#this was supposed to have a companion piece but

[kesopan]

warmth in the cold

[best-iwtv-scene]

ROUND 1B, MATCH 4

Descriptions/Propaganda under the cut:

Armand betrayal reveal (2x08)

After Louis declares the end of his story halfway through the final episode, Daniel reveals an original copy of the trial's script, littered with notes from Armand in the margins. Barely containing his emotions, Louis flicks through the script, realising that the trial- and Claudia's subsequent murder- was led by his companion of seventy-seven years. Additionally, Daniel reveals that Lestat was the vampire who saved Louis from execution in the trial, rather than Armand, adding yet another lie to their relationship. Daniel is almost feverish from being able to unpick the mystery of the Dubai interview that has been haunting him since 1x01, Louis is enraged from realising the last seven decades of his life have been based on a lie, and Armand is desperately trying to hold onto the broken parts of their relationship, despite the fact that it has been in pieces from the very beginning. Louis throws Armand against a wall and thanks Daniel, a bond forged between the two, and burns his laptop, destroying it, but not erasing the interviews entirely. The scene is scored by 'Which Ever Way Your Nose Bends', composed by Simon David Rackham and performed by Piano Circus. This piece also features heavily in 2x05, the unique six-piano arrangement used to represent fragmented memories coming together and plays throughout the reveal in 2x08, building in intensity as it progresses. "Where does the bullshit start, Armand, Amadeo, Arun? You were supposed to die with Claudia. He didn't save you, Lestat did!"

Propaganda:

No propaganda was submitted for this scene.

"Rest" (2x05)

After five days trapped in the San Francisco apartment, Armand finally goes to drain Daniel completely. Armand tempts Daniel into an "easeful death" in a similar way to how Santiago is seen to seduce his victims into death during the theatre's performances. An exhausted Daniel tries to resist, quietly saying that he is "a bright young reporter with a point of view", in an attempt to refute Armand's claims of a mediocre and disappointing future ahead of him. Eventually, Daniel gives in, holding onto Armand as he leans in to bite his exposed neck. For a few moments, the pair embrace while Armand drinks from Daniel, until he is interrupted by Louis stumbling into the room, saving Daniel's life. The scene is oddly loving despite its dark nature, particularly due to the high tension of the episode so far, and it shows the strength of Daniel, able to resist Armand's seduction even for just a moment. This scene is scored by an unreleased track, incorporating the piano motifs of Armand's theme, with a string melody over the top, drowning out the piano as Armand zeroes in on Daniel's neck. "An easeful death [...] It'll feel like a bath. Rest. Like honey on your tongue. It is the comfort we all long for... the end." "... Rest." "Rest. Come, come. I'll hold you. You rest now."

Propaganda:

No propaganda was submitted for this scene.

[lunastrophe]

Do you have a favourite bit of drow lore?❤️

Oh, this is a hard question 😄

I suppose that my favourite bits of drow lore - or elven lore in general, in various fictional universes - are those subtle, often easy to overlook details that show how "other" drow are.

For example, in Drow of the Underdark (2e) it is mentioned that drow typically have long, slender and very sensitive fingers, and a highly developed tactile sense - which is probably an adaptation to living in dark, underground environment. It is also said that drow sometimes use subtle, braille-like tactile writing to communicate - for example, to leave messages on rock walls or stones that can be read only by other drow.

Drow also tend to have inhumanly nimble fingers - that is why non-drow are often unable to learn drow sign language (at least not to a degree of being perfectly fluent at it).

Also, drow hearing. Yes, it is also highly developed (elves, duh), but living in the Underdark heavily influenced how drow use their sense of hearing and how they perceive various sounds.

Underground soundscapes are very different from surface ones - typically, many creatures avoid attracting unwanted attention by staying silent, and practically every sound creates an echo. I imagine that for an average Underdark drow, surface would be a very noisy place and for some time, they would be confused by all these various new sounds, not knowing whether they mean "danger" or not.

Also, according to lore, drow tend to feel uneasy under open sky and feel much more comfortable when they have a roof (or something similar) over their heads.

Maybe that is one of the reasons why they often cover their heads with cowls when they visit surface - not only to shield themselves from sunlight and curious glances, but also from that vast void of the sky that makes them feel exposed and unsafe.

I really like how it was accentuated in Baldur's Gate where Viconia - as a companion - comments occasionally: There is no roof to this world. I feel as if I shall fall into this sky of yours sometimes.

I am not a fan of portraying elves as pretty humans with long ears and even longer lifespans - and in case of drow, there is also the matter of their unique environment. I really like stumbling across pieces of lore that show how different they are and how alien the surface world is to them (or at least to vast majority of them).

[m0chisenpai]

Louis x reader x Armand

The reader is a witch and she meets Armand and Louis and Claudia when going to watch a vampire play. They are mesmerized by her enchanting presence, wondering what and who she is

superstitious

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader x armand

˚｡⋆ platonic!claudia x black!fem!reader

in which the missing piece fills the gaps

author note: We're gonna play with the idea that Louis has somewhat integrated into coven life

Another night of plays. And a new role for Claudia. A nod to the past, Claudia plays the maid to Marie Antoinette who witnesses both affairs and murders of the king and queen.

The role is silent, but it is better than falling out a window every singe night.

As always, Louis assumes his usual spot, watching his sister perform while his companion sits above. There is peace between all three. And at the same time, a feeling of lonesome resides. Like there is something missing.

Until that evening when she enters.

Armand smells her before she even steps foot intot he theatre. It is rich, it is new. It almost smells familiar of his previous years abroad. Whoever os here, their blood sings to his dead heart. It begs for him to consume it, to be bathed in it.

Had an ancient one found their way back? He looks down into the seats. Soldiers, husbands and wives, students fill the house. But he sees nothing.

Louis catches Armand's gaze, he sees his gaze, 'what is it?'

'Something is here. An ancient thing or being. i don't know what it is. But there is power in it.'

"One ticket please." the dressed up vampire hands the young woman her ticket which she holds between gloved hands. She feel out of place in her softer colors against the dark theatre, but she alwayd did stick out.

"Vampires pretending to be humans pretending to be vampires," you whisper to yourself in awe finding your seat. "How dramatic, Prudence was right."

The act begins. Murder marks the end of all the scenes and your laughter is like a bell in the vampires ears. Armand searche but cannont find you nor can Louis pinpoint your presence. But it is intxoicating.

Then the final act happpens. The vampire troupe feast on the woman and silence fills the theatre. But you stand in loud applause shouting your praise in french. And it is as though the world ends when all three look upon you.

How your eyes shimmer in praise, how your pearly white smile lights the room. Claudia freezes witht he blood dripping. Trying to remember your face as the curtains pull shut. Armand watches as you look up, nodding your head giving your appluase to him now.

But Louis, oh he wants you then and there. But the crowd keeps him from meeting you in the aisles as you file out.

"Oh sisters it was wondrous as you said!" you whisper in awe as you tie your scarf looking in to the mirror of your flat.

"Did I not tell you it was a delight, though in their early days they were more shakespearean I suppose they choose to cater to their English crowd now."

"And did you see the leader? is he not handsome!" Your fellow sister Urydice exclaims moving Prudence aside to stand in front of the mirror.

"He was..beautiful." you shyly whisper and the girl squeals.

"Oh you must approach them! you must!"

"Enough girls return to your chambers."

"Yes Mother." you whisper your goodbyes to all the girls until she sits in front. Your leader,t he mother of your group. She is old and wise, but no age touches her compexion. Her hair large and thick is braided back and you realize how much you miss your mother.

"My darling," she whispers with a smile on her lips. "Be safe. These vampires have power. and they have numbers. Until we have arrived you are to not engage them."

"Yes mother," you bow your head and press a to your pointer and middle finger pressing it to the glass and as soon as she does the same all that is left is your reflection.

You should listen to her, but you don't.

and as you shed your robe to slip into your bed. The golden eyes that watch from your balcony disappear into the night.

That next night you sit at the cafe writing letters to your scattered sisters. Some in english, three in french and the one in italian.

"You're not from here ma'am? Haven't heard italian before," the young girl sits in front of you.

"No, I am not. But Italy is not my home." You sip from your glass of coffee.

"I must say you are an exceptional actress. The breath was taken right out of me."

"Thank you, years of practice led me here."

"From...America?" you guess.

Her eyes widen as does her smile, "how'd you know?"

"Southern accent. Heard it growing up."

"Claudia, what'd I tell you but disturbing folks?"

Yiu hate to admt how the man who joins you both at the table makes your eyes widen. Your cheeks feel hot as his gaze settles upon you. You seem to have som eaffect because he is no longer chiding at the girl.

"No, she is fine sir. Just some simple conversation is all" you tilti your head "your daughter I am assuming?"

"Ah well...yes" he fumbles his words.

"How sweet," you smile at the two now bundling your letters to drop at the post. "I should be taking my leave now. It was lovely to speak to you both."

"Claudia," she quickly shakes your hand.

"Louis."

They wish you could stay. But you toss the necessary amount by your cup and leave the two behind to watch you walk down the stony path.

One night turns into two, then three when you return again it has been a week. A week of you tryig to avoid that theatre, but they calll out to you at night. "Come, come to us." But the leader requests your presence tonight.

One of the women leads you to where he sis. The only empty seat beside him is where you situate yourself.

"When did he turn you?"

"Don't have a creator." you whisper, eyes remaining on the stage. They flicker to Louis who looks up, giving you a smile which yu quickly return along with a wave.

"You know we are not human, yet you yourself are not one ofus," now his head turns to look at you. "But you do not smell like one. And your presence..it is unusual."

"I smell?"

"Nothing like the boys of war I can assure you, it is not unwelcoming" Armand can not help the smallest of smiles when he hears your sigh of relief. "But I must ask you again. What are you if not human?"

You hesitate, remembering the words of your mother. "We are not human. In the past humans maddeneed by thoughts of God and satan killed us one by one. They stopped it from being publicized but they still hunt us to this day."

"You're a witch?"

"We refrain from calling ourselves that," your hand rests against a necklace. The very one all of you share. "We are scattered across the world to avoid any more unnecessary murders."

You pause to clap for Claudia smile as she grins up at you at the end of her act.

"Will you be in France for long?" Armand asks once you sit back down.

"I would like to be. Rome was for a moment. And I am not sure I wish to return again to Greece." Armand returns his gaze down to Claudia and Louis both steal glances at him. Anticipating.

"If you stay here, I can gurantee your safety."

Claudia adores you and spends any moment she can. Taking you to Madeline's shop and around the city and theatre while Louis walks around the city with you, taking shots of you facing the moonlight or along the river.

Armand shows you artwork from the world.

Each of them can not help but feel you fill the gap in their hearts.

They feel dizzy just being in the midst of your presence.

Then one night, as you sit atop Armand's lap. Louis hand settles at the back of your neck to look up at him. Your bare chest heaves as Armand lays kisses upon it. There is somethign electric in the air, something magical,

The candles burn brighter with each kiss. Flickering with your breathing, as though they are breathing with you.

"Stay with us," his voice a whisper. Your eyes remain on his. He whispers it again, "join us."

Your mothers words are drowned from the two.

"Yes, please." Armand lets a soft hiss as he bites into the juncture of your neck while Lousi bites into the other side. And it is liek liquid fire fills your vein and fills theirs.

It is as though you are bonded to them in that moment.

Theirs for an eternity.

[azaracyy]

love is hell

[dearcharliefnafcomic]

LITTLE PLASTICINE KINGER

He brings me such joy :)

He was supposed to be accompanied by a Pomni but I used all my white on him. That’s alright though, he deserves it <3

[romanpanic]

... a contemporary vampire for the modern age

[rexscanonwife]

Still coping with art block using the Betty Boop style, some highlighters, and prayers 😭

[artekai]

Look who's stealing whose evil master plan because he's never had a single idea of his own

[blushouyo]

couldnt gale have been kind to me and told me he was about to explode when I had the patient and nice party of wyll and karlach??? did he really have to do it when im with lae zel and astarion??

[unproduciblesmackdown]

originally set out for kind of cozy rainy lighting for tayston cuddling here but i guess it’s not Not that 🌟

[sohcean]

and forget-me-nots; a love letter

the timestamp on this one says “december 17, 2019.” it has laid in the recesses of my drafts for three years now. 

i don’t remember what it was supposed to be about. all that’s left of the original idea is the title and the first two tags, the beginning of a bleeding heart ramble. and so it sat, while i stared at it and tried to remember. tried to remember what it was for.

a little ironic. but i’m pretty sure life has a sense of humor.

forget-me-nots, the first flower i assigned to im changkyun. a small, purplish blue flower that grows at the head of tall grass. always in little patches. perennials. they return, year after year. fond of the places where shadows grow. where streams sleep.

for three years, the letter laced with scorpion grass has sat, nearly forgotten. today, i remember. it was meant to be a comfort, a balm, a palm frond to block out oppressive sunlight, a candle to light a darkened room. a reminder. 

of respect. of fidelity. of faithfulness. of remembrance. of love.

a promise.

—i will remember that all of this was beautiful.

with this, i answer the man who simply asks to be remembered. who, in murmured, deep tones, mustered the courage to plead for love. who very seriously wished to illuminate his own weakness, his own struggle. who very earnestly radiates humanity.

and—

he who will be never be forgotten.

i’ve always had some difficulty writing about changkyun. it’s like… speaking of him at length pulls this heaviness along with it. this weight to his personhood that cannot be ignored when addressing him. it’s been called many things. many names, most of which i find myself disagreeing with.

and it will never be my place to name something that is within another person, is another person. a person i don’t know face-to-face, at that.

but if i may speak as to give voice to a theory, i would name it devotion.

i know no other words to grasp at it. i know no other words that can even stand next to it.

the moon writing poetry to what he says is the sun. and, in turn, words streaming out from a bleeding heart like moonlight. even behind clouds. even when only a sliver is left in the sky.

dedicated. just like the rest of them.

like such gentle perennials blooming above wild grass near a stream, popping his head in under the cover of the stars, writing something between a ramble and a poem and a love letter, and then falling asleep. and like the petals of periwinkle flowers tickling your fingertips when you brush against them, leaving some teasing remark in order to cover such deep vulnerability (something like roots). and like beautiful blossoms upon the mind, his entire presence etched in a communal heart (the color purple and rich red roses and cats with crystal eyes and a half-drank bottle of hennessey, for whatever reason).

and following the growth, the blossom, the bloom. something like shyness becoming an owned sensitivity and pre-disposal to the quiet and reflective. and such sensitivity becoming lent to creativity, lyrics and melodies and recognizable bass, lingering impressions of emotion buried in songs, tattooed skin with poetry of its own. becoming well-read, well-spoken. voicing wants and wishes.

—can i see you forever?

still silly. still young. still strange. but unfurling like the flower on his forearm.

and within this growth, there is a devotion to the self. a refusal to be something that feels inauthentic. a devotion to his own expression in his music, in his production, in choices concerning what comes next. a devotion to his comfort and his brotherhood (“i don’t want to be on a stage by myself.”)

a devotion to the path he treads, shadowed, maybe, and difficult indeed, but one with its own light at the end.

—the cold road became beautiful at once, hands like ice let them bloom like spring…

i was able to endure a particularly long night.—

and at the center of this blossom, at the most profound depth of this delicacy, lies a devotion to preciousness. to the urge to carry someone’s heart in your palms. to the beloved mundanity of walking at someone’s side. to the meaning of nothing and everything and the absurdity of love and the intimacy of returning and—

—every little thing i do has meaning because of you.

and i think it is the most heart-wrenching devotion of all.

a recognition that happiness is precious because bad days come. saying that the very word, “fan,” carries weight between his lips because the meaning is precious. that the gaze, gentle and gorgeous, is precious. that memory is precious. that affection is precious. that the concept of eternity is precious because you only yearn for it when you have something you want to protect.

that though the heart bleeds (i earnestly pray you won’t forget me), it beats (stay.)

and words i could say no better than the one who thought of them.

—but even when [i wasn’t fine] our monbebes were there. and more than anyone else, my members were by my side every day. i really want to express my gratitude to them. we eat together. we sleep together… they really became my family. even without doing anything, in my daily life they always approach when i want to share something precious.

the preciousness of family, of having something to rely on, of having someone grasp your wrist when you fall.

—to our monbebe, who safeguard these precious moments, i also want to say thank you.

the preciousness of connection, of having the strength to approach someone with glistening eyes and shuddering shoulders, of laughter and memory and the return of joy.

and arguably the most precious of all; someone who names their mother as their favorite artist, who picks a favorite trinket and shows it off with pride, who will always step back to give the spotlight to someone else, who notices, who would rather carry the sentiment than the accolade, who shows up in odd places just to support his family, who repeats gentle assuages again and again and again just to somehow get his affections across, who is brought (as a pillow) to company functions because he deserves to be there, who promises forever because he believes in it now, who is calmed by the whispers of a crowd, who smiles in an affectionately catlike manner, who rises eternally like a perennial, who sees the soul of a person and names it precious.

im changkyun, who devoted to the belief even the smallest and most inconsequential thing having meaning when it is looked at with love.

so in the spirit of preciousness, of devotion, of night and shadow and blooms, i give this, somewhat in the same manner as the one it is dedicated to—

leaving forget-me-nots pressed between pages, simply as a reminder:

i love you. i always will.

[binch-i-might-be]

brainstorming a Foundations of Decay tattoo concept rn. I'm thinking,,,,, anatomical heart maybe. Insect. blood & flowers. any suggestions?

[amouress16]

Iterator and Slugcat OC concepts I’ve had sitting around for a little while ft my first ever pixel art attempts

[angelhound]

.

[cammie]

forcing myself not start another wip now because i’ve lost interest in my current one that i literally started 4 days ago. god help us