#someone tried to say armands plays were GOOD

[sagabrielle]

I've seen people try to make the claim that lestat, armand, and even marius were good at their art forms, and it was just louis that sucked at his chosen art form.

are we reading/watching the same series?

vampires are bad at art. they can't do art. art is a human trait, and they are no longer human. their capacity to make meaningful, innovative art has been severed, as penance for the dark gift. lestat's lyrics are cringe, marius can't accurately capture the likeness of his muse (i.e. WHITEWASHES them)*, and armand makes plays/musicals like...that. their art forms come with a thick layer of ignorance. there are certain aspects of their art that are good; lestat's voice, armand's drama, marius technical skill, etc. but the emotion and humanness of art that draws us, humans, to it, is gone. not for their lack of trying, necessarily. they do try. they just...can't.

in the same breath, we can argue that louis wasn't good at getting the right 'moment,' but louis was successful in capturing people that meant something to him. claudia, armand, his victims, etc. that was his goal. he achieved that. so. they are all equal parts good and bad at their chosen art form, such is the consequence of being a vampire.

*marius was the donor. however, imo how the hell are you going to pay someone to paint, have your love model, and then keep the painting where he is depicted so poorly...still a disconnect.

[lestcat-de-lioncourt]

In response to the assumption that Lestat never loved Claudia

Whilst there were moments describing that he didn't really care about Claudia, it's not certain but he seemed to think she was in the way, though, this story is told by Louis who is known very well to be a totally unreliable narrator with now Armand who is butthurt about Lestat running off from him as well, whispering in his ear. Likewise, Claudia's diary has multiple pages stripped out, and it's mostly the parts favouring Louis left.

Lestat gifted what was assumed to be a family heirloom, at least in fan theory, (the gorgeous antique necklace) rather than given to him by a marquis as he mentions upon doing so, something you would often gift to your child you ultimately cared for and saw as your child. Though, whoever gave it to Lestat, it was still a special gift.

Lestat taught Claudia a multitude of talents, which Louis would not teach her nor encourage her to do. Piano, chess, hunting to survive (not particularly done by Louis due to his vegetarian vampirism), and Daniel calls out a lot of what Louis has to say was her relationship with Lestat and how he's painting it to be.

Looking toward the time when they conspire to kill Lestat, children can be easily manipulated, not to mention that she has the mind as a young person and there's trials and tribulations we have to go through during puberty, and it's a rather vulnerable time.

He looked regretful when he called her a mistake as well.

I know people so often accuse him of not loving her just because he's telling her off, normally in situations that would literally threaten her life and anonymity, and safety, this drastic opinion and assumption parents don't love their kids if they tell them off during moments that could end up killing them, is really telling of who has got kids and who hasn't ever needed to look after one.

Maybe he loves her, maybe he doesn't, he certainly struggles with her, and it's the age old tale of one parent being jealous of the other, or feeling lonely once having kids as the relationship may because less consistently intimate with less time to spend together, alone. There's things she's done that upsets him. He struggles with her playing them off against each other, but that's what kids often do. It's a survival technique.

It's very clear that he's too messy to be a good parent. He needs a whole lot of therapy, but that doesn't remove someone's capacity to love their kids. He has a lot of love for them.

This isn't related to his unchanging polyamory taking on various lovers, which he was very clear about with Louis, and he'd initially consented to and even done himself.

People look at Lestats behaviour and immediately assume he doesn't care nor has any real love for any of them, but that's so not true. The reality of love and family dynamics aren't as clear-cut as people try to paint them and disqualify more complex expressions of their feelings towards one another.

It is stated that he is forever haunted with the guilt and shame of Claudia's death.

You can see love and hurt and a series of emotions he felt when Louis asked Lestat to make them a baby (in the adaption, though yes, it is an adaption), for them to start a family, that he wanted a kid with Lestat. In that moment, he did, though he says he made her as the ultimate gift for Louis, a daughter, a child, and starting their own family. This is a very raw feeling that people who decide to have kids will often experience. I don't believe he "baby trapped" Louis though, as many keep saying, considering he was worried about the consequences that would happen to her and her future as a child immortal. Seeing how distraught Louis was and empathetic to the potential death of the child, he changed her. He tried to highlight to Louis that in the end, it could do her more harm than dying.

I don't think he never loved Claudia, I may well be wrong, though.

[lotstradamus]

i'm loving all your vampire posting lottie! if you're ever so compelled i'd love to hear what you make of the books vs the show and if there are any book things you'd especially like to see done on the show! (also, bookwise, are you a lestat girl or an armand girl or a louis/marius/david/akasha/claudia girl or or or)

as someone who tried to read Interview with the Vampire thrice (THRICE!!!) pre-AMC show revival and simply could not get through it (it is melancholy), I cannot BELIEVE how down bad I am for these books right now. I keep seeing bad reviews on goodreads and girding my loins for each new book expecting the quality to nosedive, but 1 star bitch WHERE? WHERE??? I AM HAVING THE TIME OF MY GODDAMN LIFE

in terms of books vs show, honestly after a point the books are kind of Unadaptable unless they radically change the main cast, vibe and format of the show every single season, and the changes they made to IWTV were good to the point of sending me fucking insane so they can just keep on doing whatever their little hearts desire with the source material imo!!! howmever I DO have some suggestions for the upcoming seasons:

Lestat crying twice an ep (non-negotiable)

I would kind of love it if Lestat is the only character who tells the truth. the most reliablest narrator and normal girl to ever live. and yet every time he says something like "I killed a pack of wolves single-handedly" or "I woke Those Who Must Be Kept by playing violin" or "I snog my mother with tongue" Daniel is just sitting there like "............riiiight."

Gabrielle. Gabrielle Gabrielle Gabrielle. mainly I would like to smash cut to Gabrielle in the middle of really intense Lestat/everyone else scenes and she's just like peacefully sleeping in the ground... strolling through a distant jungle... sitting on a mountain looking at the stars in silence...

EXCEPT that one scene where she pulls up to Lestat's concert like she's in 2 Fast 2 Furious

it'll be interesting to see how they adapt Queen of the Damned because so little of it is actually from Lestat's pov, and all of it is amazing and cannot be cut out: [Stefon voice] the Twins, Jesse, specifically Jesse being haunted in Louis and Lestat's old New Orleans house, everyone hanging out/playing out terrible interpersonal dramas at the Sonoma compound, NIGHT ISLAND...!

I cannot stress this enough: GHOST CLAUDIA.

I want them to do Body Thief. fuck it, why not. must haves are Mojo, a random hunk with a PhD in Sam Reid's mannerisms playing Lestat for 6/8 episodes, Lestat nearly dying 25 times cos he pilots his human body like a drunk muppet, and, most importantly, Lestat BEGGING David Talbot for some old man pussy

oh and an entire episode set on a cruise ship

my favourite scene from the whole of Body Thief was Lestat turning David at the end against his will cos it was genuinely quite awful and frightening but also. um. you know. awooga

if they include Gretchen, then I would like the opposite of my Gabrielle request for everything post-Body Thief: whenever there's a peaceful, quiet scene it smash cuts to the wilds of South America where Gretchen is absolutely stark raving mad on the floor of a chapel with stigmata

I can't even begin to think about how they'd adapt Memnoch, but regardless I want them to keep the scene where Lestat drinks someone's period blood. thanks

also his cunty little lilac-tinted sunglasses that he will not fucking stop talking about

and finally, human Armand getting drunk and falling into the Grand Canal

bookwise, I am a Lestat girl the house down boots... I love his over-dramatic idiot crybaby ass!!!!! although the final page of Memnoch the Devil made me burst into tears and cry my whole face off until I confirmed that Lestat comes back as the narrator in future books soooo maybe like calls to like. self recognition through the other, etc. I do also get a shot of pure joy every time Armand shows up, especially in Lestat's pov. 'ah, there he was, the Botticelli angel, so beautiful. I fucking hated him. we kissed.' sis THEE dopamine.

currently suffering because I want to a) stop reading the series immediately so I can go back and reread The Vampire Lestat, and yet also b) never ever stop reading the series for love nor money. please help me budget this my family is dying

[whatspastisprologue-blr]

Memnoch the Devil gives me some of my favorite Lesmand interactions, even though, as is the case with all the books, I have to keep Assad Zaman's Armand in my mind because he just *is* Armand and so whenever he's described in the book it's honestly jarring to me.

Like, when they first see each other again and Lestat is genuinely happy to see him? And notes that Armand's voice "had no meanness in it at all". And basically calls him hot and then says he's "good to love". And then they hug each other! Willingly!

"We eyed each other for a moment. And then he surprised me, rising and coming towards me just as I moved to take him in my arms. His gesture wasn't tentative, but it was extremely gentle. I could have backed away. I didn't. We held each other tight for a moment. The cold embracing the cold. The hard embracing the hard."

And then Lestat playfully ruffles Armand's hair! Which Armand doesn't mind. In fact, he smiles! And then playfully shoves Lestat back (actually, it hurt him) to show off a little. After which, we get this:

"I can't remember anything bad between us." I said.

"You will," he responded. "And so will I. But what does it matter what we remember?"

"Yes," I said, "we're both still here."

Armand laughs again and kisses Lestat a couple of paragraphs later, seemingly just for fun. And then, in this chapter (this is all just one chapter, guys), Armand basically gets to play Lestat for Lestat, in the sense that he gets to tell Lestat the exact same arguments that Lestat used to help Armand get free from the CoD. Both of them admit it.

Oh, yeah, and actually, Lestat wasn't expecting to see Armand! That was a surprise. Armand showed up (with David, ew, but maybe it'll be Daniel on the show) because he's worried about Lestat!

And then we get this hilariously petty exchange:

"Around this Dora, I've thrown a protective light. None of us can touch her."

"That goes without saying. I won't hurt your little friend. You wound me." He looked genuinely put out.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know. But I know what blood is and innocence and how delicious both can be. I know how much the girl tempts me."

"Then you must be the one to give in to that temptation," said Armand crossly. "I never choose my victims anymore, you know this. I can stand before a house as always, and out of the doors will come those who want to be in my arms. Of course I won't hurt her. You do hold old grudges. You think I live in the past. You don't understand that I actually change with every era, I always have as best I can."

(Seriously, AMC, give us this scene! Lestat warning Armand specifically, not David, to not hurt someone he cares about but also entrusting this person to Armand's care despite how it turned out previously. And then Armand being salty about it because jeez, Lestat, that was like, so long ago I can't believe you'd bring that up!)

Also, "I can stand in front of a house as always, and out of the doors will come those who want to be in my arms." Made me think of this:

Anyway, then we get to see this:

"Lestat, if you need me--" Armand said. "If this being tries to take you by force!"

"Why do you care about me?" I asked. "After all the bad things I did to you. Why?"

"Oh, don't be such a fool," he begged gently. "You convinced me long ago that the world was a Savage Garden. Remember your old poetry? You said the only laws that were true were aesthetic laws, that was all you could count on."

"Yes, I remember all that. I fear it's true. I've always feared it was true. I feared it when I was a mortal child. I woke up one morning and believed in nothing."

"Well, then, in the Savage Garden," said Armand, "you shine beautifully, my friend. You walk as if it is your garden to do with as you please. And in my wanderings, I always return to you. I always return to see the colors of the garden in your shadow, or reflected in your eyes, perhaps, or to hear of your latest follies and mad obsessions. Besides, we are brothers, are we not?"

A few paragraphs later, Lestat tells Armand (and David, but hopefully Daniel in the show), "I love you both."

All that in one chapter! I just wanted to share it because I feel like other great Lesmand moments get referenced a lot, such as Armand's line from Blood Communion:

"Fool," he said again. His voice was roughened now by emotion he couldn't suppress. "I have always loved you," he said. "I have loved you more than any being in all the world whim I've ever loved. I have loved you more than Louis. I have loved you more even than Marius. And you have never given me your love. I would be your most faithful counselor, if you allowed it."

And, like, that's an epic quote. I love it. But there's more to their relationship than all the bad things and this one quote!

I want to see Lestat do his part to destroy the CoS, including his "Gentleman Death" speech. I want to see Armand's attack on Lestat, him pleading to Lestat to let him accompany him and Gabrielle (promising to be Lestat's servant if that's what it takes), and Lestat rejecting him, partly because of their past and because he knows Armand needs to figure himself out apart from anyone else. I want to see Lestat entrust Nicki to Armand and then get the letter of how Armand chopped Nicki's hands off. I want to see the torture leading up to the play where Lestat is forced to watch Claudia die. I want to see Armand push Lestat off the tower. Because those are pivotal moments in their relationship, too! In particular, Armand attacking Lestat is basically why Lestat never pursues the sort of relationship that Armand wants, even though I would argue the love and affection is there, and that Lestat himself might wish differently at times.

All that pain and horror and tragedy, and then they both agree they can't remember any of it, and that even if/when they do, it's water under the bridge. "You shine beautifully, my friend." "I love you [.]"

Forgiveness is, for me, one of the most important themes of the Vampire Chronicles and, in my opinion, the Lesmand relationship is one of the best examples.

[queerofcups]

an August rec list

August Rec List

Why yes it is nearly the end of September and I’m just now posting my August Rec List. I’ve been busy!

Hockey RPF

come stitch me up

E | 10k | addandsubtract

Sometimes he wakes up sucking on his fingers, rutting his hips into the bed. He’ll be right on the edge of coming, the wet head of his dick trapped between his hips and the sheets, but he can’t, he can’t, not without – not without something pushed up inside, something stretching him open.

Hey man, I barely know who these players are. Is this kind of a horror story? Yes! Is it also very hot smut! Yuuuup. This is what I mean when I’m begging people not to try to explain away the dub in dubcon. Someone should be calling a doctor, an exorcist, a therapist etc. But instead, because this is fanfic, they whip their dicks out! It's great!

Interview with The Vampire

monstrous servant

Armand/Louis

E | 5k | inthebelltower

The old itch never goes away. It never feels less good to scratch.

inhuman taste

Armand/Louis

E | 1k | inthebelltower

Louis can’t help it; he wants to eat him up.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Louis as a dom as I’m writing my own WIP and this fic and the next were really instrumental in shaping my own ideas of how Louis is with Armand. I really think this and the next fic act as a great picture of the two sides of their relationship.

not a ruse, not heat

Armand/Louis

M | 872 | inthebelltower

Louis drinks from Armand’s neck. Somewhere in the compound a clock is ticking.

Let me tell you diary (islands)

Claudia/Madeline, Louis/Lestat 

T | 4k | anonymous

Basically, Claudeleine don't return to Paris, don't fall for the trap, and just travel to wherever the X leads them... until…

In Sickness and In Health

Louis/Lestat

M | 3k | anonymous

“Sure, okay,” Louis huffs softly, “one coffee, why not.”

They’re engaged again by November. Claudia calls Louis the moment she finds out and scolds him for fifteen minutes straight. Hear me out, Louis barely gets the words out before she hangs up on him. Five times he tries to call her back.

Of mercy, with choice 

Louis/Lestat

E | 6k | shavir_light

“I always thought that your victims were truly fortunate, to be gifted with such an exhilarating death,” Lestat says, tangled in the messy sheets. ���What bliss it must have been, to be killed by one so beautiful.”

Louis and Lestat play at a fantasy. It gets a bit out of hand.

The Things We DId and Didn’t Do

M | 3k | @marbleflan (they are on tumblr, but I can't tag them)

“You are thinking of him, maybe.”

Louis looks up. It’s like Lestat is speaking in another language and Louis is reading the subtitles on a delay, or something. He can make out the words but not the meaning, for a moment.

“What?” Then it clicks.

“Armand. You are touching me. In bed,” Lestat says, casual. Maybe too casual. “But you are thinking of him.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. There’s not really anything he can say. It’s true, in a way. Not that he’s literally thinking about Armand. Not consciously. But he’s assuming Armand: Armand’s desires, Armand’s preferences, Armand’s reactions. He’s holding Lestat, he’s thinking of Lestat, he’s hard for Lestat. But he’s treating him like Armand.

Wow I sure am reccing a lot of fic about Louis and BDSM, huh? Wonder what thats about. Anyway, I think this and the fics by shavir_light work as lovely little complements to each other. More thinking about how domming wasn’t just a thing for Armand, but was something that Louis participated in, enjoys and carries with him. I also enjoy thinking about how Louis and Lestat might fall back together once Louis is back in New Orleans, but they might not settle together quite as easily. Eighty years is a long time to be apart and of course people are going to pick up quirks and require adjustments. 

the body, not in stasis

Daniel/Louis

E | 1k | shavir_light

“The need to cares for your body is, in part, what tethers you to it. It’s a reminder, Daniel—that you are flesh and blood. That you are a human being,” Louis insists, in his usual verbose fashion, and Daniel can’t help but laugh as he turns to leave.

“Well, you’re welcome to come watch, if it’s so magical to you,” he says.

I think this is such a short, sweet meditation on bodies. It does the exact kind of thing I love fanfic to do, take a single point an original work makes — vampires’ bodily functions fundamentally change when they’re turned — and just has a think and does a little smut about it. I love it.

Want and Swallow and Keep

Louis/Lestat

E | 10k | shavir_light

Love, sex, possession. To Lestat, they’re all the same thing.

So this could be perfect; Louis could decide what they do, control Lestat’s actions. He could make Lestat work for it, earn Louis’ trust again by way of obedience. Louis could restrain him from doing something—something bad.

So interesting to be in such disagreement about what a fic is and how we’re supposed to take it. I think this fic is a great example of the ways Lestat and Louis treat each other poorly, and get off on it! shavir_light makes it clear that they see one party clearly in the wrong and one not. I just think it's so fun that we’re able to have such different perspectives on the same work. 

Harry Potter

New Gods

Harry/Sirius 

E | 4k | @thecouchsofa

It rocks Sirius to his core every time he thinks about it, because they aren’t the same – Harry and James.

Sure, Harry pushes his glasses up with the knuckle of his pointer finger. James used to do the same thing when he had dirt or sugar or random potion essence on his hands. Other people do that too. Sirius has never seen it, but they do.

I like a fic where people are having relationships that are complicated, or they “shouldn’t” be having them for whatever reason. I like the ambiguity of this fic and how Sirius is trying to insist, to us and to himself, that the ambiguity doesn’t matter when it certainly does.

Wield Me

Harry/Draco, Pre-Harry/Draco/Teddy

E | 10k | @tackytigerfic

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?)

A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

Home Truths

E | 67k | @fantalfart, @skeptiquewrites

In the off-season Harry decided to fix up Grimmauld Place and found that Draco Malfoy was the only person who could help him. A demanding career and unrelenting press scrutiny were enough to deal with before Harry added a house with a mind of its own, family history, and a tense, flirty, complicated relationship with his childhood nemesis to the mix.

On professional Quidditch, magical houses, hard choices, Life Debts, and inconvenient truths.

Honestly, this fic, to me, is more of a lovely character study than a romance. There’s a good bit of fic that Draco barely appears in but we get to learn more about Harry’s job (y’all know i’m a sucker for any fic where Harry’s not an auror) and the whole world feels very lived in. 

Wonderful Anything

E | 24k |  harDEEhar / @dryrsheet

They were birds of a feather, he and Draco: the pathetic bastards in love and apart.

I can hardly believe this fic is only 24k. I read the next fic immediately after this one because they both manage to offer worlds that feel so full, just from what we learn while watching people fall in love. I also love an unconventional relationship timeline, stories where people build their own lives and families they way they want and second/third/fourth tries until something finally clicks. There are just so many lovely details in this story, it really was one of the standouts of the month. 

Grounds for Divorce

E | 122k | @tepre

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

Oh God, I stayed up way too late reading this fic. Sometimes, I’ll just random think about this fic. I’ve reread it so many times. The writing is just gorgeous. The emotional character work is…is shocking in how wonderful and layered it is. It feels both so real and heightened at the same time. The whole story is cooking on high but once Harry and Draco get to the conference in Egypt? Baby, it's on flambé. I don’t know if this story is considered a classic in the Harry Potter fandom but it's quadruple platinum in my household. 

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hey!

It'll be long post, so i understand if you decide to ignore it, sorry :)

You know, there were a lot of people that were convinced loumand kiss we saw in trailer was goodbye kiss, because of Louis' expression. I was one of them.

Turns out that it's NOT truth and everyone just accepted it and moved to talk how romantic it was and that apparently Louis just has this face when horny or whatever.

And I truly struggled to see it. And at first I felt incredibly guilty because I'm loustat shipper first, other ships appreciator second. I thought my mind doesn't let me see romance in other ship because I'm too loustat centric.

I tried to rewatch that scene and tried to brighten it up to see kiss and expression better (I'm sorry but while almost silhouette kiss is beautiful I'd prefer see character's expressions better in show like this, wish lighting was different)

But still! While during date Louis had more carefree and flirtatious expression, that kiss felt very off. I get that it's after talk about lestat but shouldn't he show more... Joy? Anticipation of more to come? Basically don't look like he does it because he HAS to.

So I thought, well, it CAN'T be jacob slacking, he's terrific at his job. And it can't be that I'm THAT biased, right?

So, let me tell you, I'm SO GLAD to found your post about this kiss! I saw too many people writing about Louis being fucked up to invite Armand to fuck after being threatened, that he loves them dangerous (he kinda does, but that's not the point), that he thinks only with dick, ignores red flags (again he does,but we talk about this particular moment) etc

He knows Armand is interested in him. He knows Armand has power. Armand technically didn't lay his hands on him but he COULD'VE and WOULD'VE if it's not for his affection to Louis.

I truly don't believe Louis viewed this as "I HAVE to kill Louis, you committed a crime, no hard feelings though, that's just my job! You know what?... You're cute so I'll let you go actually"

Maybe I give Louis too much credit but he's smarter than that. He also knows power play intimately, was on giving and receiving end countless times in his human and vampire life.

Add to it that tale Armand told about his old coven killing themselves when he actually threw them in fire. It was 100% to position himself as someone who has way less power over other vampires that he actually does. I don't believe coven can pressure Armand into ANYTHING. And glimpses of him abusing his power over Claudia prove it (CONSENT TO LOOK IN THE EYES? ARE YOU SERIOUS?)

And Louis was THERE to witness all this and I absolutely believe he noticed it. That scene with dreamstat where lestat says he's the only one who Louis can trust made me think Louis is not as blind to Armands red flags as he appears.

And what we know about ep4 confirms it. Lestats "HA!" in museum already indicates that Armand is telling some bullshit and Louis at least subconsciously doesn't believe it. There's also scene in park from teaser "I want you" "You sure about that?" Maybe it's misleading or maybe it goes like this, guess we'll see

I wrote so much, again, i'm sorry.i just wanted to say, I agree so much with your post, and I hope crazy people in fandom already blocked you so you don't get any hate for pointing out that consent under threat of potential death is not really THAT consensual. Hope it won't be repeat about people attacking you like for post about hate sex in ep6

All good. And I wasn't, and I have seen I wasn't the only one clocking in on things (just reblogged a post wrt that).

Jacob is too good an actor to not show the fitting emotion if it was meant to be something positive. But he didn't.

The show went dark, real fast. And they're about to go even darker. A lot.

[rainbowcarousels]

What are some of your headcanons about Trinity Gate as a place of healing for Armand, Louis, Daniel, et al?

So I like this idea that Trinity Gate was initially set up as a place for Armand to deal with his shit at the same time as keeping Benji and Sybelle safe. It just happened that Louis had his Merrick-era meltdown and Lestat left not that long into it all happening, so Armand flew out and picked up Louis and it ended up becoming a place for all four of them to deal with some pretty big changes. Benji and Sybelle were newborn vampires, it’s a process that can be difficult especially for people prone to obsession like Sybelle is and Armand always prioritises safe spaces for loved ones first. 

As such, I think Trinity Gate has been a place for healing from design to current day. I think that when he found out about Daniel, he wanted to bring him there but didn’t want to make things worse for him so there has been a place for him for years. The same is true for Lestat, they were often worried about him and wanted him to come home, so there was always a place for him too.

In terms of specifics:

Louis spent most of the first time he was there in the libraries, but he branched out into the gardens as time went on. Armand invested in chairs for him to read in most of the communal rooms including the music room so he can listen to Sybelle play. There’s a lot of time spent without words when it comes to Louis, they understand each other well enough without it and as their romance blooms again, they start taking the steps forward together.

The garden has been Louis’ domain for a while; there is something about investing in helping something grow and the feeling of being part of the earth that helps ground him. I think he struggles with isolation when left to his own devices, so Armand begins dragging him out into the world before long and he begins to feel more like a person than someone who haunts the house. 

Armand for his part doesn’t think of himself as healing there, but he does – he finds his reasons to go on in his children, in falling in love again, and from there, begins to work backwards in dealing with his feelings about himself and his own autonomy. Trinity Gate and NY in general are his bubble in those years and he has the time to really settle down and consider himself, to confront things he hasn’t and admit things to himself that he has had trouble doing before. 

I think Armand finds himself thawing from a numbness he’s struggled with on and off since he was mortal in his little family era here. It makes him more comfortable when people begin to show up in Prince Lestat, it makes it easier for him to be open to what Gregory says and to know he doesn’t want to be the core. He’s learning about his own voice, his own autonomy and in some ways, this is something that he never gets to keep – the eras of Daniel and Louis are the closest, but he was catering more to their lives than his own, not ready to face it. His autonomy has been repeatedly lost ever since he was down in the caves, since the kidnapping, even to a degree in the erasure of his past identities both in Venice and under Santino and even though it was necessary, through Lestat. Getting time to be himself, feel his own emotions whether they’re good or bad, has been good for him. He’s learning.

Daniel at Trinity Gate is a case of learning to trust himself and his instincts. I think as much as he tried as a baby vampire, he struggled with being overwhelmed and this is the era where he starts to explore and really enjoy what it means to be an immortal. He floats from one thing to another, just trying to see what he wants and experience things as a vampire or experience things he has no history of like modern smart phones or VR. Armand helps him a lot with that and the humour of the role reversal isn’t lost on them. 

For Daniel, Trinity Gate is the place where he doesn’t so much fall in love again as feel ready to address it as a whole person when he’s been feeling fractured for so long. It’s a time for reunions – they go on dates, they’ll skip off to Miami or Tokyo for a week, they’ll spend nights curled up catching up on streamed television shows as Netflix becomes more of a thing. It’s an era of Daniel learning to feel comfortable in himself and his place, knowing he isn’t reliant on someone but instead is choosing to be there. I think that in my headcanon for their relationship, this is the turning point for it being a little more ot3 than otp because he and Louis come to their own understanding of their dynamic.

Lestat’s time at Trinity Gate is on and off, not unlike his relationship with Armand. He doesn’t know where he stands at Trinity Gate, he is The Prince, he is Louis’ maker and he and Armand have their on again/off again thing. I think the important part is when he stops looking at himself as his roles and starts figuring out how to just be who he is, not the roles he tries on like clothes and he gets scared to interact like that for any specific amount of time. It’s hard for him to shed that armour and not worry he’ll be abandoned or ridiculed – so he doesn’t really know what to do when he’s accepted into the Armand Bed Pile without question. Okay, maybe one question and it’s ‘can you get your hair out of my face’.

I think it helps him open himself up more - this makes their relationship less of a dalliance and more something they’re actively pursuing for both Armand and Louis. Daniel’s just along for the ride, it’s Lestat, but they do bond over the more difficult moments and build forts downstairs. They like to listen to music on shared headphones/pods and Lestat loves an audience that will listen to him ramble on and Daniel is a good, engaged listener. For Daniel’s part, Lestat’s happy to show him how to do a few more ‘tricks’ and help him gain confidence with what he has. Lestat had to figure his shit out alone, so having another chance to help someone else is good for him too – especially when it’s Armand’s only fledgling. It feels like coming full circle from Nicki.

On a similar vein, I think Antoine’s time here gives him a level of support he didn’t really get due to the circumstances in which he was made. He has a kindred spirit in Sybelle for music, and though he does follow Lestat to France, I think there had to be a small period of reconnection for them here. 

I want to believe Bianca stayed here for a while after losing her fledgling. Not right away, but perhaps a couple of years later when she’s trying to rebuild. I like to think at first, it was like having a sleepover, Bianca and Armand getting some time to reconnect with older parts of themselves, then Armand dragging her out to see the world she’s not familiar with. I want to believe Riccardo came along for the ride and for a couple of months, the three of them are thick as thieves. Playing games, running around in the world to bars and clubs and private establishments – it’s a time for them to reconnect as people.

It gives them all a chance to finally talk through their losses and experiences – Bianca leaving in Paris, Riccardo having been unable to corporealise but wanting to stay with him as much as he could but being unable to communicate and Armand talking about losing himself. They start their mourning process together, for their lives, for the boys, for what they lost along the way, but also learn to celebrate some that they’re here together. It makes all three a little more childish and silly, there’s multiple chases throughout the house and mucking around and it’s good for them to just feel young and free for a while. It’s a side Armand’s partners so rarely see of him and they love it, especially when Armand loses races down the stairs because Riccardo can teleport his way there by going incorporeal. (Armand insists it’s cheating, but his sulking just leads to more silly stories about his teenage years.)

There are others who come and go – Marius is there sometimes and not others, but he isn’t really ready to heal completely. He is learning more about flowers from Louis and spends more time around Daniel there than anyone else, but it’s a foot in the door when he’s ready. They have Pandora there for a bit when she needs time away, giving her the space she needs from the world while still keeping her in it until she’s ready to move on. Even Mael has crashed there, talking quietly about his experiences with going into the sun with Armand before retreating but seeming a little lighter for it. Jesse spends some of her grief there, talks about how the family that used to feel like it spanned the world feels like it’s dwindling and leaves feeling renewed by the way people make their own families in their world.

The tl;dr of this being that Trinity Gate is the Vampire Chronicles equivalent of going on a life changing adventure with Zuko. 

[thebonerpit]

Idk if anyone follows my posts enough to even notice this but you may have seen me talking about a lot of new things I've watched so far this year, both tv and film. I kind of made a mini resolution to do this because I found, especially at the end of 2023, that I was stuck in a rut of either rewatching old things or mindlessly flipping through YouTube videos I had little to no interest in. There's so much media out there I'm interested in and now I feel almost reinvigorated to go through it and I've been having a blast.

Most of the time I'll probably just reblog a gifset or two with thoughts in the tags but I finally watched the Interview with the Vampire tv show and I have FEELINGS (mostly good)! Spoilers for season one and I do talk about book things that eventually happen so beware in case you don't know and want to continue the show completely blind...

So I kinda put off watching this at first because the Vampire Chronicles books are some of my favourites, and while it did have its own issues, the 1994 film holds a special place in my heart. I was like... do we really need anything else? But I'm glad I gave it a chance because the show was able to go so much further in so many aspects and also now we have a chance to actually see even more of the book events take place!

I'm gonna say up front that almost every character felt very different from how they are in the book except for Lestat. Lestat was actual perfection and I cannot BELIEVE someone did a (dare I say) even better job than Tom Cruise who gave the performance of his life in the film. Sam Reid's Lestat is unhinged and dramatic and terrifying and sad and cringe and yet also loveable and it was a masterpiece of acting. For the majority of the other characters I really didn't mind the differences and in some instances I thought they were actually improved. Daniel Molloy, for example, who is basically Anthony Bourdain? Perfection. Louis who is yes kind of pathetic and dramatic like the book, but also is volatile and complicated which Lestat is drawn to right from the beginning instead of only after having his little breakdown caused by his brother's death? Excellent. Armand who is older and looks nothing like the Armand described in the books but I can see without any problem how Marius fell madly deeply insanely in love with him because he's GORGEOUS and has this unsettling serenity about him? Give. Me. MORE.

The only issue I really had was with Claudia. I see people praising her all over the place so I'm sure this is an unpopular opinion but I hated that they aged her up so much. The most compelling thing about Claudia as a character is that she is an adult woman trapped in the body of a literal CHILD. A pre-pubescent child. Not a teenager. It's absolutely horrifying and it should be horrifying. Now, I will say, I saw an article where they talked about part of the reason behind this choice being that they needed the actor to work longer hours and it was impossible for a kid to do that, plus the very intense material, and I fully FULLY support any protections for child actors because the industry is insane. But it does make me sad and I wish there was some way they could have worked around it. I get what they tried to do with teenage Claudia but it just fell flat for me. And also the actress really looks her age (I think she's 20?) so like the few times where people were making fun of her for "playing dress up" or whatever I'm like... she fully looks like an older teen at LEAST what are you talking about lol. Also I thought her accent was kind of bad.

But honestly, that was really the only problem I had with the whole series. I absolutely loved how they went full-on explicit with the Lestat/Louis romance and the chemistry between the two of them was... WOOF. I was actually really interested in the modern portions too, mostly because Anthony Bour-- I mean Daniel Molloy was so entertaining lol. I loved how he pushed and pushed at Louis and their whole back and forth was brilliant. Although putting on my archivist's hat for a second to be outraged at Daniel consenting to wearing the cotton gloves to handle the diaries but then eating a fucking sandwich right beside the book???? Absolutely not lol. It was so much fun to see the Armand reveal (which I was spoiled for somehow but that's ok) especially knowing that Armand eventually turns Daniel and boy oh boy I hope they go long enough to get to that. I loved the continued references to Lestat's love of music which makes me hope they're planting seeds to make rock star Lestat a little more believable lol (god can you even imagine?? And we don't talk about the Queen of the Damned movie ok).

As for S2, I'm so excited for Paris and the Théâtre des Vampires and HELLO Ben Daniels as Santiago!!! Omg so hype for that. And it's going to be so interesting to see the Armand/Louis relationship as well because I mean it's always going to be Lestat/Louis and Armand/Marius for me so Louis being like "he's the love of my life"... girl. (And speaking of Armand/Marius please GOD give us some flashbacks because they are my Vampire Chronicles OTP and I need to see that whole story including my girl Bianca thank youuuuu).

Yeah so overall I'm quite positive about the whole thing and sincerely hope that they get many more seasons because there's so many interesting stories in those books and we've only ever gotten a TINY portion on screen.

[matrixwhore]

What theories do you got for the end of season 2?

hii 🫶🏾

sorry i’m so late with this. i haven't been online too much lately. So theories??? man i’m not really engaging with much speculation as far as S2 goes. mainly bc i don’t think i have the ideas that will happen how my mind is formulating them. also bc they would be based off of nothing but what ive seen said about the books and vibes i got from S1 lmao. i’m so sorry if i disappoint you my ideas. here’s what i hope…

S2 will focus on loumand in the past and in the present maybe Armand might get to contribute to the telling of things. I’m very fucking excited for loumand. Idk how to not lose my mind about this! it’ll be interesting to me if there’s points of contention between how louis remembers something and how he does. what happened to Claudia and how coming out in this contention would be really fun to watch. “the love of my life” seems to be something that’s gonna come undone next season. seeing how they came together. seeing what makes their relationship tick. seeing the cracks in what their dynamic is now. seeing how Daniel’s tendency to be provocative and rude when he feels endangered will impact things or how it will shift now that he knows Rashid is actually Armand—now that he realizes he’s been talking to an even stronger vampire crazy out the side of his neck. and he’s greatly out numbered rn. i want to see if Daniel tries to run and leave and how they might convince him to stay or if he decides to stay what lends to that decision. the book? answers that he wants? im sure it’ll be many things.

I wonder if they will put off the hows of how Lestat finds his way to Paris since no one but him would really have all that information. I think with seeing Sam and Assad hanging out off set there will be some Armand/Lestat scene to look forward too. they’re gonna fight and its gonna be nasty and full of tension and armand longing for lestat while lestat longs for louis and he’s [lestat] gonna get that look in his eye were he agrees to something he know damn well he shouldnt in the name of saving louis. its gonna be delicious. Im excited to see that.

I hope we only really get hints of the devil’s minion stuff and i hope a good chunk of most of it happens in the modern day so they can have lots to fill coming seasons with. i want S2 to be more about loumand anyways. THO i do want them to put the fear of the devil into that man. I want him to really come to terms with what the fuck situation he’s in and I want Louis and Armand to make him feel it for real. I want the cracks in his dynamic with them and his supposed superior morality to start to show.

I think the situation with Louis might make Claudia desperate for another connection by the time it’s clear Louis is stuck in the past and longing for Lestat. Her hatred for him i think is soemthing we’ll see develop in it’s fullness. i hope she’s just as petty as she’s been. there wa a post about her playing piano and playing bach even tho she knows it torment him. i love that post. i wish i had it in me to find it. that post is genius. but yeah so i think she’d even accept the mother like way Madeleine treats her even tho she’s been looking to be treated like an equal bc anything is better than where they find themselves in terms of being stuck together after all thats happened and the spector of him choking her and lestat being spared because of him always looming over them. i think that adds to the sheer sadness of her situation. the living truth that yeah lestat is alive and louis would have him even now. and then the realization that he would also have armand who wants her dead clearly. i think someone who seems to “see her” would be preferable. but bc i know this is the painshow i cant say that they’re dynamic won’t be hard to watch. i think it will. I think madeleine will be working out her own trauma in losing her family on Claudia and it’ll be really clear that Claudia will always be choosing the lesser of an evil. i think they’ll play with our minds and hearts about what they could be, but ultimately they’re doomed and she’ll still wind up dead. and apparently so does madeleine even after being turned soo.. yeah i’m about to be heart shattered behind claudia.

sorry if these are disappointing. but yeah that’s as far as i’ve got. tho i’m sure i’ll think of something else and make a post about it. but i havent really wanted to speculate too much on S2 beyond being horny about loumand. maybe we’ll see their dungeon!

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Sucker Love chapter 2

here or read it below

Armand was meant to meet Louis and the Azalea, but seeing Louis with Daniel had changed things.  Louis was clearly trying to score, and Armand had no problem sharing a conquest.  Let Louis have his fun; he’d already set the bait for Daniel.  The way he looked at him let him know he was interested.  

It was better to leave them wanting more at first.  If things were too easy, it got boring.  Armand knows this well; seducing his classmates is child’s play. He wishes there were someone who would make the game a little challenging; challenging is fun.  He suspects Daniel won’t be much of a challenge at all.  Not with the way he looked at him.  It was an instant attraction.  

It would be a lie to say Armand wasn’t attracted as well.  He had been.  The boy is good-looking, after all, and he caught Louis’ eye.  Louis has truly appalling taste in men, from an objective standpoint.  However, the men he chose were always interesting.  Most people aren’t that interesting at all.  

Besides, Louis is probably softening Daniel up, like a jar that needs to be loosened before someone else can open it.  Boys tripped over their feet for Louis; he’s a boy magnet.  And as much as Louis wants to be the sort who can sleep with a guy and forget him, he’s mostly a relationship kind of guy.  Armand doubts he’ll go through with bedding Daniel, at least not so soon.  But he’ll get Daniel all riled up and looking for release, and won’t Armand’s sweeping in just be convenient?  

It’s a risk; Louis may decide he actually wants him, but Armand doubts it.  He’s still too hung up on Lestat.   He’d never admit as much; but he’s likely going to take him back.  He just needs to make him suffer a little first to punish him.  

Unfortunately, that means Armand has nothing to do at the Azalea and no reason to be there.  And he’s bored.  He takes out his phone and shoots off a quick text to Santiago, who he met last year.  

“Want to meet up?”

Santiago had fixed up Armand’s bike and sold it to Marius.  He runs a bike shop in East Harlem, though he’s originally from England.  He’s in his thirties, but he has no problem hooking up with Armand.  The age of consent is sixteen where he’s from, and that was good enough for him.  Armand had decided to seduce him on whim, just to see if he could.  

It was so easy.  Not even a performative fuss about his age, just asking how old he was and then agreeing.  He also sells weed, and now Armand gets the special ‘we’re fucking’ discount.  That had been easy to convince Santiago of as well.  He is honestly quite easy to make Armand do what he wants.  No challenge at all.  

But he does have good weed.  

He gets a text back less than a minute later.  

“I’ll close up the shop.  Come over.”

Absolutely no challenge at all.

/

Daniel ends up spending the night with Louis.  They don’t hook up.  Instead Louis steals them each a bottle of wine from the Azalea and they get drunk and smoke.  Daniel suspects that Louis invited him over to bang, but after he gets drunk all he wants to do is complain about his ex and his family.  

They moved here last year, after his brother Paul’s suicide.  The family had wanted to get a fresh start.  They opened the Azalea and it has been an instant success.  And though Louis does all he can to make them happy–keeps straight A’s, works a part time job, and goes to church with them every Sunday, it isn’t enough.  Because they don’t accept that he’s gay.  

Not that he has ever admitted as much to them.  They know, of course.  But they never speak of it.  His mother still tries to set him up with ‘nice’ girls from church.  His father refuses to acknowledge it at all.  Louis had been the favored son, not like Paul whose illness brought shame to the family.  The man can hardly admit his favorite son is gay, not after losing one son already.  

Daniel gets it; his own dad would be furious if he knew Daniel liked boys too.  Prefers them, actually, though he likes girls well enough.  His father is damn near Puritan, he doesn’t even want Daniel getting too involved with girls.  Hell, Daniel had written his virgin’s manifesto partially for him.  It was the sort of thing his father wanted him to say.  

And hell if it wasn’t good for helping him pick up guys.  He’s already lost his virginity twice since the story was published.  

So Louis feels like something of a kindred spirit.  They stay up and talk until late at night, later than Daniel’s curfew.  So Louis invites him to crash.  Daniel blames the weed, it’s stronger than he’s used to and it made him sleepy.  He wouldn’t stay otherwise–he suspects he’s only allowed by Mrs. de Pointe du Lac because he’s the new headmaster’s son and she wants Louis to make a good impression on him.  

By morning, Daniel feels like he’s made a friend.  He thinks Louis must feel the same, because he starts talking about school over breakfast and there’s a lot of ‘ours’ and ‘we’.  Daniel thinks he may have been accepted into the friend group.  

It’s nice to have friends.  

After breakfast, Louis offers him a ride home.  Daniel accepts, knowing his father won’t be there.  He’ll be busy working, trying to get his office set up for the school year, etc.  He doesn’t particularly want his father to meet Louis; he can be weird about what friends of Daniel’s he approves of.  

Home is a smaller townhouse in the Upper East Side.  His parents had decided they wanted to live in the same neighborhood as the school his dad would work at.  Daniel thinks they probably wouldn’t be able to afford it, if not for the absurd sign on bonus Savage Garden Academy gave.  

“You can come hang out if you want.  I got nothing to do,” Daniel says once they arrive.  

Louis gives him a sly smile.  “Actually, you remember my friend you were asking about?”

How could Daniel forget?  He’s the most beautiful boy Daniel has ever seen.  Of course, Louis is stunning, and Daniel had been interested.  But he thinks that would probably make things weird, if he wants to make friends with Louis.  He gets the vibe Louis is the sort of guy who wants more than a one night stand.  

“Yeah, what about him?”  Daniel says, trying to sound cool.  He thinks he probably fails, goin by Louis’ amused expression.

“We’re hanging out later, you wanna tag along?”

Daniel feigns nonchalance.  “Yeah, sure.”

“Cool.  I’ll text you the details.”

/

Louis shows up at Armand’s not long after dropping off Daniel.  They have plans for later tonight, but Armand never minds him dropping by.  In fact, between his dating Lestat and befriending Armand, he’s spent more time here this last year than his own home.  It’s been easier, since Paul’s death, to not be around his family.  

Paul had been only two years younger than Louis, and was probably his best friend.  He still wakes up at night, seeing Paul step off the ledge of their roof.  He had called Louis up there that night to talk, like they had done countless times before.  Except this time, Louis hadn’t realized it was to say goodbye.

His mother blames him.  Louis understands why; he was Paul’s older brother, it was his job to protect him.  But he hadn’t been able to reach him before he went over the edge.  It doesn’t matter that Paul was sick–Louis had been there.  He should have been able to stop it.  

Louis can’t bear the thought of spending hours alone with his mother.  If he has to, he’ll go to the library or the park and hang out there.  He just wants to be away from home.  

He knocks on the door and waits for an answer.  Gabrielle–she insists he calls him that–likes him.  She’ll have no problem with his being there.  Louis waits, and there’s no answer.  He’s just about to text Armand to tell him he’s there when the door swings open.  

It’s Lestat, still in his pajamas.  

Louis shouldn’t be surprised, Lestat does live there.  He’s Armand’s brother.  It’s just he expected him to be gone.  Didn’t Armand mention his godfather Marius getting Lestat some summer job?

“Louis,” Lestat says, and runs a hand through his unruly hair.  He must have gotten out of bed to open the door.  Figures he’d laze around in bed all day.  

“I’m here for Armand,” Louis says, trying to keep his voice cold.  He hasn’t forgotten about Antoinette.  And he sure hasn’t forgiven it.  

Lestat smiles, that soft smile that’s reserved only for those close to him.  “He isn’t back yet.  Do you want to come in and wait?”

Louis thinks being alone with Lestat is probably a bad idea.  “I’ll come back later.”

“He’s on the way,” Lestat says and holds up his cellphone.  “He just texted.  It shouldn’t be long.”

Louis waivers; if he leaves he’ll have to go back home to his parents and Grace.  His sister isn’t so bad, she doesn’t blame him.  She’s also only twelve, so it’s not like she’s much help with their parents.  Not that he expects her to be.  In fact, now that Paul is gone and Louis is gay, she’s his mother’s golden child.  

He doesn’t want to go home and watch his mother dote on Grace while being cold to him.  Besides, it’s not like he’s going to fall back into Lestat’s arms in the span of a few minutes.

“Fine, I’ll wait inside.”

[symphonyofmalice]

Nicolas did not blame Sybelle. When looking at his own past, it was easy to blame himself. If he had followed the path his family wanted, perhaps... if he had not gone to Paris seeking destruction, if he had listened to Lestat's fears about Magnus, if he had been a happier person, if he'd drunk less, if he'd followed the rules better. He could think of times where it felt like he had been asking for punishment, deserved it. Looking at Sybelle, it was so much easier to see her as someone sensitive, and vulnerable, and deserving grace.

He didn't bat an eye on her description of her own cruelty. "I don't think there's such a thing as a good vampire" he admits. "Lestat tries to be one, by kiling evildoers and playing the hero, but it's a farce. We all have a monstrous nature. Even as a mortal I played the violin to hurt people. I made the theater to hurt people. I would murder in the public eye and feel triumphant. I do not stand clean at the tribunal of my soul." Perhaps he and Armand had only ever deserved each other, two monsters eating each other in a dark ouroboros.

"He can turn on a dime, Sybelle, that's why I worry. Ten years we were stuck with one another. You think in all that time, he never said a kind word to me, never treated me with gentleness? He would say everything he did was for my own sake, and sometimes he'd convince us both it was true. But it wasn't. I...I have to believe that it wasn't, that real love is something else than what we had."

“You don’t feel safe, here.” 

"Of course I don't! How could I possibly? No one should feel safe anywhere that belongs to him." Nicolas' shoulders had not left the vicinity of his ears. He was as tightly strung as his violin, and his eyes kept darting vigilantly around the room.

He regretted snapping at her almost instantly. "It's...it's not your fault. I know it seems strange to you, but I promise, that I'm here at all is extending more trust than he deserves." Armand had not stopped his and Sybelle's meetings in the park and elsewhere, but Nicolas had not discounted the possibility he might be plotting something. And entering Trinity Gate had felt like walking into the dragon's den.

"How much as he told you?" Nicolas knew Armand had not completely hidden his past as the coven leader, but he was also sure he had sugarcoated the worst for Sybelle.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Febuwhump Day 10 - “How Long has it Been?”

Summary: Slick has lost the ability to keep track of time.

Warning: Mentions of abuse of power and torture.

[Whereas I believe Dogma was slated to be killed for killing a Jedi (despite the fact Krell was a traitor to the Republic), I think they very likely kept Slick incarcerated to try to get information out of him. The question now is... What do you think happens to clones that get taken to be "debriefed" by the Republic Intelligence services?]

[THIS STORY IS NOW ON AO3]

---

---

There is a particularly persistent question that had all but taken over Slick's life. One that hadn't been there before he'd been imprisoned for his crimes against the Republic.

"How long has it been?"

Simple enough of a question right? Not quite.

Because he kept asking it. Over, and over again.

And no matter what was answered? No matter how many times someone tried to help him put an end to this mind-numbing doubt of his, the answer just never sticks...

Armand Isard and his filthy dogs had broken him. The nat-born bastard had insisted on keeping him in custody rather than putting a blaster bolt through Slick's skull. Because they might be able to get invaluable data out of the wannabe spy that the others couldn't. Because he might be useful if they were to use their interrogation methods on him. Lies. Lies that everyone ate up like the gullible suckers they were.

If commander Cody and captain Rex really thought that they were the ones who truly loved their brothers, then they should have damn well put him down themselves. It would have been a mercy. It would have been actual love.

But no.

Slick was a traitor. A brother killer. So he got nothing but the abuse of men high on power. Men that wanted to see how far they could push a clone. How far it'd take to destroy everything that made Slick, Slick.

Not much, it turns out...

The first day is something akin to a celebration. The intelligence officers take turns, depending on what Isard deems appropriate for the occasion.

They beat him black and blue. Break each fingers and then his knee caps. Smash his teeth in and force him to swallow them. Shatter his nose and laugh when he spits out blood and wheezes with each breath...

And then once that nice little warmup is all done and dealt with, they get to the really good stuff.

They inject him full of drugs, then waterboard him. They use all sorts of illegal torture devices on him. They argue amongst themselves over what the best way to get him to squeal really is... That's just the first day.

Isard calls his men off once he is satisfied with how maimed and battered Slick has become. Tells them they have all the time in the world to play with their new toy. Says soon enough he'll have clones commissioned to be better than whatever low-grade sludge they used to make him. Slick doesn't doubt the idiot has kriff-all knowledge of how the Kaminiise make their products. Dumbfek nat-born is spewing bantha shit out of his mouth like it's gospel.

The bastard knows that Slick has nothing to offer them. No real enemy intel of worth, because he hadn't ever gotten far enough to get any. This? This agonising torture? It's just for fun. Because the chancellor wouldn't want his most trusted and bloodthirsty underlings to get bored, now would he?

Slick loses the ability to track time around the 50th something day. At this point he knows that a lot of the damage done to him is likely to be permanent. They've hit him enough times in the skull to certainly cause brain damage. Some things he can't feel properly anymore, and he's begun having seizures and headaches that make him throw up bile. They also haven't fed him consistently. He's emaciated due to his high metabolic rate reeking havoc on his battered body and anyone who saw him would likely confuse him with a decaying corpse, if not for the fact his breathing was a rattling loud mess.

Isard and his men had grown bored of him, so they leave him in the dark to stagnate. To die cold, alone, and in pain. At least that's what the plan had likely been at some point. He's so out of it that he doesn't notice when they toss him out into the dump with the rest of the trash. Slick didn't even deserve the dignity of cremation post-mortem. He'd just fade away surrounded by decay and filth. The filth of the republic...

And then... And then a vod finds him. A clone clad in red and white. Bucket on, like every other Corrie Guard he'd ever seen. Whoever it is runs off. Returns with others. Their armour has that same colour code, but they're different. The commanders... Slick's eyes burn with the need to shed tears, but he's far too dehydrated to cry. Someone please just take him out of his damn misery...

Time as a concept didn't make sense. Slick would fade in and out at random, like the blinking of his eyes.

One blink. He's in the ill-equipped infirmary, covered in wires and in so much pain. The medics give him pitiful smiles and soft encouraging words. It's the first time someone's been kind to him in... How long?

Two blinks. Several vode pile all around him. Cradle him like he's a young cadet, murmuring comforting words he didn't think he'd ever get from any of his brothers ever again. They're socialising him. Reintroducing him to love and touch. Things he'd gone without for so long that they burn and made him squirm. But this doesn't hurt. Doesn't make him want to flee. These are welcoming touches and he's never been more grateful.

Three blinks. He's in front of a 'fresher mirror, his ribs are still visible but he's gained weight. Hound managed to get a good haul of credits, he bought them enough food that for once they'd going to bed fed. He's learned a lot about Coruscant and he finds plenty of others who understand his view. They all understand that they're slaves. Meaningless pawns. But they're so broken themselves that they remain loyal to the only thing they know. Better the devil you know than... Than whatever was out there. Slick isn't abandoning these brothers. He can't.

Four blinks. Fox comes in with a wild plan to save a Jedi killer. Slick has no idea where he got the extra paint, but he's pretty sure the poor vod'ika in the cell is in for a shocking wakeup call. Or not, one of their medics is going in to administer a sedative...

Five blinks. He's enjoying Dogma's cooking with a few other vode. It's his break time he thinks. The strict little bastard is a huffy mess with a pole shoved up his shebs, but Slick won't deny that the kid is loyal and surprisingly good in the Guard's makeshift kitchen.

Six blinks...

"How long as it been?" He asks again, blank eyes finally focusing as he lifts his head up from the vodepile. It's always pleasantly warm on Epifania, and they have their windows open to make sure it's nice and aired out. The apartment that serves as both their home and Dogma's and Rhythm's office is a luxury compared to anything they'd ever had.

They have furniture. They have comfy beds. They have a well equipped kitchen. They have Holonet access. They have food. So much food.

"A long while." Olly, now gone grey, responds from his favoured corner where he's tuning his guitar. His face hidden by his large brimmed hat. "A very long while."

"That's debatable." an equally grey Rhythm responds, the lines of his face more pronounced as he smiles lazily. "It depends on how you measure it. Long can be very long, or not that long. You need something to compare it with."

"Now you're just making it harder than it has to be." Dogma huffs from where he's doing paperwork at his desk. He's filled out over the years, looking healthily plump and his skin is now a sun-kissed tan colour rather than the unhealthy complexion he'd been stuck with from being indoors for so long. The silver hadn't completely taken over like the other guardsmen, but it certainly gave him a more mature look. "You could just ask him."

"I'll ask." Fox rumbles from the very centre of the vodepile. Slick presses his face to the crook of his older brother's neck as he runs calloused fingers through his hair. "How long since what, vod'ika?"

"How long has it been since my family found me?" Slick doesn't hesitate to ask.

He needs to know. He needs to understand how long it's been since those horrid beasts hadn't lain a finger on him. He needs to celebrate his minute victory over them.

"Hm... A very long while." Fox smiles tiredly. They're all so much older now. Living half-lives as fugitives in some backwater planet. But it's better than Coruscant. Even if some of them are broken beyond repair. "It'll get longer still."

"Good." Slick purrs as he closes his eyes. Temporarily satisfied with the answer. He'll ask again in however long it took for him to forget. Maybe when his brothers give him his medicine.

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 18: A Bouquet

The Storybrooke Sequel to Golden Cuffs

Lacey Gold looks deeper into her past. 

Trigger warning for grief over a deceased parent.

Read on AO3

Her mother is dead.

It does not rain on the day of Mama’s funeral, even though it should. The skies should break open and flood the earth. The sun should never shine again. All of nature should be consumed by darkness and despair. 

Instead, it is a lovely, sunny day in early summer. Pink roses burst into life all over the castle grounds. They were her favorite flower. Mama always wanted her to get married at this time of year, when the roses bloomed.  

Now, every pink rose that was in the gardens covers the casket. Even the flowers that showed only the slightest bud have been cut down before they had a chance to bloom. Some of them are already turning brown. 

The roses are dying. The roses are dead. This is wrong. Mama wouldn’t want her favorite flowers to die.

She stands beside Papa at the graveside. Both of them are dressed in black. He says nothing. He does not let himself weep. He must show strength as a leader to their people. Mama is not the first casualty of what the common folk are already calling the Ogres War.  

It is a small funeral, only the castle inhabitants and the villagers who live nearby. Traveling is dangerous now, and those far away cannot take the risk. King Midas should have come, or at least sent a royal envoy. The rest of Mama’s family and friends should be here. The whole kingdom--the whole world--should mourn the loss of the greatest woman of this generation. 

As it is, all she has of her mother’s family is Uncle Pierre, Aunt Therese, and their children. Her cousins stand in the cemetery with the rest of the meager party. Little Claude may be too young to understand the words being said, but she knows her aunt is gone. She stays quiet and still. Jeanne cries into a handkerchief. She despairs for the future, for everyone in the land. Andre tries to be a man--he knows that he will see more dead very soon--but he cannot keep his lip from quivering. This is the first death that has come to their family. Does he know, somehow, that he and his father will be next?

Papa’s brother, Uncle Armand, keeps his head bowed. His long, curling hair falls over his face. Normally a man of laughter and warmth, he is solemn. 

Ermintrude, Mama’s closest friend, is as stone-faced as Papa. It must not be decorous for a lady to weep over someone who is not a blood relative. Even if you have known her all your life and raised your children together. Even if you were the last person to see her alive. The last person to hear her screams as monsters ripped her out of your hands and left you holding nothing but a broken necklace. Ermintrude does not weep, but she holds her own daughter’s hand in a clenching grip and does not let go until long after the funeral has ended. Mathilde clings to her mother with equal desperation. 

A cleric prays over Mama’s casket. She does not hear what he says. She speaks when it is time to speak, repeats the words she knows by heart. She sings the hymns and makes the signs. But it does not reach her. 

They cover the casket in dirt. The pink roses will never see the sun again. Mama is dead. The world has ended. 

What future is left for her now?

    ****

Mrs. Lacey Gold started the morning by walking away from the pawn shop and towards Marine Automotive. These red and navy mary janes were the lowest heels she had, and the sound of them was strange on the sidewalk. Mrs. Gold was used to the sharp click-clack of her stilettos, the powerful stride she made sure to use every time she went out in public, no matter how she felt in the privacy of her own skull.  

But things were different now. She was different. She wasn’t just Mrs. Gold anymore. But she wasn’t Lacey French anymore either. 

Truth be told, she had never thought much about being Lacey French, not the way she thought about being Mrs. Gold. She’d never trudged the halls of Storybrooke High thinking about how Lacey French would walk. She’d never pulled on an oversized tee-shirt and jeans because she thought that was the sort of thing Lacey French would wear. She had never wanted to be herself, she just was. 

She wanted to be Mrs. Gold. She’d put effort into it. But now Mr. Gold didn’t seem to care. So she had to try something else. She had to try being someone else. 

Why not Lacey?

Above her, Marco the handyman was hammering something into the roof of the hardware store. When she looked up at him and waved, the old man just frowned and muttered something in Italian. Maybe it was a curse. Maybe it was a sign against curses, something that protected good men from vile harlots.  Either way, Mrs. Gold squared her shoulders and kept walking. 

Marine Automotive was right across from the old abandoned library. Mom had always wished that the library would open up again, so she could get access to more books. At least once a day, every time she had a free minute, she would sneak off to her rocking chair by the window with some well-worn paperback. The flower shop was named after one of her favorite books.

The garage was empty when she got there, no one in the office and only one car lifted up into a bay. A young kid, Billy Citrouille, was rubbing his backside in front of a space heater. He stopped when he noticed her.

“Hey there,” he smiled. His dark eyes were warm and his white teeth shone against tan skin. “How are you today, Mrs. Gold?”

Her first instinct was to giggle. She wanted to bounce on her heels and twirl her skirt and make some stupid joke about getting her motor running. Over the years, Mrs. Gold had had a lot of fun playing with Billy. He wore loose coveralls, but she could make them feel very tight when she wanted to. 

But she was trying to be better.

Lacey looked around the empty garage. “Is Manny in today?”

Billy shrugged. “Business is slow, so he went over to Game of Thorns for a bit.”

“Oh.” Her stomach sank. “Did he… say when he’d be back?”

“He’s supposed to be on a fifteen minute break, but he left an hour ago, so there’s no telling.”

“Oh,” she said again. It was suddenly very difficult to swallow. “Great.”

“Is there something I can do for you, Mrs. Gold? What’s going on with that gorgeous caddy? I’m surprised it’s giving you any trouble.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not Mr. Gold’s car. This is just… a family thing.”

“Oh, okay,” Billy said. Then he began to nod. “Oh that’s right, you were Manny’s niece!”

“I still am,” Lacey snapped, more angry than she wanted to be. “There’s no expiration date on being someone’s family.”

At least, she hoped not. 

Without saying more to Billy, she left the garage. Game of Thorns was on a dinky little side street in Old Town, only a block away from Marine Automotive. The location didn’t offer much opportunity for foot traffic, but it was the best the owners could get when they bought it. All the properties on Main Street, all the good places, were owned by Mr. Gold. Moe French took it as a point of pride that he owned the deed to his building, that he had paid off the mortgage in ten years. Owning property meant equity, it meant security, it meant being the lord of your own castle.

It meant he had something to sell to Mr. Gold when the cancer treatments had wiped out all their savings and the medical bills were still unpaid. It meant his family became tenants, renters in their own home, swallowed up in the financial ruin that came with tragedy.  

When they got married, Mr. Gold had given her this building as a wedding present. 

In the spring and summer the exterior of the shop hosted a riot of potted and hanging plants for sale. The front was covered in ivy, always advertising the greenery within. But on this winter afternoon, the ivy was dead. All the plants were kept inside. The store barely looked open  or alive at all. 

The front window display was themed for Valentine’s Day, one of the busiest days of the year. Faded red cloth provided a backdrop for limp paper hearts and plastic vases full of dusty fake roses. Of course, all the real flowers had been sold already. Cheap, plastic garlands were strewn haphazardly around the window. The whole thing looked so tawdry, so pitiful. 

She tried not to think of the hours Mom had spent every holiday, planning out designs for the displays. And then the hours more they had spent together, executing her vision. “It’s more than just color, Lacey-loo. There’s texture and balance and harmony--and always some memorable details. A good display will tell a story. That’s what makes people want to stop and look. And then come in and buy.”   

Dad was trying his best, she knew he was. But it wasn’t the same. Nothing could ever be the same again. 

Tempting as it was to linger in front of the window reminiscing, she knew she had to go inside. Mrs. Gold tried to press her fingernails into her palms, but then remembered she was wearing gloves. Right. So she would just have to do this without any of her usual crutches.

Great.

Game of Thorns smelled damp and moldy. Most people would say it smelled like flowers, but Lacey knew the smell of floral foam and pesticides, of fertilizer chemicals and a building that had been patched up with endless haphazard DIY projects for as long as she could remember.  

Refrigerated flower cases lined one wall, mostly empty. The flickering fluorescent lights provided most of the illumination in the store. There were overhead lights, but it looked like her father was keeping them off when there was no one in the store, to save on the electric bill. 

Merchandise was crammed into every inch of floor space, but she knew the path by heart. The tables of gifts and knickknacks, the shelves of mugs and boxes of chocolate, the helium tank and the display of balloons--nothing had moved. Except for the accumulation of dust, nothing had changed at all. 

That was Storybrooke for you. 

The cash register was in the back of the store. Did the drawer still stick when it rang out, or had Dad ever fixed it? He’d been saying he would fix it for years now. 

Behind the desk, someone was reading a newspaper. Lacey could tell it was a man, but the paper covered up his face. She stood in the middle of the floor--near the desk, but not close enough to touch the counter. Which one of them was behind the paper, her uncle or her father? Who was she going to see first, and how would they react to seeing her again?

She took a breath, and cleared her throat. 

The paper lowered. Long, curling hair in a neat center part emerged from the other side. Then raised, dark eyebrows and wide, dark eyes. The eyes lit up. The paper was cast aside.

Uncle Manny beamed at her and stood up. 

“Hey! Look who’s back!” Arms wide open, he walked around the desk to offer her a hug.

Lacey accepted his embrace and hugged him back. How long had it been since her last hug? Months or years? Uncle Manny’s coveralls smelled like metal and motor oil and aftershave. Smelling it made her feel like a kid in the best way--small and weak, but loved and valued.

She felt safe. 

Dad’s younger brother had never been married and never had children. But he had been around for Lacey’s whole life--another parent in the web of family love she’d grown up with, and then been away from for so long. Uncle Manny had an open enthusiasm that Dad never bothered with. She could show him her crayon drawings or her middle school science projects and he would shower her with praise. When she became valedictorian, he’d been so proud of her he actually cried. 

When the hug ended, she didn’t know what to say. Torn between saying nothing and saying everything, Lacey blurted out something completely stupid. “Your hair didn’t used to be so long.”

Uncle Manny laughed and clapped her on the back. “It was that cousin of yours, Janine. This past October she convinced me that if I let it grow out more, I wouldn’t look so much like a white man with an afro.”

Lacey let herself smile. “Well she would know. She’s the hair stylist.”

“I thought this would be better than getting it close-cropped. Curly hair is the French family trademark, you know.”

“I know.”

“Big hair and big brains, that’s us. All except for your father, but I think he’s adopted.”

Now Lacey giggled. The joke wasn’t funny, but it hadn’t been funny the first time Uncle Manny had told it to her when she was five years old. The funny part had been Lacey very carefully explaining to her uncle that Dad couldn’t be adopted, because that would mean she wasn’t really a French and that was impossible because she definitely had big hair and big brains.   

Uncle Manny had been so tickled by the exchange, he had repeated it at least once a month ever since. Dad--who his entire adult life had kept his hair so short that almost no one knew it could curl--had never thought it was very funny. Which only made it better as a joke. 

“It’s good to hear you laugh again,” he said. “It’s good to see you!” He held her by the arms and looked her up and down. “Yep, still pretty. You got that from Linda.”

That was a well-meaning lie. The Woolverton look was wispy blonde hair with bright blue eyes. Janine and Chloe looked like Mom in old pictures. Andrew had been the spitting image of Uncle Peter. Lacey had Mom’s eyes and Dad’s hair, but she didn’t really look like either one of them.   

She changed the subject. “How have you been? I’m sorry we haven’t talked much since…” She trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, the past unspoken, unspeakable.

Uncle Manny kept his hand on her upper arm. He looked her in the face, his dark eyes worried and painfully sincere. “You don’t need to apologize, kiddo. Not to me. Didn’t you hear that love means never having to say you’re sorry?”

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The quote was another family joke, a line from an old movie making fun of another old movie. Lacey repeated the words she knew by heart, she let the ritual of them comfort her. 

Why did it feel so strange to be here? This had been her home, this had been her family. For most of Lacey’s life, this had been her whole world. Had she really outgrown this place so much? Had she really let her marriage turn her into a different person?

Behind the thin walls, the steps up from the basement creaked and groaned under a heavy weight. She swallowed and her heart sank a little more as she automatically looked towards the door into the back room. 

Moe French came up from the basement, his arms full with a plastic-lined cardboard box that overflowed with flowers. Dad had always been a big bear of a man--gruff but loving, full of ideas and hope for the future. Lacey remembered the game when he would pick her up over his head and twirl her around. Mom made up a story that Lacey was a clever warrior who refused to slay a dragon, but had tamed it instead and now she could fly on it to anywhere in the world. 

Once Mom was gone, Dad had shrunk into himself, and the only thing bearish about him was his temper. A temper that Lacey had inherited and Mom wasn’t around to quell in either of them. 

“Oh,” he said when he saw her. “Mrs. Gold.” 

He took the time to put the box on the countertop before he turned and brushed his hands on his jeans. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest. His baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, so his expression was unreadable. 

“So, has the landlady decided it was time to start charging rent?”

She felt her expression change, felt her lips purse and her jaw clench. She felt her hackles raise, all without thinking about it. 

Uncle Manny spoke up. “Moe, come on. It’s just Lacey.”

“I know who it is.” Dad didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. The judgement came through better when he sounded neutral. 

It really was a rare gift, the way he could mean so much while saying so little. Even now, he hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. She was his landlady, she could start charging rent. Those were facts. But he said them like they were crimes. 

And it was a neat trick, too, because he never had to defend himself. Because he had never actually said anything mean. For most of her adolescence, Lacey had known how useless it was to rant about feeling belittled or shamed or trapped. She would never have a direct quote that she could repeat to him to make him understand how much he’d hurt her. 

Even now, she’d take a lifetime of Mr. Gold’s most obscene insults over hearing her father say “Fine,” with no emotion ever again.   

Mrs. Gold stepped away from her uncle and faced her father. She said “Hi,” and it felt like a declaration of war.  

Dad nodded. Without a word, he turned back to the box and began to pull out flowers. They were mixed roses--every color except white and red, which got their own packaging. He began to separate yellow from orange from salmon from magenta from pink.

Lacey’s heart skipped a beat at the pink roses. They were mom’s favorite. She’d always said they represented the best kind of love--sweet, gentle, light. Red roses were for the burning passion of new romance, and white roses were innocent and bridal. But pink roses were the compromise, the roses of marriage, of the simple love that warmed your heart and made every day a little brighter. A little spark of joy, those were pink roses for Mom.

And that was Mom for everyone who knew her. 

She wanted me to marry in spring, when the roses bloomed.

Wordless, Lacey walked over to the counter and watched Dad sort the flowers. He placed the ends of the stems under a cutter and pulled the blade down like a lever. It looked mercenary, but it was for the flower’s own good. You had to cut off the parts that were dead so they could take in more water and stay fresher longer. It hurt, but was a part of growing--or at least staying alive in a world that wouldn’t let you grow. 

After a few minutes, he stepped to the side, so there was enough room for her to stand beside him and help. If she wanted to.

That was the flip side of the way Dad said things without saying them--sometimes he could say nice things too. Sometimes it was easier for both of them not to talk. Then neither of them could say the wrong thing. She stood beside him, and began to place the sorted roses into different buckets filled with water and plant food. That way, he would have more room on the counter.

“Well, I guess I’ll get back to work,” Uncle Manny announced.

“Oh, do you have a job? I couldn’t tell,” Dad grumbled. 

Lacey snorted. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the slightest grin from Dad. 

Uncle Manny ignored the jab. “Lacey-girl, it was good to see you. You come and talk to me any time, okay?”

“I will.” She looked up from the flowers. “Thank you.”

“Ah, I gotta have one more hug!” Uncle Manny crossed the length of the store and wrapped his arms around her again. She felt the press of his lips on her curly French family hair. “Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you.”

“Aww, do I get a hug too?” Dad said. It would have been good-natured, if it didn’t sound so bitter. 

“Brother of mine, you’ll get a sock in the jaw if you drive our girl away again. I’ll go with her this time, she’s better company than you.”

“Get outta here, you mangy grease monkey.”

Uncle Manny went back to the garage and Lacey and Dad worked together in silence. When the box was empty, Dad wiped his hands on a green rag and handed it over for her to do the same. It had been Mom’s idea for all of the shop’s towels to be green. That way they wouldn’t get mixed up with the blue and pink towels they used at home. 

Lacey rubbed the rag between her finger and her thumb. The fabric was worn and scratchy, not like the big fluffy towels in Mr. Gold’s house. She kept her eyes on the ground. Dad hadn’t moved. He was waiting. 

They were both waiting for the other one to speak first. 

Papa, I’ve missed you.

It took her a minute, but finally she did the brave thing.

“Look,” Lacey said. “I guess I’m sorry it took me this long to come visit.”

She wanted to offer an excuse, but there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t be an outright lie. She hadn’t spoken to her father in years because she hadn’t wanted to. Because he made her angry and sad and made her remember things she’d rather forget. Because she had been too busy enjoying the better life she’d had as Mrs. Gold. 

Dad looked around, trying to find something to do. He began to move the buckets of roses into the flower case. “The shop was always here,” he said, not as gruff as he could have been. “You own the place, you could have come by any time.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” She’d taken her coat off to work, and now she clutched it over her chest. “I didn’t want to… embarrass you.”

Straightening up, Dad looked down at her. He was tall--a trait she had not inherited. His face was worn out, tired. Was he still disappointed in her?

“You didn’t have to do it, you know. Marry him. The rent wasn’t that overdue. I could have worked something out on my own.”

She’d married Mr. Gold on the day before Valentine’s Day. Two weeks after the January rent was due, one day before a huge influx of cash would be coming in for the store. If Mr. Gold had demanded that she marry him in lieu of rent, the timing could not have been more painfully tragic. 

But that wasn’t what happened. 

“I didn’t marry him for rent money, Dad. I married him because… because I wanted to.”

He grumbled and shook his head. Turning away, he reached into the bucket of yellow roses and counted out twelve blooms for a grab-and-go bouquet. Out of habit, Lacey went to her old place by the cash register and leaned over the counter. 

More silence. It was times like these when she missed Mom the most. Mom loved words, she lived in words. She understood how to talk so people would listen, and she never said the wrong thing. 

Dad counted out more bouquets, at least one for every color of roses. When he came to the bucket of pink roses, he lingered. It looked like he was trying to pick out the best ones, the largest, freshest blooms. As he had with all the others, he wrapped the bouquet in plastic and secured it with a rubber band. 

But instead of placing it in the display, he set it on the counter in front of Lacey. She didn’t pick it up, but put her hand over the stems. There were thorns on these roses, but they were still so beautiful. Beauty and pain, Mom would say sometimes. No life was complete without both.

“I don’t… understand,” he said slowly. “And I don’t want to understand. Why you would… want that. Want him.” Dad shook his head. He looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth.    

Lacey bit her lip. She waited for the rest of it. The condemnations, the accusations, the “we raised you betters.” She’d certainly heard enough of that once Mom got sick. Once she wasn’t everything he’d always wanted her to be.  

But Dad just sighed, and put his hand over hers on the bouquet. His big hand covered half her fingers, stopping at her wedding ring. “Your mother… would want you to be happy.”

He didn’t ask if she was happy, or if Mr. Gold made her happy, or if he could help her be happy. But somehow, it was enough. Just to hear him say it. Mom would want her to be happy. 

She knew what he meant.  

****

It was a long walk to the cemetery. She might have asked Mr. Gold if she could borrow the Cadillac, but she didn’t feel like telling him that she was going anywhere. It was none of his business.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been here. Her feet walked like they were separate from her mind along the rows of headstones. They took her where she needed to go without her having to think about it. 

Past the crosses and obelisks and statues of angels. The back of the cemetery wasn’t quite a potter’s field, but it also wasn’t as neat and well-maintained as the section by the gates. That was where the mausoleums were, the polished marble and memorial benches for people who used to be rich and influential. 

Even in death, there was no equality. 

Before she got where she was going, two tombstones stood out to her. Small and cheap and side by side. There were no decorations in the stone, no carved images or poems. Even adding dates would have been too expensive. All they had were words:

PETER HOWARD WOOLVERTON, BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER

ANDREW PETER WOOLVERTON, BELOVED SON AND BROTHER

“And uncle,” Lacey whispered as she stood by the graves. “And cousin.”

Unlike a lot of other headstones in this section, these had all the snow and moss and bird shit cleared off. There were flowers in the little vases, cloth bouquets that wouldn’t be affected by the cold. Daisies for Andrew, calla lilies for Uncle Peter. 

Lacey wondered who was maintaining the graves. Even though Aunt Terri hadn’t been in the car crash, she had been all but comatose ever since it had happened. She’d withdrawn into her own sadness, leaving Janine to hold herself and Chloe together. Did Janine have time to care for the dead? Did Aunt Terri have the will for it? Or was it a family decision, an event? Maybe mourning was the only thing all of them could do together anymore.  

Her family had been falling apart. They had been breaking at the seams while Mrs. Gold had strutted around like a prostitute, flaunting the money she had earned from being a fucktoy to the man who held all of Storybrooke in the palm of his hand.

Shaking her head, Lacey moved on. She wasn’t strutting now. She was hunched over in the cold, burdened by her memories. She had carried the plastic-wrapped bouquet all the way from town, through the neighborhoods and woods and into this lonely graveyard. 

It was two rows up from Andrew and Uncle Peter. This was a double headstone. Her father’s name was already carved onto it, right beside her mother’s. 

LINDA WOOLVERTON FRENCH

To Lacey, the grave looked like a double bed, like Mom had gone to sleep before Dad and was waiting for him to join her. Waiting for them to be together again at last.

There was already a bouquet here. Pink roses, brown and withered from at least a week’s worth of exposure to the cold. Was it wrong to leave Mom’s favorite flowers out here to die? Wouldn’t she think that was a waste?

But wasn’t death always a waste?

Crouching down, Lacey took the old bouquet and set the new one down in its place. The granite was dark and polished. She could see her own reflection in her mother’s grave. 

“Mom,” Lacey whispered.

Mama.   

For days now, she had been in a cycle of crying and being too worn out to cry. Ever since her fight with Mr. Gold, she’d felt like the world had ended. But the truth was that the world had ended before. The world had ended the day after she’d graduated high school, when Mom had gone to her doctor and come back with the diagnosis. Then the world ended a thousand more times: When she gave up her scholarship and her dreams of going to college, when Dad sold the store to Mr. Gold, every time there were new results from the doctor and none of them were good, every time Mom checked in to the hospital.

The time Mom didn’t check out of the hospital. 

The funeral, more costs, more spending money they did have. Less than a month afterward, Andrew and Uncle Peter tried to leave Storybrooke to interview for jobs that paid double what the cannery offered. They took the widowmaker highway. It lived up to its name.

Death and debt. Over and over. The world never stopped ending. 

“Mom, I’m sorry,” Lacey whispered. 

In hospice, the nurses had told them that hearing was the last sense to go, that they should keep talking even if she seemed unresponsive. Mom could hear her. Mom was listening, even if she wasn’t talking.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she didn’t stop them. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save us. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop any of it.”

She knew that it was irrational to blame herself for events that were beyond any human control. She knew Mom wouldn’t want her to think that. Mom wanted her to be happy.

“I’m sorry I only saved myself.”   

That’s what it had been, to marry Mr. Gold, to do whatever he said in exchange for whatever he would give. She had been running away from her old life, the life of poverty and scraping by. She’d escaped. She’d gotten out. She’d saved herself and never looked back. 

Until now. 

She hugged her arms over her chest. She thought of all the hugs she’d ever had, and all the hugs she’d never have again.

“You know, I thought it would be easy. To not love someone. Because God knows if you love someone, you can lose them. It destroyed Dad. It destroyed Aunt Terri. I thought it would be easier to just not bother loving the man I married. To marry someone who would never love me. It was just a deal.” Mrs. Gold closed her eyes and shook her head. “Just a deal.”

A sob racked through her. She fell on her knees and let her tears fall onto the snow.

I love him.

“I wasn’t supposed to love him! I didn’t want to love him. I thought I was safe with just sex. I thought that was all he wanted too.” 

But as soon as Mr. Gold had stopped demanding sex from her, as soon as he had started treating her with kindness--even that lukewarm politeness that she hated--then she had begun to see something real about him. Something that she just had to fall in love with. 

He is so good. It’s hard to find, but it’s there. He’s so loving, Mama. He loves me so much.

Hearing those thoughts in her head, thoughts that she wanted to believe but knew were lies, just made her break down even more. Maybe she was going crazy. Maybe all these years of grief and loss and hopelessness were finally compounding on themselves to the point where she was hearing voices. What other finale could there be to this joke of a life than to end up in some kind of asylum?

The snow was seeping through her coat. She had to stand. She had to get somewhere warm. She had to start walking. She had to go home.

Or at least, back to Mr. Gold’s house. 

“I miss you, Mom,” she whispered. “I wish you were here.”

I wish he could have met you.

****

She’d stopped crying by the time she got to the entrance of the cemetery. It wasn’t cold enough for her tears to freeze to her face, but her eyes were raw, and her skin was chapping in the wind. Her makeup was ruined and there was a trail of snot running down the front of her scarf. Not much she could do about it right now.

A black Mercedes-Benz was parked in front of one of the mausoleums. The car was smaller than Mr. Gold’s Cadillac, but newer and more luxurious. 

She picked up her pace. The last thing she wanted was for somebody to see her like this. Especially not someone as important as--

“Mrs. Gold?”

Fuck.

No! Not Regina!

Mayor Mills came out of the mausoleum that bore her family’s name. Like Lacey, she held a bouquet of withered flowers--white chrysanthemums, it looked like. 

Oh right. It was Wednesday. Every Wednesday Mayor Mills went to put flowers on her father’s grave. Everyone knew that. 

 How does everyone know that? 

Maybe if she stayed far enough away from the Mayor, she wouldn’t notice what a state she was in. So Lacey just nodded and kept on walking. 

But Mayor Mills didn’t give up. “Mrs. Gold, is that really you? I’ve never seen you so subdued.”

Run! Get away from her!

She couldn’t run. Now that the Mayor had seen her, she had to stop. She had to turn around and make polite small talk until she let her go. Before she turned around, she took a second to rearrange her scarf and put on a decent expression. 

“Well, it is a cemetery,” she tried. “You’re not supposed to be happy here, right?”

“But you look downright tortured, dear.” The Mayor’s face was full of concern. “Are you alright? Do you want to talk?”

This was the second time Mayor Mills had offered support to Mrs. Gold. The first time had been when she’d seen her in the alley with Dr. Whale. Just like then, Mrs. Gold had the strangest urge to confide in the Mayor. She wanted to tell her everything, everything about Mr. Gold and their marriage and how miserable she had been for so long. 

But the voice in her head had been screaming ever since Mrs. Gold turned around. Was that a sign that she was even crazier? This was an offer of help and her subconscious or whatever was reacting like the Mayor was holding a dagger to her throat. 

“I--” Mrs. Gold began. But it was hard to even speak over the racket in her thoughts. “I need to go.”

“Oh, let me give you a ride back into town.”

You made me walk barefoot through the snow, you merciless bitch!    

These fucking thoughts would only get worse if she got into the Mayor’s car. And she had enough of a headache as it was. 

“No, thank you, Madame Mayor. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Why, it’s no trouble at all! I’m happy to help someone in need.”

Get away from me, you monster!

“I’m sorry.” She began to back away. “Mr. Gold doesn’t like me to get in cars with anybody but him.”

The lie worked. The Mayor’s expression changed from insistent concern to sympathetic understanding. 

“Well,” she said, more huskily than she had been speaking before. “You’re a good girl for doing what Mr. Gold tells you to. Will you tell him that you saw me here? Let him know I’m always around for you, whenever you need me.”

The Mayor smiled, all red lips and white teeth.

Burn in every hell, you lying, murdering--  

“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Gold said loudly. She didn’t have time for the bullshit ramblings of her own head. “Have a good day, Madame Mayor.”

“And you as well, Mrs. Gold.”

[galpalkirk]

Part 2:

11. Chloe or Sam or Sophie or Marcus - POV Louis

Ep 1x3 + 1x6 Your hologram stumbled into my apartment. Hands in the hair of somebody in darkness named Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus and I just watched it happen. Louis knowing Lestat is cheating with Antoinette and (LITERALLY) just watching it happen.

You needed me but you needed drugs blood more. And I couldn't watch it happen. Louis not being able to stomach killing.

Ep 2x8 As the decade(s) would play us for fools, and you saw my bones out with somebody new, who seemed like he would've bullied you in school, and you just watched it happen. Armand does not seem like he would've bullied Lestat in school but he did torment him and force him to be part of the play that burned his daughter alive. Louis then spent 77 years married to the man who orchestrated his daughter's death. All to spite the man who did not. And Lestat just watched it happen. The decades really played them for fools.

12. The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - POV Louis Ep 1x7 AND YOU DESERVE PRISON BUT YOU WON'T GET TIME!!! The killing Lestat song. This one is mostly vibes because he deserved to get swamped. And Louis does want him dead at this point. Otherwise I would claim it's more of an Armand song. But Louis doesn't know that he is yet to meet the actual smallest man who ever lived so Lestat gets to keep that title for now.

13. my tears ricochet - POV Lestat Post 1x7 The aftermath of Lestat's death.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace, and you're the hero flying around saving face. The interview. Louis being an unreliable narrator and diminishing his role in everything that plays out.

And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain, crossing out the good years. "I talked shit about him the whole time!" Louis not wanting to acknowledge any good parts of his relationship with Lestat.

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me? "I tried to make nights awful for you. I wanted you to suffer. Because I was suffering."

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'til my dying day. "I have loved you with all myself."

But if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake? Louis being haunted by Lestat in his mind.

You had to kill me but it killed you just the same. Cursing my name, wishing I stayed. Louis crying over Lestat's dead body. Being unable to burn him.

14. Haunted - POV Lestat and Louis Post 1x7 You and I walk a fragile line. I have known it all this time but I never thought I'd live to see it break. C'mon c'mon don't leave me like this. I thought I had you figured out. Something's gone terribly wrong, you're all I wanted. Lestat POV at having been killed by the love of his life.

Season 2 He will try to take way my pain and he just might make me smile, but the whole time I'm wishing he was you instead. Louis being literally haunted with visions of Lestat throughout his relationship with Armand. "Romeo? He's barely Balthazar."

15. The Prophecy - Lestat POV Season 2 Thought I caught lightning in a bottle. Oh, but it's gone again. And it was written, I got cursed like Eve got bitten. Oh, was it punishment? Please, I've been on my knees. Change the prophecy. Don't want money, just someone who wants my company. Let it once be me. Who do I have to speak to about if they can redo the prophecy? I'm so afraid I sealed my fate, no sign of soulmates.

Lestat losing his great love. Twice. First Nicky and now Louis.

16. Better Man - Louis POV Season 2 Sometimes in the middle of the night I can feel you again, but I just miss you and I just wish you were a better man. Louis seeing such strong visions of Lestat that he can feel his breath on the back of his neck.

We might still be in love if you were a better man. You would've been the one if you were a better man. Maybe if he were a better man he wouldn't have been murdered.

17. loml - Louis POV Season 2 You said I'm the love of your life. About a million times. Louis never saying it back but finally settling on You're the loss of my life.

I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed. Louis choosing the "safe" option that is Armand.

18. The Way I Loved You - Louis POV 2x5 He can't see the smile I'm faking and my heart's not breaking 'cause I'm not feeling anything at all. Louis being suffocated by the world's softest beigest pillow in his relationship with Armand so now he misses screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain.

19. You All Over Me - Louis POV Ep 2x7 But no amount of freedom gets you clean, I've still got you all over me. Louis being haunted by Lestat even 70 years later. He knows Lestat's not even dead.

20. Fresh Out The Slammer - Louis POV Ep 2x8 Now pretty baby I'm running back home to you. Fresh out the slammer I know who my first call will be to. Louis returning to New Orleans and Lestat after the Loumand divorce.

I made a post a while ago about how ttpd is the perfect loustat album. Long story short it then evolved into this playlist.

Notes on each song choice under the cut (because I'm insane and they're long):

1. Guilty as Sin? - POV Louis Ep 1x1 In throes of increasing wonder... it's all about desire and religious guilt.

2. But Daddy I Love Him - POV Louis Ep 1x1 "He ain't white, he french." Ep 1x2 "He had a way about him" He was chaos, he was revelry. Ep 1x4 I'm having his baby! The obvious forever iconic baby trapping.

Crazier - POV Louis (not on the list because of vibes but still an honorable mention) Ep 1x1 You lift my feet off the ground, you spin me around. Levitating vampire sex. Ep 1x2 You showed me something that I couldn't see, opened my eyes and you made me believe. Lestat trying to free Louis from the trappings of his life and Louis literally seeing the world differently as a vampire.

3. I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - POV Louis Everything about them. Ep 1x2 Louis starting to see that he cannot stomach the way Lestat enjoys killing. Lestat humiliating and killing the opera singer simply because he was a bad singer. Ep 1x3 The jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud. "What is wrong with that man?!" and then add Louis actually trying to fix Lestat by having him only kill evil people.

4. False God - POV Louis and Lestat We were crazy to think, crazy to think that this could work. But we might just get away with it, religion's in your lips, even if it's a false god. I know heaven's a thing, I go there when I touch you. Honey, hell is when I fight with you. I can't talk to you when you're like this, staring out the window like I'm not your favorite town. You can't talk to me when I'm like this, daring you to leave me just so I can try to scare you. Self-explanatory.

5. Renegade - POV Lestat Ep 1x1 I tapped on your window on your darkest night, the shape of you was jagged and weak. There was nowhere for me to stay, but I stayed anyway. Louis running away from Lestat to the church to try to exorcise him from his mind and heart. Trying to keep him out rather than let him in. Ep 1x2 After the phantoms of your former self. Are you really gonna talk about timing in times like these? And let all your damage damage me? And carry your baggage up my street? And make me your future history? Louis trying to continue his life as it was before he was turned but finding it difficult in a multitude of ways. "I almost ate my nephew, Lestat!" You've come a long way, open the blinds, let me see your face. You wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody. "You are a challenge every sunset, Saint Louis. And I'd have it no other way." Ep 1x3 You fire off missiles 'cause you hate yourself, but do you know you're demolishing me? "This is not a life!" "That's because you TOOK my life!" Louis leaving Lestat because he hates his own vampire nature. Ep 1x5 Is it insensitive for me to say "Get your shit together so I can love you?" Louis' depression after Claudia leaves. Is it really your anxiety that stops you from giving me everything? Or do just not want to? "Say 'Lestat, I am never going to love you.'" Louis never telling Lestat "I love you" during their 30 years together.

6. Bejeweled - POV Lestat Ep 1x3 and onward. Don't put me in the basement when I want the penthouse of your heart. Lestat starting and continuing his affair with Antoinette whenever he feels neglected or rejected by Louis.

7. High Infidelity - POV Lestat I just think the cheating blondes Lestat and Taylor have a lot in common. Ep 1x5 Put on your records Read your books and regret me. Lestat being ignored by Louis who is only staying inside and reading his books since Claudia left. Ep 1x5 (with additional 2x7 context) You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love? The slowest way is never loving them enough. "If every word coming out of his mouth is vitriol or disinterest for seven years... you don't want to. You still hope that he'll emerge out of his melancholy. That he'll love you like you love him." But in the meantime you cheat. I bent the truth too far tonight, I was dancing around, dancing around it. Lestat keeping up his affair with Antoinette after he had promised to end it. You said I was freeloading. Not related to the show but in the original novel Louis keeps saying how Lestat was exploiting him for his money.

8. My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - POV Lestat Ep 1x5 The Fight™️ Oh, here we go again. The voices in his head called the rain to end our days of wild. The "Claudia has left" depression spanning for several years. Lestat hoping he'll "emerge out of his melancholy" but also just being sick of it because he wants to bejeweled. But first, pull the string and I'll tell you that he runs because he loves me. "I have waited, Louis. I have patiently waited in vain for you to love me, as I love you." Ep 2x7 (still The Fight™️) He saw forever so he smashed it up. Hehe, Slam Reid his face into the coffin.

9. The Great War - POV Louis and Lestat Ep 1x5 The Fight™️ 2: Electric Boogaloo I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone. Louis ignoring Lestat and going deeper into his depression. And maybe it was egos swinging, maybe it was her. "A thousand nights of sulking, and the first sight of her, you are just gonna up and leave me?!" Ep 2x7 (still The Fight™️) Your finger on my hairpin triggers. "A word of context for our jury. The single worst thing that a vampire can feel is loneliness." Soldier down on that icy ground looked up at me with honor and truth. Broken and blue. So I called off the troops. That was the night I nearly lost you. Louis leaving Lestat after being dropped from the sky. "I did it to hurt him. And it did hurt him. And afterwards he was a broken thing. I know, I saw, because I am the one who broke him!" Ep 1x6 We can plant a memory garden. Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair. There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair. And we will never go back to that bloodshed. The aftermath of The Fight™️. "We leave the damage so we never forget the damage."

10. imgonnagetyouback - POV Louis Ep 1x6 Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house. I haven't decided yet, but I'm gonna get you back. Louis swimming the Mississippi to yell at and fuck Lestat after he sends him the "Come to me" record. And then taking him back. And then plotting his death to get him back.

Rest of the songs will be in a reblog because apparently you CAN reach character limit on a tumblr post...

[zahra-kha]

Dear Diary 34

My emotions have been all over the place. I’m trying to get into a habit of meditation but it’s been hard. Whenever I try to let my mind fall into a serene state there’s just chaos and this sinking feeling that if I let go...something else will be there waiting to climb out.

It’s a weird, indescribable feeling that I don’t think I could explain if I tried to express it out loud. I just know that ever since I woke up and that fight with Conor, along with the dreams I’ve been having I’ve just felt restless and unsettled. 

I think I’m too stressed. A lot of things are happening. Have been happening.

There are so many things to write about, and things I want to say but I don’t think writing them all down would make me feel better.

Esila is dead.

Sai is gone.

Sahrin’s probably killed Armand.

All we have are letters that were left behind. Looking at them, there’s a lot to be said, I guess. They were apparently trying to connect with a Magistrate that’s known for being easily bought and has some connections to the underground. How do I know this? Right, because my he and my father have shaken hands on quite a few dealings as he was rising up in the world. He was one of them, anyway.

The letter to the magistrate was filled with incriminating documents, some I’m sure were forged, damning Sahrin as the one behind everything going on. Just reading over it all made me tired.

I’m grateful for my friends. Even though I’ve been moody, angry, and fussy, they’ve been patient and kind to me. I’m not used to being pampered, and I don’t really like attention on me unless I’m performing. I know that may seem weird, someone who dislikes having attention on them but enjoys performing for a crowd. I don’t think it’s so strange though. I like performing because I enjoy bringing something I love doing to others. I like knowing my hard work reaches people and brings them joy. It’s not for a sense of self-gratification, popularity, or vanity.

Point being, it’s weird having others want to take care of me that aren’t parents or something. In the troupe it was close-knit, but there was still a sense of a professional environment. If you were sick, a healer was hired and they took care of you. We were all friendly with one another, but it wasn’t...like this.

It was nice, but it also made me want to cry. I felt restless, and it felt there was a hole in my heart while it was swelling at the same time.

Like I said, my emotions are just all over the place.

There’s also a sense of frustration with myself - I don’t like the sense that I’m wallowing in my feelings. I prefer to be someone who acts rather than reacts, and with everything going on it’s as if that’s all I am doing - reacting to things. 

So I’ve told the people of Hyrstmill to pearl me the moment Sahrin and Fitaan arrive. Since they seem to be failing to answer their pearls, I’ll pay them a visit when they get back. And then my friends will pay them a visit.

I’m growing tired of playing other people’s games.

Outside of that, I’m going to keep performing. None of this has lessened my muse, it seems. I’m grateful for that.

On a lighter note, because I feel I should try to throw something light-hearted in here, I had fun at the last Blitzball game. I am...mildly frustrated that every time I talk to Sal someone thinks I’m dating him or I have an interest in him though. Actually, I think every time I talk to a guy this happens. Hector, Sal, I know I’m forgetting someone. Not even going to go into when Endrel sat Trystan and me down and refused to let us leave until we admitted we had feelings for one another because I guess he was ‘concerned’ about something or another I don’t remember it was a while ago.

I know it’s just teasing (the thing with Endrel wasn’t, I still don’t know what that was) but.

But.

Let me talk to someone of the opposite sex without it being weird! And I like girls too! I talk to girls all the time and no one says anything! I flirt with girls more than boys argh!

[There’s little drawings of a demon face Zahra and smoking broken hearts with lightning bolts being shot at them. Some of the hearts are on fire.]

Gods, I need to apologize to Sal. That was so embarrassing. I hope I didn’t insult him or make him uncomfortable. Maybe I shouldn’t and salvage the remaining shreds of my dignity. I’m happy he has someone he likes though. Hopefully that all works out for him. He’s a good guy, I think it’ll be fine.

Cheer practice is going well, I’m excited for the ceremony coming up. I also have a performance tonight, and I’m excited for that too. A fantasy performance! I hope people liked the songs I picked.

I think that’s it for now. I want to rest and practice later. 

[watchtheworldargue]

egg magazine, april 1990. interview with Michael Hutchence

transcription below :)

Michael Hutchence on Lower Broadway

By Hal Rubenstein \ Photography by Steven Meisel

Globe-hopping is hell on a wardrobe and hard on the feet. Sometimes you have to get out of the limo to spend your money.

Michael Hutchence rarely comes to New York without luggage monogrammed INXS or Max Q, so one would think that on a visit without portfolio, the last thing he'd want to do is add on more baggage. But given a free day, a book of tickets, and our offer to go anywhere to do anything, Hutchence got into the limo with an agenda we could hardly call a new sensation. What kept us from sulking was that he hadn't left the devil outside.

Michael: You think we can load this car up with Yamamoto, Comme des Garcons, and Armani by 6?

Hal: Driver, step on it. Down to Grand and make a left.

[The car turns onto Union Square West.]

Isn't there a club on the corner here?

The Underground.

That's the one that keeps surviving regardless of how many people get shot there. How many are they up to?

No one's quite sure.

Where are we now? I don't recognise this.

This strip of lower Broadway didn't exist last time you were here. Now it's like a mall-less town's Main Street.

And Tower Records is City Hall. Not bad. It's wild to see this much activity because people around the world now talk about New York in terms of decay, how New York is such a rude place, and we keep telling them, No, New Yorkers are quite friendly, we like it there. New Yorkers are just very honest. They don't have time to bullshit. I like New York because people are linked to each other. L.A. Is fun, but segregated. Here there is a metro, and a different philosophy of getting around so there's rich upon poor upon rich. The only thing I don't remember is how many homeless are asleep on Park Avenue and everywhere else. Or is it my imagination?

No, it's real. How come you choose to live in Hong Kong instead of Australia?

For about three years, I thought it didn't matter where I lived. But I kept passing through it again. I grew up there, from when I was four until twelve. My dad still lives there. It has great energy, like New York. And it's ten hours closer to the world than Australia is. If you travel a lot, it adds up.

[We enter the Yohji Yamamoto store.]

So austere. Do they go wild if you hand back anything wrinkled? Those clothes over there are good acid-house colors. Has acid house caught on here?

Not like in England.

That's 'cause New York has bad radio. Are these dogs always here? They must sleep in the shoes. Ooh, look at these here. Not very me, but very Star Trek. $500 for a T-shirt. I see. I'll buy six. No, twelve. Now, here is something very stagy. Ultraflouncy. I like that, but the general consensus might kill my career.

Is what you wear onstage the same as you wear off?

I sort of smush them all together. My favorite piece of clothing is a leather jacket I had made for me that says “Hutch” in chain mail on the back.

Did Michael Schmidt make it for you?

Yeah – how'd you know? He's great. He sort of looks like a beautiful snake. He loves all the Hollywood stuff, but he's so sincere when he talks about it. Almost makes me like it. Is there somewhere funkier we can go, like Yankel's House of Pile? I saw that on the way down.

If you want old clothes, we should go to Cheap Jack's.

[We head back up to Broadway and 13th Street. Several young ladies on the corner stare at Hutchence as he enters Cheap Jack's.]

Do you enjoy recognition?

Depends on where I am.

Like when you're out on your own. Shopping, for instance.

Shopping, yeah, 'cause I get discounts. And there is a definite bonus to recognition when I'm onstage.

It makes the night go faster. But I'm not an institution yet. Sometimes I think about how hard it must be for someone like Bob Hope to go for a stroll. I don't really get hassled. I can stand in the middle of a street in London, or even New York, and usually nothing happens. I don't think I have that distinctive of a face. I got recognized in Tangier once, going by in a taxi, very fast … from a distance … in a fog … during monsoon season. Just kidding. It's odd how once you are conscious of being watched, you stop being so self-conscious because you realize there's nothing you can do about it. Of course, nobody in Hong Kong gives a shit who I am.

Aren't people there freaking about the city's eventual realignment with China?

Thousands are leaving a year, but they're the ones who can afford to leave, to give Australia half a million to let them in, though a lot more are going to Vancouver or New Zealand instead because they've heard, and it's fairly true, about Australia's racism.

It's actually more like unconscious racism. There's a naivete to it that you might call charming if it wasn't so sick. See, most foreigners don't realize – because we refuse to believe it ourselves – that Australia is southern Asia. Australia is linked to England in everyone's minds.

Yet most Australians don't have the faintest idea why the Japanese tried to invade us during the Second World War, and can't understand why they might not have wanted any foreigners on the biggest island in the Asian paradise. If we had lost, my home would be covered in rice paddies by now. Australia would have been Japan's Great Plains, their grain barrel.

I've never met one Australian who knows that. We have it so easy in Australia. It's very easy to live there. Tougher than it was before, but that's because five years ago it was ridiculous. I used to live in a three-story, five-bedroom house. It cost me $20 a week.

Did you make that much playing music?

Nah, but so what, we were all on the dole. Everyone went on it. That's one of the reasons you have so many bands in Australia. It's cheap to live and collect, so all the bands go on it. You wouldn't even have to go pick up your employment check; they'd mail it to you or transfer it to your account. Ready cash. I guess because there is such an anti-authoritarian vibe in Australia that people are quite happy to accept government checks. “Aw, screw 'em” - that's the attitude. Lots of people accept four and five checks or even have jobs. It's very lax. That's why we're stuck with the tall-poppy syndrome.

Translation?

Don't be successful, don't rise above your mates, or you'll get chopped. It's weird. It's the don't-leave-the-pub way of life. I think people in America are generally happy for someone's good fortune; they know how to let themselves go. In Australia, they go, “Good, mate,” and don't ask a single question. There are no celebrations for a job well done. I'm still shocked at how Americans cheer you on when they like you. I know you don't fancy it anymore, but I like phrases like “dress for success.”

And that's why you're shopping here?

I love hideous ties. Girls love 'em. Dunno why. Its like red socks. Are the playing Richard Hell? I haven't heard this song in 20 years. God, you must hear better music in clothing stores than you do anywhere else in New York. All these baseball jackets are so cheap. You know what they pay for these in Australia? I should buy the whole lot, take them back. I'd never have to tour again. I could get 150 to 200 bucks just for the ratty ones. I think this is the first clothing store I've been in that wasn't playing videos.

Are videos big in Australia?

We've actually been involved in music video a whole lot longer than in America. Because we are so far away, the only way we've had to understand all this music flying around the world is through video. Since the '50s, even when it was only 10 minutes a week, Aussie tv has been showing music videos.

And we don't censor the way you guys do. The “Way of the World” single is a very serious song, but MTV is quite shy of the video, you should note – I say this diplomatically. They censor here for all the wrong reasons. Like it's okay to stare at Cher's crotch for four minutes, but it's hard to say something truthful about the state of the world.

Could it be because with a group that's become as wildly successful as INXS has, it's inevitable that favorable reaction always turns?

I don't think INXS has reached that point yet. Give us four more years. We've only recently become hip in England. At the beginning, they hated our guts.

Why?

'Cause we are Australians writing pop music, why else? They don't make much in England, apart from nice jumpers and Jaguars, and one of the few things they can claim some turf on is pop music. So, they're not happy when someone else does it. It's a standard trait of island people; they're very territorial.

But you guys are island people too.

Yeah, but we got a bigger island. Now, if we can just get rid of some competition from the expatriate colonies.

Isn't it enough already with this rivalry between Australia and England? L.A. And New York have settled their feud.

England still treats Australia like we're descendants of convicts. Well, I guess we are, aren't we? We're trying to get rid of them, but unfortunately, they're coming back with money and buying up half the country. Don't you resent the Japanese buying Rockefeller Center?

I resent the Rockefellers more.

[Having tried on everything and bought nothing, Hutchence decides against old clothes. We head down to If boutique.]

Armand Basi. Nice stuff. That Claude Montana is fabulous, but God, this stuff is expensive. We don't know anyone here for a discount, do we? My father used to design clothes for a shop in Hong Kong called Dynasty. Glitzy evening wear for too much money. One year, when we did our first tour, we bough ta lot of Sprouse, real colorful stuff, and we spent a fortune, especially when you consider it's disposable fashion. All it had to do was last a month. All the buttons fell off, it shrunk, seams opened up. We would have been more upset, but it made us homesick for the mother country. Disposable fashion is very English. The nice thing about it when it comes from there, however, is that even though the stuff falls apart, it's cheap.

Ah, I like this. Very sexy, very smart. Basi, right? I found the best underwear. I think it's called Nikos. Someone gave it to me last night. Well, that's a plug. No names, please. These pants might go with the Basi shirt. [Like Navy pants, they have over a dozen buttons instead of a fly.] Not good clubwear. Certainly not quick enough to please me.

Your choice of underwear would have to be very discreet.

And always clean. Maybe these pants come with a catheter. Should I ask the shopgirl? [He raises his arm to call her and, wincing, puts it down.]

Just realized a colostomy bag wouldn't hurt?

No. I think I have a cracked rib, from too much fun the other night at Inflation, this super club in Melbourne. Melbourne has some of the best clubs in the world. Great people. Amazing clubs. Sydney has nothing. Boring as hell. Nice place if you're a surfer. Really pretty, like L.A. But very corrupt, Sydney. Everyone is always paying everyone off. That's why you can't afford to do a club there. It's like, in order to get a club license, all the other nightclub owners have to agree to your having a license. And four people control the voting on that. Melbourne now has a club called Razor that is so exciting. It used to an automobile club, especially popular during the '50s, where people used to talk about their cars, you know, with photos of Mini-Minors making hairpin turns around corners. Like a racing club, I guess, except for slower cars. Razor gets the best people.

[He picks up a pair of huge, get-lost-in-the-rain-forest-and-survive black shoes and delights.]

Many people have shoe fetishes. I guess it's around the world actually, not just with Imelda. I think people are probably just jealous of her because they secretly wanted so many pair. But these are big, like size big. Are Americans getting larger feet, or do they just want more room? I always notice shoes when I'm here.

There's almost like a $100 tax on shoes in Australia. Like a pair that will cost you $50 here will cost you almost $200 in Australia. A pair of Levi's cost $100. I never buy furniture in Australia, either, and I have an obsession with furniture the way Americans love shoes. It's a shame I don't have an obsession with homes, too, since I have no place to put all the furniture. I have it stored all over the world.

Let me get the Basi shirt, and then I want to buy records. I would get them later, but I just remembered I have a friend coming in tonight for only one night. He and his father are trying to get down to Nicaragua. They're helping Ortega keep the Contras back. Good luck. What's so weird about their going is that these guys are publishing magnates in England. Entrepreneurs. They should be serious Thatcherites, but they just hate Thatcher. Real lefties.

If everyone is so vocal of their dislike of her, how come she's so strong?

The British love her because they love to be miserable; they love to complain. Thatcher's become irrepressible. She's finally showing signs of faltering, except she's winning by default, because no one wants to put Kinnock in, either. It's like your Dan Quayle. What an alternative.

Are Australians political?

It's compulsory to vote, if you want to call that political. Frankly, nobody particularly gives a fuck. That doesn't mean Australians are not aware people. I think they know more about what's going on in the rest of the world than the average American, but that's because they have to compensate for being in the middle of nowhere. They're more concerned about international politics, about the environment. Every time the Americans come into Sydney harbor with their nuclear ships and submarines, there's always 5,000 people telling them to fuck off.

But the hell with domestic politics?

Do you know anything about our system? It's built on a bickering sort of war. The front page is always about politicos throwing shit at each other, spending more time insulting each other than governing.

Mind you, they are really very good at it. It's a fine Australian tradition of political insult. Listening to parliament is hilarious - “Shut up, you bastard!” - and that's our prime minister, Bob Hawke. He's in the Guinness Book of World Records for having drunk a yard of beer in record time. He is actually a brilliant leader, a Rhodes scholar at Oxford, and he has done a bloody good job, considering the apathy he's up against. What he should be real pleased about its restoring pride in being Australian, particularly after all that nonsense when the governor general dismissed Prime Minister Whitlam in 1975.

How was that possible without the consent of the Australian parliament?

We're still a colony. I think a lot of us were cynical after that. They felt like puppets. Probably had something to do with the CIA. The good old CIA. I'm in their files, I found out. That they should waste their time on me. I'm listed as subversive, for my lyrics to “Guns in the Sky” and because I once threw condoms out to the audience in Northern Australia.

How is that subversive?

The more north you get in Australia, the more it is like the South in America. The man who ran Queensland, one of the biggest states in Australia, was this guy, Joh Peterson, who was in power for over 20 years. Peterson was this sort of South African leftover who arrived in Australia, and he made things illegal, like sex education, abortion, condoms to minors – you couldn't have the vending machines in clubs. [You can now.] Well, I slandered him, and so I got taken to court, where he was thrown out of office from the corruption uncovered during the proceedings.

Did that make you a hero down there?

Say what, mate? This is Australia, remember. Our heroes are bushrangers, outlaws, and sporting stars. If you're an athlete, you can get away with anything.

[Hutchence purchases the Basi shirts, and then we head to Tower Records at the corner. A street person approaches us.]

is this the official mugging committee?

Street person: “Ooh, ooh, here they come in their limo, straight from Saks Fifth Avenue. Board of directors, how you doing, moneys, you big-time decision makers. Uh-oh, who's you? You must be a rock man. Stand aside for the rock man.”

They always pick on me.

“I want to give you something, man. Some humility. But there's only enough for one.”

I don't care for some, but humility is something we can spread around.

“Hey man, this is for seriously. You will love this humility. No side effects, no speed. Say yes, and I can be back in an hour.”

[We go through the revolving door and right to the rock section; within three minutes, Max Q is playing on the system.]

That's good, somebody knows it's out.

[Hutchence buys albums by Ciccone Youth, Camper Van Beethoven, Soul II Soul, Grace Jones, Shakespear's Sister, Jesus and Mary Chain, and Suicidal Tendencies. As he is paying for them, he spots a postcard stand that features a picture of him.]

Holy shit. When did they take this thing? What a bizarre likeness. I hardly know this guy. This is not an approved photo. [He gets the attention of a young lady behind the counter.] Excuse me, please, this is not an approved photo. It's a pirate. Do you know where you get these from?

Salesgirl: “No idea.”

Can you find out?

“Why, do you want to buy a lot of them?”

See, I told you no one recognizes me.

[We walk outside and the street person comes up to him again.]

Street person: “I know who you are.”

Who am I?

“You are someone who's gonna give me a lot of money.”

How much you want?

“Just give me one of those bills, thank you. Now I'm officially your biggest fan. Just tell me what you want to buy.”

I must be dressed for success.