#what louis said WAS the truth

[pynkhues]

A while back Rolin said that they're playing with points of view and are sticking with lestat's. I think it makes sense since the books he mentioned planning to adapt- up to Memnoch- are all from Lestat's pov (with the exception of some chapters from qotd, but even those stories are told to Lestat and he's the one who wrote the book). I think that after TVL, Rolin wants to move completely to the modern timeline, so for the rest of the series we'll be in the third person omniscient/objective pov with some occasional flashbacks.

For me both 1.06 and 2.06 have that weird unreal feeling to them, I remember reading a post mentioning how the train scene and Antoinette's house scene couldn't happen the way it was shown and I agree. Overall, there's too much inconsistency in these both eps for me to believe that things happened the way it was told. I think we'll never know the whole true and tbh i'm fine with that. Personally, I think the only thing that really needs to be revisited is the trial. We've already had Louis, Armand's and Claudia's pov and there's no need for more of it, and there'not enough screen time for the constant revisits and flashbacks.

Rolin also mentioned that after season 2 they'll be done with the unreliable narrator and memory is a monster trope. I really hope that this is true because it's become very tiresome. Some people are already saying that Lestat lied about the two revisited scenes from 2.07 and how all of them are unreliable narrators and we can't believe anyone etc, when for me it's obvious that it was not the show's intention. People may hate it all they want but it was clear that Lestat in the books wasn't written as a deliberate liar, Rolin is sticking with it and the show wants us to believe that 2.07 flashbacks scenes are the truth. And I'm so ready to be done with all this mess.

Yeah, I mean, I do think Lestat will be the primary POV character as I said in yesterday's post, but I do think they're in a little bit of a tricky position to have two seasons with such restricted POV only to leap into a new one for the rest of the series' run. It works for the books because there's a longer break between them being published, but also because they function as standalone novels within a broader series, whereas the show does need to have more overarching consistency in order to manage tone and audience expectations. I think they did a good job of opening up the narrative with s2, and again, I do think they're going to shift towards Lestat, but I just don't think it'll actually work for the series at all to lose Louis' POV at this point, which I think Rolin is aware of given his continued reassurance that Louis' remaining a lead.

It's also interesting that you mention Rolin wanting to shift into the current timeline after TVL, which makes sense given QOTD and Body Thief are predominantly contemporary, but I think that also potentially lends to Armand having some POV sequences in the new season? It doesn't sound like Rolin's planning on adaptating TVA, and he's already threaded some parts of his backstory in too, but the logical place to further weave it in is through Lestat's interactions with Armand and Marius in the past. It does feel a bit like a Matryoshka with it being flashbacks in flashbacks, but they managed that well with the trial (I do think it needs to be limited though).

Also interesting that you think 1.06 and 2.06 couldn't have happened the way that they did! I definitely agree that there are inconsistencies, and that the show doesn't have the time to address them all (nor should they - overexplanation is the death of story, tbh), so I'm curious to see what does end up getting addressed.

As for unreliable narration/memory is a monster -- I still like it, haha, and imagine there'll be threads of it throughout the series' run. The nature of subjectivity is unreliable, and the amount of unmanaged trauma Lestat has inevitably feeds into the monstrousness of his own memories as he steps into the primary POV character, but it makes sense to retire them as the major themes with the IWTV arc having finished up.

[thegirloffans]

It's hilarious to me that Louis thought he was punishing Lestat by choosing Armand over him when really it was LESTAT punishing Louis for choosing Armand over him

[book-tease]

I think some people are way too willing to think of lestats pov as the truth and it's very confusing to me bc what about lestat as a character makes you think he's gonna be more truthful than louis-

[armandssawtrap]

The craziest thing is that I know exactly what’s wrong with Armand and could write a thesis on it but I have NO idea what’s wrong with Louis he’s a psychological mystery to me

[dxxtruction]

its probably meant to be somewhat ambiguous but it seems most likely that armand was gaslighting louis so that he didn't trust himself and daniel didn't trust him. he also seemed to basically get what he wanted by instigating a fight and igniting some passion, we see by next ep's start it probably got resolved with sex and absolution. idk the talamasca angle is not as interesting a story

Ask is in reference to this post: HERE

That's cool. You're able to hold that I'm able to hold mine. Interpretations are just that. I will say it doesn't matter whether Armand planted them, or not, because he still ends up gaslighting Louis in the 2x04 argument anyway. It’s effectively gaslighting even if they are telling the truth here as they see it because of how things stack up and what's said.

It is basically how you said, and I'll just go ahead and expand for anyone who might not see it so clearly. Initially, it seems he's more or less trying to just get Louis off his case for the photos, and is willing to throw him, his mental state, and character under the bus, to do so. But Louis already straight up knows him of doing manipulative things, of this exact sort, in the interview before this event even occurred - Namely that Armand is making himself look far more approachable, and better to Daniel, even after they'd both agreed to basically tear this guy to shreds, which makes Louis look worse by default, and goes against what they agreed to both do. Armand has a repeated tendency to fall through on his promises, or promise things, but then take it his own direction when it suits him. In all cases, he does keep obstructing Louis interview, especially when it comes to Daniel, and won't fully admit to it. - this is why Louis' so reactive, among just the fact he has trauma related to being denied his own interiority, fullness, and freedoms, because he's Black, and in society, seen less human. Armand simply doesn't help his case by denying it, even if it were actually his truth that the photos weren't his doing. (Note; Armand has also faced horrific dehumanizing traumas, but in such a differing way I don't think he's able to empathize with the same way Louis been dehumanized in life. I argue a little if Louis is even able to do more than simply hold a lot of sympathy for Armand, as they really are not a lot alike in both their interior and exterior reality. I don't think that sympathy goes both ways often.)

The way he's also keeps behaving like the bigger person in this reinforces the belief Armand wants out of Louis, making him 'see' it, and probably also to Daniel as well who's definitely overhearing this (this particular part has a chance of being unintentional however, if he was only really intending to deescalate, but it still keeps the same effects).

Not only making Louis look like he's crazy to assume it, but denying he'd been doing anything wrong of the sort (by simply at no point coming forward and saying something reassuring of Louis reality along the lines of, 'I have been doing those things, it's just not this, and those weren't my intentions to hurt you with it, I'm sorry' or simply 'okay, I did it, sorry'). As well, it doesn't matter how much Armand's truthful, Louis is someone who necessarily does need reality checks like that, because he suffers from hallucinations, and as he's finding out, memory lapses, and not providing them will make him jump to presume it could be his own symptoms. Also, at one point in the argument, he actually throws out that Louis is insane, if it needed to be anymore obvious. Which is derogatory, if arguably true, though reinforces that Armand's behaviors to 'stop or aid his madness' in prior instances were all a-okay, and all necessary. There's nothing wrong with him, and what he's doing, its all Louis. (His intentions to deescalate, if anyone wants to take on that idea, would've changed by then. It reads as a pattern to me mimicking of the promises falling through.)

Anyway, I'd be saying in my interpretation that him willing to keep this up, even though the photos had nothing to do with it, just shows how much he'd actually use any situation that arises to manipulate/control Louis, and mess with Louis interview, as opposed to orchestrating or planning situations, so he can then also manipulate with it. With all intentions or not, it doesn't really matter. Which makes his manipulation more realistic, honestly. A better portrait of who Armand is tbh.

I don't claim this transcript as 100% accurate, but it's as close as I can get it:

L: Four Fred Steins in the album, four. You made me look foolish. 

A: You just assume it was me. 

L: Well, it wasn’t me. 

A: You sure about that? 

L: Excuse me?

A: I take it back. 

L: Take it way fucking back. 

A: It was probably an honest mistake from the staff.

L: You think I need to be coddled, hyped up, lied to? 

-cut-

A: You’re being Lestat! 

L: Go call on him, see what happens. 

A: A little ridiculous… It's the staff, dear.

L: I’m being ridiculous? You wanna see, you wanna see ridiculous? 

A: No, Louis, it was an honest mistake. You knew it.

L: AAAH

A: You weren’t here- 

L: LA LA LA LA

A: -And more and more of them-

L: LA LA

A: They got through! 

-flashbacks-

A: This isn’t about Lestat! 

-more flashback-

L: You lobbed at Daniel, and disrespected me. 

A: no no no no no no.

-flashback-

L: and over and over and over it’s always the same damn thing. 

A: You trying to trick me?

L: I don’t know I’m just your God now. The abandonment, and aren’t we both cut throat? 

A: You won’t believe me, when I was here. I’m the one who can see! 

L: Alright, first off, first off. 

A: You are insane! 

-fb-

L: You always do this! … We’ll be done with Daniel any day now. Now, knock it off. Its about the record, this is my interview. You hear me? The whole interview that will be heard by me. 

A: In a future that you won’t see!

-fb- 

L: No more! Will you go to speak without asking first. No more! Will you ever flirt around on your years. 

A: Oh, come to Dubai, Louis says, but not me. 

-Then I can’t make out anything-

Sex and absolution I do agree with as well. Like they did do that. I don't think either were expecting it to go that way from the beginning, though, as in neither started or orchestrated a reason for argument just to have makeup sex. That being somewhat normal for them after a big argument like that would not surprise me however. A certain interpretation I take of them having sex after (given the argument) was more that (it seems to me) part of the accusations here is that Armand is 'flirting' to win over Daniel's favor, and trying to get with him? Maybe even back together with him? (Centered a lot around Armand telling him his little love story with Lestat.) If not, just turning him against him. So having sex could reinforce Armand had/has no intentions of leaving, further obstructions wrt Daniel, and/or infidelity. That it's 'me and you' and not 'you and him'. (Which could be the real lie depending on how you want to take it here lmao. And is so bound to fall through because... Armand doesn't keep his promises, not even to himself it seems since he turned Daniel).

Again all interpretations are just that, so long as it can be legitimately supported by the text, and isn't grossly insensitive. The Talamasca just adds to the whole scene to me more than it detracts from it. The outside world necessarily has influenced both of their inside worlds, and further how they interact with each other in both, and is the cause behind of a lot of their behaviors and reactions. Talamasca causing those to erupt sort of points to that. It's real. The whole narrative actually feels more concrete and like there's a world outside who can still influence them if they were the one's doing it. Sometimes I feel people want to center Louis a bit too much in the story, which is fair, it is his story, he has a narrative that should be centered, but it is also other people's story as well. They are playing roles here in it.

Also this is why I really wonder if they'd ever revisit this? I'm a little peeved about it being so hidden tbh. There seems like so much added context and we're denied most of it from the music and constant flashbacks. Fingers-crossed maybe Daniel was recording it? IDK.

[mycenaae]

it's so interesting going into the iwtv tags and seeing people be like "oh but when lestat gets involved then the REAL TRUTH will come out!!!" as if he isn't a fucking liar / exaggerator too

[paddington-two]

revisiting the turning claudia scene AND showing us the rest of the s1 fight in one episode. this show is crazy

[salmoncakepls]

...🦌?

[persepinas]

What truly touches my heart and makes me love Loustat as much as I do is that, on the show, they were friends.

They were friends while Louis was human and genuinely enjoyed each other's company. They would go out, have fun, and laugh. They would sit on their bench and talk for hours. Louis would likely mention a book he'd read, and Lestat would listen despite wanting to talk about music or art. He would listen to Louis and take in all he said and not only from his thoughts, which was an advantage, but Lestat would listen to his voice.

Lestat saw Louis, really saw him, and fell in love with him. With his human heart. With his beautiful brown eyes, the flush of his cheeks, and the sound of his human heart faintly joining Lestat"s in song.

And Louis fell in love with Lestat, too. He fell in love with his silly accent and his strange, foreign ways and would convince himself that despite all the odd tricks that Lestat could perform, he was worth the time spent getting to know. Louis would look forward to all those nights with Lestat. Louis allowed Lestat to see beneath the facade of who he was to the public and see the truth of his heart and soul. Louis was able to be vulnerable and he trusted Lestat with all of this.

They were friends. They loved one another and then fell in love, and that's so beautiful. Their connection existed before the change and before the blood connection. Only Lestat is left in the world to remember the gorgeous brown eyes and the sound of Louis' human heartbeat. The touch of his warm, human skin and Louis' voice in his head from so long ago. He was so desperately in love with Louis the moment he saw him, yes, but once Lestat was able to know him? And Louis was able to let go and be himself around Lestat finally? They were both done for.

There is so much to Loustat and their love, but this is something so important and moving and truly is one of the biggest reasons why I love them.

[lizardkingeliot]

This moment cannot be captured in gifs. You can feel the madness in Lestat's mannerisms and hear it in his voice. He is not even a little bit okay. This early part of the performance is based on the biggest lie of the trial: that Lestat was the one who was hunted by Louis. And I imagine that was the hardest thing to sell for him. The idea that he hasn't always wanted Louis from the very moment he laid eyes on him. It's understandable that he almost lost himself a second later. That he dissociated and forgot his lines. That standing there and lying about that truest truth of their early love story—that Lestat wanted him so much it was agony—was nearly an impossible task for him...

I'm going to need to digest the episode a bit more and rewatch the whole thing to fully grasp what I think Armand the coven was doing when they forced him to lie about this specifically when so much of the rest of the performance was based on truth (and Louis confirmed as much when he said Lestat's recounting of Claudia's turning was accurate). But I think it's probably just that it plays into the whole Lestat The Victim narrative they were trying to sell much better...

[assiraphales]

if devil's minion not real why was the only face daniel could envision when louis probed his memory and talked about alice armand? why was the camera on armand when louis asked what she said? why did armand tell daniel she wanted to say yes -- a relative act of kindness in this context -- when he should have had no way of knowing?

VERY interesting to me that what triggered louis' anger was 'lestat, lestat, lestat. love of my life, or is it more rebound of my life with you two?' because this not only parrots armand's rant in the 2x05 flashbacks, but led louis to talk about alice. he dug into daniel's mind and found the most painful moment in daniel's relationship with "alice" in less than three seconds. almost as if he knew what he was looking for.

and daniel was right. it was a joke. it was just a joke (and the truth). but out of ALL the jokes/snide remarks/pointed digs he's made through the interview, why did this one bother louis so much? why did this set him off so badly?

because he's not just sick of daniel having the upper hand, or seeing through his sham marriage, or trying to throw him off. he's LIVID. he describes the proposal with such absolute cruelty and anger.

and GRINS when he finally breaks the man in front of him

all while armand protests. all while armand throws in a gentle, she wanted to say yes, before looking away. hmm. HMM!!!

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

playing match-maker with professor!gojo satoru—”we can’t mind our business!” [nxt]

teaching is incredibly rewarding. nothing beats the sense of fulfillment that comes with educating the next generation—it gives you a sense of purpose and makes you feel like a contributing member of society. but recently, you've developed a guilty pleasure, an unhealthy vice. 

because, in truth, what you really find rewarding isn’t teaching. it’s the juicy gossip you share with your colleague, gojo satoru. 

it started innocently enough—quick whispers and passing speculations about students during breaks. then it escalated to frantic texts about classroom dramas. now, it’s a full-blown routine: coordinating your lunch breaks to debrief over an aptly chosen herbal tea at the café across the street.

gojo, the physics professor, is an instigator by nature. unfairly brilliant and chronically bored, he’s always looking for ways to entertain himself. you, an english professor with a manageable workload, were the perfect partner in crime. together, you’ve meddled in your students’ lives, and your escapades have become something of a shared hobby.

his preferred method of meddling is match-making, and to your credit you guys have had one successful match:

juniors, kasumi miwa and kokichi muta.

sweet, hardworking miwa was one of your favorite students, always putting extra effort into your creative writing assignments. muta, (aptly nick-named mechamaru) is a genius with mechanics and the president of the robotics club. gojo taught him quantum physics and claimed he was one of the sharpest students he’d ever met.

it started with a haiku.

you’d assigned miwa’s class a poetry assignment, and her submission, though simplistic, immediately caught your attention:

I may not love science, I can’t bring machines to life, yet I yearn for you.

if that wasn’t enough, there were faintly erased doodles of robots holding hands in the margins of her submitted assignments. around the same time, gojo noticed muta sitting strategically in his class so he could be visible through the window into yours. he angled his notes just enough to display his complex equations—clearly trying to impress miwa.

the moment you pieced it together, you texted gojo:

dr. gojo satoru: no way, her haiku is basically screaming I love him

you: lmao I asked her about the inspiration, and she said, “just a friend”

dr. gojo satoru: she’s gonna move on if we don’t act now!

you: what if we double-book office hours for them? “accidentally,” of course

dr. gojo satoru: omg brilliant, drafting the email rn XD

the plan worked. you and gojo “accidentally” scheduled them for office hours at the same time, then conveniently left them alone. miwa, stumped by an intentionally tricky writing assignment, was soon receiving help from muta. numbers were exchanged, tutoring sessions turned into hangouts, and four months later, they were officially dating.

now, every month, gojo extorts a cream puff from muta as a “thank you” for the setup from the pricey bakery downtown. you pretend to disapprove but always end up splitting the treat.

which brings you to your current predicament. you and gojo are locked in a heated debate about which first-year students to set up next. gojo insists itadori yuji and kugisaki nobara are the ideal pair, but you’re convinced yuji and fushiguro megumi are better suited. gojo’s conviction runs so deep he swears it’s ingrained in on an atomic level.

so to raise the stakes, gojo has wagered his louis vuitton messenger bag (est. value: $3k), while you’ve offered up your earnings from the third installment of your self-published ya novel (est. value: $4k). and yes, the fact that those numbers are so close in value is embarrassing.

desperate to prove each other wrong, you agree to consult your colleagues.

gojo’s first choice? philosophy professor getou suguru.

dr. gojo satoru added you and prof. getou suguru to a group chat

dr. gojo satoru named the group chat cupids <3

dr. gojo satoru: getouuuu dr. gojo satoru: getougetougetougetougetou

prof. getou suguru: this is highly unethical.

prof. getou suguru left the chat.

though getou pretends to be above your antics, he shows up to join you in gojo’s office later, coffee in hand and smirking. he brushes a finger across the desk and frowns at the dust.

“if I were willing to entertain your ridiculous game—which I’m not—I’d say megumi and yuji are the better match,” he declares, smugly.

he strolls to the whiteboard, sliding his glasses down from his forehead to settle over his eyes, his black bangs falling neatly into place, and begins sketching a diagram:

utilitarianism: will the act ultimately result in the best overall results—maximizing utility?

• megumi x yuji: opposing personalities balance each other out, ultimately improving their weaknesses. ↳ e.g. megumi silences yuji when he talks over the lecture, while yuji incites megumi to participate more during group projects, increasing his participation.

• nobara x yuji: similar personalities embolden bad habits, ultimately leading to chaos. ↳ e.g. nobara and yuji are rarely late individually, but when they hang out, they end up coming to class late, usually carrying coffee, and snacks.

getou pops the cap back on and crosses his arms, “I rest my case.”

you cheer while gojo groans, insisting getou’s biased.

determined to recruit an ally, gojo drags you to statistics professor nanami kento, the epitome of calm professionalism. confident in his plan, gojo smirks and declares, “once nanami agrees with me, the resident genius, your theory will come to a grinding halt—no momentum, no inertia, just friction stopping you in your tracks.”

nanami’s sitting at his desk engrossed in grading assignments when you all appear in the doorframe. his brown oxfords shined, speckled tie flung loose over his shoulder.

when he notices your presence, he pointedly checks his watch before stating, “you’ve got ten minutes, for,” he gestures, “whatever this is, I leave at six.”

you explain the predicament and nanami rolls his eyes, rubbing at his temples like he’d just got a headache. “sounds like simple probability, for example,” he rises to pick up a piece of chalk from his blackboard:

p (a) = # of favorable outcomes / # of possible outcomes

p (a) represents the probability of event “a”, megumi and yuji coupling up

he draws a number here, a letter there—the equation is getting increasingly hard to follow, even gojo looks dumbfounded. 

“two, carry the one. and you get…” he starts completing the result:

p (a) = f(u)<k 0ff

he deadpans, the mirth visible in his eyes, “you guys really thought I’d help you with your childish endeavor, has anyone ever told you to simply just mind your own.”

you huff out offended, “we can’t mind our business! come on, don’t be like that. aren’t you close with yuji, being his advisor and all, you should want the best for him!”

nanami sighs, glancing down again at his watch. five more minutes. he approaches you and flips open his phone, scrolling for a couple seconds. 

“here look,” he tilts the screen showing a text thread with yuji:

itadori yuji (freshman): sensei can I ask you something?

nanami k.: what can I do for you itadori? 

itadori yuji (freshman): you know how I’m undeclared? well, I love spending time with friends. is it okay for their interests to influence my major?

nanami k.: while the choice should ultimately be your decision itadori, it is only natural that your environment and experiences influence the line of thinking that leads to that decision. which of your peers have you found most influential? 

itadori yuji (freshman): I don’t wanna say because I don’t think they realize how much I look up to, and respect them. I’m scared I’ll psyche them out. but they’re terrific: driven, independent, and forthright.

nanami k.: well if those traits are any indicator they seem like a strong, positive influence to your academics.

you finish reading and you all share a look. you start, “okay so, I think I’m confident that with yuji’s messages in mind, we all think, no, are certain, that yuji’s ideal match is…”

“megumi!”

“nobara.”

“megumi!”

“nobara!”

and so, you once again, begin considering who might be the next best person to consult for an additional perspective.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊ back in their dorms, megumi, yuji, and nobara can’t stop sneezing, the sheer weight of being so heavily discussed tickling their senses.

[armandssawtrap]

there’s something about Louis’s voice when he’s monologuing to Daniel that makes me want to rip my hair out

[slaygentford]

nothing is ever going to hit for me like the two years of listening to people go oh well when we get lestat's story! when we get lestat's side of the story! THEN we'll know the truth! about who abused who! and then lestat, the only person that people who say that listen to, got right up there and said it was not an accident I broke him because I couldn't own him and I've thought about it every day for a decade and I will be sorry for the rest of my life. this is how I sleep at night knowing that everyone who tried to mutual abuse lestat's way out of this knows that lestat stood up in front of 200 people and admitted to every single thing he did to louis entirely prostrate without asking for forgiveness, that louis did not and never could deserve a single millisecond of what lestat inflicted on him, and that now everybody who valued their little white prince's "perspective" over louis' objective truth has to eat their words forever

[daisyblog]

“We listen and we don’t judge!”

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN does the “We listen and we don’t judge” TikTok trend with Louis.

based on this request

Sitting next to each other as they sit comfortably on the carpeted living room foor, YN and Louis speak in sync. “We listen and we don’t judge!”.

Louis smirks at his sister as he waits for her to speak first. “Know when we were younger and your favourite football got kicked over the wall, and we could never find it?”. His eyes widened at the mention of his beloved football. “It wasn’t Lottie who kicked it over…it was me!”.

“What?! Why did you fookin’ blame Lottie?!”. Louis voice held annoyance as he thought back to that day.

“Uh uh…we listen and we don’t judge!”. YN gave Louis a sweet innocent smile.

Louis thought carefully at what confession he was going to reveal. “Oh I’ve got one…I found your diary in a box from Mums house and I’ve read it”.

“What the actual fuck Lou…you can’t-“. YN could feel the embarrassment appear on her cheeks at the thought of Louis reading her teenage thoughts.

“Remember Tiny…we listen and we don’t judge”. The innocent smile was returned to YN.

YN wondered how far she could go with these confessions without her overstepping the mark. “When you were on the X factor…I punched a boy in high school because he said One Direction was shit!”.

“Well…that’s a valid reason…no judgement from me Kiddo!”. Louis shrugged his shoulders as he didn’t see what was wrong with that.

“When I found out about you and Harry…I thought about ways to try and break you up”. Louis winced at the words he just spoke.

YN sat with her jaw hung in horror. “Louis! That’s fookin’ horrible!”.

“It was a second thought and it was because I was fookin’ angry…but I didn’t do it!”. Louis rambled trying to defend himself as his eyes pleaded for forgiveness.

“I wouldn’t have listened anyway…same as when I didn’t listen when you said I couldn’t sleep on your tour bus”. YN smiled in satisfaction as Louis gave her a look. “Heavy sleeper aren’t you?”.

Louis couldn’t hide his smirk. “You’re a cheeky fucker…and so is Harold!”.

“Chill out…we were only cuddling!”. YN winked towards her camera letting the fans know she wasn’t being completely truthful.

Tag List:

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[satinestales]

❝between truth and desire❞ | armand x fem!reader

pairing: armand x fem!reader, 4k+ words

summary: As you and Armand recount your shared history to your old friend Daniel Molloy, your words falter, and your memories blur under the weight of time and emotion. Later, Armand ensures you remember exactly how it truly happened—or at least, how he wants you to.

warnings: armand's manipulative gremlin ass, sexual tension, mind control?, unrealistic version of top armand, blood play, blood-sucking as a form of oral sex, not proofread, mention of claudia's death, english is not my native english

For the past three hours, you’ve been reminiscing about your life in 1940s Paris with your old friend, now a successful journalist. It’s been surprisingly easy, sharing those memories of joy and excitement, especially with Armand by your side. Daniel’s sarcastic comments make you laugh, keeping the mood light even when the stories dip into something more bittersweet.

Armand’s hand rests on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles. That small, familiar touch pulls you back into the past, and for a fleeting moment, it almost feels like you’re there again—back in Paris, on your very first date.

You shared stories about the Théâtre des Vampires, describing its grandeur and eerie charm in vivid detail. Armand never interrupted, just sat quietly beside you, listening. Every so often, he’d chime in, adding little details you’d forgotten, his voice soft and steady. It felt natural, the two of you piecing the memories together like a story only you could tell.

Every eye in the room was on you, the silence in the mansion broken only by your voice. It was steady, serious, as you recounted those final days in the coven—when the air grew colder and the others fell quiet. You remembered how Louis had sensed it first, even before Claudia or Madeleine. And you remembered it too, that creeping tension, the way it lingered unspoken.

But here and now, you spoke of it clearly, without a single stutter.

"It was a cold night when I woke up," you began, your voice calm despite the weight of the memory. "Louis was already gone, and I couldn’t find any trace of Claudia." Armand’s hand rested gently on your thigh, comforting you, while Daniel’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. "I assumed they’d gone out together," you continued, glancing down for a moment, "since I’d spent the last few days with my love."

You felt Armand shift beside you, his lips curling into a faint smile as he tilted his head, studying you with that quiet intensity. Even after all these years, that look still had the power to make you blush.

"About four hours later, there was a knock at our door," you said, your voice wavering between fear and sarcasm. "I hadn’t invited anyone, so I figured it was Armand dropping by for one of his unannounced visits. But when I opened the door..." You paused, your eyes narrowing slightly at the memory.

"Santiago was standing there," you continued, "and behind him were Celeste and Estelle, both wearing those ridiculous judges' wigs." The words spilled out, edged with a dry, bitter humor that couldn’t quite mask the unease curling in your chest.

You couldn’t help but hear Daniel’s chuckle at the mention of the wigs, but it didn’t faze you. You pressed on, even though you felt Armand’s gaze shift, no longer warm or affectionate. It had become something colder, sharper, something you couldn’t quite place.

“I woke up in the theater, on the stage,” you continued, your voice steadier now, the weight of the memory pressing down. “Claudia, Louis, and Madeleine were next to me. Our Achilles’ heels torn, so we couldn’t run.”

You felt the silence stretch, thick with tension. Even Daniel’s amusement seemed to fade as your words lingered in the air, heavy with the truth of what had come next.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “I assume they put you on trial? For what, exactly? Killing Lestat, I presume?”

You could only nod, the memories flooding back in a rush. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to push them back, but they lingered like a shadow, heavy and impossible to ignore.

“And where was your love, Armand?” Daniel asked, now turning his gaze to Armand, who hadn’t shifted an inch. He was eerily still, his eyes fixed on you, unreadable and unblinking.

The silence that followed was thick, like a fog that refused to lift. Armand’s presence filled the room, and you could feel the weight of his attention pressing against you, more suffocating than comforting.

"I have to jump in here," Armand’s voice broke the silence, smooth and almost mocking. "I think my love's memory is a little foggy."

You were forced to look at him, his words pulling your gaze like a magnet. His lips curled into a crooked smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes—dull, black, devoid of warmth—stared at you with an unsettling calm, as if he were carefully rearranging the pieces of a puzzle you didn’t fully understand.

"I know how the trial happened," you said, forcing a smile at him, trying to reclaim some control. "You don’t have to speak for me."

Armand’s hand, which had been lightly resting on your thigh, stilled. The tension between you thickened, but he didn’t back down.

"I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important," he replied, his voice smooth, though the undertone of something darker lingered. "But if we want the people to know the truth, we should give it to them. Don’t you think so?"

He tilted his head again, studying you with a gaze that felt both tender and unsettling. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your ear. His touch, so gentle, pulled a reaction from you before you could stop it. You leaned into it, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin, despite the coldness in his eyes. It was a comforting, familiar warmth, but it made your heart skip nonetheless.

"So what exactly happened?" Daniel asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he waited for an answer, his eyes flicking between you and Armand.

Before you could respond, Armand’s voice sliced through the air, gentle but commanding, as though he had already decided the direction this conversation would go.

You wanted to speak, to reclaim the words, but your mouth wouldn’t move. It was as if your mind had sealed your mouth shut, leaving you unable to break the silence Armnd had claimed. You sat frozen, a quiet tension building, unable to shake the feeling that the answer would come from him and not you.

"I want to apologize for the false answer you were given," Armand said, his voice smooth and reassuring, though there was an underlying edge to it. "Nobody can blame her. It’s been a few decades, after all."

His thumb began to trace gentle circles on your thigh, an attempt to soothe the growing tightness in your chest, but his words felt like a weight on your heart.

"I was aware of the coven's plan," he continued, his gaze never leaving you, "and went to warn my dear American friends. But when I arrived, I could find only mon cœur."

He turned to you then, a soft smile curling at the corners of his lips. The warmth of it washed over you, but there was something distant in his eyes, as though he were pulling you into a memory you couldn’t quite grasp.

You didn’t remember the way he described it, not at all. But as he spoke, you couldn’t help but wonder—maybe, after all these years, it was easy to forget.

It took another three hours before Daniel finally asked for a break, suggesting that the conversation continue the next day. You didn’t object; in fact, you welcomed the pause. Armand, as always, was by your side, leading you toward your bedroom.

As he walked behind you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, the tension in the air was palpable, thick enough that you could almost cut it with scissors. You’d made a mistake today, one that almost painted Armand in a bad light. You couldn’t say you were scared—not exactly—but you weren’t thrilled either.

The quiet weight of his presence behind you was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure what to expect once the door closed behind you, but you knew it wasn’t going to be an easy night.

You expected Armand to speak once the door was closed and locked, but he remained silent, allowing the quiet to settle between you. The stillness wrapped around both of you as you went about getting ready for bed, the only sound was the soft rustling of fabric and the distant hum of the house.

But as you changed into your bedrobe, you felt it—his gaze, heavy and unwavering, burning into your back. His eyes followed the curves of your body, lingering on every movement, never once leaving you. It was unnerving, that constant watchfulness, like he was cataloging each detail of you, and yet, somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to look back.

It wasn’t until you lay back on the bed, stealing glances from where you sat, that you watched Armand get comfortable in the robe you’d bought him. He didn’t rush, moving with a natural ease that always seemed deliberate, as though every gesture was meant to be noticed.

He was beautiful in a way that never stopped catching you off guard. Like when his hair fell in loose waves, brushing just over his eyes, and even the slight crook of his nose added to his charm, making him seem more real, more human—if only just. You couldn’t help but admire him, even after all this time.

He knew it. Of course, he did. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. He didn’t need to meet your gaze to know you were watching. He always knew when your attention was on him—and he soaked it in like sunlight.

"The conversation almost got out of control today," Armand said, his voice breaking the silence. He turned to face you, his head tilted in that way he always did, his eyes slowly scanning you from head to toe.

"I'm sorry," you said with a soft chuckle, your gaze warm as you looked up at him. As he stepped closer, his presence seemed to fill the room, his figure towering over you in that quiet, commanding way of his.

"Guess I got the facts wrong," you continued, your tone light but unsure. "Even though... I can’t quite recall the version you described to Daniel."

He stayed quiet for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you shiver. It felt like he was trying to see right through you, to penetrate your thoughts and mind with nothing more than a look.

You knew he could. He was an ancient vampire, after all, with gifts far more powerful than most could comprehend. But even as the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it away. Armand would never take advantage of that, not with you.

You loved him too much to doubt him, even for a second. And perhaps, deep down, you knew that was exactly what he wanted—to be loved without question.

"My dear," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips as he slowly bent his knees, kneeling in front of you. His hands rested lightly on your ankles, grounding you as you propped yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze.

"It’s been decades," he continued, his tone gentle, almost comforting. "It’s only natural to forget or mix things up. After all, I was there to correct you. Nothing bad happened." His lips curved into a smirk, the words flowing sweetly, meant to soothe.

But as his gaze lingered on you, you couldn’t help but catch it—the faint spark of coldness in his eyes. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there, sharp as a blade hidden behind silk.

"I’m always going to be there," he added, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand moved slowly, trailing up from your ankle to your knee, the touch light but unyielding.

He never broke eye contact, his gaze locking you in place. There was something possessive in the way he looked at you, something that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t fear—not exactly—but the weight of his promise, the intensity of his presence, was enough to make you quiver.

"Good," you said with a nod, doing your best to ignore the warmth swirling in your stomach. Even after seventy years, he still had that effect on you. You chuckled, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Because I’ll hunt you down if you ever dare to leave."

Your tone was light, but the weight behind your words was anything but. You meant it. Armand had his secrets, just as you had yours, but one thing you shared was an obsession—an all-consuming need for each other.

You couldn’t imagine your life without him; in truth, you could barely remember the life you had before him. as though the years before he arrived had been erased. Every memory you held close revolved around him, around the two of you together.

And you were determined to keep it that way. Forever.

"I would never," he said softly, a small smile gracing his lips before he leaned in and pressed them to yours. The kiss was brief but filled with warmth, meant to reassure you, to steady the swirling emotions inside.

As he pulled back, his face lingered close to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, "I didn’t tell Mr. Molloy the whole truth. When I went to warn you... I left out some things."

Your brow furrowed in confusion, your heart pounding as you hung on to his every word. "What’s that?" you asked, your voice soft, as you reached up to gently place your hand on his cheek.

He looked almost unreal, like a sculpture of a devil—sinful, beautiful. The candlelight bathed him in a warm glow, casting shadows that only deepened the beauty of him. His dark skin seemed to drink in the light as if he were made of something otherworldly.

You had seen angels before, in your long life, but none could compare to the beauty of the devil kneeling between your legs. The one who had always held you in his thrall. The one you could never, ever escape.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his presence fill the space between you, his body slowly overpowering yours. With a gentle but firm push, he guided you onto your back, the weight of him settling above you, dominating yet tender. His lips found the crook of your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses against your skin, while his hands drifted down to your waist, pulling you closer.

A quiet moan escaped your lips as his lips traveled to your collarbone, each kiss sending shivers of electricity down your spine. His touch was slow, deliberate, and as his fingers slid to the top of your robe, you could feel the tension in the air tighten around you.

"After you opened the door and I came to warn you about the coven’s plans..." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as his hand lingered at the top of your robe, barely brushing your skin. He moved his lips over your neck, your jaw, finally finding yours in a deep, searching kiss. "I couldn't prevent it."

His kiss grew more intense, and you wanted to ask him why—why didn’t he stop? Why hadn’t you left? But before you could, his lips silenced you, pressing against yours as his other hand slipped beneath your waist, pulling your body flush against his. The warmth between you overwhelmed everything else, leaving you breathless and speechless, caught in the weight of the moment.

Your hands instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You needed him in that moment, more than anything else in the world. Everything else—the journalist in your house, the unfinished conversation, the looming threats and dangers—disappeared. None of it mattered.

The only thing that existed was him—his touch, his lips, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. Your mind raced with thoughts of him, drowning out every other sound, every other thought. Nothing else mattered. Just him. The feeling of him. The weight of his presence. That was all there was.

You felt his hand pull away from your chest, and a soft, frustrated sound escaped your lips in protest. But before you could voice more, he guided his wrist to your mouth. His eyes never left yours, dark and full of unspoken intentions.

You knew exactly what he wanted—what both of you craved. His pulse throbbed beneath your lips, and without hesitation, you sank your fangs into his wrist, the familiar, cinnamon taste of his blood filling your senses. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. The warm droplets fell from your chin, tracing down your neck and chest, as you drank deeply, savoring every drop. His blood was always sweeter than you remembered, more potent, more familiar than anything else.

It felt like home.

You couldn't stop. Every drop of his blood filled you with a rush of heat, the world around you starting to blur as your senses sharpened. Your eyes closed instinctively, your head tilting back as pleasure coursed through you. His blood was intoxicating, and you were lost in it, unable to think of anything else.

The soft moans and whimpers escaping from Armand only pushed you further, each sound making you crave him more. You heard his voice, faint and distant, but it barely registered as you kept drinking, the taste of him flooding your senses. His hands gripped you, but you hardly noticed, lost in the sensation of him.

You wanted more. Needed more. His blood, his presence, it was all that mattered. And for a moment, everything else faded away.

You didn’t know how long it had been—minutes, hours, maybe just seconds—lost in the feeling of his blood coursing through you. All you knew was the way his face shifted when he gently pulled his wrist from your mouth, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His blood still lingered on your tongue, warm and intoxicating, slowly dripping down your chest as you let go of him, your body humming with the aftermath.

He loomed above you, but now his head rested against your chest, seeking solace in the warmth of your skin as his breath steadied. You stroked his hair, fingers threading through his dark curls, trying to ground him as much as yourself.

Your fingers traced the mess on your chest, and without thinking, you brought them to your lips, savoring the last lingering taste of him. The warmth, the sweetness, it felt like the only thing that mattered, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

As Armand rested on you, his breath warm against your chest, the fog in your mind began to clear, just a little. Flashes of the past few hours started to resurface—his visit, the warning about the coven, the tension in the air. It all felt distant, like you were trying to grasp a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto, but there it was. A few more pieces of the puzzle fitting together, the edges blurring into something you could finally begin to understand.

You couldn't remember how many times he'd done this—how many times he'd stepped in to help, to keep you from slipping into that haze, to save you from the things you couldn’t hold onto. Each time, he was there, gently piecing you back together, never asking for much in return. A small knot of guilt twisted in your stomach. Maybe you hadn’t realized how often he’d carried this weight for both of you.

But then you felt his hand tighten around your waist, his presence anchoring you, and that guilt faded away, swallowed by something deeper. It wasn't just about him fixing your memories. It was how, despite everything, he made you feel like you were never truly lost. Like you were still whole, still his.

"Je t’aime chaque jour davantage, Arun," you whispered, the words flowing from your lips like a secret you'd been holding onto for eternity.

Armand lifted his head to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. He was so consumed by you, so focused on every word, every look you gave him, that even the smallest detail, the evidence of your connection, went unnoticed. And for some reason, that made you smile.

"Je t’aime moi aussi, mon cœur," Armand murmured, his voice soft, reverent, as he rested his chin against your chest. His eyes, those dark pools of mystery, were half-lidded, and for a moment, you could see the rawness of his desire in the way his flushed cheeks caught the candlelight, his waves of dark hair falling over his forehead like a veil. The world outside of him and you ceased to exist.

You ran your fingers through his hair, losing yourself in the softness of it, in the way he seemed to melt against you. He was so beautiful, every inch of him a reminder of the eternity you'd spent together. He was warmth and darkness, light and shadow all at once—an enigma you couldn’t unravel, no matter how many lifetimes you lived.

Eternity would never be enough, not when it came to him. You needed him, needed to consume him. To become one with him in every sense of the word. Your lips ached to kiss him, not just his mouth, but his very skin, every inch of him, to touch the bones of him.

And he wanted the same.

You could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his body pressed against yours, as if his very soul was entwined with yours. What you two shared wasn’t just love. It wasn’t just desire. It was an all-consuming need—an obsession that humans could never truly understand. It was a bond that reached beyond anything they could comprehend, an unspoken language of the heart and mind. You didn’t need to say it; you both knew.

There was no end to it. Only the now. Only him.

"I'm starting to remember," you murmured after a few quiet moments, feeling Armand settle closer beside you. His fingers lazily traced the fabric of your robe, a soft touch that made you feel safe, anchored. "When you came to warn me. It's still a little foggy, but it’s there. I’m sorry I doubted you."

You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you, calm and steady. The fragments were falling into place, his words reassuring you, reminding you of things you hadn't been able to fully grasp. His version of the events felt so right, so natural, and you couldn't help but let the memories shape themselves around what he had shared. You trusted him completely. And yet, beneath it all, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind wondered how easily you’d forgotten things before. But that thought was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it came, leaving you only with the certainty of what Armand had guided you to remember.

"I'm glad you're remembering now," he whispered against your neck, his fangs grazing the delicate skin. "But if you ever forget something, I’ll always be here to help restore your memories."

A smile tugged at your lips as his hand slid beneath your robe, his fangs sinking into your neck, tasting your blood. The sensation was beyond anything you had ever imagined, a pleasure that consumed you completely. You leaned into his touch, surrendering to the feeling of his fangs, the weight of his presence, and the rhythm of his hunger.

With each kiss, each bite, your memories grew clearer. You could recall every detail of that night. Yes. He had come to warn you, just as he had said. Santiago was responsible for Claudia's death, and Lestat had helped orchestrate it. The truth was finally clear to you. You could only trust Armand. Everyone else had betrayed you, deceived you. In his arms, you found safety. On his tongue, you found clarity.

You would never let him go. He was yours, and you were his.

For all eternity.