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growup-thatbeautiful · 2 years

Text

your eyes can be so cruel (just as i can be so cruel)

Warnings: Canon Typical violence, a bit of horror, blood, arguing, canon typical behavior

Tags: Lestat de Lincourt/Louis de Pointe Du Lac, Loustat, The Vampire Chronicles, Fight/Make-Up, Set in Canon,

Summary: Who can blame Lestat for pushing Louis far enough to madness? Of course, that means Lestat has only himself to blame when Louis snaps back

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Lestat de Lincourt was born with a heart that he didn’t grow into until it stopped beating. Until he was given that vampire’s kiss, he never loved with the full capacity that he possessed.

Once he knew he couldn’t have that mortal love, though, everything changed. Nicki, suddenly, was the brightest thing Lestat could lay his eyes upon, and he did so scarcely. Lestat has always forced himself, truly, to love more deeply than others. Therefore, he has no one to blame but himself for the pain of his past. The years spent breaking apart, slowly, over people who, to them, he was just a passing infatuation.

Lestat has never and, unfortunately, due to his natural disposition and gaping heart will never have a passing infatuation. If someone, human or otherwise, does not possess his entire character, every wretched, still, cold vein of his heart, then they simply never possessed him at all.

This is decidedly not the case with one Louis de Pointe du Lac. From the moment he saw Louis, Lestat was, figuratively and, he figures, literally, a goner. Then and there, from one fateful night to another fateful night far in the future, Lestat started looking at Louis and never stopped. How could he have been expected to see Louis, an angel before his vampiric descent, and pass up the opportunity to carve Louis as his own? Ridiculous, really.

Louis is Lestat’s at their best and at their worst. When they fight, and they do fight constantly, Lestat, usually blinded by his own malice, misses Louis dearly. There is no one he would rather converse with through all of those he has met, especially considering the dull and, pardon the humor, lifeless conversations of the other immortals.

Not that Louis can’t be dull at times. Lifeless, never, but dull, certainly. Lestat often has to remind himself how young Louis is compared to him, how little he has lived as an immortal.

At the moment, Louis and Lestat are in their usual spots, Lestat on the red velvet couch across from Louis in their sitting room. Coincidentally, they’re also having their usual argument, a timeless and endless battle between them that has no foreseeable end. The cloudy night air is coming in from the open window, gossamer drapes blowing in the wind.

With an inspiring level of self-control, Lestat tunes back into what Louis is saying. “How can we expect to receive our penitence for our crimes if we never die? Surely you have thought of the fact that there is no atonement for-“

“-oh, but I am so bored with your ceaseless wondering. My patience for your flaws, your inaptitude for our life, is all but worn out,” Lestat interrupts. He has, all at once, reached past the point where he can stand Louis’ moaning about trivial issues like God and their damnation. Why worry when Lestat knows it will never come to a point where he has to face either? His immortality, his constant life, was given to him to be cherished. He’s made it past too many ripped hearts and bleeding memories to quit himself, or others, of his presence. He is much too delightful to be lost to a being as boring as Louis’ God.

Take him at this moment now, for example. Every surface, every carefully chosen plush rug and velvet sofa screams look at me. Naturally, it is all funded by Louis, but not for Lestat’s lack of possessions. He simply can’t find it in himself to come up with a lie convincing enough to explain where his money comes from without explaining everything else. No, it is much easier for Louis to play patron to his wild and impulsive lover. If it was up to Louis, though, they would be living in some ground-floor, dust-covered storefront in the worst part of their beautiful town. Disgusting, really. This is why Lestat makes the decisions, no matter how Louis mocks him for it.

If only he could explain to Louis what he knows, tell him their history. Perhaps, then, they could have a conversation without Louis bringing up God and the Devil or calling Lestat a heartless monster. Never mind that, though; it’s nothing worse than Lestat tells himself daily. It would prove much lighter conversations, however, and ones with a point for once. Why talk about God when Akasha is a prepossessing stone deity who exists in their very realm? When Magnus walks the earth just as them, golden without light? Even Armand, that pitiful and broke vampire that Lestat left all those years before, has his beauty, his moments of irresistibility.

Louis lets out a laugh. A false, humorless laugh. “My flaws? I implore you, tell me what you think they are and I will readily absolve myself of them,” he says, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

“As you have absolved yourself of any desire to enjoy any aspect of our lives?” Lestat mocks. The unexplainable and immediate urge to push Louis further, make him snap, give him a reason to run away is strong tonight, implored by the starless night.

“A crime that you cannot go to the theater alone. Tell me, are you scared or simply incapable of protecting yourself?”

“Incapable? Never, my love. I simply much prefer the entertainment of your constant complaints,” announces Lestat dryly. For all the thousands of words slipping from his lips with practice, has long since perfected the art of saying things without truly saying anything at all. It’s a gift of his, albeit one that serves to hurt himself as much as it hurts others.

Louis runs a hand through his hair, an intimately human gesture that Lestat easily lets himself get distracted by. “My complaints, as you call them, have substance to them, at the least. Much more preferable to the bustle and thinkless thoughts of the company you choose,” says Louis pointedly.

“My company is excellent,” defends Lestat. He knows he’s wrong, fully and completely. He supposes the same way Louis knows he’s wrong about most of his wonderings. They’re pointless arguments for argument's sake when Lestat is willing to argue with Louis, of course. There is a certain specific level of power, willingness that Lestat must have in order to fight with his lover. It’s different from Claudia’s passive aggression and the strangers he finds to quarrel with mindlessly. It matters because it’s Louis, who would rather go back into the ground than actually upset intentionally.

Lestat’s company, however, is purposefully and decidedly horrible. He keeps it that way for a reason, not that he would expect Louis to know that. How could he? The innerworkings of Lestat are not understood by any, including himself.

“It is not,” argues Louis back. “It is dismal at the best of times and outright horror at the worst. There is not another who is as insistent about the wrong things as you are.” From Louis, Lestat takes the insults happily, knowing the lack of substance behind them. If Louis were truly mad, they would not be sitting in the same room, nor would Claudia be in their presence. Their fighting always irks her to no end, her preferring more adult matters, as she would say. Lestat accepts the comments with humor and as much dignity one can have while being scolded by someone half their height.

“Possibly, but it is entertaining, at the least.”

“It is nothing but a burden to me,” exclaims Louis, reclining on the sofa.

“Ah, so I can tell. You cannot bear to be in my presence,” laughs Lestat, gesturing to Louis’ choice of seating. A phantom blush rises to Louis’ cheeks at being caught so clearly. It’s undeniable that, even when he cannot stand to speak to Lestat, the comfort of his presence is not an indulgence Louis can deny himself. While there is no physical warmth in the company of Lestat or much sentimental warmth coming from Lestat himself, they are home to each other.

“Claudia possesses more brains in the tip of her pinky finger than you do in your whole body, my love,” responds Louis. Lestat knows he’s changing the subject, rather uncoordinatedly, but lets it slide.

“How you curse me so. I, who you owe everything to. I, who you could not bear to live without.” It’s Lestat’s most commonly played card, when he shows a fallacy of a hand that forces Louis to fold his cards as well.

“Bear it? I think I could readily prove to bear your absence. In fact, I would cherish it. You owe nothing to me, just as I owe nothing by you. You beneficiary of giving me this life, which I did never ask for, has long since worn out with your constant spending of my own money.”

“And now I suppose we must argue who is whose as well,” groans Lestat petulantly. “Well, let us get it over with.”

“I have never claimed ownership over you. That is a quality solely you look for, Lestat. In your eyes, I must be yours or I am nothing at all, a lost soul who will surely die within if seconds of your absence,” mocks Louis. “How could I live without you? It’s not as if I have the means on my own.”

“Ah, but you do not. You abash me for my harsh words and whining, yet there is not a night that goes by where you do not repeat that very behavior. Yes, you are mine because I made you, my beautiful angel of death. If you are not mine then you are not anything, you are alone, and that is infinitely worse. The life of our kind in solidarity is pointless to try. I do not recommend that path, my love.” Despite the finishing sentiments of his speech, there is a great deal of venom in his words, scarred from the burning sting of everything past. This, these words, Lestat knows to be true. They have been proven correct time and time again.

“I do not believe you, of all people, know that loss. Loneliness, like a plague in my mind, surely had no effect on someone as scornful as you. Solitude at it’s core, needs cause, and I do not believe you could ever be inflicted enough to need such means. You, at your core, do not have the capability to lose because you have no capability to love. They are mutually exclusive events. No, Lestat, I find the idea impossible.”

Lestat cannot reply. For once, words, his only constant companion these years, escape him. His sweet Louis, his creation, speaking the words to wound him more than the damned sun. Slowly, the grin on Louis’ face slips away. Lestat knows his fanged smile is long since gone, replaced by a stupefied, stunned face.

“Lestat?” asks Louis, taking a haltering step towards Lestat. Like Louis is the sun, Lestat backs away. His mind, usually brimming with unvoiced thoughts, is blank with ringing sirens.

In the corner of his eye, he sees Claudia peeking up from her book, a bored sort of interest on her face, her lips parted and her head tilted to the side.

A glass doll supplies a helpful voice in his head. Nothing more than porcelain. She will break. He dutifully ignores the thoughts and tries to meet Louis’ eyes.

“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome here.” It doesn’t matter that this house is theirs, not Louis. Nothing matters except getting out of this room, away from this suffocating silence.

“No, Lestat, don’t go. Let us talk about this, tell me-“

“I’ll be back before morning. Don’t stay up.” Louis’ further protests fall of ears only listening to the footfalls that take Lestat further away from the pain.

Some people underestimate the torture of love, how vulgar and alarming it can be. Lestat has never been such a person. He knew from the beginning, with his mother’s harsh truths and Nicki’s conflicting adoration. Even his lovely Claudia bites at times. That is nothing compared to the anguish of Louis’ love. It seems, in times like these, to be a viscously repeating cycle against them, rocking back and forth between hurting each other.

Mindlessly, he walks down the stairs, hand floating above the banister without touching it. The front door is large and inviting in front of him, a night that he can’t resist. With a dramatic flourish, he puts on his deep green overcoat and walks outside. It’s another cloudy winter night, the chill of the air nothing compared to the natural chill of his skin.

He passes through the neighborhood streets, quiet footsteps adding to the symphony of the night. In one of the houses that he walks past, he can hear the bustle of a party, laughter, and joy through an open window. On any other night, he would want to join in, make himself the cause of laughter, and show off the beauty he knows he has. Tonight, silence is preferable. Besides, he’s been to parties there before. They’re never worth charming his way in.

The neighborhood slips away into the lamplit streets of the city, ivy crawling on the walls and the perfume of clouds filling the night. Slowly, the aroma of bread and spices take over as he gets closer to the center of the city. Mortals pass by, women with frilled umbrellas and men wearing tailcoats, all busy and on their way to some unimportant nightime date.

It’s not the mortal delicacies that catch his mind, though. The smells of fresh seafood simmering on homemade grills and burning charcoal draw his attention like a pesky gnat would: taken with slight notice then without a second thought. They don’t matter to him, don’t draw his attention. Not the way that the people do.

There’s a cafe on the corner that he frequents when he wants to simply watch. It’s open all night, offering warmth and shelter from the drizzle that’s just starting. The barista knows him by name, knows his order by heart too. It’s Lestat’s tendency to order the most expensive thing on the menu if only to savor the idea of all the work that goes into it. His usual corner table in the corner is open, secluded from the others. A white porcelain steaming cup of coffee is in his hand, one of his fingers tracing the top of the foam absent-mindedly, his complexion rosy from feeding moments ago in a crowded alley.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, observing everyone who crosses his path. No one approaches him, his glowering figure being imposing enough to scare anyone away. He isn’t in the mood to talk anyway.

The rain stops eventually, and Lestat takes that as a sign to go home. Contemplation never was his strong suit, especially when all it can do is cause him pain. There are a lot of lines of thought that he would much rather consider than the idea that Louis doesn’t think Lestat cares. Is he not clear enough? Is Louis and Claudia’s very presence not a testament to his adoration of them? He couldn’t bear for them to grow older, lose themselves. He had to immortalize his angelic loves then and there.

Does Louis really believe that Lestat hasn’t lost something throughout those years? Naturally, Lestat hasn’t shared everything about his life story. It’s not exactly a beacon of hope for a new vampire. But one doesn’t make it through all the time Lestat’s made it through without a great deal of pain. It’s a testament to his age, all the things he’s done.

It’s not like Lestat isn’t emotional; no one has ever accused him of that. He just feels so much sometimes. It can be easier not to talk about it.

Lestat continues his thinking on the walk home. The air is humid and the stone streets running with water. He’s always loved the rain, more specifically after the rain. It serves as a balm to his aching heart.

Maybe there’s some truth to Louis’ words, at least a little. Lestat’s dramatics and feeding can sometimes seem like he doesn’t care, like he’s unsentimental, even cruel. But is that what Louis thinks? Louis, who has been his companion for these 50 years, who has gotten to know him surely more than any other since-

Well. Since a long time ago.

It is not fair, he decides, to blame Louis for thinking such things. Louis, for all his flaws, is kind above all, before he is cruel. If he thought he was going to hurt Lestat, he wouldn’t have said such a thing. It’s not as if Louis knows, truly, what Lestat has been through. He doesn’t know how he lost Nicki and the Gabrielle, and even Magnus.

By the time Lestat has reached the house, he has all but forgotten why he was ever upset, a thought in his mind to explain to Louis a little more, not reveal too much, but just enough. Enough for Louis to understand, to see where Lestat comes from. To stop this indecent and unnecessary fighting between them.

The house is dark and lonesome, the only sound is the trees rustling against the wooden walls. Lestat feels a chill run down his spine, an unexplainable loss of warmth by stepping into the front door. There is no noise coming from any of the upstairs rooms, no telltale pacing footsteps or silver-bell laugh.

“Claudia? My love?” For a moment, a mere blink of an eye, Lestat entertains the thoughts in his head, the terrible, cruel, unfair thoughts. Louis is gone, has taken Claudia and left him at last, pushed over the edge by the last, fitful, and passionate bout of childish sulking of Lestat’s nature. He is dreadfully and completely alone, once again, worse than before because he knows the wholeness of his constant companions. What villainous intent is here, lurking in the empty rooms? Surely nothing was ever among Louis and Claudia’s presence.

And the voices rise up from the shadows, loud as a vampiric song, bursting forth from the very walls around him, meant to protect him.

Lelio says one.

Wolfkiller cries another.

My creation. Lestat takes a step back, stumbling blindly into a wall.

My son.

Young one.

Beautiful one.

Blue-eyed prince.

Devil.

Angel.

Damned.

Good.

Then, rising above the noise from a loving, tender, familiar voice, one that doesn’t loath him or worships him, one that hasn’t left him behind, perhaps the only one to deliver him from himself. “Lestat.”

Again, with more emphasis. “Lestat.” Lestat’s head is whipped around by the sound, a quite regular reaction to this particular voice. He doesn’t register moving, like the air doesn’t touch him when he shifts.

He thinks Louis doesn’t see him move, judging by the surprised sound that’s forced out of his mouth. Louis, stable Louis, stumbles backward, but his arm instinctively wraps around Lestat’s hips.

The other arm comes up to hold his face, so gently. “My love, we’re you frightened?”

Oh, the sweet intoxication that encompasses everything that is Louis! The torture of his absence and the blissful release of his return. It’s a never-ending up and down, a whiplash of emotional highs and lows that he can hardly keep track of. Louis is Lestat’s reason for existence, which has never been more clear. Sure, Lestat can tell himself that he’s independent or can take care of his needs, but he has been shown time and time again how much he yearns for company. First, he had Gabrielle, then Nicki, both of whom he lost quickly and with a deserved amount of pain. Then, Magnus and the stone Akasha, lovely in their own ways. Now, he has Louis, who takes care of Lestat in his own way. Lestat knows no one who is as dutiful a partner as Louis has proven to be. Lestat knows that he isn’t always the easiest to be around. Only today he has been antagonistic and rude, distant and on the verge of hysterical.

Like he’s leading a cagey, wounded animal, Louis leads Lestat with a hand on the small of his back. Through the thick material of his coat, which Lestat is only now realizing he never took off, he can feel the heat of Louis’ hand. He must have fed again.

They walk through the halls of their home, passing dusty rooms until they reach a heavy wooden door. Louis shoulders it open bodily, his hands never leaving Lestat. The smell of old books and candle wax fills the air, the library fire lighting the whole room and filling it with the crackling sound of flames.

“Are you alright?” is Louis' first question, once they’re seated in plush armchairs by the fire. The chairs are strategically placed close to each other, their knees touching with a slight but constant pressure. “Because I cannot help but blame myself for this whole affair. I hurt you, more than I meant to. More than I ever want to.”

“Sentimental fool,” accuses Lestat fondly. “My Louis, my tortured one, you have plagued yourself enough for one night. Join me in joyful revels of mortal souls.” It’s an uncommon olive branch between the two of them, an offer to distract Louis and appease Lestat.

“How can I, when I have wounded you so? Sliced at things I did not understand, did not consider. Your past, a definition and cause of the man you are today has owned you greater hurt than I ever thought. So often I forget that your time before me was not just empty years. You had love then as you do now, and I am by no means a first of anything.”

Lestat takes a moment to respond, a testament to the gravity of the situation. It’s not often that he thinks before he speaks. “My love, I am not as wise as my years should have made me, but I know this. Never in my death, and most assuredly not in my short life, have I spent such cadence with another. It is not usual, I think, for creatures like us to find solace in each other. We are hateful, solitary things; we cannot help it, it is simply in our nature. However, we are not unloving, you and I. To the pure annoyance of the rest of our kind, we love mortally and without trepidation. I have had many loves with different names, in my years. Admittedly, they have known me by different names as well. I cannot think of a single one that has not ended in my heartbreak and tears, but I do not blame them. How could I? I am the insufferable one; I am the lonely, bratty, arrogant one.”

“You are not,” interrupts Louis finally. His voice soft, his eyes truthful. His hand flutters at his side, like he wants to reach out to Lestat, but doesn’t. Lestat misses his touch at this moment.

“Oh, I know I am,” laughs Lestat. “I do not hold it against myself, generally. May I continue?”

“Please.” Louis’ words are strained and thin, as if he doesn’t want to hear this. Lestat would believe so if he hadn’t asked for this.

“For everyone I have loved, none have stayed or seen it through. There was my Nicki, my violinist, who I loved before I was what I am. Nicki, who begged so oppositely of what we begged for; to be like us. He wanted it so fiercely, but he hated me for it. That, or he always hated me in some way and my gift made it clear to him. You know how it is. I hope to your God that that isn’t true and Nicki was the person I remember before everything went amiss, the good, kind man who would debate with me for hours. Then, there was Gabrielle. I loved her deeply, completely, in the way only a son can love.”

“She—she was your mother?”

“At first, yes. Then she was just Gabrielle with hair like mine and a distinct impatience for my obsessions and constant questions. Opposite of us, really. You would have taken to her, her independence and strength. Truly, she is where Claudia gets her bravo.”

“You’re certain the bravo isn’t from you?” interrupts Louis, a gentle smile on his face. Claudia, as always, is an easy bridge between them. Lestat is ever grateful for Louis’ ability to read him, understand him more fully than anyone else can.

“I’m not brave,” admits Lestat. “I simply have a partiality to not following any rules. People mistake that for courage more often than not. I see something set in tradition or people who are comfortable at all and I ruin or destroy on sight.”

“That cannot be true. Despite my vanity and self-loathing, you have not ruined me. And you protected Claudia from a horrible fate.” This time, Louis does reach out and tuck a stray curl behind Lestat’s ear.

“No, my love, that was you that saved her. I used her, as I do with most things, to keep you with me, in my own true selfish fashion. Not that I haven’t adored her every second she is with us, or, I admit, wished for her presence long before you or she ever existed,” Lestat reveals, emotion heavy in his voice, but he leans into the hand by his face anyway, not willing to deny himself to comfort of Louis. “And how could anyone ever ruin you, Louis? You are stubborn and solid. I do not give even myself the credit to ruin you, try as I can.”

“Ruin me?” breathes Louis. “Lestat, never have I thought that you would be my ruin. My annoyance, yes, and my shadow, yes, but with those things comes everything good about you. Your light and your intense obsession with all the world has to offer. You see something a million times and it’s like you’ve never seen it before, each night bringing a different shade of starlight to paint your perspective. You have not ruined me, and you never will. You awaken me, you give me life, you make my ghost of a pulse beat faster. You save me.”

“My Louis,” sighs Lestat. He cannot keep the adoration out of his voice, the love clearly written in his face and in his voice. “There are times when I cannot help but feel as though I am keeping you here and I loathe myself for it. That doesn’t mean I consider letting you go, though. Am I your prison? Don’t answer, I do not wish to know other than the answers in my own head. I do wish for you to know, however, that the list of things that I would do for you is long and inexhaustible. My pride, my body, my soul, I would all put on the line for you and Claudia. Unfortunately, on that list, numbered fairly early on, is you escaping me. You are too feeling, too different from the rest of us to be kept by my side unwillingly. My company is not easy, nor has it ever been. Above all things, I am selfish to need you by my side, stuck with the knowledge that you can thrive without me, as you did for the first years of your life. If we have reached the time when you leave, with your new knowledge of our kind, limited as it is, then do so now before I think you are staying.” Lestat closes his eyes, like that will help him. Louis has such a presence, such an impact on Lestat; he is always known when he is near.

“Lestat, look at me.” There’s a finger under Lestat’s chin that forces his eyes to meet Louis’ warm eyes. “You are no prison to me. No, do not scoff, it is only the truth. There is no place I would rather be than here with you. Let me correct myself. There is no place I would rather be than with you. Your company, your existence beside me, is comfort more than anything. I would follow you anywhere. Anywhere. You are my home. You, Lestat, are the person I go to when I need to be reminded why I continue my life. When you are gone, I feel your absence almost as much as I feel your presence when you are with me. You are—you are overwhelming in the best way.”

Lestat can resist no longer. With uncoordinated movements, he launches himself into Louis’ waiting arms, wrapping himself around his lover. In true Louis fashion, he accepts the gesture without a word of mocking towards Lestat’s unbridled adoration and kisses the top of Lestat’s head.

“My love, I have waited all night for your embrace,” whispers Louis, a confession between just them.

“You must wait no longer. This and every night, my embraces are yours for the taking. I’m yours for the taking. Simply say the word. Any word, for you, my Louis, any word will do.”

“Lestat,” replies Louis simply, a glimmer in his eyes. Such danger in those eyes, such trouble. Lestat has never, not once, shied away from trouble.

“Good choice.” Let the trouble begin.

#loustat #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #lestat x louis #louis x lestat #the vampire lestat #the vampire chronicles #interview with the vampire #vampires #self indulgent fic #tvc #tvc lestat #tvc louis #lestat de lioncourt fic #tvc fic #tvc fanfic #tvc fanfiction #lestat fanfic

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apocoeurlypse · 1 day

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Armand and Lestat in IWTV 2.03 - No Pain + TVL

#amc iwtv #iwtv s2 #iwtv #interview with the vampire #armand #lestat de lioncourt #iwtvedit #*m #tvc quote #someone link me to some fucked up lesmand fic please

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desertfangs · 2 months

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Imagine being a housekeeper at Trinity Gate and your horror book club starts reading The Vampire Lestat and you're like oh yeah, that whole publicity stunt with the band in the 80s. And then you get invested and you're reading through the books and you get to The Vampire Armand, and realize the young people who live in this house--when they live there, they travel a lot--seem so much like the ones described on the pages, and how everyone's asleep during the day, and surely that's just a coincidence, New York is full of eccentric rich people with strange habits.

But you start to wonder... so maybe in your free time you dig up the tax records and see they're under some corporation you can't possibly hope to trace. And then you read Prince Lestat and remember when the house was clearly full of guests who never appeared while you were working, the kitchen always strangely devoid of food... The pieces click into place. You're not going to say anything, this is a damn good job, and it pays so much better than the housekeeping jobs at neighboring houses. Besides, it's a good gig to rarely see the people you're working for. And anyhow, maybe you're just making up stories.

But when you do see them, you can't help but notice some oddities... the parlor of their skin, the strange way they move or more unsettingly don't move. One night you see one of your bosses in the garden, and can't stop staring at how the moonlight glows against their pale skin...

And then you wake up at home. Your head is fuzzy. You must have gone out last night but you don't remember. You panic you're late for work but suddenly can't remember where you work or when. That's odd. You remember your name, your birthday, what year it is (although you thought it was a week earlier than your phone seems to claim). And your checking account is full. Fuller than you ever remember it being. You frown at your phone. And then your eyes dance over to your bookshelf. You see a stack of vampire books and feel uneasy. You take them to the library and donate them all, wanting them out of your home for reasons you can't explain.

#idk what this is #it was supposed to be a headcanon post that got away from me #trinity gate #vc #this is what happens when my brain is fried at work all week and i get a moment of peace i guess #armand #vampire chronicles #tvc #the vampire armand #the vampire lestat #vc fic #vc fanfic #microfic #microfiction

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vcmicroficmay · 2 months

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lovevamp · 6 months

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the pleasure moved all through me, and helpless, i let the air escape my lips in a rosary of sighs.

“master, master, master, i love you."

#i made these instead of editing my fic i said i was gonna update today #marius de romanus #armand #tvc #marimand #is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?#anyways #kenz.pic

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leslutdepointedulac · 26 days

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Sleep

Micromay ~ Week 1: Sleep

They look so peaceful in their sleep. Mere hours ago, Lestat might have been alone this morning but now he has a family once again; his lover and their new daughter. It’s something he never thought would be possible, that he would find sanctuary in this familial unit he’s created. Yet there they are, sleeping soundly.

Claudia lies nestled into Louis’ side, her little hand clutching tightly to the front of his shirt. It looks almost natural to see Louis with a child in his arms, their child.

A shiver runs through Lestat at the thought of him almost losing his beloved. It’s not that he didn’t anticipate it coming at some point, but no matter how much he had prepared himself, the words, “I’m leaving you”, still sent Lestat’s heart sinking. Just the thought of it now causes him to feel choked up; the tears forming in his eyes are forced down. It was enough to keep his emotions in check at the time.

But now isn’t a time for sorrow, it’s a moment of happiness. Against all odds, not only has he prevented Louis from abandoning him, but he’s brought them together, even stronger than before. He’s given him reason to stay. The fact that he himself wasn’t enough for Louis hurts him more than he would care to admit, but it’s no matter now.

The girl is exactly what they need. The girl will save them.

Despite his joy, Lestat can’t help but think back to Marius’ warning words. They must never know the secrets of their kind. They must never discover even one aspect of his own past, not even in a lie. The story could unravel, one thing could lead to another and soon enough everything would be revealed. He’ll have to do everything in his power to protect his new-found family, to keep them safe from the dangers their kind will show them. They don’t need others; they have each other and they have him. All they’ll ever need is each other.

It won’t be much longer before the sun rises, taking Lestat with it, forcing him into his day of rest. But until then, he will stay and watch over his beloveds. He finds himself kneeling down beside the coffin to get a closer look. Claudia is such an innocent child, so darling and so perfect. He hopes her dreams will be good to her. She’s safe now, here with them. He runs his fingers through her golden ringlets. So delicate, he’s almost afraid to touch her, lest she break into thousands of tiny pieces.

The troubled expression that is ever present on Louis’ features is melted away in his rest. He seems so much calmer and more at peace when he sleeps. Lestat would be lying if he said this was the first time he’s watched over his lover, before the dawn takes him too. It’s the one time he can bear to look at him, without having to fear that look of resentment being cast back. A small part of Lestat questions whether or not bringing the child into this was a good idea. The thought is immediately pushed down when he thinks about what this will do for them. Is it possible for Louis to hate him still, when he’s given him such a gift? A gift for the both of them, even.

Lestat finds his gaze lingering on Louis. How he wishes he didn’t have to wait until tonight to see those emerald eyes again. As much as he despises the hateful glares thrown at him, he would take that any day over never setting eyes on him ever again. His heart begins to ache at the thought of being left behind by one he treasures so dearly. His first loss in love was more than enough, it’s not necessary to go through that a second time.

Like with Claudia, Lestat finds himself reaching to touch Louis. He hesitates, his hand hovering only inches away from his face, like he’s scared of those eyes fluttering open and catching him in the act. As if he’s expecting to be scalded by Louis’ burning hatred. He takes the risk. He’d sooner be burned than relinquish his love for him. Inky locks are swept gently away from his love’s face, as Lestat seems unable to keep his fingers from threading through his hair.

His hand comes to rest on the side of his face, while he watches him intently. Once again, Lestat feels a lump rise in his throat. What is he doing so wrong? Why is it that Louis insists on keeping him locked out, caging himself in his own resentment? Whatever it is, Lestat is sure all of that will disappear now.

Would Gabrielle be pleased for him, understand why he had to do what he did? Knowing her, probably not. He thinks about her from time to time. Where is she now? What is she doing? There are more miles between them now than ever before, but maybe it’s for the best. Besides, he has his own family now, one he made for himself, and they will be forever happy together.

One happy family.

Various thoughts race through Lestat’s mind, asking himself where they will go from here. They’ll need to find somewhere more permanent for starters, and provisions will need to be made for their daughter.

None of that’s important now though. For now, all that matters is that they’re together. Lestat closes the distance between himself and Louis, leaning over the edge of the coffin and Claudia to press a light but loving kiss to his forehead. He brushes one last stray strand of hair from his face, before leaning back to gently kiss Claudia’s golden curls.

Daylight begins to break and its pull starts to affect Lestat. With great reluctance, he draws back, closing their coffin’s lid and goes to settle in his own coffin. He spares their coffin one last glance before shutting himself in.

[I Did This For Us A03]

@vcmicroficmay

#vcmicroficmay2024 #sleep #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #claudia #loustat #the unholy family #interview with the vampire #iwtv #vampire chronicles #tvc #vc fic #vc fanfic #my vc fics #my vampire chronicles #vc events

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loelett · 8 months

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i usually don't care for swap aus but this one is turning in my brain like a little microwave

#swapfic #sorry for my illegible writing (it's the insanity)#um i started a little fic for this but who knows if i'll do anything with it #might be writihg it wiht butchybats ray....#this is 20 year old louis compared to my usual louis drawings but i might change his hair length to this #rereading claudia's story changed my brain chemistry #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #loustat #iwtv #interview with the vampire #tvc #vc #the vampire chronicles #my art

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showmey0urfangs · 4 months

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Rating: M | Words: 1.3k | Chapters: 1/6 | Pairing: Loustat (background) | AO3

Summary: Uncle Les wanted to have a Christmas ball. He and Daddy Lou had been fighting about it for weeks, their loud arguments slipping between French and English as they always did.

Excerpt:

“I am withering here Louis!” Uncle Les whined, his lips curled into an artful pout. “We have not been in society for years, not to a single party, not to a single show… I want to live Louis!”

Uncle Les was right—though Claudia would rather eaten her own tongue than tell him that. The winter had been dull as all get-out. It was too cold and rainy to enjoy being outside, and Claudia was tired of sitting in the parlour reading books or staying cooped up in her room writing in her diary.

They never had any guests over either, not since Claudia had started living here. The only people they had ever visited had been Louis’s sister, at the wake of their dead mama. And even that was long months ago.

Daddy Lou pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed wearily. “You can go to parties all you want to Lestat. No one’s stopping you. But it’s out of the question for us to host one here. We both remember how that went last time.”

She’d heard from Daddy Lou about all the fun glamourous parties they used to have at the townhouse. He’d said they would have them sometimes every night, with lots of music and dancing that would go on for the entire night.

Daddy Lou had said it like it was a bad thing, but Claudia was starry-eyed just imagining what it must have been like. She could picture herself at one of those parties; putting on a pretty dress and dancing all night long, drinking lots of whisky and champagne even though it tasted awful and burned when it went down her throat.

She wanted to be around grown-ups—the real grown-ups. Not the boring maid who cleaned the house during the day, or the old tutor who came to teach her math and history three times a week.

Read the rest of the fic AO3

#the ball of 1923 #claudia de lioncourt #claudia iwtv #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #interview with the vampire #iwtv #loustat #iwtv fic #tvc #tvc fic #flo's fics

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kittenbradensgf · 1 month

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butchfemme devils minion save meeeeee

#legit read one fic and the idea will not leave my mind #as a femme.. who’s fave is armand… femme lesbian armand is ME #i should dye my hair red again #i just. need them. them #need a butch gf who is also into vampires #sigh!#hmm to tag or not to tag #fuck it #devils minion #armandaniel #tvc #the vampire chronicles

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mlmgaze · 10 days

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Armand/Daniel/Lestat horsing around while Louis is exasperated trying to read on the couch that turns into sloppy three-way kiss on the floor in front of Louis while he watches. you agree. reblog.

#like At His Feet type vibe #im cooking more of the scene too #i gotta finish the other fuckin foursome smut fic i have going tho #sid talking #tvc #the vampire chronicles #do i tag all the ships? idk #disaster polycule #ik some people call it that #loustat #devil's minion #lesmand #louis/daniel

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licncourt · 7 months

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VC Kinktober Day 13 + 20: Edging & Toys

(And another Begin Again Universe fic since you guys liked the last one!)

—

Title: Afterparty

Fandom: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice

Pairing: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Established Relationship, Blood Drinking, Sex Toys, Orgasm Control, Healing Sex, Porn with Feelings

Summary: Louis and Lestat venture into the new sexual practices of the 80s along with some more unique ones of their own.

—

Ao3

@vampirefest

#edging but with blood drinking basically #that feels like a thing that they could do so i tested it out #vc #interview with the vampire #the vampire chronicles #loustat #kinktober #tvc #fic: afterparty

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kaelio · 2 months

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More love as a seance

(as per fic structure, really a one chapter worth of updates broken into 3)

#my fic #tvc

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desertfangs · 2 months

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Strange Happenings

I was listening to a podcast about Cattle Mutilations and then this happened. It's Armand/Daniel, circa 1975, a little more than 1000 words. I will put this in my short fic document on AO3 later.

Daniel’s blood went cold when he read the newspaper headline. He scoured the article and then checked that yes, this was the Denver paper, not some tabloid. He enjoyed a good tabloid story—and since learning that vampires were real, he suspected that some of the stranger things reported on in those rags were not entirely fiction—but this was a mainstream paper: cattle mutilations.

He looked at the grisly photo of a cow with its guts hanging out, parts of it surgically removed. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed a swig of beer to wash it back down. Ash fell from his cigarette onto the paper and he wiped it away, ashing the cigarette in the ashtray on the small round bar table.

He poured over the article several times. The article said some people were suggesting it was prank, while others had more out-there theories. The article did not go into the specifics of what these strange theories entailed but something unnatural was definitely implied. Daniel wondered what that meant. According to the article, incidents like these had been happening for months in different areas around the state.

He was so absorbed in his reading that the movement of the chair across the table startled him and he jumped.

Armand laughed.

Bastard.

The vampire had sat, looking pleased with himself at how easily he’d managed to sneak up on Daniel. As if he didn’t do it all the damn time. Daniel glanced out the window. He hadn’t even realized it had gotten dark.

“What are you reading?” Armand asked, grabbing the newspaper and sliding it across the table before Daniel could answer.

Armand scanned the page and frowned. Daniel studied him, waiting for his reaction. It didn’t take long. Armand didn’t have to read like a mortal. He could just look at something and absorb the information. He had once insisted to Daniel that he was reading, just faster than a mortal brain could ever manage.

“Well? Is that your kind’s doing?”

Armand laughed again. “You think vampires would bother with such elaborate and silly games?”

You seem to enjoy games, Daniel thought before catching himself, remembering how easily the vampire could hear his thoughts.

“I have no interest in the blood of cows,” Armand said. “Nor do I desire to hack pieces off large animals.”

“No? Seems like it would be a fun weeknight activity for someone like you,” Daniel said, tone droll. He stubbed the butt of his cigarette against the ashtray and pulled the paper back in front of him. “Do you know what’s doing it?”

“Bored children, probably,” Armand said.

Daniel laughed. He couldn’t help it. What an absurd response! “You think kids are going out and hacking up farm animals?”

Armand shrugged. “The article suggests as much.”

It did say local teens were suspected in at least one of the incidents, a copycat prank. He tapped his fingers against the table. “So you don’t know of a creature that might do something like this?”

Armand’s expression shifted, darkening almost imperceptibly. He titled his head and examined Daniel for a long moment while Daniel tried not to squirm uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Then he said, “I’ve never heard of such a creature and I cannot fathom what form they would take.”

Daniel sighed. He folded the newspaper up. “What about Bigfoot?”

Armand blinked. “Are you asking if I believe a giant ape man is carving up cattle?”

Daniel shrugged.

“I’ve told you before, Daniel, I have no knowledge of such things existing. I am immortal, I am not all knowing.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniel waved his hand and lit another cigarette. “Do you kill animals often?”

Armand actually looked surprised for a moment, which made Daniel smile. It took a lot to throw Armand off kilter and Daniel took great pleasure in doing so.

Armand reached across the table and snatched the cigarette from Daniel’s mouth at a speed that made it look as if the cigarette had flown into his hand of its own accord. Daniel’s heart raced but he tried not to show the jolt of primal fear that ran through him.

Armand held the cigarette between his fingers the way Daniel did, mimicking his motions. “Humans are animals,” he said idly.

“You know that’s not what I mean. Louis said he survived on rats—"

Armand’s head shot up and there was danger in his amber eyes. Daniel swallowed uneasily and reached for his glass. “Do not think speaking to one of us at length makes you an expert. And even he told you that was not normal behavior.”

Daniel took a swig of his beer. “I’m not an expert, that’s why I’m asking you.”

Armand put the cigarette to his lips. He inhaled, and then pulled it from his mouth, staring at it like it had offended him somehow. “We survive on animal blood when there is no other alternative. It’s your blood—the blood of mortals—that truly sustains us. Nothing else is sufficient.”

Armand stared meaningfully at Daniel’s neck as he spoke and Daniel’s hand went automatically to the spot where Louis had bitten him. It had been two years but he could still feel the ghost of the wound and he often wondered how it would feel to have Armand’s fangs in his neck.

Armand’s hand jutted forward, offering Daniel back his cigarette. He took it, fingers brushing Armand’s cool fingers. He wanted to grab his hand suddenly and hold it in his, to see if it would warm up in his grasp. But Armand had already stood, pushing his chair back.

“Where are you going?” Daniel demanded, without really thinking. He should be relieved the vampire was going. He was ice cold and probably hadn’t fed, and here Daniel was, stupidly asking him all about blood. That was a recipe for getting himself on the menu.

And yet he didn’t hate the idea. Vampires could drink without killing.

Armand leaned over the table and brushed a stray hair out of Daniel’s face. “Indeed we can, but it’s not satisfying. When I drink, I ride the heart until it stops and all the life has bled out.”

Daniel’s pulse raced, ice traveling down his spine. And then Armand was gone, almost as if he’d vanished into smoke. Daniel opened the newspaper again and tried to find something to distract himself, waving to the bartender for another beer. He sure as hell wasn’t going to go back to his hotel room alone until the sun was high in the sky and it was safe to do so.

#armand/daniel #short fic #armand x daniel #armand #daniel molloy #the chase years #devils minion #the devil's minion #devil's minion #vc fic #vc fanfic #short fic sunday #is that a thing #it should be a thing #daniel molloy vs cryptids #vc #vampire chronicles #tvc #armandaniel

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