong he seemed, how seductive, how completely mine. ‘Master,’ he went on. ‘Do it when you will. You have my secrecy. You have my patience. Do it when and how you will.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 342/343)

I wanna start by talking about the difference in Marius’ involvement in the conversation. In the version Marius tells, he is very passive, listening while Amadeo, apparently unprompted, speaks deprecatingly about his past religion before going on to devote himself to Marius. In Armand’s version, Marius asks him directly to state his devotion to him, asking “Would you be with me?”

Then there’s the fixation, in Marius’ account, on Amadeo being a “fool for God”. This is something Amadeo does also mention in The Vampire Armand, though it’s spoken in an earlier conversation in Armand’s version.

“‘Don’t think me cold, Sir,’ I said. ‘Don’t think me tired and used to things brutal and cruel. I am only the fool, Sir, the fool for God. We don’t question, if memory serves me right. We laugh and we accept and we turn all life into joy.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg 100)

The change in context is important here too. In The Vampire Armand, Amadeo refers to himself as a “fool for God” as a way to explain why he wasn’t horrified or disgusted by the revelation of Marius being a vampire. To him this phrase means that, through his religion, he was able to accept negative or even horrifying events, and to find joy and meaning in them. It doesn’t seem, at least in Armand’s eyes, that this was necessarily a negative thing. He’s simply explaining that his religion taught him how to cope with frightening things.

Conversely, the Amadeo in Blood and Gold uses the term “fool for God” as something derogatory, and this is what I mean when I say his dialogue in this book doesn’t seem like his own. We know from his interactions with Pandora, Mael, and numerous other characters that Marius has a very negative opinion of religion and worship (despite the fact that he himself frequently performs religious rituals and prays to Those Who Must Be Kept, he refuses to acknowledge this as a form of worship). The changes in wording between the two books are subtle, but we can see clearly how Marius’ own views are being spliced in. “We accept” becomes “did not care”.

Despite all of this, it’s then interesting to note that in Blood and Gold, we then see Amadeo effectively proclaim Marius as his new god. While Amadeo does refer to himself both as “a fool for God” and “your fool” within The Vampire Armand, these are in two separate conversations, and it doesn’t appear as though Amadeo was referencing the previous conversation when he says this. But in the version Marius presents, Amadeo explicitly states “I was a fool for God, and now I would be a fool for you.”

It gives the impression, to me at least, that for all Marius’ disdain for the idea of worship and religious idols, he wants to present himself as someone to be worshipped by Amadeo. Or, at least, he wants to present the idea that this is what Amadeo believed.

The final thing I want to look at before I move on from this conversation is the tone of Amadeo’s final line in each version.

“‘Do what you will to me, Sir,’ I said. ‘Make me suffer and long for it, if that’s what you want. I am your fool. I am yours.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 121)

“‘Master,’ he went on. ‘Do it when you will. You have my secrecy. You have my patience. Do it when and how you will.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 343)

And again this is what I mean when I say Amadeo’s dialogue doesn’t seem to be entirely his own in Blood and Gold. There’s a flatness to the things he says a lot of the time, a lack of any kind of emotion. To me it gives the impression that Marius was very uninvested in Amadeo as a person. Unlike his retelling of his relationship with Pandora or Bianca, or even any of the other characters, in which he describes their passion and emotional responses with much more depth, this section of his story has an almost clinical feel to it. It’s as if he sees it as simply a series of plot points he has to get through in order to tell this part of the story, rather than a relationship he recalls with any fondness.

There’s also the subtle difference in language again. “Do what you will to me” becomes “Do it when you will.” “Make me suffer” becomes “You have my patience.” Armand’s version gives much more of a sense of his passion and longing, while Marius’ version presents Amadeo as flatly obedient.

Returning to the idea that Amadeo’s dialogue in Blood and Gold tends to reflect Marius’ own views, rather than being an honest representation of the things Amadeo said, I want to look at this quote again.

Much later in the timeline of events in Blood and Gold, we get this quote from Amadeo after he has become a vampire, explaining why he believes Marius chose him for the blood.

“‘There’s a bitter cold in me,’ he said, ‘a cold which comes from a distant land. And nothing ever really makes it warm. Even the Blood did not make it warm. You knew of this cold. You tried a thousand times to melt it, and transform it into something more brilliant, but you never succeeded. And then on the night that I came near to death - no, was, in fact, dying - you counted upon that cold to give me the stamina for the Blood.’ I nodded. I looked away, but he put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Look at me, please, sir,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that so?’ His face was serene.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 363)

It’s quite a shift in belief, as far as Amadeo is concerned. In The Vampire Armand, Amadeo doesn’t want to be seen as cold and unfeeling, in fact he actively argues against it when Marius tries to imply that this is the case. But in Blood and Gold, it is Amadeo who refers to himself in this way. And again this raises the question of how much of Amadeo’s dialogue in Blood and Gold is true, and how much is simply a reflection of Marius’ existing opinions and biases. By giving this dialogue to Amadeo, Marius is effectively shifting the blame away from himself. Marius wasn’t making unfair judgements or assumptions about Amadeo, because it was Amadeo himself who first said these things.

As I said earlier, a large amount of Amadeo’s dialogue from The Vampire Armand is cut out from Blood and Gold, but now let’s look at an example where the inverse happens. We’re still at roughly the same point in time (because this is one of only a few occasions in Blood and Gold where Marius actually details any conversations occurring between him and Amadeo). These quotes are from slightly earlier than the conversation we were just looking at, and take place immediately after Amadeo witnesses Marius killing somebody for the first time.

“I was speechless. Fear, loathing, these things had no part in it. I was simply amazed. If I thought, I thought it was wondrous. In a sudden fit of seeming anger, my Master hurled the man’s body to his left and ot into the water where it fell with a dull splashing and bubbling sound.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 97)

“‘Have you no tears for the man, Amadeo?’ I asked. ‘Have you no questions as to the disposition of his soul? Without Sacred Rites, he died. He died only for me.’ ‘No, Master,’ he answered, and then a smile played on his lips as though it were a flame which had sprung from mine. ‘It’s marvelous what I saw, Master. What do I care for his body or his soul?’ I was too angry to respond. There had been no lesson in it! He was too young, the night too dark, the man too wretched, and all that I had foreseen had come to nought.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 338)

In this case, Marius actually inserts some dialogue where in The Vampire Armand we had none, and this decision raises a particularly interesting question. Does Marius conflate Amadeo’s inner thoughts with his spoken dialogue? It’s a pretty terrifying prospect, that Marius could at any point lash out angrily in response to Amadeo’s thoughts in the same way he would to something he speaks out loud. Who hasn’t had negative, mean spirited thoughts pop into their head at some point or another? Especially as a teenager.

Overall, there are several factors that might explain why Marius chose to change so much in terms of Amadeo’s personality and behaviour. It’s interesting to note as well that Amadeo’s aggression and violent outbursts are also cut from Blood and Gold, so it isn’t necessarily that Marius is attempting to paint a picture in which he was always the good guy trying to keep Amadeo under control.

Being completely honest, I think it boils down to Marius just not caring about Amadeo. I think he loved him, but he loved him purely as an object and as a project to see through to completion. His relationship with Amadeo is barely even portrayed as romantic, in comparison to his relationships with Pandora and Bianca. From the moment Marius found him, he viewed Amadeo as something he could shape into the “ideal” vampire, and so his personality and identity outside of Marius was just… never important to him.

Timeline

Now we’re really cooking with gas, let's get into the timeline conflicts. There are two that I’m gonna talk about here which I noticed, though there might also be others as well.

The first one I want to look at is something I didn’t pick up on until my second read through while writing this essay/thesis/ramble, and though it’s not necessarily a complete conflict in terms of the timeline, it is very odd. Unfortunately it means we have to return to my beloved enemy, the whipping scene.

While the whipping scene is completely absent from Blood and Gold, there is an event which follows on from that scene which is present in both books, and this is the conversation in which Marius first reveals the subject of Those Who Must Be Kept to Amadeo.

“‘Child. I go to see Those Who Must Be Kept. I have no choice in this.’ For a moment I said nothing. I tried to understand the denotation of the words he’d spoken. His voice had dropped, and he had said the words halfheartedly. ‘What is that, Master?’ I asked.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 92)

“‘That I cannot do,’ I answered. And out of my mouth there came words I thought I’d never speak. ‘I go to Those Who Must Be Kept,’ I said as if I couldn’t hold the secret within me. ‘To see if they are at peace. I do as I have always done.’ What a look of wonder came over his face. ‘Those Who Must Be Kept,’ he whispered. He said it like a prayer.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 333)

So, without the whipping scene, you might be wondering what precedes the same conversation in Blood and Gold. Well, according to Marius, this is also the day that Mael visits the palazzo.

“Amadeo saw him. Again, for several fatal moments, Amadeo saw him. And I knew that something deep inside Amadeo recognized Mael for the creature that he was. But like so many things in the mind of Amadeo, it wasn’t conscious, and the boys left me with quick kisses, off to sing their songs to Bianca, and be flattered by everyone there. I was impatient with Mael that he had come out of the bedchamber, but I didn’t say it. ‘So would you make a blood drinker of that one,’ he said, pointing to the door through which the boys had left us. He smiled.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 330)

This is something I only noticed when reading the two books side by side and spotting the repeated conversation about Those Who Must Be Kept, but yes, according to Marius’ account of events, the night that he whipped Amadeo bloody was apparently also the same night that Mael was staying in the building.

In The Vampire Armand, Armand makes no mention of Mael’s visit. However we have evidence from as early as Queen of the Damned that this visit did happen.

“‘And so you would make that one?’ Mael had asked with simple directness. ‘When it’s time,’ Marius had said dismissively, ‘when it’s time.’” (Queen of the Damned, pg. 282)

So, what does this mean? The way I see it there are two possibilities: Either these events did take place on the same day, or they didn’t.

If these events did take place on the same day, it would be completely understandable that Armand wouldn’t mention Mael’s visit, considering everything else that happened to him on that one night. Honestly, I think it would be believable that even in the moment Amadeo completely forgot about the strange blonde man he’d seen loitering around the palazzo after then being whipped to the point that he had to dissociate to try and cope with the amount of pain. I think it would certainly be very weird if the two things did happen on the same night, but it’s possible.

However, the whole point of this essay is to explore what the reasons might be for Marius excluding or changing certain things, so let’s consider that. Let’s consider the possibility that these events didn’t occur at the same time.

Armand didn’t mention Mael’s visit in his version of events, which essentially gives Marius free reign with the timeline, so why choose specifically this day to claim that Mael was there? Well, for starters, Marius has given himself a witness. Suddenly this is no longer just Armand’s word against Marius, it’s now become Armand’s word against Marius and Mael. With very minimal effort, Marius has managed to throw Armand’s entire account of events into question. Why didn’t he mention Mael? Does Armand even remember Mael? How can we trust any of the things he said if he can’t remember?

Considering all of this, I also want to point out this line at the end of their conversation in Marius’ account.

“I bent to kiss Amadeo, and the heat of his body inflamed me. ‘Master, give me the Blood,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘Master, tell me what you are.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 334)

This is the closest we get to Marius’ account of the whipping scene, and he reduces it down to almost a single line, in which Amadeo asks for it.

Following directly on from this scene, we get to the biggest contradiction between the two books. In this case, it isn’t just the timelines aligning strangely, we actually get a completely different ordering of events.

In The Vampire Armand, after the whipping scene and the conversation about Those Who Must Be Kept, Marius then decides to reveal his vampire nature to Amadeo. He kills several times in front of him, and then leaves to visit Those Who Must Be Kept. While Marius is away, Lord Harlech attacks the palazzo and fatally wounds Amadeo, who is then tended to by Bianca for several days until Marius returns and gives him the blood. I think the most important thing to emphasise is that in Armand’s account, Marius wasn’t at the palazzo, or even in Venice, when Amadeo was attacked.

“‘The Master will know,’ said Riccardo. He looked drawn and miserable, and his lips quivered. His eyes were flooded with tears. Oh, ominous sign, certainly. ‘The Master will know somehow. He knows all things. The Master will break his journey and come home.’ ‘Wash his face,’ said Bianca calmly. ‘Wash his face and be quiet.’ How brave she was.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 132)

However, in Blood and Gold, we get a completely different order of events. Following the conversation about Those Who Must Be Kept, Marius then leaves to visit them and ask permission to reveal his nature to Amadeo. When he returns, he kills several times in front of him, and it is only the following day that Lord Harlech attacks, while Marius is at home in Venice sleeping nearby the palazzo.

“No one had to tell me, as I rushed down the stairs from the roof, that a drunken violent English lord had come rampaging into my house in search of Amadeo for whom he harbored a forbidden passion, which had been somewhat fed by Amadeo’s dalliance on random nights when I had been away.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 345)

It’s easily the most noticeable change in the book, considering in The Vampire Armand we get an entire chapter dedicated to Amadeo fighting off the poison and fever until Marius finally returns home, but in Blood and Gold this is completely rewritten. Why? I think the most obvious answer is that Marius was well aware of the danger Amadeo was in when he left him. He knew the risks, abandoned Amadeo anyway, and it backfired, essentially resulting in Amadeo’s death. So, in his version, he tried to absolve himself of any responsibility by claiming he had been there the whole time.

Or, maybe, it’s not about Amadeo at all. Maybe it’s about Those Who Must Be Kept. In Blood and Gold, Marius went to them specifically to request permission to reveal his nature to Amadeo, while in The Vampire Armand he did this before consulting them. Perhaps even now Marius is still ruled by his devotion to them, and he couldn’t bring himself to admit to acting without permission.

Armand’s Turning

While the timeline is up for debate, what we know for certain is that after Amadeo was poisoned, Marius made him a vampire. The process is described in both books but, again, there are differences between the two versions. The change in the timeline already significantly impacts things. In The Vampire Armand we don’t have a good idea of how long Amadeo is suffering before Marius finally returns, but it’s drawn out across two chapters which seems to indicate it was at least a day if not more, whereas in Blood and Gold Marius was there to immediately ease his suffering. The overall impression in The Vampire Armand is that Armand’s turning was a frightening, painful experience, while Marius gives the impression of a very controlled environment.

“‘Come to me, Amadeo.’ ‘I’m too weak, Master, I’m fainting, I’m dying in this glorious light.’ I took one step after another, though it seemed impossible. I placed one foot before the other, drawing ever closer to him. I stumbled. ‘On your hands and knees, then, come. Come to me.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 158)

“‘Come to me,’ I said. I held out my arms. He took the first steps, unsure of himself, so full of my blood that surely the light itself must have amazed him, but his eyes were moving over the multitudes of figures painted on the wall. Then he looked directly at me.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 351)

Obviously, it makes sense that from Marius’ perspective this scene would be less emotionally charged, since he’s viewing it from an outside perspective while Amadeo is living through it, but the difference in tone is pretty significant. In Armand’s version, he remembers having to literally crawl on his hands and knees to get the rest of the blood from Marius and complete the transformation. He’s barely strong enough to move, but Marius forces him to fight to stay alive.

Meanwhile in Blood and Gold, we get no real impression of how much Amadeo was struggling. He doesn’t mention forcing him to crawl to him, only that he was “unsure of himself”.

“I lay on the floor. He stood above me, and his hands were open to me. ‘Get up, Amadeo. Come, come up, into my arms. Take it.’ I cried. I sobbed. My tears were red, and my hand was stained with red. ‘Help me, Master.’ ‘I do help you. Come, seek it out for yourself.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 159)

“‘Come, Amadeo, come and take it from me,’ I said, my eyes full of tears. ‘You are the victor. Take what I have to give.’ He was in my arms instantly, and I held him warmly, whispering close to his ear. ‘Don’t be afraid, child, not even for a moment. You’ll die now to live forever, as I take your blood and give it back to you. I won’t let you slip away.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 351)

In The Vampire Armand, Amadeo is on the floor, crying and begging for help while Marius barks orders at him and refuses to do anything to ease his suffering, but in Blood and Gold we get a completely different picture. Marius describes himself as overcome with emotion, as holding Amadeo “warmly”, whispering words of comfort to him.

It’s possible that Armand’s turning was an incredibly traumatic experience, and that’s why he remembers it in such a negative light. But then, if Marius was as caring and gentle with him as he claims, would it have been a traumatic experience at all? If Marius held him through it and comforted him the way he described, why does Armand remember crying and dragging himself across the floor, fighting to stay alive?

There’s another small detail I want to point out before I move on completely. It’s not part of the turning per say, but it is part of that overall scene and I wasn’t sure it really fit into the other sections.

Before turning him, in both books, Marius bathes him and heals all his wounds, preparing him for immortality. It’s pretty much the same from both accounts but there is one tiny detail that I clocked immediately when reading Blood and Gold for the first time.

“I stripped off his thick and soiled velvet clothes. And then into the warm water I placed him, and there with the blood from my mouth I sealed all the cuts in the flesh made by Lord Harlech. I shaved off for all time any beard that he might have.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 350)

Why did reading that send of Kill Bill sirens in my head? Because in the same scene in The Vampire Armand we get this instead.

“He broke up handfuls of water to bathe me. He bathed first my face and then all of me. His hard satiny fingertips moved over my face. ‘Not a vagrant hair yet of your beard, and yet you have the nether endowments of a man, and now must rise above the pleasures you have so loved.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 145)

It’s such a throwaway line but really hammers home the difference between the stories Armand and Marius are trying to present. With a few words Marius is able to present Amadeo as slightly older, slightly more mature. It still wouldn’t make Marius’ actions okay, but it might at least come across as a little less shocking if Amadeo was at least past puberty.

Pandora, Bianca, and Accountability

For this final part I’m gonna be looking less at comparisons between the two books, and more at some of the other parts of Blood and Gold which highlight the difference in the way Marius talks about Amadeo compared to his other relationships.

First I want to point out a discrepancy between the books and more of a discrepancy within Blood and Gold itself because I think it works to illustrate the levels of dishonesty in Marius’ entire account of his time with Amadeo. As part of his description of the moments following Amadeo being turned, Marius says this.

“And as he drank from me, I gave him my lessons, my secrets. I told him of the gifts that might one night come to him. I told him of my long ago love for Pandora. I told him of Zenobia, of Avicus, of Mael. I told him all but the final secret. That I kept from him.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 353)

Already this contradicts Armand’s account, because he doesn’t mention any of these characters or their stories when explaining the things Marius told him. But Marius then goes on to contradict himself later in the book when telling these things to Bianca.

“I told her of the Druid grove again, and how I had been the god there and fled those who would have entrapped me, and I saw her eyes grow wide. I told her of Avicus and Zenobia, of our hunting in the city of Constantinople. I told her of how I cut Zenobia’s beautiful black hair. And telling her these tales, I felt calmed and less sad and broken and able to do what I must do. Never in all my time with Amadeo had I told such stories. Never with Pandora had it been so simple. But with this creature it seemed only natural to talk and to find consolation in it.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 431/432)

So we know Marius is lying, at least about some aspects. Lying to such an extent that not only is he contradicting Armand, he’s now contradicting himself in places.

And the thing is, there are many occasions within Blood and Gold where Marius lies, always for selfish reasons, but what’s interesting is Marius’ willingness to admit to this.

“My soul was wondrously soothed by this event. I am only confessing now what it meant to me. For having lied to Bianca I lived with an unbearable guilt, and now, having given her this gift of the Mother’s blood I felt a huge measure of relief from it.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 496)

In general, Marius goes into far more depth about his relationships with Bianca and Pandora than he ever does with Amadeo. In fact, without the context of the previous books, it would be easy to miss the fact that his relationship with Amadeo was romantic at all. And while Amadeo has his character stripped back to almost the bare bones within Blood and Gold, the same doesn’t happen for Bianca or Pandora. We see the passion of their relationships, and, while it could be argued that Marius is still leaving out a substantial amount of violence that is only implied by the women' s reactions to him, he certainly doesn’t cut it out completely.

We see incredibly heated arguments between Marius and Bianca throughout their relationship.

“I glared at her. A madness took hold of me. I rose to my feet I looked about the shrine furiously. ‘Gather up all you possess,’ I said suddenly. ‘I’m casting you out of here!’ She sat still as she had been before, gazing up at me in cold defiance.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 466)

From the minute Marius is reunited with Pandora we see how violent and possessive he becomes.

“Quickly I crossed the dance floor and bowed before her. I lifted her cold white hand, and led her out and into the dance, and would take no resistance from her. ‘No, you’re mine, you’re mind, do you hear?’ I whispered. ‘Don’t pull away from me.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 509)

The point being, Marius absolutely doesn’t attempt to paint his relationships with Bianca and Pandora as perfect, and his complete erasure of any violence or anger is something he does specifically with Amadeo.

I think Marius definitely views Amadeo separately to the way he views Bianca and Pandora. The difference specifically between Amadeo and Pandora is easy enough to notice. After losing her, Marius spends almost the entirety of Blood and Gold trying to find Pandora, while he gives up on Amadeo almost immediately. Both Pandora and Bianca are treated as characters with agency, while Amadeo is spoken of as a piece of property.

“I had little strength myself to comfort her, but I knew that she needed what little strength I had. It was hitting me again like so many violent blows that my world was dashed, that my house was ruined, that Amadeo was stolen from me.” [...] “But that was gone. All was gone. Amadeo was gone. My paintings were gone.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 424)

As I said before, a lot of the editing and omitting of Amadeo’s story could be down to the fact that he was a child (a human child) and couldn’t defend or fight for himself in the way that Bianca and Pandora could, but I don’t think we can ignore the way race and nationality plays into this either.

Both Bianca and Pandora are Italian born, the same as Marius, while Amadeo came from Ukraine (Marius continues to refer to this as being in Russia in the present day, which, since I’m writing this essay from a totally Watsonian perspective, means he’s also an idiot).

Marius has a lot of incredibly racist and xenophobic prejudices in general, specifically his outright hatred of “The East”, and it’s clear the negative views he has of Amadeo’s home country.

“The following night I told him the story of his native city. Kiev had once been magnificent, its cathedral built to rival Hagia Sophia in Constantinople from which its Christianity had come. Greek Christianity had shaped its beliefs and its art. And both had flourished beautifully there in a wondrous place. But centuries ago, the Mongols had sacked this grand city, massacred its population, destroying forever its power, leaving behind some accidental survivals, among them monks who kept to themselves. What remained of Kiev? A miserable place along the banks of the Dnieper River where the cathedral still stood, and the monks still existed in the famous Monastery of the Caves.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 366/367)

“Always before this journey to Russia I had thought the split in Amadeo’s mind was between the rich and varied art of Venice and the strict and stylized art of old Russia.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 374)

Considering that, let’s also look at the difference in the way he describes them.

This quote, from just after his most explosive row with Bianca:

“I went back to her. She was standing as I had left her, her face as solemn as before, her brilliant oval eyes fixed on me.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 467)

This quote, from his argument with Pandora:

“‘You dream,’ she said and the first coldness came into her face and into her voice. It was in her brown eyes, a coldness that comes from sorrow.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 510)

And then this quote, which isn’t from any argument or disagreement, just Marius describing Amadeo now that he can’t read his mind:

“Now I must read his facial expressions, his gestures, the depth of his secretive and faintly cruel brown eyes.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 354)

Even at their “worst” moments, Bianca and Pandora are described with far more grace than Amadeo gets during a totally neutral moment. Bianca is solemn, Pandora is cold yet sorrowful, but Amadeo is cruel. I definitely think that Amadeo’s race plays a part in Marius’ disregard for him compared to Bianca and Pandora, and likely also contributed to how quickly he gave up on Amadeo after he was taken by the Children of Darkness.

Conclusion

We did it. Let’s hold hands. To wrap things up, I wanna say again that the fact of the matter is, a lot of this could be down to the author rather than the character. Maybe Anne Rice didn’t want to rewrite every detail from The Vampire Armand from Marius’ perspective. Maybe she forgot things, maybe she got the timelines muddled.

The fact is, regardless of the reasons why, this is the story we ended up with. And to me at least, this story appears to be one of an abuser attempting to discredit the words of his victim. Marius uses every trick in the book to discredit what Armand wrote: omitting information, contradicting him, even bringing in other people to back up his version of the story, while still admitting to some of his less “severe” mistreatment of Bianca and Pandora in order to paint himself as a man who is able to reflect and take accountability for his actions. Yet, at the same time, this book also gives the impression that, above all else, Amadeo was never that important to him. Perhaps this is just another way to distance himself from Armand.

And I can’t help but consider the in-universe implications of this. As it is, Armand still isn’t at a point where he recognises the things that happened to him as abuse. We get an inkling every now and then that he might be beginning to realise that Marius wasn’t purely the good and merciful saviour he believed him to be. Sometimes he does fear him, especially after losing Benji and Sybelle to him too. But I wonder how much reading this book could set him back again; how much all the contradictions would muddle the memories he already struggles to make sense of. And I wonder if, to an extent, that was Marius’ plan all along.

All of this to say that after all of this I can’t help but come back to what, to me, is one of the most sinister quotes from the entire series.

“‘And when you think back on this time, when in half-sleep at night you remember me as your eyes close on your pillow, these moments of ours will seem corrupt and most strange. They’ll seem like sorcery and the antics of the mad, and this warm place might become the lost chamber of dark secrets and this might bring you pain.’ ‘I won’t go.’ ‘Remember then that it was love,’ he said.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 69)

#the vampire armand #blood and gold #marius de romanus #the vampire chronicles #iwtv #well.. there you go 😭#my essay #with the quotes included this has a higher word count than my actual dissertation #marius de fuckface #interview with the vampire #river reads tvc

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cloveroctobers · 21 hours ago

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DESERT EAGLE | Stack (SINNERS) — summer prompts

A/N: I figured why not write stack in vamp form this time around? In the summer is crazy but I hear Mississippi is summer all year round and we already know around this time that this man has lived many lives. Anyways just enjoy your vacay—NOT in Mississippi—with your vamp bf 😉

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: “how many swimsuits did you bring?” — “all of them.” + complimenting them with every single outfit change of the trip. + late night beach walks >>>

WARNINGS: language, modern au!, written in HC form (my way!) so this is a quick one + slight description of intimate moments.

<- read my previous summer anthology prompt here.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪

Vacays with Stack were always a adventure because that man was always up to something.

He was always down for spontaneous trips so if you ever showed him travel TikTok’s that sparked your interest? best believe in a few days he’ll be sending you booked plane tickets to your phone.

That man loved traveling by plane.

If you’re the type to get anxious on them? He makes it his job to have you laughing so you don’t have to worry about a thing.

The Oak Bluffs was not necessarily a place that Stack jumped at the chance to go, “The fuck is out there? The real housewives of uppity snobs? And their corny husbands in tight ass polo sweaters?”

“I mean…I can always go with my girls instead? One of their birthdays is coming up anyway.” You shrugged and it’s almost as if you spit in his face.

He never said he didn’t want to go, he just needed to know what type of shit they were on out there.

He’ll ask if you’re sure once, “You sure you don’t want to try one of those tropical islands instead like we did on spring break? Jamaica was a time.”

He’s licking his lips at the memory.

That time underneath the waterfalls? Y’all were definitely chasing something!

“Oak bluffs still is an island, babe.”

Regardless he gets excited to pack only when it comes down to the fits, the man wants to make sure it coordinates with yours well. He had a great eye for detail— something you learned when he showed you pics from back in the 30s.

The brother was sharp! And IS.

He’s upstairs out on the balcony of the Airbnb cottage, one already lit resting against his pointer and thumb as he exhaled the smoke watching the sun finally fade. It barely burned, felt like maybe the sting of a papercut (you thought trying sunscreen would help some but that’s another story!) but he was made to come alive in the night time.

“What do you think about this one?” You asked, arriving back onto the balcony and moving to pose along the banister, elbows resting along the railing and into his view.

He tilts his head back, slow and deliberate as he takes in the suit that clung to your body and made your skin glow even with the sunset being tucked away, “Shit, i wouldn’t be mad if you just wanted to wear that one for the rest of the night.”

You laugh, “You and I both know if I went out on the town in this one? I’d be causing trouble.”

Stack grins at you, flashing you with his dimples, gold and fangs while his eyes remained shielded by some expensive shades. Which he didn’t need to do around you but it was all about the aesthetic. “Now what’s wrong with that?”

That ofc made you roll your eyes as Stack decides to ask letting his eyes drink you in, “how many swimsuits did you bring?”

You stretch obnoxiously, making sure it all poked out before resting your hands on your hips standing by the door, “All of them.” You wink before you decide on another bathing suit, ready to head back inside to change, thinking of another one that would look better underneath the coverup fit you had out.

You should have known Stack would jump right up to assist with that ;)

The both of you were having dinner pretty close to the beach—if not right on it. It was your first night out here and stack was all for wining and dining his woman.

He picked a dinner spot with a panoramic view of the beach, a seafood spot—or some type of grill spot if you’re allergic or don’t care for that. Regardless he knows his lady and wouldn’t budge telling you the name to look up the menu prior. He just knows it’s something you’ll like.

What can I say? He’s a detail oriented guy and paid attention regardless of his playful ways.

If it’s an upscale place, he doesn’t need any other man holding the chair out for you, and if they try? They’re definitely getting a flash of his eyes underneath his shades to back off.

“You not gettin’ a tip for tryin’ to push up on my lady, nig—

“Elias!” You warn, letting him know you heard him trying to have a side convo with the waiter, who couldn’t be no more than nineteen and just doing his job.

Stack is obsessed with the way you look in the amber lights sitting across from him. Breeze blowing your hair over your shoulder. He can’t help but to take some pictures of his own, annoying you when you told him to send you those later. “The internet don’t gotta see what’s mine, baby girl.”

He can still eat regular food since the memory of the old him hasn’t just faded after becoming immortal. He just prefers blood and he can fake it with the most bitter of red wine. It’s still something Elias laughs at when you get him to watch supernatural films that have to deal with vamps.

“Next thing you’re gonna tell me werewolves aren’t hairy either.”

Elias shrugs, “I don’t know shit about them like that. Though somethin’ tells me I might have met one, think her name was Hazel—she owned one of the bars—back in New Orleans when I visited on business. They’ve got a lot going on out there anyway.”

After dinner, the both of you made your way down to the beach with the boardwalk becoming a backdrop for you two now. Your heels are in your hand, stack rolled up his linen pants and held your hand as you walked along the water.

The coolness of his skin no longer feels like a cold glass of something good in the heat, his skin always felt warm enough when you touched him.

“You ever let someone ruin you on the beach?” He says to you as he spins you around to press you up against a boulder off to the side and out of view.

Your hand goes up to push his shades back so you can see the light in his dark eyes, “You’ve been thinking about it since I put that wine glass in between these titties, huh?”

It was a party trick once you got tipsy enough!

Stack nips at your jaw, not enough to draw blood, or mess up your makeup—not like he could with whatever setting technique you did—but enough that the fangs scratched your skin.

His lips trail down the side of your neck, feeling the beat of your heart before he even got the chance to kiss it. His hand goes to your neck next, squeezing and keeping you in place with a smirk before he lowers his head, letting his tongue swipe up the cloth of your exposed bathing suit, your nipple instantly going hard in response.

“Been thinkin’ about it since you put that other shit on back at the Airbnb but here I was being a gentleman.”

You snicker, “Aren’t you kind?”

His eyes flicker with lust beyond the smidge of white in his dark eyes, “I don’t think I will be for much longer, sugar,” he bunches up your floor length skirt dragging the material up to your waist, “Spread em wide, legs out, I ain’t gonna let you fall, you know I gotcha. Just like that, let me feel sum.”

The boardwalk music fades with your breathing becoming the best soundtrack Stack could ask for with the waves also rolling on in the distance.

Stack has no issue making you feel secure, even being pressed up against this rock, hands holding onto your backside as he starts off tonguing you down softly.

It’s always so delicately before Stack’s hunger truly takes over and being with stack like this? Dangerous. Yet you’ve always been down for the thrill.

That hair pulling was out. He knew better. The neck grabbing was tolerable, a turn on that he was the only one that brought it out of you, stack was the vocal type and could always pull it out of you too, even when you challenged him that he couldn’t.

He’s the perfect sting, buried deep, even when he sinks his fangs in just a little to draw blood from your breasts.

Even when he abruptly gets you down in the sand, despite the scarf covering your protective style and being pinned into your hair, you’re ready to fight his ass, throwing elbows and managing to wrestle so you’re on top of him with a triumph grin while he’s rubbing sand out of his eye.

“Aha! That’s what you get for trying to toss me around, knowing I hated sandboxes as a kid.”

Stack blinks the grit out of his eyes and up at you, like you’re his whole world, licking his lips, he palms at your waist, “My fault, baby. I thought you liked it a little rough, lemme make it up to you. You could put my favorite box right here if you want.”

And when he sticks his fat tongue out, he could feel you clench against his torso and he knew he had you before the lips on your face greeted his first.

To say you ended up sandier than expected would be a understatement but the afterglow was worth it.

It’s well past three am when you return back to the cottage, a shower in each other arms, sweet nasty kisses in one another’s embrace, and fogged up mirrors was a night well spent.

During the daylight Stack’s normally down to recharge, not for long if he ate properly before you went on this trip.

Majority of the trip would be night time activities and if you’re a night owl, it’s not a big deal. Your life still went on, on a regular basis with a bf who could only really be out during the nightfall, it only became hard if others knew about your love life.

No secret (well the vamp part yeah) but private.

A moonlit bike ride was part of your second evening together.

You were headed to the gingerbread houses, to see the lanterns that illuminated the homes when the sky went to sleep and whatever else the two of you could get into.

You’re walking alongside a rented bike while Stack is still riding circles around you, like a big kid, before slowing down to peddle beside you.

He gets close enough to peck a kiss to the back of your shoulder, getting a slow smile out of you in return as you bring your attention away from the evening sky.

“Can I have my space back?”

“For what? You stink or somethin’?”

You stop walking, scoffing as you both share a laugh, one that’s low and private. The kind meant for lovers.

“So if I slash your tires and make your face kiss the pavement for disrespecting me, I don’t want to hear nothing.”

Stack chuckles, “I’ll prolly still love yo ass anyway…even if your edges start to puff up.”

And that sends you chasing after him, even to the point where you have to hop onto your bike to get to him, yet that vampire speed was also something else.

When you get back to the house, you find stack out back, watching the fire pit while smoking, as soon as you sit in the chair beside his, he’s pulling you in the chair close enough to his. You angle your body to toss your legs into his lap, he holds the blunt out to you, you decline, resting your head back against the chair. He leans over to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Cobalt blue is your color, ma.”

It’s sportswear and something he complimented when you rushed outside to meet him before your outing—you were taking longer to get ready after lounging around all day and he didn’t help you pick out what to wear this time around…but the night was still young.

“Thank you baby,” you say as his kiss still tingled against your skin.

He hums as he takes another inhale, trailing his thumb against your thigh, “Might need to make this a tradition.”

You press your cheek into your shoulder, “What? Me looking good?” You tease.

Stack laughs before he drawls out, “That’s all the time, whatcha talkin’ bout?”

“Oh you’re just trying to ruin this fit too.” You reply with slits in your eyes, playfully twirling your finger at him.

Stack stares over at you, “I don’t need a vacation or daily planner to want to do that. Trust me when I say that. Plus I could always replace it no problem.”

This you knew, stack always treated you well—not just with materials but gift giving was his thing—if he didn’t treat you nice he would just be another whisper in the dark.

You both don’t say much for a while, soft inhales and exhales mainly coming from you.

The fire snaps, lazy and red, stack’s thumb sweeps against your biker shorts.

You eventually slip away and stack protests with a groan, thinking you’re not up for whatever else the night had in store, to the point he wouldn’t let your hand go but you promise you’ll be back.

A minute goes by with you returning with a chilled bag you tucked away for later.

He quirks up a brow, silently wondering where you got that from and how you managed to keep it hidden from him, but he doesn’t say it as his skin brushed against yours, taking the blood bag from your grasp.

“Look at you, spoilin’ me.” He murmurs as he tears into it, fangs poking out that it almost makes you laugh at the memory last night when a older white man said his grandson wanted some fang grillz before and wanted to know where stack got them, you watch as he spits the plastic away into the grass, “I’mma lucky ass fella.”

Your eyes are soft as you say, “See what happens when you’re loved and loved in return.”

Stack blinks those orbit eyes at you, “Well I do,” he shrugs as you tilt your head at him, leaving him to add, “Love you.”

“I know,” you sigh before curling yourself against him in the same chair this time, resting your head back against his collarbone, “I do too.”

Maybe you’re an oddball too, being involved in a relationship this real and what the heavily religious would call unholy or unnatural even.

Stack loops his arm around your frame, giving your hip a squeeze with the blunt still in between his fingers. The smoke spinning upwards.

He’s pinching at the bag, swirling its contents a little as he peers down at you with love, your eyes slowly closing, taking in the moment.

The crickets sing somewhere near the trees, the summer night keeps this memory alive as stack finally goes at the blood bag like it’s a capri sun, and it doesn’t bother you that his hand tightens against you.

You’ve long accepted that some sinners just love harder.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪

Continue with my summer anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #sinners #sinners 2025 #sinners film #stack x reader #elias stack moore #elias moore #stack moore #stack moore x reader #stack x black reader #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #queued #sinners headcanon #summer prompts

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fleurdelucienne · 3 days ago

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First of all, I want to admit that I LOVE it when a piece of media subverts expectations. Like, YES, surprise me! Change my perspective on something! That being said, I think it would’ve been so much more interesting if Warhorse didn’t make Katherine romanceable in KCD2.

To all the Hansry detractors that decry “why can’t men just be close friends without being gay?!” My response is “Why can’t men and women just be close friends without inserting the expectation of a romantic relationship?” Of course, this is all acknowledging that so many of the choices in an RPG are fully optional, and, as always, I’m so happy for people to make their choices. And I’m happy for there to be multiple options (both men and women!) for Henry to romance. However, there is such an overriding trope (especially in video games) of women serving the narrative purpose of being conquests for men, or, at the very least, objects of their romantic affection. Warhorse already subverted expectations with the Hans romance, and I think there would’ve been a certain aspect of artistic bravery if they didn’t submit to this trope with Katherine.

Katherine serves an interesting role in the Devil’s Pack, and is capable of gathering intelligence and carrying out missions in way no one else can, specifically because of overriding gender roles in this particular historical context. In my option, that provides a very interesting commentary on those very gender roles - by playing into ideas of women’s place, purpose, and limitations, Katherine serves to narratively disprove those very notions. Additionally, Zizka/Henry would not have been successful (or even lived?) at multiple pivotal story points without her.

If you don’t complete The Fifth Commandment quest and lock yourself out of the romance, Henry can still talk to her in Suchdol before he and Samuel set out to try to get a message to Jobst. And the conversation is such a beautiful and vulnerable one about the grief and loss they have in common. AND it makes Zizka spilling the beans to Henry about Katherine’s past somewhat more palatable in that way (though I still don’t love it) - instead of a prelude to a sexual encounter, it provides an opportunity to deepen a friendship and share the burden of pain and loss they both carry. And ALL of this allows Katherine to stand as an interesting character on her own, and we are honestly rather starved of non-romanceable women like that in KCD2.

The Hans romance is partly so incredible because it DID subvert expectations. If you view the story through the lens of their relationship as an increasingly romantic one, it changes the tone, it adds subtext, and generates a beautiful through line that enhances the story. AND, because they knew they were subverting expectations, especially of a large portion of their player base, they knew they had to do it well. And they truly knocked it out of the park imo. It’s one of the best game romances I’ve ever experienced. But that’s not the case with Katherine, and perhaps that’s why the writing surround the romance feels so lazy and clumsy. Zizka’s (vaguely inappropriate) trauma dump makes the whole thing feel rushed and uncomfortable, so it ultimately feels like an afterthought. And Katherine really deserved better.

#kcd #kingdom come deliverance #henry of skalitz #kcd2 #hansry #kcd henry #kcd katherine #I’m sure I have one of these for every woman in KCD2 #justice for Katherine #kcd shower thoughts #women of kcd2

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carylmeanslove · 2 days ago

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To some Polin bashers/haters on IG comments.

You people don't understand crap! You really don't have book/show storytelling narrative comprehension at ALL do you? Polin are a true love match through & through.

Colin saying what he said to his brothers (in the book) was something that he didn't mean. It was said, because his mother was pestering him to settle down, even Penelope understood that. He would have said it about ANY woman his mother was bringing up, not just Penelope. As for on the show what Colin said (to the jack*ss Lords) was due to him being kind of drunk (Luke confirmed this) & wasn't being himself & again didn't mean it. He was feeling increasingly stressed due to not finding a purpose/a life's work. (which his purpose all along was Penelope & career being a writer) After he lost himself when Pen stopped writing him over the summer, to numb the pain of Pen shutting him out he started trying to feel less, to change who he really is into what everyone expected of him, not being his true self (also confirmed by Luke & the narrative). He was still feeling pressure due to not having found a purpose/still feeling overshadowed by his brothers. I blame Anthony actually (love him, but still, Agh!). Anthony was even congratulating Colin for his act when he returned home in S3. It's sad that Anthony actually liked that Colin wasn't being his true self.

That's also why whenever his family asks him at the beginning of S3 how many cities he visited he says he couldn't remember. It's because after his travels at the beginning of S2 he answered them & they all rolled their eyes basically, thinking his travel stories are boring, that his interests are boring. So basically, they think Colin's true self is boring. Whereas Pen cares about his travel stories though, loved reading his letters (between S1 & S2), she actually loves his true self (Nicola & the narrative confirmed this). Colin's subconscience picked up on that fact due him being in love with her without realizing it. That's why he always loved receiving letters from her the most. It's also why even though she made him lose himself from her not responding to his letters he still knew she would understand. So unlike when asked by his family, he actually told her how many cities he visited. It's because around Pen he can always be himself. She is his home (again Luke & official source, I believe it was Netflix UK confirmed this)

Whoever was in charge of Netflix Latin at the time of the linked post just shows that whoever did this post is just as confused as any of "fans" that believe Colin thinks of Penelope as a left over or whatever & also anyone who think he had any true romantic feelings what-so-ever for Marina. Colin has always been in love with Penelope, but didn't realize it until his first kiss with her (again confirmed by Luke & the narrative, actually everything I'm writing is based on the narrative basically not just the parts confirmed by sources)

The whole thing with Marina was just to get out from under the shadow of his older brothers. It was an 'understanding' as Colin put it AKA would have been a marriage of convenience, plain & simple. He wasn't in love with Marina. It was him being curious of ways to try to find a purpose. Colin was basically thinking "maybe getting married would get me out of my brothers shadows & help me in finding my purpose"

Then in S2 he visited Marina out of kindness. It wasn't due to him having feelings for her at all. He felt sorry over her situation & since he is a kind person & wants to help people. He wanted to make sure she was truly alright & that is all it was. Marina wasn't even thinking it was having been due to him having feelings for her either. Just that he felt sorry for her. She didn't need or want his pity. She was also frustrated that he hadn't woken up yet to the fact that he & Penelope belong together. We get it girl, we Polinators were there too. She was the one that ended up helping him & Penelope instead that day. What she told him nudged his subconscience closer to the realization of his feelings for Penelope.

Learn how to understand the story. The true/correct way by paying attention to ALL the info given instead of your obvious limited understanding & I'm sure what is likely a preconceived hate towards characters & a couple that I honestly believe comes with having biases against them from being Kanthony or Benophie shippers. Which is ridiculous due to the fact that this is a show/story about a family of couples, none of which hinder or block any other from getting their happy ever after. So, stop with the hate of Polin/Penelope/Colin! Stop the hate agenda towards one couple just so you can try to raise your preferred one up. It's pathetic & utterly childish.

If anyone doesn't see how amazing Polin is, then you are truly blind & thankfully are of the minority, because Polin's season has been the most loved & watched season of the whole series. Their trope: Friends to Lovers is the most popular, most loved trope in the whole world/of all time, so it's not surprising at all. It's not showing hate towards the other couples to state this. It's just statistical facts.

Polin are also the only couple of Bridgerton siblings that have a history. They've known each other the longest. So, there is a comfort & familiarity that runs deeper than any of the other couples could have. It's because it's core foundation & basis is rooted in true friendship. A true love that comes from that is so precious. It's the most important thing to have in a loving relationship. Also, Colin is the greenest flag as anyone in Bridgerton (anywhere really) can get. Someone better watch out for what's coming in season 4 in regard to 🚩's with the male lead. I can't wait to see how Benophies try to handle those.

I still love Benophie. Polin is my #1, but I still love all the Bridgerton couples, unlike solo Benophies & solo Kanthonies shippers. True Polinators don't find the need to hate on the other couples. We state facts, but we don't venomously hate on the other couples whereas that's all the Kathonies & Benophies do. Instead of spending their time self-promoting their couples, they spit hate at Polin & cry over their couples, wondering why they aren't as popular or aren't treated right. Probably because you all spend all your time focusing on stuff other than your couple & making content to share with others to get their popularity up. Fandom is only as happy/fun as you make it to be. You waste your time spreading hate all you'll get back is disappointment. Spend your time focusing on your ship & making content for them. Then you'll be happier.

I speak truth, not lies. I spit facts, not hate.

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ETA:

Hey Netflix, I know it might just be a joke about the fans I'm mentioning here that would believe this stuff, but this just causes people to misunderstand the show/characters/couple & fueling the hate that is out there.

To the fans who believe the same as the sayings in the slides.

Slide 1: When he insisted you shake hands because you were just friends.

Spitting Facts: They were friends & he wanted to be sure he hadn't lost her for good. Right after the hand touch there is a moment that passes between them that by just the look on his face, it shows his subconscious love was starting to trickle out.

Slide 2: When he invited you to his house to practice flirting, not flirting with each other.

Spitting Facts: He actually did ask her to practice flirting by flirting with him. Then he gets flustered by her flirting by being honest about his eyes.

Slide 3: When you healed his hand and he didn't kiss you on the mouth to thank you.

Spitting Facts: He did squeeze her hand though & then got super flustered & he thanked her for her caring over it at the next ball. The kiss comes a bit later.

Slide 4: When you had sugar on your face and he didn't lick it off.

Spitting Facts: The script actually shows Colin's inner thoughts. He actually wanted to kiss her again & he licked his lips when she asked if she had sugar on her face which shows his mouth was watering from wanting to kiss her. He is a hungry boy. He even did eat a piece of the exact same cake as her so he could taste how her lips tasted at that moment.

Slide 5: When he discovered your gossipy side and didn't ask for more gossip.

Spitting Facts: He already has gossiped with her back in S1 during the What a Barb scene & he will def be gossiping with her in S4. He is proud of her work as Lady Whistledown He admits he felt envious of her writing. He knows she is amazing.

Slide 6: When you finally had your first time and only broke a sofa.

Spitting Facts: Breaking of the sofa only happened off screen so it doesn't count. Although I know where it does count 😏 but that's not the topic of this post. Polin's first time (also best time for Colin based on the script) was the most beautiful, loving, caring, amazing & sexiest first times on any media ever. It's proof of true love. Not to mention the longest steamy scene of the series. No one shows as much true love & caring in that kind of moment as Colin.

Hope this clarified everything for anyone wondering. I know Polinators don't need it to be clarified

#Polin #Polinator #Through with the bullshit from Kathonys & Benophies #Tired of the storytelling narrative incomprehension in this fandom #Bridgerton #Speaking truth #Spitting facts

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hanna81024 · 3 days ago

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Why do people never interact with fics anymore?

This is something I noticed with my latest fic ”the albatross, my violet skies”. It hasn’t been this apparent with my previous fics, so this seems to be a recent thing.

Out of 8000 hits, only about 8% of readers left kudos, and roughly 3% left a comment. When you look at the numbers themselves (640 kudos and 230 comment threads) it doesn’t seem as big of an issue, but when you actually do the math it becomes super obvious.

I know this might come off as arrogant, but as someone who primarily gets their motivation and also a lot of validation from interactions, seeing these small numbers really suck. Because it does suck, that only 8% of my readers left kudos. It does make me wonder if this fic that I’ve spent the past month pouring my heart and soul into wasn’t something people liked, or if it wasn’t good, or if they just didn’t bother interacting. My comments are pretty much 100% positive, so I’d like to believe it’s the latter, but even still it makes me wonder.

If the reason is as simple as people not bothering to interact — please try to change that. I can’t stress this enough. If you like a fic, let the author know. This stuff is so discouraging. What I’m about to say has been said many times, and you’re probably sick of hearing it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Because it doesn’t have to be a lengthy comment. A kudos or even just a ”good work!” is enough, and I’m 100% sure other authors will back me up on this. We’re taking time and effort out of our day to give you these stories — often entire books — completely free of charge. I think, as both a reader and an author, that the least we can do is show up for each other and give each other the support and love we all deserve.

That’s all from me. Have a nice day/night, and let’s try to do better <3

Edit: I’ve been informed my ratio isn’t bad at all, which is nice. I am new to uploading, so that’s my bad. But I still think my point stands. Why is it that only 10% of readers bother interacting? Why is that the norm? I think we should try to raise that number. Of course, fanfic writing isn’t just about stats and interactions, but it still goes a long way, and so many people in this community deserve it.

#ao3 #ao3 author #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ao3 discourse #author discourse #discussion #hanna types out her thoughts at 3 am #fanfiction #fanfic authors #fanfic writing

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storiesssbyhopfullysunny · 2 days ago

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Not Sorry

Dean Winchester x My personal OC

This is my own personal work please do not steal it or use anywhere else! This is mine character within the plot line of Supernatural. All rights to Supernatural and its storyline belong to Warner Brothers. This is my first story like this and I’m very proud of it. Please be kind and compassionate.

Warnings: Smut!! And lots of it!!, fluffy Dean, mentions of blood, dying and hell, awkwardness, 18+ mature content, some funny moments

This is my first snippet of a bigger story with my original character Evelyn or Eve. It takes places early Season 4 after Dean returns from Hell.

Gif by @fallencrackships

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I should've died. I would’ve died. If it wasn’t for Dean.

The thought kept looping through my head, quiet and insistent, like the ringing after a gunshot. Even now, back in the motel with the door locked and my body stitched back together, the ache in my ribs didn't compare to the way he looked at me in that field—blood on his hands, jaw clenched, eyes wild.

Dean hadn't said much since.

He stood by the window now, shoulders squared like he was ready to fight off the next attack, even though we both knew the danger had passed, for now. The lamplight painted his profile in gold and shadow, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.

I sat on the bed in one of his flannels, too long for me, warm in a way that made my chest ache. It smelled of gunpowder and leather. My hair was still damp from the shower. The room was warm and smelled like soap.

"You gonna look at me tonight?" I asked, voice low, timid. A softness I reserved for the Winchesters boy and not many others.

He didn't turn. "Not if I can help it."

That stung. "Thanks."

I couldn’t help the huff that left my lips. A beat of silence. Then he exhaled through his nose. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, Dean?"

He didn't answer.

I stood, and walked over to him slowly. "You don’t gotta pretend with me Dean.”

He glanced at me, just once, but it was enough to see it. The fire. The restraint. The way his hands flexed at his sides like they didn't know what to do.

"I thought I lost you," he muttered. "You were bleeding out."

I stepped closer. "But you didn’t, I’m right here."

"That’s not the point," he said, almost too quiet to hear. "You could have."

My fingers brushed his arm. He didn't flinch, but he didn't move either. I could feel the tension rolling off him—too much want wrapped in too much guilt.

"I'm not made of glass, Dean."

"Didn't say you were."

"You act like if you touch me, I'll break."

He finally turned, jaw tight. Something burning behind is eyes. "No. I act like if I touch you, I won't stop. And that changes everything."

That landed somewhere deep in my chest. I couldn’t think before. "Maybe it should." Flew out of my mouth.

He looked at me then, really looked. His eyes were raw, dark, full of things he'd never say out loud. I reached up and touched his face. The stubble on his chin pricking against my skin. He caught my wrist gently, like he wasn't sure if he should hold me or push me away.

"I'm not good at this," he said, voice gruff.

"I know."

"You've been in my head since you showed back up at Bobby’s. Hell, since before that."

"You think it’s different for me?”

His silence told me everything I needed to know.

"I watched you die, Dean. You think I don't still wake up hearing that scream? Putting you in that grave?”

He swallowed hard, gaze flicking to my lips, then back to my eyes. "I'm not who I used to be."

"Neither am I."

"I don't want to be careful with you," he admitted, jaw tight. "I don't know how to make this sweet. I want to feel you, need you, like I've been trying not to for years. And if I do that..." He exhaled sharply. "There's no going back."

"Then don't go back." I wasn’t thinking anymore, the words that had sat at the tip of my tongue time and time again finally rolling off with no control. I carefully reached to put my hand on his cheek, fully aware he could push me away at any moment. I moved closer to him, carefully watching his every move. "I've waited long enough." The words were almost a whisper but sounded much louder in the silence of the room; but we both knew the weight they held.

Testing my limit I cautiously closed what little space was left between us looking up at him as I rested my hand on his chest. Feeling the rise and fall of his breath hitch against my touch.

He reached for my hips hesitantly before he settled them right below my bandage. I winced as his grip on my waist tightened, and for a second, I thought he'd pull away. I couldn’t help the thoughts that started to flutter through my head. He stared down at me intensely. Almost as if I’d disappear if he let go. Our difference in height glaringly obvious now that we were basically chest to chest.

My breath caught in my throat as Dean pressed closer to me. I could feel the heat of his breath fan over my face and it was then I realized how close Dean really was to me. His eyes flickered from mine to my lips. I shuddered under his gaze.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t kiss me. Didn’t pull away.

Just stared. Like he was memorizing ever inch of my face. I stared back taking in every single freckle or scar that adorned his face. He was beautiful.

“Dean…” I whispered, unsure what I was asking.

His jaw clenched. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m something good.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely steady. “You are.”

He exhaled through his nose, rough and shaky, like the words wounded him more than comforted him. Then, slowly, like he was giving me one last chance to stop him, he leaned in.

His lips brushed mine.

Just once.

Feather-soft. Hesitant. Devastating.

And then he kissed me again, harder this time. Like he’d given up fighting it. Like he needed to prove something in the way his mouth claimed mine.

I gasped against him, and that sound undid him.

His hands slid into my hair, threading through the strands as he kissed me deeper, fuller. My fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him against me. Every inch of his body against mine made me ache more. I couldn't believe I was doing this.

He pulled his lips from mine slowly and I couldn't help the soft, desperate whine that escaped my lips as he rested his forehead to mine, both of us breathless. My cheeks burning in emabrassment.

His mouth found mine again, this time with no hesitation.

There was something wild in the way he kissed me now, like he’d finally surrendered to how badly he wanted it, wanted me. His hands cupped my jaw, thumbs brushing my cheeks as he tilted my head back and took his time. His lips feathered over mine and I swore to myself if his hands wearn’t holding me. His lips began to wonder, slow and searching, dancing over my chin and along my jaw. I gasped again.

My whole body lit up under his touch.

He moved carefully at first but when I slid my hands under his shirt and felt the heat of his bare skin, he groaned low in his throat and everything changed. My restraint fading alongside his.

He pulled me tighter against him, hands gripping my hips like he didn’t want there to be a single inch between us. I could feel how hard he was already, pressed hot and heavy against my lower stomach. The dirty thoughts going through my head were plentiful. He leaned further down burying his face in my neck and kissed along the skin there, teeth grazing lightly.

“Been trying not to think about this,” he muttered against my throat, voice rough and broken. “But you’re everywhere, Eve. Always have been.

His words sent a thrill through me, sharp and sweet.

I fumbled with the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward until he helped me pull it over his head, revealing the scarred, sculpted body I’d patched and stitched plenty of times.

I ran my hands down his chest, slow, tracing every line and scar. I breathed, studying him gently.

Dean froze for a half-second, shifting under my gaze. I leaned up, on the tips of my toes, and kissed the space over his heart. Where his tattoo laid.

He leaned into my touch.

His hands slid under my shirt then, pushing the fabric up until I lifted my arms to let him take it off. His gaze dropped to my bare skin, and his hunger sharpened, but his touch softened. His hand slid down my side. Calloused fingers traced the curve of my waist, then paused when they reached my ribs. He brushed his thumb over the ink there.

“You’re gonna wreck me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss just below my collarbone.

“Then let me,” I murmured, backing up slowly toward the bed, pulling him down with me.

He followed, every inch of his body lining up with mine, his mouth finding mine again, deeper now, hotter. His hands roamed, fingers skimming over my breasts, my ribs, my waist, across my thighs like he was learning me by feel. I gasped when his palm slid between my thighs, teasing, stroking.

“Dean—” The word barely made it out, my body jolting as his touch landed with devastating precision.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my skin. God, I almost crumbled beneath him. “Say my name like that again, and I swear—”

“Dean,” I whispered, slower this time, eyes locked on his, a wicked smile peeling across my lips.

He kissed me hard, almost bruising, and slipped his fingers inside me. I thanked myself silently for wearing the thin shorts.

He moved with purpose, curling his fingers just right, his eyes never leaving mine as he watched me unravel. My back arched and I couldn’t help the soft, desperate whine that escaped my lips as his fingers moved just right. The sound was involuntary, high-pitched and needy, and the second it left my lips, I froze.

Dean stilled, just for a beat, like he was stunned.

Then he groaned, head dropping to my shoulder like the sound physically hit him.

“Fuck, Eve,” he rasped. He looked up at me, eyes blazing, lips curved into the faintest, wrecked smile. “That little whine you just made? Cutest damn thing I’ve ever heard. And the hottest.”

My skin burned. “Dean—” his lips found the curve of my neck again kissing up my jaw.

“Do it again,” he muttered against my skin “Make that sound for me again.”

I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. All I could do was shudder in his grasp.

His mouth on my neck was maddening, soft, slow kisses that turned to open-mouthed heat, I could taste the hints of wishkey on his tongue, his stubble scraping just enough to make me shiver. One hand stayed between my thighs, working me open with aching precision, while the other pressed firm against my right side, keeping me close, like he needed me right there.

I whimpered again, barely a sound, and felt him twitch against me, harder now.

Dean groaned, deep and guttural. “Shit, Sweetheart, you have no idea what that does to me.”

I buried my face in his shoulder, another whine escaping my lips, fingers digging into his back as he curled his fingers again. A small smirck decorated his face “Dean, please…”

His breath hitched, He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes dark, jaw clenched like he was holding himself together by a thread. “Say it again,” he murmured, voice rough and wrecked. “Say my name like that. Beg for it.”

If I had any resistance left in me, it melted away. I arched beneath him, legs parting instinctively as he curled his finger again, making me gasp—sharp and breathless.

“That’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing mine. “Let go for me, Eve.”

I met his gaze, trembling, wrecked, and whispered, “Dean… I need you.”

And that was it.

The last thread snapped.

He hesitated, just for a breath.

Then he leaned in, voice low and wrecked.

“You already have me.” He curled his finger in that moment and I cried out, a sound that that seemed so far away but yet so loud.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, teeth grazing my lip before his tongue slid against mine and I groaned into his mouth. My hands fumbled with his belt, desperately, and he stilled me.

"Let me," he said, voice dark. He slipped his fingers out, and I bit back a whimper at the sudden ache of emptiness.

I let go, watched as he stripped for me, jeans, boxers, all tossed aside like armor. His body was scarred and strong, and God, he was beautiful in a way he'd never believe.

He knelt between my thighs and pulled off the thin bed shorts, slow and focused. His gaze drank in every inch of me.

"You've been killing me for years," he said. "And I let you."

He leaned down and kissed my chest, my stomach, trailing fire as he went. When his mouth found the wet heat between my legs, I gasped, hips rising. He groaned against me, tongue moving in slow, devastating circles until I was whimpering, fingers tangled in his hair.

"Dean—please—"

He pulled away just enough to speak. "You taste so good, Sweetheart." I whined again, this man would be the undoing of me.

He kissed his way back up my body, fingers guiding himself to my entrance. I looked up into his eyes, no fear, no hesitation anymore. Just a storm of need and something deeper.

He pushed in slowly, watching me the whole time. Every inch stretched, burned, filled, until he was fully inside me and I couldn't breathe.

We stilled there, forehead to forehead, hearts hammering.

"I've got you," he whispered. I whined in despiration jutting my hips against his in the slightest attempt to create friction.

And then he moved.

It was desperate. Raw. A rhythm forged in years of repression and longing. His thrusts were deep, rough, perfect. My name on his lips wasn't a word—it was a prayer, a curse, a confession. Something I had never thought I'd hear falling off his lips In a gasp.

“Fuck, Eve—”

His voice broke on my name, rough and guttural. I could feel him unraveling, feel the exact moment he couldn’t hold back any longer. His rhythm turned frantic, hips snapping into mine, deep and desperate, chasing the edge like he couldn’t stop if he tried.

And God, I didn’t want him to.

“Dean, oh my God, Dean,” I moaned, high and breathless, my nails digging into his back as everything inside me coiled tight, pressure building with each perfect thrust. “I’m—please, I’m so close—” I whined, giving in fully to the seering sensation run through my body.

He groaned into my neck, voice wrecked and trembling. “Come on, sweetheart… give it to me… let go…”

That name—sweetheart—sent me over the edge.

My entire body arched into his as pleasure slammed through me like a lightning strike, hot and bright and blinding. I cried out, loud and raw, his name broken on my lips.

He wasn’t far behind.

Dean cursed under his breath, thrust once more, then buried himself deep with a low, guttural growl as he came, shaking against me. “Fuck—Eve—” he rasped, clutching me to him.

We stayed like that, tangled and breathless, skin damp with sweat and aftershocks, hearts hammering in perfect rhythm.

And then—

The motel door creaked open.

“I got burgers. Hope you didn’t eat alre—”

Sam.

Dean froze. My blood turned to ice.

Sam’s voice cut off. Paper bags rustled.

And then a beat of complete, stunned silence.

“Oh my fucking God,” Sam muttered, and I could hear the instant horror dawned on him. “Nope. Nope. I didn’t see anything. Did not see a damn thing.”

Dean blinked, still inside me, then dropped his forehead against my shoulder with a groan. “Son of a bitch.”

I covered my flaming face with both hands as the door banged shut behind Sam. His footsteps pounded down the hall.

“I’m going to the Impala!” Sam’s voice called faintly through the wall. “I’m living in the Impala!”

Laughter bubbled out of me—delirious, mortified laughter. Dean shook with it too, his shoulders trembling, face still buried in my neck.

“Well,” I gasped between giggles, “at least we know he brought food.”

Dean looked up at me, eyes glassy and stunned, lips curling into a crooked grin. “We’re never hearing the end of this.”

Dean's breath was heavy, chest rising and falling against mine, but there was something fragile beneath the fire now. The way his eyes searched mine, like he was trying to find a way to put all the words he couldn't say into just one look.

I traced lazy circles on his back, still slick and warm, and felt the tension in his muscles slowly ease—just a little.

"I'm sorry about Sam," I whispered, voice hoarse.

Dean snorted, a rough, tired sound. "He always picks the worst times. Like he wants us to star in some bad motel porno."

I laughed softly, the sound shaky. "Yeah, real classy."

He shifted, finally pulling out and rolling beside me, his skin prickling where it had been pressed against mine. The quiet between us was heavy but not empty. It felt like the space where everything we'd been holding back could finally settle.

"You good?" he asked, voice low.

"Better," I said honestly, my fingers finding his.

He gave a half-smile, like he wasn't sure if he deserved it. "Me too."

We lay there, hands tangled, for god knew how long. It felt peaceful for a moment. Something neither of us were used to. Dean was still quiet, but his gaze kept flicking to my face—like he was memorizing every line, every curve. Occasionally he'd reach over placing a soft kiss against my lips, making my heart flutter each time. Even after the most passionate night if my life I still couldn't believe I was here.

With Dean.

When I finally broke the silence, it was with a question I'd been holding onto for years. "Why’d you avoid me after you got back, Dean.” He winced, like he knew it was coming, but he'd hoped it wouldn't.

He exhaled sharply, eyes darkening. "Cause I'm not good for you, Eve."

"You're wrong."

He shook his head, voice low but fierce. "I've seen what I can do. Hell... what I did."

Dean hadn't talked about hell, not to anyone else at least, I reached out, cupping his cheek. "You're here."

His hand covered mine, warm and steady. "That's not enough."

"It's all I need."

Next day

Dean was never good at mornings.

He never stretched or yawned, never lingered in bed the way normal people did. The second his eyes opened, he was up, defensive, alert, already half out the door before the rest of the world had caught up. Like rest was a luxury he wasn't allowed to want.

But this morning, he stayed.

I leaned against him, warm under the covers, as the motel air tried to sneak past the window seams. His arm was around my shoulder, his hand absently tracing the top of my thigh like he didn't even realize he was doing it. I could feel his thoughts spiraling—quiet, but relentless.

"You're doing that thing again," I murmured against his collarbone. He shifted a little pulling me closer to him.

"What thing?"

"Where you disappear, even though you're right here."

He tensed for half a second. "Just thinking."

"That's always dangerous." I kissed his collarbone softly.

His breath hitched into a small laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes. I leaned up on one elbow, searching his face.

"You regret it?" I asked gently. The fear, this would all be pulled away in a second, a faint buzz in the back of my head.

He didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened, his hand stilled on my skin. For a moment, I thought he'd lie. That he'd brush it off or change the subject.

But he surprised me.

"I regret waiting so long," he said quietly. "But I'm scared shitless I'm gonna ruin this. That I already have."

My throat tightened and my heart skipped a beat. "You didn't ruin anything, Dean."

He looked at me then, really looked. "You think I don't see what this is? What you are? You're light. And I'm... hell."

I reached for him, fingertips brushing the mark on his shoulder, the one he never talked about but always guarded like it might burn through his skin.

"You're not what happened to you," I said. "You're not what they made you do."

"I was good at it, Eve," he said, the words low and rough. "Down there, I stopped counting. I didn't just survive it, I became it. I don't know how to come back from that."

My chest ached. He had been through so damn much. I touched his face, thumb brushing the shadow of his stubble. "You already are."

He shook his head. "I can't protect you and keep you and love you, not without one of those things breaking."

I didn't flinch, even as my heart skipped at the word love slipping out without permission.

"I'm not asking you to be perfect," I whispered. "I just want you to be you."

"I don't want to watch you die," he said, voice cracked and low.

"Then stop wasting time pushing me away."

We were quiet for a long moment. I could feel him unraveling beside me, inch by inch. Not dramatically, not all at once, just quietly letting the weight shift, letting it settle on both of us, instead of carrying it alone.

Finally, he reached up, fingers threading through my hair. He pulled me to him, slow and deliberate, kissing me like a man still unsure if he deserved it. There was no urgency in it now, just something tender and aching.

"I'm not gonna say it," he muttered against my lips.

"I'm not asking you to," I whispered back.

"But you know it's there."

I nodded. "Yeah."

He sighed, forehead pressed to mine. He leaned into kiss me again, this time more passionate then the last. Not quite the same sense of urgency as last night. I sighed into it giving in to his lips that swallowed mine in a searing delicious rythm.

But then, there was a knock on the door.

Not a pounding, not angry, but unmistakably Sam.

Dean tensed beside me, muscles going rigid as he pulled back, a airy whine leaving my lips from the loss of connection. His expression was caught somewhere between guilt and instinct. Like he wasn't sure if he wanted to cover me up or shield me from something.

"Dean," I said, voice still low from everything we hadn't quite said.

He looked down at me, jaw flexing. "This... this is gonna be a thing now, isn't it?"

I gave him a faint smile. "You mean reality?"

He huffed. "Yeah. That."

The knock came again, a little more pointed this time. "Dean? Eve? You alive in there?"

Dean groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Barely." He knew his brother couldn't hear him but he groaned again letting his grip on me loosen.

I reached for the thin motel sheet and wrapped it around myself. Sliding out of the bed, and padding to the bathroom mirror to try and look like I hadn't just had the most emotionally and physically intense night of my life.

Dean was slower to move. He sat at the edge of the bed, bare chest rising and falling like he hadn't quite caught his breath since last night. The bruises on his side—old and healing—stood out in the soft morning light. He didn't bother to cover them. For once, he wasn't hiding.

"Are we opening the door?" I asked softly.

He looked up, gave a crooked, tired smile. "You're braver than me." He tossed the flannel I had been wearing last night at me.

I slipped on the flannel making sure I was completely decent before I crossed the room and kissed his forehead. "I've always been braver than you."

He chuckled as I turned to open the door. Reaching for the Nob.

When I opened the door, Sam stood there holding a paper bag and three cups of gas station coffee, his eyes immediately catching the state of me, hair a mess, shirt that wasn't mine, flushed skin.

His eyebrows lifted. "So... uh. I guess that explains the noise."

I froze. The emabessment burning hot in my ears.

Dean, from behind me, grumbled, "Jesus, Sammy."

Sam held up his hands. "Hey, not judging. Just��next time? Lock the damn door."

Dean came to stand beside me, now in his jeans but still shirtless, running a hand through his hair. "Next time, maybe knock louder."

I stifled a laugh, stepping back to let Sam in.

But as the three of us stood there in the tiny motel room, something unspoken passed between the brothers, and between Dean and me. It was a shift. A quiet, seismic one.

He didn’t deny it, didn’t make a joke to brush it off.

And when he looked at me, just for a second, I could see it. All of it.

The guilt.

The hope.

The terrifying possibility that, after everything, this might be real.

We didn’t say anything else. We didn’t have to. The silence between us felt less like avoidance and more like surrender, like we were both too afraid to speak the truth out loud in case it shattered the fragile thing forming between us.

Sam could feel it too, just in a different way.

Later

After the world's most awkward breakfast with cold diner eggs and forced small talk, and the lingering embarrassment of Sam walking in on us. Dean said he needed to hit the gas station for ammo and snacks, really just an excuse to get air.

The moment the Impala rumbled out of the lot, Sam gave me that look. Not judging. Just... knowing.

I sat cross-legged on the motel bed, sipping my second coffee of the day, trying not to meet his eyes. But of course, he waited. Patiently, like he always did when he knew I had something I wasn't saying. Sam could always read me like a book, some days better than myself.

"I'm not gonna give you the protective speech," he said finally, sitting across from me. "He's not exactly fragile."

"But?"

"But," Sam said, lifting his brows, "you are. And you've been in love with him since, what... 1998? Maybe earlier?"

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. "God, was it that obvious?"

Sam chuckled. "You used to stare at him like he hung the damn moon.”

"I did not."

"You did." He leaned back against the chair. "And he was too far up his own ass to notice."

I smiled despite myself. I could almost still feel the heat of his hands on my skin. Big and calloused. "He noticed. He just ran from it."

Sam nodded. "He's good at that."

There was a moment of quiet between us. Something me and Sam had always been good at. Comfortable silence. This time though, He let out a sigh that broke throught the air.

“You okay?” I asked, standing from the bed I was sitting on an moving to sit next to him at the small table.

He half smiled, a faint hue of pink dusting his cheeks. “Yeah. Just… trying to unsee things.”

I snorted. “Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry,” he muttered with a wry smile, sipping his coffee. “But it’s fine. Honestly? I’m glad. He’s been… different since he got back. Not worse. Just… heavy. Like he’s carrying all this crap and pretending he’s not.

My throat tightened. I knew exactly what he meant. Hell wasn't exactly a vacation. I swallowed hard around the lump forming in my throat at the thought of Dean.

In that place.

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But with you? He breathes again. It’s like he remembers he’s still human.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s not always easy with him.”

“It never will be,” Sam said, glancing at me, with a small reausrring smile.

“I know, but its worth it.” I said softly.

The door creaked open behind us. Dean stepped inside, the paper bag in his hand crinkling slightly, the smell of gas station coffee and something fried trailing in after him. His eyes swept over me, then flicked to Sam, lingering just a second too long.

“Got your crap,” he muttered, dropping the bag on the table. Sam reached for the bag, uttering a small thank you, before the room fell quiet.

Silence stretched between the three of us like a tightrope. I could feel Dean’s tension from across the room, saw it in the way his jaw ticked, in the way he avoided looking at me too long.

Sam stood suddenly, grabbing the nearest book off the cluttered table. “I, uh, should check something in the lore, something Bobby mentioned yesterday.” He backed toward the door like he was escaping a fire. Eyes darting from me who was watching Dean and Dean who was looking at him confused.

Dean blinked. “You can’t do it here?”

“Nope,” Sam said, already halfway out the door. “Need… better Wi-Fi.”

The door closed behind him with a click.

Dean looked at me.

I was already looking at him.

And the room, once again, was too quiet.

Dean hadn't moved much after Sam left, just stood there, leaning against the dresser, pretending like touching me hadn't just become the thing he needed most in the short gap of time.

But his eyes told a million stories. He watched me carefully as I got from the table and closed the short gap between us.

I stepped into him until there was no more space between us. My hands slid under the hem of his henley, palms gliding up the warmth of his stomach, his chest. He twitched at my touch, like even now he didn't trust that I wanted this.

"Still thinking?" I asked, voice quiet.

His eyes darkened. "Trying not to."

"Then don't."

I leaned up and kissed him before he could answer, deep, and a little greedy. Dean caught my waist with both hands, his thumb brushing absentmindedly, over the top of my tattoo peeking out over my jeans, gripping like he didn't know if he wanted to pull me closer or push me away. But I didn't give him the chance to run. I pressed against him.

His breath hitched when I bit gently at his lower lip. "Eve..."

I leaned back enough to meet his eyes. "You're allowed to want something, Dean."

"I always want you." The confession fell out raw, almost angry, like he resented how easy it came.

I slid my hands down his back, under his waistband, tugging him flush to me. "Then take me like you mean it." I couldn't believe those words had left my mouth. I had gotten a taste of Dean Winchester and I don't think I could ever go back.

That did it.

His mouth crashed to mine, all restraint gone. Hands gripping hard, almost desperate, he lifted me up a small squeal dancing of my lips, I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the mattress. He laid me on the bed and I gasped, as Dean came down over me, hot and solid and everywhere.

His mouth dragged down my throat, stubble scratching, tongue chasing the marks he left like an apology. My shirt was gone before I even noticed him pulling it over my head, his lips finding every inch of skin like he'd never get enough.

"Been thinking about this since before Hell," he muttered, voice gravel against my skin. "Since the first time I let you walk away."

"You thought it was the right thing."I breathed.

His fingers slid beneath the waistband of my jeans, slow and calculated, his lips brushing my ear. "It wasn't."

I arched into him as he pushed them down, heat rolling over me in waves. He kissed his way down my stomach, every touch more worship than lust. But still—when he groaned against my thigh, I felt how hard he was holding back. For me.

I curled my fingers into his hair, tugging gently. "Dean."

He looked up, wrecked and beautiful. "Yeah?"

"Don't hold back."

And this time, he didn't.

His mouth was everywhere, his hands grounding me as the room spun. It was hot and rough and so slow, the kind of build up that made my legs tremble long before he even moved inside me.

When he finally did, when our bodies locked into something deeper than rhythm, he pressed his forehead to mine, breath ragged.

"Tell me this is real," he whispered.

I kissed him hard, “It’s real, Dean. I’m yours.”

His breath hitched the moment I whispered I’m yours.

Dean groaned, wrecked. His hips surged forward, deeper, more desperate. His rhythm shifted, no longer controlled, but needy.

His hand slid between us, fingers finding the ache between my thighs like he already memorized the path. He circled that spot with maddening precision, each pass making me cry out, breathless.

My hands clutched at his back, nails dragging down muscle and scar as I arched into him. My body was trembling, overwhelmed, begging.

Every sound I made only seemed to push him further, like he couldn’t get enough of it, of me.

“Just like that,” he murmured, lips brushing mine. “I’ve got you, Eve.”

The heat built fast, coiling low and sharp. I couldn’t bite back the soft, desperate whines tumbling from my throat.

Dean shuddered.

His forehead pressed to mine, gaze locked with mine like he needed to watch me fall apart.

“Let go,” he whispered.

And like I was waiting for his permission I did.

My whole body arched, hips bucking, the climax tearing through me in a flood of heat and sound. I gasped his name dragging him over the edge with me.

He groaned voice catching as he thrusted into me one more time before he stilled deep inside me.

“Fuck… Sweetheart—” The word tore from his throat as he came. His whole body trembled with it, breath ragged against my neck.

Something in me cracked wide open at the sound of it—sweetheart—said like it meant everything, like I was everything. He had said if last night but it felt bigger in that moment.

I held him tighter, arms around his shoulders, legs wrapped around his waist like I could keep him there forever.

He didn’t move for a long moment. Just breathed into the curve of my neck, chest heaving, like the world had finally gone still.

And for once, it did.

Eventually, he shifted just enough to rest his forehead against mine. Our skin was damp, sticky, warm. Our breathing still unsteady. But his hand found mine in the tangle of sheets, fingers lacing through like it was instinct.

“Jesus,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “You okay?”

I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak at first. Then, quietly, “Yeah. Are you?”

He gave the smallest huff of a laugh. “Ask me again when I can feel my legs.”

I smiled, brushing a hand through his damp hair. “You called me sweetheart.”

He froze for a heartbeat. “Yeah… I guess I did.”

My heart swelled. “I like it. You did it last night too.”

He looked at me then, really looked at me. Whatever shield he usually wore, it was gone. There was nothing in his eyes but warmth, exhaustion, and something that scared me in the best possible way.

Something close to love.

But he still didn’t say it.

Instead, he eased onto his side, pulling me with him, pressing kisses to my shoulder and jaw as we settled into the aftermath. His arms wrapped around me like a cocoon.

I traced slow, idle patterns across his chest, just feeling him breathe.

“You always make those sounds?” he asked eventually playful but serious.

My cheeks burned. “Dean—”

“No, I’m serious.” His hand slid down my spine. “Thought I was gonna lose it the second you started whining like that. It—” He stopped, biting back the rest.

I smiled into his chest. “Good to know.”

He chuckled, low and soft. “Gonna be thinking about that forever.”

We lay there in silence for a few minutes. Just… holding each other. I didn’t know what we were now. What would happen tomorrow, or next week, or what would happen when we walked out that door.

But right now?

Right now, we were this,a tangle of limbs and bruised hearts and shared breath. And it was enough.

His fingers danced along my spine. There was a kind of poetry in his hands, each scar a stanza, each line a memory of battles he had fought before, but yet they still held a softness. Something I hoped would be reserved for me from now on.

Dean moved slowly, careful as he slipped out of me, and I let out a soft, involuntary whimper at the loss. The ache between my thighs was sharp and sweet, the kind of soreness that would linger, but I didn’t regret a single second.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I managed a breathless smile. “I’m good.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“You’re literally shaking,” he said, eyebrows drawing together as he looked me over like he was checking for damage. “And not in a fun way.”

“I’ll live,” I said, trying to sit up, and immediately flopping back with a wince. The pain in my ribs once a forethought now aching up my left side.

Dean gave me a look that was part smug, part worried. “Jesus. I broke you.”

“You didn’t break me.” I let out a breathy laugh.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of guilt behind the teasing. “Stay there. I got it.”

He got up, still shirtless, jeans tugged back on haphazardly, belt undone, no shoes, and headed for the bathroom. A moment later, he returned with a warm washcloth and a bottle of water. No fanfare, just doing what needed to be done. That was Dean: save the world, clean you up after he wrecks you, pretend like none of it mattered too much.

But it did.

He knelt beside the bed, not saying anything as he cleaned me up with slow, careful hands.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, reaching for the water.

He handed it over without looking up. “Yeah. Don’t say I never take you anywhere nice.”

I snorted. “Five-star treatment.”

“You know it.” His lips twitched. “Warm towel, fine linens, and a free concussion if the headboard gets involved.”

I laughed, breath catching, and he finally looked at me.

Something quiet passed between us. Something heavy.

He climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket up over both of us, and settled behind me, one arm wrapped tightly around my waist. His chin dropped to my shoulder, breath slow and warm against my skin.

For a while, we didn’t say anything.

I could feel the press of his body behind mine, the weight of him. His fingers traced lazy shapes on my stomach, dipping low, then back up, like he couldn’t stop touching me, even if he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“Dean?” I asked after a minute, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Mm?”

“What happens now?”

His hand stilled.

He didn’t answer right away. Just shifted, pulled me a little closer, like that was the only answer he had.

“I dunno,” he said finally. “We check out of this crap motel, hit the road, probably almost die again by Thursday.”

I smiled faintly. “Sounds romantic.”

He huffed against my neck. “Best I can offer.”

“You say that like this wasn’t…”

I didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t make me.

Instead, he said, “I meant what I said earlier.”

I turned in his arms to face him.

“That you’ve got me,” he said, voice low and rough. “You still do. But if we go out there—back to all the crap waiting for us—I don’t know how long I can be this guy.”

“I don’t need you to be anyone else, Dean. Just this… whatever this is. It’s enough.”

He stared at me like he didn’t believe it. And then he kissed me again, slow and deep, like it was the only thing that made sense in a world where nothing ever did.

We stayed wrapped up in each other. The clock ticking by, the sun rising, but neither of us moved. Not yet.

Because out there was reality. Monsters, death, guilt.

But in here… it was just us.

And for once, neither of us were ready to let it go

Eventually, the silence turned too deafening to ignore.

Dean sighed behind me, long and reluctant, then pressed one last kiss to the bare line of my shoulder.

“We should… probably move,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Before Sam gets back and starts asking questions I don’t feel like answering.”

I hummed, not quite agreeing, not quite disagreeing. Reluctantly I moved to let him slide out from behind me. He stood up stretching and I couldn't help but admire the way the muscles in his back flexed.

“He walked in on us mid-” I gestured to the bed, that laid in disarray once again. “Trust me, he knows.” I couldn't help but laugh a little as I said it.

Dean shot me a look over his shoulder as he reached for his jeans for the second time today. That earned a laugh out of him, weak but real. I finally sat up, the chill in the air a stark contrast to the warmth we’d wrapped ourselves in moments ago.

We dressed slowly, each movement deliberate, like pulling on armor. Every zip, every fold of fabric was a reminder: time to go back. To the road. To the weight of saving people and the truths we carried with us.

I missed the smell of his flannel as I shrugged mine on over the tank top I had worn yesterday now crusted with dried blood, I almost forgot about.

Almost.

Dean tossed me my bag from the chair in the corner and I caught it with a small nod of thanks.

Neither of us spoke much as we moved around the room, packing up, brushing teeth, gathering weapons and laundry and the pieces of ourselves we’d left scattered across the sheets.

He paused once, watching me fold a shirt, something unreadable in his expression. “This wasn’t just a one-time thing.”

I looked up. “‘I’d like that .”

He gave a single, solemn nod, then grabbed the last of the duffel bags, just as the door creaked open.

Sam.

Hands full of books, hair tousled like he’d had one too many close encounters with a stack of dusty books.

“Hey,” he said casually, stepping inside. “Library was dead. Found a few things that might help with that case in Canonsburg”

Then he stopped. Noticing the half-zipped bags, Dean’s flushed face, my hair still vaguely wild despite my best attempts at taming it.

His eyebrows lifted.

“Oh,” Sam said, voice catching with secondhand awkwardness. “You guys are… packing.”

Dean didn’t miss a beat. “What gave it away? The packing?”

Sam blinked. “Right. Okay. Cool. Well—I’m just gonna…take this back to the car then. Call Bobby.”

He was gone before either of us could respond, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click.

Dean snorted. “Think he needs a second to bleach his brain.”

I sank onto the edge of the bed, trying not to laugh. “Think he’ll ever look either of us in the eye again?”

Dean tossed the last bag toward the door and crossed the room to stand in front of me, brushing my hair behind my ear with a tenderness that nearly undid me.

“Eventually, Doesnt matter,” he said. “I’m not sorry.”

I looked up at him, heart pounding. “Me neither.”

He bent down and kissed me again, soft, sure, the kind of kiss that said: We’ll figure this out. I couldn't help but melt into him. He felt like home like Ive belonged here the whole time. Like I was made for him and him for me.

Then he pulled back with that half-cocked smirk and offered me a hand.

“Let’s go, sweetheart.” I tried to hide the shiver that ran down my spine but he noticed a small chuckle flowing from his lips. He grabbed our bags with one hand and opened the door with the other, ushering me under his arm.

I could feel his eyes burning against my back as walked down the hallway and into the parking lot.

Sam was already in the passenger seat so I slid in behind him tossing my bag on the seat next to me. Dean climbed into the drivers seat firing the impala up and pulling out of the lot.

And just like that, we were back on the road.

But something had changed.

This time, we were gonna do it together.

23 notes · View notes

monstersinthecosmos · 5 hours ago

Text

Hey! So I saw you wrote a bit of meta about my fic and I wanted to marinate on it for a bit before I responded but it’s gone now lol. It still got me thinking so I wanted to say a few things.

Without getting into an entire essay about media criticism vs transformative fanworks, I do want to just pin the idea here that the moment we start creating transformative fanworks, we begin to own little ideas and universes and timelines and make them ours. I think a lot about these diagrams from @goodboydummy about different TYPES of fanfics, and the ways in which we are playing with the original text -

I could similarly make a diagram of types of fic writers when it comes to how much or how little we decide to transform the text, and this kinda leads into the idea that all fanworks are inherently analytical about the original text, even if we’re being silly. Like, even the silliest domestic fluff slice of life oneshots, or the most depraved kinky PWPs, or the tropiest AUs that are so very removed from canon all still tell us something about how the writer feels as a reader, right? A PWP can be 1500 words and not reference a single event from its canon and we are still left with the simple truth that the canon gave somebody blue balls and they had to write porn about it, you know?

So anyway like, while we’ve all discussed criticisms of VC to death and we’re all equipped to give the TED talk about all the problematic and questionable messages, as a fic writer & general Fandom Loser I feel like we dissect things a little more than normal, because as a fic writer I want to really have a 360° view and really really understand how the characters feel. I wouldn’t feel confident writing their POV if I weren’t putting in this thought work and really trying to analyze it at this very molecular level.

But that sort of comes with deciding where to meet the text, and this is where transformative works can vary. You can meet the text where it’s at and analyze it in completely good faith, and you can also choose to meet it halfway where you take what you need and leave the rest. I don’t have a problem analyzing in a way that says “I think Anne Rice’s bias leaked in here and it doesn’t make sense to read it as an intentional character beat”. There’s so many things about Lestat and David in particular, too, where I don’t have a problem criticizing the writing and not completely buying into the characterization as “the canon”, and while we as readers can create several versions of the text based on all these different reads/frameworks/lenses, as a fic writer when you sit down to write a story you have to sort of make intentional decisions about which version you’re playing with.

IE: Do you read Marius as an unequivocal villain and child abuser? Or do you read him as an imperfect guy who is operating within the rules of his own universe, with the moral relativism of the author’s bias? Even things that are not bias and are intentional, like for example, do you think Anne Rice was a gross creep for exploring how repressed she’d felt as a teen or do you accept Armand’s versions of events that he’s a grown up who can consent? How do navigate those concepts inside the worldbuilding of your fic, and the specific lore you want to build upon? Do you change it?

Going back to the types of fics—to me, an ALTERATION doesn’t always have to be a timeline thing, or change of events—I’m also happy to think of that in a more conceptual way. I would actually argue that fics that portray Marius as deeply manipulative, hateful, abusive, etc, or portray Armand as deeply traumatized by Venice are alterations, too. These authors are going “Wow TVA was really fucked up, I wish Anne Rice had acknowledged Marius as a child abuser” and they’re creating transformative work to express that.

Gallows Bird, on the other hand, is somewhere in the middle for me. I don’t think TVA is as deep or literal as a lot of people make it out to be, especially if you’ve read Anne Rice’s other porn novels. I hold space in my mind for several reads of TVA but I also kind of default on it being erotica brand contamination, and the BDSM tropes read to me like she was writing a kink book. I think TVA readers should try reading her Sleeping Beauty books, for example, because it would lend a really powerful context to her writing style and her approach to non-diegetic BDSM. The use of age, consent, power imbalance, discipline, etc, are all used in her erotica to heighten the stakes and make it HOTTER, and taking them too literally kind of misses the point. (I’ve talked about this a bit here so I don’t want to ramble on about it.)

There ARE a lot of spaces in VC that I wish she’d been more intentional or sensitive to writing about trauma!!!!! And like, it’s fine if that’s not what the books are about!!!!!!! But for me personally, indulgently, I would’ve enjoyed seeing more of it, or more honesty/realism about it. Because I can read TVA and see all the ways it’s stuffed to the brim with porn tropes, and while I enjoy that experience as a reader, this comes back to how I think all fanfic is really a commentary or an analysis. Gallows Bird, to me, is going “What if we kept all the kinky stuff but had some more realistic and sensitive discussion about sexual trauma?” And whether or not that came across, idk ! I’m not a professional writer, I did my best LMAO. If I have to come on tumblr and explain the joke as it were, my bad! But my alteration of TVA for this fic, and my commentary on the canon that I wish we’d seen, is “What if TVA had been a little more sincere about Armand’s sexual trauma, and been a little more diegetic about the BDSM?”

There’s so many fanfic tropes that are so so popular—shipping non-canon ships in general, and fluff, and domesticity, and porn!—because sometimes a piece of media doesn’t make time for those things, and when we get so deep into obsession it’s what we WANT to see more of! Like TVA is erotic and whatever but I do want to see the PORN. I want MORE. And in the process of wanting more, and wanting to really sit with it and marinate in it, I do want to do all that thought work and create it as a 360° space and be intentional and sincere about how the characters feel! HOW DOES THIS MAKE ARMAND FEEL, REALLY? How does he behave! How does it affect him on a day-to-day basis? HOW DOES IT APPEAR FROM MARIUS’S POINT OF VIEW, WHEN ARMAND HIMSELF IS NOT IN CONTROL OF THE NARRATIVE?

So yeah the fic is like, about all those questions I had, but also I tried to be intentional about how I write Marius, because I think deeply about Marius, and I have to decide which version of Marius I’m bringing to the table in a fic. Like, I don’t have a problem criticizing Anne Rice’s worldview and how it sometimes tainted the text, but if I’m going to be the one writing, I have the freedom to discard things that I don’t think really make sense.

The social construct stuff, for example-- I don’t specifically weave in Marius's racism because it doesn’t make sense to the vampire lore and you’re right that it doesn’t make sense as a random social construct that they’d hang onto. However, Marius as a traumatized atheist who was murdered by a cult? Very important to me! His xenophobia in the books IS often tied to distrusting religion and zealotry. Even when he wakes up in the Dark Ages in Europe, he's like, oh my god fuck this, this place sucks, and he goes back to sleep lol. He is so much happier when he finds time & space in secularism.

But still, I think we all have to trust each other when we post fic, like, fanfic is its own creative medium and part of that is your audience already knowing the broadstrokes of the characters, and part of that is also expecting the audience's fic literacy to understand tropes. Like, if you post an AU you expect the readers to know what an AU is. And for me with VC fandom in particular, I’ve always hoped that people around me in fandom as well as people reading my fics are all coming to the table with the same understanding that Anne Rice could be pretty atrocious at times, but that all of us enjoying the books aren’t endorsing every single thing on the page, or every single thing she ever did or said. I mean, fuck, I gave up on her for years after the Blood Canticle tantrum and after the fanfic bullshit! I assume and trust people around me to be grown adults who know that the cheesy vampire kink book from the 90s is not a moral guidebook, and I hope people understand if my enjoyment of the characters comes with some transformative caveats. I have to trust that readers understand the premise I’m building, even if my skill isn’t there yet or I miss the mark and it’s not obvious enough.

HAVING SAID ALL THAT LMAO sorry for the rant even though I opened up by saying I wouldn’t write an essay oops – I find your read really fascinating because I am very intentional when I write Marius fics about keeping him as canon compliant as possible, to my own interpretation. I love Marius and want to celebrate him, I haunt VC fandom because he’s my favorite literary character ever!, and my goal as a fic writer is to sort of soak in all the things I love about him.

At the same time, I want him to feel plausibly in character.

Everyone’s free to write fics that alter the canon, like “TVA if Marius wasn’t a baby having a tantrum” for example LOL, and I think fandom can be quick to judge fic writers’ skill levels when we try to untangle these types of concepts. Like, maybe you read a Marius as being horrifically OOC and way too saccharine and it’s like, maybe the fic author’s skills aren’t sharp enough yet, or maybe they’re intentionally writing a fic “TVA if Marius was way too saccharine” and the beauty of it is that all of these versions are welcome ! Fanfic is for us, it’s fine!

But personally I WANT my Mariusses to feel sort of book-flavored and organic. Even if I tweak some details or emphasize something that I found too subtle in the book, my goal would be that if a Marius Hater read Gallows Bird, they would still think he was in character. I’m not trying to change him too radically, but I do want to add some extra texture or context to tilt some of these ambiguous areas from canon. It’s possible that I fucked up on that lmao.

So it’s really fascinating to me that you get some of these messages from the story!!!!!!! It really was not within my intentions.

I’M REALLY EXPERIENCING SOME DEATH OF THE AUTHOR RIGHT NOW AND ITS ME IM THE DEAD AUTHOR

But if that’s how you read canon Marius, I’m glad that my fic complemented it in a way that made sense to you. I admit that I often struggle with religion in VC because I, like Marius, am a staunch & traumatized atheist with little patience for religious practice. I see TVA & B&G as religious and anti-religious bookends of each other, the sort of mirrors of Faith vs Belief, or Spirituality vs Institution, etc. Anne Rice spoke at length about her struggle with the Catholic Church as an institution, even when her faith in Jesus never wavered, and ironically I think we get this SO deeply in Marius’s POV as the token atheist. He struggles so much to trust anything except what he can see with his own eyes. Even in the fic, Marius still needs to go pray to Akasha because she’s a real thing that he can see and visit, and not a silly invisible concept dictating rules about morality.

The ideas you picked up about Armand’s ethnicity in this fic were not intentional—I was poking at his religion, and the way Marius sort of humors him and tolerates it but can’t wait to teach him better. While that can overlap with someone’s culture and heritage, for me it still comes back to Marius as a creature older than Armand’s religion in the first place, who has this aerial view of it being a huge scam. And I think conversations with this get into a gray area between respecting someone’s culture at all costs or identifying religious institutions as oppressive structures that can cause harm.

And tbf even Ivan didn’t want Armand to be part of the cult ! Marius having daddy kink is more about Daddy Kink and not trying to erase Ivan’s influence in that regard—Ivan didn’t want Armand in the monastery either! So I mean also like, as much as this is focused on rape recovery, I did want to weave in some stuff about like cult recovery/religious trauma—Marius reminding Armand that it’s okay to enjoy sex, blah blah. And the irony in the end (just like in the book) that like Akasha to Marius, Marius winds up just replacing the god figure in Armand's life, instead of dissuading him all together.

It's an interesting thought experiment to see if Gallows Bird fits in line with other reads of TVA that I don’t necessarily subscribe to. For example, conceptually again: Do you think Anne Rice was a gross creep for exploring how repressed she’d felt as a teen or do you accept Armand’s versions of events that he’s a grown up who can consent?

Armand’s age and ability to consent become such an important linchpin of people’s reads of TVA, as is Marius’s sexuality (or lack thereof) vs his nature as a vampire & apex predator, and today in this fic in particular I am offering on the table that Armand can consent and that Marius is asexual.

Like as a fan, I don’t WANT to think of Marius as horrible abuser, and I don’t want to think of Armand as a victim. That’s not what this fic was. Consider it a transformative work. This is a recovery fantasy. Like, I want to see some intention and sensitivity about Armand’s trauma, but I want to add some nuance, too. Like, as a 17 year old in the 1490s, who gives a shit LMAO it’s fine. And I need to trust the readers to meet me here and understand it’s the universe I’m working inside.

And like, is it messy and imperfect? YES! Because I don’t want to see therapy speak in my 15th Century gangbang fic. Is Marius well meaning but sloppy? Yes! They don’t negotiate first, and Marius assumes he’ll know if Armand needs to stop, and there are times when he’s wrong! There are times they do take it too far and Armand isn’t okay! Marius doesn’t understand Armand as well as he thinks he does, and he will always see him as sort of a pathetic human who doesn’t know what he’s talking about! Marius is being generous and thoughtful to the best of his ability but he will ALWAYS believe he knows better, and when writing from Marius’s POV the intent vs outcome doesn’t really matter !

But ultimately this fic really is about recovery! It’s about Armand having agency, and wanting to try something, and Marius helping him!

Marius isn’t lending him out for his own benefit, he’s accompanying Armand to explore his sexuality and trauma, and to recreate dangerous situations over and over so that he can have control this time. Marius isn’t lending Armand out to his friends, he’s murdering rapists.

This is such a tricky part of the book, too, like Marius WANTS Armand to go out and have human experience but he still gets jealous about it! He still gets frustrated! And Marius can’t have sex with him, anyway! It’s not about sex!

This is why asexuality in VC matters to me so much and why I always keep it in my fics, like, these are two different species who experience eroticism differently. Armand wants to FUCK and Marius wants to MURDER. In canon, it frustrates Marius to the point of having a meltdown!

So like their outings in the fic are such an exercise for both of them—Armand gets to fuck and Marius gets to murder AND Armand gets to be rescued and Marius gets to jealously kill Armand’s lovers.

I wanted it to be mutually beneficial ! It’s supposed to be healing !! Armand gets to process things that happened to him in a safe space where he’s not in danger anymore! He eventually grows the courage to do the deed himself!!!!!!!!!!! Marius wants to teach him to let go of his old religious shame and live in his body !

There’s always going to be a framework where this can be read as more nefarious and evil than it’s intended to be, because that’s the canon, like, no matter how you slice it, Marius adopted a human and never gave it a chance for a normal life. That’s the nature of the story, though. He’s a monster, he’s a vampire, he eats people, he’s lonely and wants a companion. And he’s a bit of a goober and a fuckup and doesn’t always make great decisions.

But that is what it is, man, like, it’s a monsterfucker book, what do you want from me. If he isn’t a monster what’s the point.

So !! Anyway SORRY FOR WRITING A HUGE MANIFESTO LIKE A SERIAL KILLER !! It was really interesting that you got so much meaning from the fic, I’m really glad that my attempt at keeping Marius canon compliant meant he was also subject to these other criticisms, even though it made me a little sad that my blorbo is once again on the stand lmao.

I STAND BY MY PROBLEMATIC WIFE !!1 😭

Anywhoo asdfgasd thanks for reading im glad it was effective for you!!!

Daddy Kink in Gallows Bird

[read on AO3]

CW: Incest, noncon, TVA stuff !

Okay so. I’m in the middle of writing another meta about Daddy Kink in VC/TVA/B&G so please forgive me if this post or the other winds up being redundant, but in the middle of all the deep thinking I’ve been doing about that topic in canon, I also had some interesting convo in the comments of this fic, so I wanted to park this somewhere as well. I’ll try not to be too repetitive and I’m going to try to keep the convo focused a little more on the fic than on canon (to the best of my ability since they overlap so much!) because I wanted to talk specifically about the train of thought that informed the fic, and just take it with a grain of salt because it does veer into headcanon territory at times when I’m filling in gaps from canon.

Anyway so I brought Daddy Kink/father themes up a few times in this fic, here’s some examples (this might be all of them actually, I forget lol):

During Amadeo’s dream about being raped, that the smell of wine subliminally reminds him of his father, even though he can’t quite put it together.

Matteo commenting that Marius is Amadeo’s father (during sex, and implying that Marius fucks him).

The man at the party towards the end who is thinking about his own son while he eats Amadeo out.

Marius telling the men in the final scene that he and Amadeo are named Ivan and Andrei.

BONUS POINT, less obvious: Marius musing about Rome, the fatherland, and Roman storytelling trying to paint forefathers in a better light.

I admit that on some level this is not that deep lol it was just being horny and indulging in daddy kink, but like I do want my fics to make sense when it comes to meta and I did want it to be plausible with canon.

So off the bat we have to say like, VC vampires exist above social constructs anyway. Marius isn’t someone who’s going to get grossed out by crossing a boundary like this, in the same vein as Louis and Claudia or Lestat and Gabrielle. As vampires they do not exist inside familial structures anymore. So I think this is extremely present in the Venice portions of the books, that there’s this blurry line around father/mentor/maker/lover.

I also think about this part of B&G every day of my life:

And I, with all my power, and all my blandishments, could not replace Amadeo’s father in Amadeo’s mind. Why was I so jealous? Why did this knowledge sting me so much?

BONUS LINE IN NEXT PARAGRAPH: I loved Amadeo as I had loved Pandora.

I WANT TO BE HIS DADDY BUT ALSO HIS DADDY. I WANT HIM TO BE MY CHILD AND ALSO MY WIFE.

There’s just so much going on here!

Anyway so in TVA I think like, not knowing Marius’s POV at that point, Marius is having lots of mood swings, he can be hot and cold, at times sends Amadeo mixed signals. But in B&G when we get the insight, we learn how often he struggled with whether or not to turn Amadeo as he began to love him. (I think also a lot about when he tells Armand at the end of TVA that he sees Armand loves B+S more respectfully than Marius ever loved Armand!!)

And I want to like, balance this against Marius’s inherent selfishness with how he treated Amadeo, how he treated him like a pet or like a project. I don't think (in canon) he saw Amadeo as a full person, and it's why he interrupts Amadeo so much in the fic. Amadeo at this point in canon exists for Marius's own needs.

(Sidenote, when I was working on this fic and kept struggling with like, the POV of a Marius who doesn’t actually see Amadeo as a complete person, I kept using how I feel about my cats as a reference lol. Like I love them to death, I would die for them, but they don’t have a single fucking thought in their brains, they are little babies that I take care of bc they’re cute and I like having them around.)

I talk a lot about how I love Marius because he’s a flawed person; I find his flaws and missteps to be so human and relatable, like I too do my best to be reasonable and kind and patient and yet I do have a petty side. I can hold grudges. I think all of us are capable of acting selfishly.

Because like, his love of Amadeo is conditional, it’s like having a pet. In the book he keeps changing his mind if he should turn Amadeo or let him free to have a real life and we don’t know what his ultimate decision would have been because Harlech forces his hand. The question is: Would he have ever let Amadeo go?

He specifically chooses Amadeo because it’s someone he sees as a blank slate, A FUNERAL SPIRIT, someone on borrowed time. Marius considers Amadeo’s life over already, so this is all bonus for him. There’s never a question of rescuing him out of goodness and returning him to his home. Marius specifically chooses him to groom as a fledgling because he’s lonely, and he doesn't see Amadeo as a human with a potential life anyway.

So in the fic I tried to make this clear, all the times Marius wonders if he can keep Amadeo, even begging Akasha for a clue, and by the end he realizes he has to keep Amadeo because this experience has ruined him. He’s never going to be able to live a normal life now, and Marius knows it*. AS FAR AS THE FIC UNIVERSE GOES, we could ask the same, like, will Marius still turn him in this fic timeline if Harlech doesn’t show up, but I think he would.

*also as an aside, I wrote this fic to be like backwards engineered Devil's Minion, so I bring this theme up a lot in my Armand/Daniel fics, and the entire thesis of The Lotus Eater is that Armand was careless with Daniel and broke him, which is what Marius does to Amadeo.

Anywhoo, back to the daddy stuff.

Like sure yeah it’s just there to be horny because I think Daddy Kink is absolutely present in canon, but Marius is enjoying this game they’re playing, too, even if he’s a little too proper to admit it. He likes taking Amadeo out and getting to protect him. He likes indulging in the kill when Amadeo is fucking wrecked, like it’s a sex act they can share. He likes that their victims think he’s Amadeo’s father. It makes him feel powerful.

And towards the end, when they’re talking about stoicism and whether or not you can simply turn your emotions off, it also leads into whether or not Amadeo can make the choice to remember where he comes from.

Canon doesn’t explicitly say this so this is where fic headcanon comes in, but I wanted to make it that Marius can see into Amadeo’s dreams, and I implied that he knows perfectly well exactly where Amadeo is from. He knows about the monastery, he knows about Andrei’s home life and his parents, he knows their names! So every day that passes in Venice where Marius doesn’t offer this information, or bring him home, is another day he’s chosen to keep Amadeo, and is ultimately selfish.

On the other hand, especially once the fic starts and Amadeo’s memories start coming back to him, Amadeo knows that Marius knows, and he never asks.

This is of course like, dubcon territory of like, SHOULD AMADEO HAVE TO ASK? Is Amadeo’s fragile mental state a clue that he cannot consent or make informed decisions? Is Marius behaving badly by allowing this wounded child to make his own decisions, or as the adult/immortal, even as the mentor/father/lover, should he guide Amadeo to do what’s right? And what exactly is the right decision?

But from the moment Amadeo realizes that Marius knows more about him than he reveals, Amadeo never asks, which means he’s making a decision to stay in Venice. And like, the morally correct thing is not really relevant here when Marius’s moral compass is so far removed from human sensibility, but it also affirms his desire to be wanted. He’s happy that Amadeo wants to stay and wants to be his pupil and his baby boy, so he’s not going to challenge it.

And that’s why he drops the names Ivan and Andrei in the final sex scene, as a climax to all of this. It’s serves both as one final way to challenge Amadeo, to ask if he TRULY doesn’t remember, but also serves to take on the ROLE of Ivan. He wants to be Amadeo’s Daddy. And even though the men in the room are teasing him about how he’s not actually going to sell Amadeo, how Amadeo must be his favorite, how he must be a freak, etc, he still owns Amadeo in this sense, and it allows him another level of release along with Amadeo’s sexual release.

WELL. I hope that makes sense!!! It made sense to me at the time when I was writing it. I love these two dweebs, please talk to me about them any time!

#gallows bird #stuff i wrote #kink meta #deep ass thoughts about vampires #asexual vc #marius/armand #marius de romanus #armand #sorry i hope this doesnt come off as like hysterical and defensive i just get really excited about this topic and couldnt shut up djkalgsdl

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