#thank u louis i love u louis

[harrylights]

i’ve verbalized this to a couple people now but honestly my biggest takeaway from louis’ show is how he brings out so much love, compassion, support, and acceptance in practically everyone at his shows. the amount of love i felt in that room was unparalleled. i am so grateful to him and so proud of him for the fact that by just being his authentic self he helps others feel seen for who they are, helps others heal, and in turn we help each other and love each other more and i’m just soooo thankful to him for going thru everything he has to get to this point. he deserves every ounce of love he receives and i’m so glad that he seems to feel like he finally deserves that bc he really fucking does <3

[covenofthearticulate]

asksjshd I missed when you rbed this I think so I’m trying my luck!

“could you be happy here with me?” for armand/louis/lestat 🥹

azsfdxfcavsdcjhgv bold of you to assume I'll ever turn away my favorite trio!!!!!!!

It's rare, for Louis to be awake so close to the sun. Each morning he is first to fall victim to the first rays of light, and the last to shake the spell the following evening, but tonight he strains against the undertow for just a few more moments with Lestat, a few more minutes in this liminal wonderland.

They had demanded so much of Armand this evening, poor thing. And the mortal sleep suits his young body so well, the way the apple of his cheek presses right up against Louis' chest, the way his soft little toes curl back and press against Lestat's knee.

In an hour or so the Death Sleep will take hold and his body will bare no evidence of his lovers' passion; the kaleidoscope of black and blue and red will dissolve back to a blank porcelain canvas, ripe for the taking once more. But here, trapped between Louis and Lestat, Armand is no one but himself, beautiful and perfect and surrendered wholeheartedly to the depths of slumber.

"You need a bigger bed," Lestat hums with a smile, taking one strand of auburn hair and curling it around his finger.

"I like this one," Louis sighs.

"There's hardly enough room."

"It was only meant for one person."

"And you mean to tell me," Lestat unwinds his fingers from Armand's hair and reaches instead to cradle the fine slope of Louis' jaw. "That you expected to look this beautiful and somehow end the evening in bed by yourself?"

Louis says nothing, simply snuffs out his laughter with a little hum and nuzzles against the welcome embrace of Lestat's hand.

"How very foolish of you, indeed."

"Foolish of me to think I might be afforded a modicum of privacy?"

"Yes!" Lestat laughs. "Foolish of you to feign annoyance when you were the one who batted your lashes and lured us into this very bed in the first place."

There is something especially delicious about watching Louis through the darkness; the way his lips twist into an almost-smile before he regains control and presses them into a flat line once more.

For a moment, they drift together in peaceful silence, guided by the steadfast drum of Armand's heart in between them.

"What time will you head back tomorrow?"

So typical of Louis, to pull the rug from under them with a goddamn question like that. It's both a relief and a disappointment all at once; he always gets so wound up on the evenings before he's due to depart. It's the only thing that has been in his head all day, weighing down his chest with anticipatory grief. His only respite had been the whirlwind of passion, the distraction of Armand's mouth at his throat and Louis' blood on his tongue. But perhaps it is a mercy, that Louis is the first to broach the subject. Perhaps Louis dreads it as much as he does. Or perhaps, thinks that traitorous voice in his head, he is looking forward to you finally leaving him alone.

"I don't know, whenever it pleases me," Lestat removes his hand from Louis' face, rests it gently on Armand's waist as he mumbles into the crown of auburn hair nestled between them. "Not too late, I think."

"You'll wait until I'm awake tomorrow, yes?"

There's a hint of worry in Louis' voice, and it is so singularly shattering to Lestat that he even needs to ask.

"Of course."

In the dead air of this little bedroom, he feels thankful for the veil between himself and Louis. He doesn't want to go back to court, truth be told. It's an odd realization that has only struck him recently— it's not the work that he dreads upon his return, nor the pang of loneliness that inevitably follows when he finds himself without Louis or Armand. It's the pure and simple knowledge that their world will continue to turn without him in it, that Trinity Gate will stand firm as it always does, that Louis and Armand will be just fine without him.

"You could come with me," he offers, and his voice sounds so small, so frustratingly fragile.

"You could stay here," Louis replies without hesitation, as if he's rehearsed this volley a thousand times over.

Again, there is something striking as he catches Louis' eyes through the darkness and wonders just how long the invitation has been there, waiting on the tip of his tongue.

"Could you be happy here, with me?"

Lestat doesn't know why he asks such a humiliating question, but it's out before he can stop it. It's not even the happiness he's worried about, it's the balance, the organization, the delicate ecosystem that Louis and Armand have woven together that leaves no margin for error, no margin for someone like Lestat.

"Mon coeur." Louis' delicate fingers on the side of his face are the only thing that keep him from spiraling. "I could be happy anywhere so long as I am with you."

The simplicity in Louis' voice is what gets to Lestat, in the end, as he feels his brows draw together and his bottom lip begin to tremble.

"Especially here," Louis adds as Armand shifts in his sleep between them, cocooning them both that seductive warmth until suddenly the little bed doesn't seem too crowded at all.

"Especially here," he echoes, breathless.

"Yes, Lestat. Especially here."

[loelett]

for requests!!!! um um perhaps armand and daniel warrior cats? if you already haven’t done it

yea... yeah i can do that...

i do have. headcanon thoughts on names and dumb shit like that but i don't have enough shame yet. so

bonus loustat cats:

yea.....

[monpetithl]

happy 2023 🌟

[lonelychicago]

MY HEART MIGHT BE BROKEN BUT I WONT BE BROKEN DOWN

[nightcolorz]

I would love a Louis/Armand cry me a river drabble! If you have the time of course. I really like your writing and you seem like a pretty cool but busy guy so if it doesn't work out I'll happily wait for more millenia gate!

u r so sweet anon tysm <3 I hope u enjoy this drabble. It was my first time writing loumand and my first time writing a Drabble so, lots of brave steps I’m taking here 😭. I rlly enjoyed writing this it was almost hard not to write more. Takes place during the relationship era in iwtv (book verse) post Claudia’s death where Louis and Armand are dispassionate lovers, Louis’s too sad after Claudia’s death to give af about armand, armand is hurt cuz he expected Louis to not be so affected, etc. Yay! Enjoy!

16-cry me a river

For all Armand said of my emotional distance and my coldness, he was essentially the very same. He kept himself carefully maintained and regulated, always in control. His thoughts were never not behind lock and key, so deliberately even my weak vampiric telepathy could sense that cage kept around his soul. I thought him mature for it. Could you believe that? I admired his wisdom, wished I could be so calculated in my frigidity. There were times when I played at reading with my eyes cast down, expression mild, and wished that I couldn’t feel myself trembling with emotion. I’d pictured Armand’s blankness and I’d envy that power. 

But of course, Armand and I’s relationship was built on a series of lies, of illusions, and eventually- all these illusions had to fade. Armand was as alien to me as any stranger I’d kill in an act of selfish primal desire, and this was a revelation made gradually until our eventual underwhelming end. It was a moment not long before said end that a part of the seductive spell was broken. I was reading, unbothered and inattentive, and he stood in front of me expectantly. He peered down at me like a curious child observing a squashed bug beneath him. Encountering agony with the innocence of someone who could not understand empathy for things so beyond him. His eyes were wide and hypnotic, so striking I could’ve sweat. I avoided his gaze. I wondered if he’d dig his heel into my wing and spread my guts across the pavement. I wondered if he would instead hold me and perhaps put me in a jar so that he could observe me until I suffocated. 

Suddenly the facade broke. Armand clasped my chin with one fine unmovable hand and held it so that he could look into my frightened eyes, so that I could look into his. For a split second he was calm, impassive. And then he crumbled so utterly I was startled. His face contorted into a portrait of such horrific suffering it almost seemed physically painful with its ferocity. His countenance was grimacing and tortured. It was like watching a wax face melting into a despairing puddle.

I was held in place, forced to watch those beguiling brown eyes glaze over red with vampiric tears. The blood pooled down his cheeks with the elegance of a bleeding wound. The powerful smell aroused in me an unwitting hunger that I felt close to ill with. I struggled in his hold. “Let go of me.” I said, bite-less, quiet. He remained. “Please.” I insisted. The agony in him was awful to look at. It repulsed me, I wanted rid of him. Armand let out a horrible gasp, like an animal close to death. He stared directly into my eyes as he sobbed. “Why do you do this to me.” I heard, thought maybe, felt inside me-as a reverberation inside my chest, repeated over and over like the pulse of my dead heart. 

It took me a moment to register that these were Armand’s words. He had opened his mind to me only once, at this seemingly random moment, to communicate something meaningless and petty. I felt all together revolted in a way I had never been by Armand, my majestic mentor, my educated elder, my sophisticated cold lover. I was compelled to hurt him. “Cry harder.” I thought willfully, “Cry me a river. It’s good to see you cry. Like a clown parodying what a person feels, it’s almost cathartic. Go on, I enjoy it.” 

I don’t know what compelled me to be so cruel. Whatever it was, it worked. He withdrew his hand carefully from my face as if scared to bruise it. The expression of anguish retreated gradually into the familiar mask of dispassion. He was stiff and his eyes were wide and large. His lips were swollen and glossy from the tears, his cheeks reddened, and I thought with some interest that I could see why a vampire had once loved him enough to preserve him for eternity. I could imagine that there had been a human there once, who with his passion and his life caught the attention of a greedy monster. He backed away from me with his eyes down, hands folded in front of his lap, and donned his coat and his hat with a normalcy that was almost comedic. I assumed that he was going out to kill, most of what he did when he was going out, and I hoped that whatever life that was lost tonight at his soft un-calloused boy’s hands would be taken very brutally and unjustly due to our encounter. It was comforting to think that, almost like I was real, and I was making an impact. I looked down to my book and re-read the opening sentence.

GIGGLES EVILLY HEHEE if u want to send me a Drabble prompt here is the prompt list I reblogged: https://www.tumblr.com/nightcolorz/735473060637016064/drabble-challenge-1-150?source=share

[oohbuggypie]

silly redraw of that famous Louis Wain piece but w my persona X)

need a break from artfight + i saw this piece many many years ago n it has always touched my heart , but i feel it is especially relevant to my life currently

[alwaysxlarrie]

daddy domlinson: a gif series | 7/?

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

i dont know much about trigun but i think it would be silly if vash and knives (they are brothers?) or vash and wolfwood (lovers? enemies? idk) were drawn like that barbie and ken mugshot meme. From what you post Mr Vash Stampede just seems like ken. little silly guy

YOU HAVE THE MOST PERFECT TIMING WITH THIS EVER I'm literally in the middle of drawing a picture of knives and vash that looks like this.

theyre brothers your honor

[covenofthearticulate]

“ what did you want to tell me? ”  and maybe something with Louis and Daniel? 🥹

Sentence Starters

There are plenty of things Daniel wants to tell Louis— has dreamed about telling Louis ever since he woke up on that goddamned rotten hardwood flooring in dingy apartment back in the city. Monologues and questions all cycling through his head, mumbled under his breath, rehearsed over and over again like a one-man show until he was so certain of his argument, so convinced of his own agenda, and the only thing he ever needed was that set of viper-green eyes.

But the monologues had eventually died on his tongue, hadn't they? Faded away with that first taste of blood and fistful of auburn hair. The questions had melted into pathetic pleas, dribbling out until the words were slurred together under the promise of twin pricks at his pulse point. Even the arguments, the passionate and thorough reasoning behind his desire for the Dark Gift had shifted each night until the figure in his mind, the imaginary debate partner, had a different voice altogether, and stared back at him with brown eyes, not green.

There were new things he wanted to say, too, the next time had the pleasure of seeing Monsieur de Pointe du Lac at that table. As the world fell around them and his whole reality had exploded into a kaleidoscope, all he wanted was to keep one hand on Armand, and one hand on Louis.

I understand now.

I understand.

I'm here. I made it. Let me in.

It's pretty fucking hysterical, actually. When Louis has the audacity to ask such a thing of him now, he can't think of a damn thing to say. It's hard to think of anything to say when he's standing in Louis' house, Louis' turf, Louis' grand coven, the haven of Trinity Gate. Bastard.

But that has always been Louis' way, hasn't it? Just like Armand. A gentleman and a scholar. He asks the question like he doesn't already know the answer, like he's been listening this whole time.

Why did you pick me? Why did you leave me? How long are we going to keep pretending that you didn't fuck up my entire life?

He wants to jam the questions into Louis' head with the silent gift, right between his eyes. He knows Louis hates that, revolts against any intrusion of the sort.

But instead, he shrugs his shoulders, purses his lips.

"Your shoe's untied."

He points to the ratty, beat up laces at Louis' feet and, the second Louis glances down, Daniel finds himself cracking a smile.

"Made you look."

[knifeeater]

Hi!! Directors cut on Vanishing Point? 💕✨

i lost my entire mind when i saw there were going to be motorcycles on s2 and had to bring this vision to life. i think the first scene i had for this was the car crash and in the first version it was real and only later became a mind link vision when i realized heavy violence car wreck blood feeding sex was not really the vibe for louis for his first time with armand. largely vibe based writing process, capturing the atmosphere of being lost and simultaneously uncontained on the open space of a highway, the burning spark that comes with great speeds.

this being very early paris days louis and armand are still finding their footing around each other, but i wanted to create a draw that already pulls them inside each other, a promise and danger of getting lost in the potential of their mind link. they're circling each other like two black holes, gravity of their event horizons crossing, singularity.

armand having not just control over minds, but being able to reach into nerves and muscles as well to control on a physical level is a concept i had made allusions to before, but fully realized it here in him controlling louis' jaw. felt it would slot well into the emergence of a dynamic between them where louis is able to feed and give in to blood/lust because he can give away control. there's a sort of rythm i wanted to put in this scene where slowly all levels of self-control louis clings to are stripped down along with bringing him back fully into his body, to the point of annihilation. sensory deprivation therapy <3

what comes up several times is louis being captured by armand's immortal monstrousness but armand is drawn in too by louis' own kind of monstrousness, an all consuming immortality that comes close to divinity, something he might dissolve in, which is why there's 'terror and genuflection' visible through the melting of the mask at the point of greatest vulnerability.

little easter egg: in the spiel about vampires and breathing louis remarks that armand usually doesn't breathe. in the last lines 'their breaths slow in tandem with each other', louis draws armand into a human passing of time & physicality.

[louismygf]

hi izza🥰 can i get your top five list from the fitf track list😇

hiii sophia 😚💕

like everyone, im finding it SO hard to rank them..., it's even harder to not place 2 or 3 songs in one rank 😭... well,, i tried my best !

lucky again

holding on to heartache

written all over your face

out of my system

all this time

honorable mentions: angels fly, headline, bigger than me, chicago, face the music, saturdays, silver tongues

it changes everyday !!! like, just yesterday ooms wasnt even in top 5,, lucky again was top 6 at some point, and all this time was top 10 😭 it's almost unbelievable how good this album is, every single song- a bop !! even she is beauty (in the trenches dhdhsd) is growing on me too like ? literal no skips album, i Love. everything!!!

[bittersweet-mojo]

oh my god interview with the vampire fucks so hard

[harrylights]

.

[bucketkicked]

Kiss Marry Kill but it's Lou

[chmydarling]

❝ i thought we agreed the ‘things i did wrong this week’ list was hurting more than helping. ❞ / from clem!

quotes [x]

a resigned sigh. the 'list' had been funny. at first.

he thought, he had always thought, that if he just pushed himself that little bit harder, he could do better. he could be better. he wouldn't mess up, or be second best. according to his dad's philosophy, a silver or a b or a red ribbon was no better than a consolation prize. and bronze and c's? well, they weren't spoken of in their house. at his next recital, he wouldn't miss or screw up a single note. on his next test, he wouldn't just get an a, it would be an a plus.

he'd get it right. p e r f e c t, even. it's what he'd always been taught, after all. his dad, his mom, his teachers...

but he'd learnt a lot from h e r, too. from clem, he had learnt that strength, confidence and ability came in many forms, from a variety of sources; from pain, from loss and from getting it wrong. from fucking up. sometimes.

❛ you're right. as always. there's just one or two things i've gotta add first... ❜

he scribbles another sentence or two onto the paper before presenting it to her.

not listening to clem

writing this damn list

after a moment of hesitation, eyes darting to her, as if seeking wordless agreement, encouragement or maybe permission, he then crumples up the paper and throws it into the fire, watching the flames devour and erase it.

❛ wait. i have an idea- ❜ he could already hear aasim's disapproving sigh and comments with regard to his wasting even more paper.

but this was important. to him.

things i did right or okay this week

listened to clem ツ