#damn you Covid for screwing this!!

[mugiwara-lucy]

Anyone remember when we were promised a solo movie of the O’Brien sisters and their shenanigans? 😢

#chesapeake shores #abby o brien #meghan ory #bree o’brien #emilie ullerup #jess o’brien #laci j mailey #hallmark #non anime #damn you Covid for screwing this!!

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 15

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14

A/n :-

Oh lord im so sorry i didnt update. i had a few tests i had to go through ;;-;;. COVID here is rising again so everyone please take care of your health ! exams are finally overrr aksdlksjd now i can write and finish up those requestss Small reminder that a part of Yingxing's name means star, and a part of Dan Jia's name means home !

Taglist : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate , @everi-eve , @shadowfoxey , @helloyuki , @immahuman

"They're ready to head to the base terminals to start them up. Apparently all three of them shut down after conduction of foreseeing your current and past predicament." Fu Xuan said, looking at (Y/n) after she had returned from giving orders to her assistant.

(Y/n) lifted an eyebrow as if to say, 'is it my fault ? Damn, sorry', but Fu Xuan sighed and put a hand on the forearm of the taller lady next to her.

"No, it's not your fault. The symbols on the Matrix have been dimming for quite a while now, it was expected for it to not be able to recount such memories as distant the Era of Bloodshed." Fu Xuan said, shaking her head.

"Then, if so, would it be able to relinquish Kafka's means ?" (Y/n) asked as she looked at the Master Diviner of the Luofu.

"To reread the recent past written by a mortal to another, is hardly much of a chore." Fu Xuan said with a proud huff, her cute cheeks blushing red with happiness.

"I suppose a lady as capable as yourself shouldn't have any problem in pulling through crises." (Y/n) said with a small smirk.

Fu Xuan flushed and she almost beams at the words of the former High Elder of the Vidyadhara. Then she turns away, trying to keep the ghost of a smile hidden from her face.

"You and that sugar-tongued General...he has really been rubbing off on you, hasn't he ?"

(Y/n) chuckled, shaking her head slightly with dusted cheeks. "As it is, fate is inevitably cruel to those blessed with more time than others. It is only natural to adopt similar instances of speech."

"Ugh..." Qingque grumbled, looking down with tears in her eyes. "I worked so hard in getting transferred to the repository. It was the best place to slack off and be invisible..."

"Now, I actually have career prospects...this is terrible !" She sobbed softly. "If I screw up, they might fire me...but if I get it done right, they'll send me more work !"

But as (Y/n) approached, Welt coughed into his fist, stopping Qingque's rambles.

"Lady (Y/n), will you be joining us ?" Welt asked as the royal lady approached them, her hand fan elegantly resting in the palms of her left hand, the hilt firmly wrapped with her right.

"Yes. I am indebted to the Master Diviner, the General, and those who had expressed concern over my wellbeing." (Y/n) said with a nod. "I shall assist you with whatever power I possess."

"L-Lady (Y/n) herself is accompanying us ?" The librarian, whose name was Qingque, as she recalled, said, looking at the horned woman with admiration in her green eyes. She was just grumbling a moment ago how there was extra work but no extra rewards.

Maybe...

"Does that mean we'll get jobs done faster ?"

"Perhaps ?"

"Oh great ! Then, let's go ! I want to play-- i mean..."

The brunette coughed into her fist for a bit.

"I would like to complete the task provided by the Master Diviner as efficiently as possible. Then, spend my leisure time with some relaxing but mind boggling luck based games." Qingque said, trying to mask her want to get the job done and quickly slack off to go play some Celestial Jade.

(Y/n) chuckled a bit before parting ways with the librarian to meet up with Jing Yuan who was addressing the present events with Stelle and March.

"Fu Xuan's Matrix of Prescience was able to go one step further than Kafka. To maintain the upper hand, I had to keep it a surprise. I hope this hasn't made you doubt my sincerity ?" Jing Yuan said with a smile as he nodded at the approach of (Y/n), his smile turning warmer.

March did NOT look impressed. "Next time, ease off on the surprises ?"

"I promise to be more transparent next time. This time it was sealed tight, not even (Y/n) was aware of my moves."

Jing Yuan looked a little guilty, but not by much.

"At present, Kafka has no intention of speaking and the Stellaron Hunters' motives remain unknown. We must rely on the power of the Divination Commission to unearth the truth." The General said again.

"'Unearth the truth'..." Welt said before looking at Jing Yuan. "You mean, interrogate Kafka using the Matrix of Prescience ?"

"Precisely. The Matrix of Prescience is the Divination Commission's ultimate weapon. It was originally used to calculate navigation routes and predict future events..." Jing Yuan said with a slight nod of his head. "With, special exceptions of course."

"Special exceptions ?" March asked, looking quite invested in the functionality of such a master device.

"Yes. For instance interrogation. The secrets of the Stellaron Hunters' cannot remain hidden for any longer. I have no choice but to move beyond conventional protocol -- we must use divination to ascertain Kafka's intent."

"And for the second means, is to peer into the misty fog that prevents power and past knowledge that is needed to be applied in special circumstances and for health purposes." Jing Yuan said, looking at (Y/n). "Lady (Y/n)'s recurring memories were quite literally dragging her consciousness to the brink of insanity. And as you all know, she possesses timeless and indispensable knowledge."

"Everything hinges on restoring the Matrix of Prescience, which is why I would like you to help Diviner Fu complete the setup. I am eternally grateful for your assistance."

"And as such, I would like you all to look after this little princess for me. She wants to come along with you, and I hope you'll help me keep an eye on her." Jing Yuan said as he gestured to (Y/n) with a cheeky grin.

"Wh-what ?! How rude !"

After repairing the first screen, the group teleported to their first destination. The first of three terminals. The Temporal Terminal which correlates with essence of time. "Observes the potential of the temporal plane" as they say.

After arranging the Mutare Magnus of the Temporal Terminal, the group then moved towards the second gate, where there was a malfunctioning robot, sparking with electricity and buzzing circuits.

"What the heck is this ? It looks like a walking gate !" March said, looking at the automaton in slight fear and awe.

"An Aurumaton. A guard-like robot placed in strategic places. The Matrix is very crucial and information abundant, so it's a...protection measure to make sure only those allowed could activate the terminal." (Y/n) said, looking at the malfunctioning piece of metal suspiciously.

"I feel like it needs a sign saying 'mortals forbidden' or something..." March said, hiding behind (Y/n) while holding onto her arm. Then she looked at Qingque with worried eyes. "Are you sure it wont fly into a rage if we walk past it...?"

"We're here by the order of the master diviner to restart the Matrix of Prescience. We're friends -- not foes !" Qingque declared to the Aurumaton.

The malfunctioning Aurumaton stood up, voice crackling with a broken chip. taking a stance. March yelped and (Y/n) pushed March even more behind her, and standing in front of Stelle.

Qingque looked panicked as she looked at the rising Aurumaton. "Ah...! March, you should join the Divination Commission ! Quick, do something !"

"Get back !" (Y/n) exclaimed, pulling out her fan as she summoned, cloudhymn magic to conjure up surrounding water to slip into the broken cracks of the piece of machinery.

"Before me !" (Y/n) commanded, before stomping her foot onto the ground, leaving a crown of ice circling her foot. Then she swung her fan, using her ice powers to freeze the water that slipped into the Aurumaton, locking it in place.

(Y/n) panted as she set down her fan, the fear from the sudden attack taking her by surprise. Her cheeks were a little dusted even though it was an easy battle for her, but she had to admit.

She was scared for a moment there.

"Hurry. Before the ice melts, you have to either destroy it, or spend time looking for the control panel and cutting the wires." (Y/n) said and Stelle hurriedly rushed forward with March by her side.

"It should be on the back !" Qingque said, still cowering behind (Y/n) as she held the legend's arm.

Without thinking much, March found the control circuit and conjured up an ice knife to cut through the colorful wires.

Then, just as hoped, the Aurumaton fell to the ground, broken. It crackled with sparks, as it serving a warning like it would get up again. But knowing that the circuits were ripped apart, they were sure that it was no longer a need to be afraid...

Then the group entered the second terminal, the Spatial Terminal. It was designed to retrieve information based on space, as Qingque explained. This time, (Y/n) sat by the side as she watched the other girls line up the Mutare Magnus, finding it endearing how they bickered over what way they should put down the pins to achieve the required shape.

And as they walked into the third and final terminal, March looked around with hands on her hips.

"So...let me guess, time, space... I bet the next terminal is energy-related !" March said proudly with a bright smile one her lips.

"Darn..." Qingque groaned as she looked at March with a sorry smile. "The Karma Terminal. They say this terminal is designed to establish casual relationships."

"What ?!"

The three began to move around, arranging the Mutare Magnus, even (Y/n) decided to join in to help them after watching them reset the plane a couple of times.

As she hopped in to help move the pins, she was suddenly reminded of an old memory that flashed in her mind.

"Hey ! Not too far out !" The familiar beloved would call out, chuckling as he followed the tugging of the blanket in his hands. He held the edge of the blanket in his thin but crafty hands, calloused from the harsh work he endured day and night to produce legends.

"But I want the blanket to be straight and tense before setting it down, Yingxing !"

"I understand, but there is no need to pull it so hard, beloved." The older man said, shaking his head as he set down the blanket on the grassy plains beneath the tree.

Wind blew past his hair, causing it to fly all over the place. The white-haired man sighed as he pushed back his long tresses behind his ear. Then he looked at her with a kind and loving gaze, the light of the moon highlighting his features.

"Well ? What are you waiting for ? Come sit down with me, my moon dancer."

Then she saw herself sitting close to the older man, snuggling happily in his arms as the two of them laid under the blanket of stars. The sight of the man staring into her eyes with love as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"--dy (Y/n) ?" A voice called out.

"Lady (Y/n) !" A cheerful and bright voice called out, making (Y/n) snap out of her trance-like state. The dragon lady blinked a couple of times, taking in the difference of what seemed to be her memory and the reality in front of her.

All three of the girls were looking quite worried at (Y/n), as she had suddenly stopped after placing the pin in the board.

"Are you alright, Lady (Y/n) ?" March asked, looking quite concerned. "You suddenly spaced out all of a sudden ! We're done here now, and all the terminals have lit up, so let's go back and take a short rest." The pink haired girl advised.

(Y/n) didn't really seem to understand what had just happened, but she nodded and followed the group back to the core using the screens. Although she knew that there were alot of entities roaming around to cause havoc, she couldn't help but shake off the feeling as if there was someone watching her.

The red eyes that observed from afar turned around, once he had determined that his beloved was in safe hands.

"Well done, all of you. I can sense the Matrix of Prescience symbols re-illuminating." Fu Xuan said with a satisfactory smile. "Now, to interrogate Kafka."

The master diviner turned around to face the Matrix before shooting (Y/n) a glace. "Those of you in the core may feel a few...impacts."

March was about to question Stelle what Fu Xuan had said, but then there were two Cloud Knights escorting a young and beautiful woman with red wine hair tied in a messy ponytail and captivating eyes. She wasn't cuffed, yet made no attempt to flee, following the soldiers with a simple gloved hand on her hip.

"Is this really necessary ?" The woman named Kafka asked, her voice as alluring as her features. "I said I'd cooperate with you."

"I have no interest in the words of wanted criminals. Especially those skilled in the art of manipulation." Fu Xuan briskly answered, gaze averted with a frown on her face. Then with a breath, she turned back to face the detained criminal.

"So, say what you will. I'm here to witness the divination of the Matrix of Prescience." Fu Xuan said strongly. "The Divination Commission has ways of extracting the truth, and they're far more effective than a conversation."

The woman with wine red hair chuckled softly, turning to enter the core. That was, before she shot (Y/n) a brief glance with a smirk playing at her lips.

"Then please, Master Diviner."

"Witness my destiny."

With Kafka standing in the middle, hands bound by imaginary power, Fu Xuan stood by the edge, watching her before taking out the power of the matrix. With precise hand gestures and polished expertise, Fu Xuan closed her eyes before she began to extract and activate the power of the three terminals activated by (Y/n) and the group earlier.

The tiles correspondent to their reason and trait glowed, before forming a connection that linked the plates to the Master Diviner. With using the three terminals and herself, a large binding hexagram formed in the air, rotating and calculating the past, present and future.

Kafka levitated in the air, letting her form be suspended and closer to the Matrix' core without a struggle. Symbols and constellations surrounded her as the Master Diviner began to collect data by reading the lines and the meaning of her stars, yet she smiled. Her eyes began to glow a light blue from the power surging through and out of her body, letting it see through her memories and seek out the answers they chased after.

Fu Xuan's own eyes began to glow blue, as she resonated her consciousness with Kafka's and the Matrix itself, focusing and getting a good reading of her own divination.

That was before she saw what she sought after.

Fu Xuan gasped and immediately re-casted the spell, making the Matrix stop its function without the user and Kafka slowly descended to the ground.

"That's...why you're here...?" Fu Xuan asked, full of disbelief as she looked at Kafka.

Kafka smiled slyly and knowingly in return, enjoying the look of betrayal and disbelief painted so evidently on Fu Xuan's face.

"All for that ?!"

Kafka looked down, an unreadable expression in her magenta eyes. "Well ? Not what what you were expecting ?" Kafka asked, tilting her head a little although she had totally expected the reaction.

"I cant believe it..." Fu Xuan said, looking at Kafka in horror, as if the woman before her had told her the most atrocious lie ever known to mankind.

"But the Matrix of Prescience cannot be wrong..."

"What did you see ?" Stelle asked, looking at the Master Diviner worriedly.

"Kafka has nothing to do with the Stellaron." Fu Xuan said before landing her eyes on Stelle. "But you...it's you..."

Stelle looked so confused to what Fu Xuan was talking about, for it wasn't her that had seen the same visions as Fu Xuan did.

"Ha ! Absurd ! I'd never have thought it..."

Then her golden eyes landed on (Y/n), gaze slightly scrutinizing.

"And you...I'd never considered the relation..."

"Talking like this isn't solving anything, Master Diviner..." (Y/n) said, hands crossed over her chest. The other members of the Nameless, and the Amicassador of Sky-Faring Commission looked all confused the same.

Fu Xuan shook her head before nodding in Kafka's direction.

"Ask her yourself. Take as long as you wish."

Fu Xuan left in a hurry after that, saying something about needing to see the General as soon as possible. The remaining party remained unsure of how to proceed. And since it was both (Y/n) and Stelle that were directly regarded by Fu Xuan, it was now known that Kafka knows something about them.

Stelle looked unsure of how to approach the situation, but Welt nodded at her encouragingly. "It's fine...you go ask her. I know you have many questions for Kafka yourself."

Though Stelle looked determined, she was quite unready. "Mr. Yang..." she started. "I think I still need more time to figure out what I want to ask."

"Don't worry." (Y/n) said, putting a tender hand on Stelle's shoulder.

"I'll go first."

"Well...I have heard of you, former Lady High Elder." Kafka said with a little awe in her eyes. "But to see you up-close and personal isn't really the same feeling as he had implied it to be."

"Which do you prefer, Lady High Elder ? Or the Saltator Lunae ? Or even the name you go by with now ?"

"(Y/n) is fine." (Y/n) said, raising up a hand to stop Kafka.

"I had only just woken up from a slumber. So I do not know of your misdeeds to have you scoured by the cosmos itself. But what I do know of is Blade's affiliation with the Stellaron Hunters faction." (Y/n) said with a shake of her head, (h/c) locks swaying elegantly as she did so.

"To know that is more than enough. The Master Diviner wasn't aware of Bladie's intentions of meeting you here. But to see through me consciousness and be aware of it must've been a little surprising to her." Kafka answered simply and honestly, looking straight into (Y/n)'s eyes.

She couldn't be lying. Not that she needed to anyway.

"How was he aware that I was awake in the first place ? Not even the General anticipated my awakening." (Y/n) said with a curious tilt of her head.

"Well...that's because the Destiny's Slave had said so before." Kafka said with a small chuckle, remembering something quite amusing to her.

"You should've seen the look on Bladie's face when he was announced that he stood a chance to meet an intergalactical treasure that had laid dormant for centuries..." Kafka said tenderly.

"It was such...an odd encounter...with emotions so strong. I wonder if I'll ever experience something as intense." The cuffed woman said with a light chuckle.

"For the first time since I met him...he looked alive."

"For the stars had turned against us while we adhered to the laws...perhaps the tide of fate pities us for leading such miserable paths of fate to let us reunite in unfortune events..." Blade said to himself, red eyes clouded with memories, heart beating again with reason.

Unknowing that there was a certain concerned young woman eavesdropping in case his Mara had reacted in him. But oddly, there was no reaction even though Blade was reminiscing about his past.

"Dancer of the moon...shall time and fate allow us..." she heard him gasp softly through a rare soft but broken voice.

For the first time since Kafka had met him, she heard him weep.

'How envious...' Kafka thought to herself.

"With my immortal and life-infested shell, I'd never let you stray away again..."

"My beloved home of stars...(Y/n)..."

#dragon's cradle #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan x you #hsr blade x reader #hsr blade x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #blade x reader #blade x you

[regarding-stories]

The dark abyss that is Andor

There were several things that led to Andor.

On the one hand, Disney screwed up its Star Wars intellectual property by handing it to complete hacks for Episode VII to IX, leading a potential cash cow to attract less and less viewers over the course of three increasingly bad installments. Seriously, The Last Jedi is one of the worst disappointments I've actually watched, and not only was I thinking "This can't get worse..." every five minutes only to be proven, "Yes, it can!!", it completely killed my appetite to see IX (and I would have left the cinema at that one's sheer stupidity). With VII, I saw it once with some initial excitement in a cinema when it released and a strange feeling afterwards, and I never revisited it. VIII I saw on two separate long-distance flights because I couldn't stomach the thing in one sitting. IX I didn't see at all, but devoured YouTube videos ripping it apart. Clearly, Disney had a Star Wars problem.

The other thing is the reboot that was The Mandalorian, especially season 1. The Mandalorian had a penchant for not very strong logic in its writing that you still accepted because you had so much damn fun and loved the characters. Given the fact that it clearly pulled lots of viewers into Disney+ that were loving its vibe that was true to the core of Star Wars, Disney management saw the fact that theaters and theme parks were closed due to COVID on the one hand and that big Star Wars movies were at risk of actually losing money on the other hand, and they did what executives are wont to do - they decided that if it worked once, it will work again and declared they will pump out TEN Star Wars series in the near future.

Meanwhile they cancelled also their ongoing series of "A Star Wars Story" movies that started with what could be called "Episode III.5" - Rogue One. Rogue One was plagued with production problems, so much so that seeming key scenes from the trailer weren't in the movie. "I rebel!", anyone?? Still, it turned out to be something new - a new kind of Star Wars story. It took the idea of a war movie (or its modern equivalent, Band of Brothers) and put it into the Star Wars cinematic universe. It did without an actual Jedi (kinda-sorta) and it showed a strong performance of Diego Luna as the morally gray Cassian Andor. And... (spoiler alert) ... it killed its whole cast in its finale.

I know people that say Rogue One is their favorite Star Wars movie. (But other people dislike it.) I hold it in high esteem. The way the resistance is portrayed also seemed to be somewhat subversive - both to its previous image on screen and to what is portrayable on screen for mainstream audiences in general. It became clear that unlike in the original three Star Wars movies resisting an empire is, on the ground, a dirty business and not just about big battles or commando raids. (Which then happen anyway. Because Star Wars.)

Then followed the lackluster Solo and the third installment Yoda was never made as Star Wars increasingly lost its ability to draw crowds into seats.

And thus it came to Andor

Now what do you do with a character that (spoiler alert? really?) dies. You make a bloody prequel. Which is funny. Andor is a prequel to Rogue One which is a prequel to A New Hope. Prequels, like sequels, carry the risk of rehashing the original material without adding anything to it (Solo ...) and being trapped by the inevitability of what has to happen next, curtailing its writing (Kenobi ...). But Andor season 1 betrays none of that. (Talk about being addicted to prequels, Disney...) It is a strong piece of cinematic art in its own right.

And yes, I'm saying art. About a Star Wars series. That's how I feel about it. Andor not only has strong execution, it has depth. It was a show that made me pause it and think about what just happened on screen. It's a show that gets deeper if you know about history, unlike most shows that actually reveal their shallowness to the knowing eye. (Looking at you, The Man in the High Castle. Boy, I hated that tripe.)

But even before we get into that, let me say how I impressed I was with its set and costume design. Whereas the Book of Boba Fett gave us cyberpunks on floating scooters, Andor poured a lot of heart into how everybody looked in their various environments, creating a more rich and varied Star Wars society by portraying various strata thereof, from the life of imperial senator Mon Mothma to the middle class living literally in her shade somewhere on the middle levels of planet-city Coruscant to the mining town labor class that we find Cassian in. It flawlessly cuts between different well-thought out locations, including, of all things, a holiday resort.

This is paired with some very strong performances by similarly strong actors. I mean, we all knew Stellan Skarsgard would deliver, sure. But Denise Gough absolutely kills it, acting-wise. Her delivery as a villain is perfect, the way she manages to always look so sour and annoyed already is quite something, how she normalizes evil into a technocrat career. Every flinch of her face conveys books of information to me as the fascinated viewer. She is at the heart of this series, and worth the price of admission alone.

And let's not forget Andy Serkis' heart-rending performance. Really, we're being spoiled. People are seriously acting, not just standing in front of a camera wearing costumes! In Star Wars!!

And yet, if it was only that, it still wouldn't have impacted me as deeply as it had. There's one more layer to this, and it's the massive bottom of the iceberg that is Andor. I haven't forgotten, even though I'm writing this a year after watching it.

(And definitely spoilers from here on onwards.)

Life under fascism

The second half of season 1 however can put deep horror into any thinking person's mind. It radically departs from previous portrayals of the evil Empire. It's not relying on cheap gimmicks like Episode VII where we see a village razed by the First Order. (So evil. So cliche, too. Also murdering Max von Sydow. Tsk, tsk. They had to get him off stage before any good acting happens...) Andor creeps under our skin and then reaps havoc.

(This part of this entry will become increasingly dark. You might not want to read on. Because fiction is one thing, and comparing it to historical reality is another. This is an actual trigger warning. Proceed with care.)

The first half of the season is standard fare, almost. Cassian gets himself in trouble and there is really no redeeming quality about it. He also gets everybody else into trouble. The Empire in its heavy-handed hurry to eradicate resistance actually creates it in the first place. And still... the lack of compunction about torture, about going victim by victim, vanishing people into its torture cells, breaking them... this is merely an overture. No hero is born here, but evil wears its mask imperfectly.

Cassian escapes his small world to eventually live the good life on a resort world, getting laid, pretending to be someone else. Instead of being caught as the fugitive and murderer and partisan he actually is by now, he simply gets caught up in the arrest of somebody else. The way the Empire "perpetrates justice" not only gets him arrested while having done no wrong (in that cover identity), he also gets sentenced by a court that doesn't even pretend to actually care about due process in any way. There's a machine of oppression, and instead of competently catching him, Cassian becomes caught up randomly in one of its many gears.

And while this may seem random, it's brilliant. It's one of the many reasons why resistance exists. Because the Empire's overreach is everywhere, grinding up people just living their lives while trying to perfect its control. The corruption of the desire for power leaks through in its banality.

What follows is Cassian's imprisonment, and this segment is brutal and horrifying on a deep level. The more you know, the worse it gets. Cassian is transported to a prison facility where he's forced into repetitive labor to make equipment for the Empire. There's a set of steps every labor team has to execute, and the team with the lowest quota gets punished with electric shocks. Day after day.

This is "Vernichtung durch Arbeit." ("Destruction through labor.") This is what the Nazis did to their political opponents. Before there was a Holocaust, there were concentration camps. And prisoners were made to work - the cynic motto across the gate of Auschwitz was "Arbeit macht frei." ("Labor sets you free.") People would gradually be ground down until they gave out in one way or another, fell sick, die of exhaustion, broke psychologically. The series never tells us its "inspiration," it just goes through similar motions. With the veneer of a super-clean techno prison over it.

Not only that, the very scene reminded me of what I read in a book about the Holocaust. Towards the end of the war the engines for the new secret weapon jet planes or rockets were manufactured by prison labor. Crews of malnourished prisoners would each execute a few pretrained steps and crank out more jet engines in slave labor than was previously done in the Reich's armament factories. This was the culmination of the Nazi system where all labor-intensive things like the bunkers of the Atlantic Wall or the underground factories of Dora-Mittelbau were erected by and on the back of slaves that were themselves gradually killed in the process.

Without ever breathing a word of what is portraying, Andor portrays the same. Skillfully, horribly so.

The devil is in the details

Some way into this horror, everybody gets their sentence doubled. The counter simply goes up. No explanation. Total helplessness in the face of total control. The deep gut feeling of "No one gets out here alive" or "It will never end" begins to descend. That number was a sort of life line for people to brave another day. And it lies!

As unbelievable as it may seem, people did get released from concentration camps, especially those on "lighter charges" like "antisocial behavior." But nobody really knew how long they had to stay or if they were to be released. Often, initially told they had to do 3 to 6 months depending on their conduct, and yet most people never left alive. A quick read in a book behind me says that 8 million people were sucked into the system, 7 million died, 200,000 left by being released by the system itself. The idea you might be released one day added false hope that in itself could create further psychological torture if it was dashed over and over again.

Then there is the "divide and conquer" approach to prisoner management. Work crews are led by other prisoners, rebellion and resistance is quelled within the ranks. This Andor merely hints at, but the Nazi oppression system skillfully created hierarchies to make sure a comparatively small detachment of guards could handle a large mass of inmates which could overwhelm them if acting together.

But it doesn't stop here, not in Andor, either. Eventually we learn that the Empire starts to eliminate the prison population. Rumors start to spread that an entire floor of the super prison was eliminated by electrocution. Just like the real Nazis the space Nazis start to construct yet another death machine to eliminate opposition.

And this leads to that sub-plots final chapter, the prison revolt. There are a few historical mass escapes, even from Nazi death camps. There's also the heroism of the two uprisings of Warsaw (including the ghetto uprising). Left with nothing to lose, left with nothing but death ahead, the prisoners overwhelm the guards.

And this happened in real life, too. It's probably based on the historical case of the death camp inmates that were forced to run the gas chambers and crematoria themselves. This is part of the Holocaust itself, the Nazis had finally dropped all pretenses and resorting to kill people in an industrial manner. And these people knew that eventually their whole detachment would be killed. They knew too much, were witnesses to this massive crime against them and humanity itself. They were also among those destined for death. Like in an antechamber of hell itself they were merely bidding time. So they managed one of the few mass escapes on record.

While Andor doesn't stray as far down the road as actual history does, it knows how to cite history for those who know. It's not made up of whole cloth. It actually is referencing the real history of the most inhumane version of fascism, but it does not put the fact in your face. But if you know, its chamber of horrors becomes so much deeper.

And that's why

This is what makes Andor an absolute masterpiece. It recreates the conditions without blindly copying the source. It adapts, but you can feel how deeply inhumane the circumstances are that it depicts. It gives you the bloody creeps, and even if you don't know how much it is rooted in darkness, you will still feel it. It shows. It tells. But it never spoils the source material.

This is art. This is the deep craft. The banality of evil, the careless, uncaring attitude of evil towards those it deems unworthy and not human. It's all on display. It switches us into the place of Cassian and of Andy Serkis' character as it draws us in as audience. We don't see what happens on other floors. We don't have the information advantage. We can only imagine. We are subjected to the fact that we can only imagine it. And so we share a bit in the plight of these characters. Sometimes not showing a thing is the highest accomplishment of movie making.

And this is why I'm pissed that a series that was planned for five seasons was already cut to play out in two. Because we need more of this and less of more Jedi doing backflips. Just like Loki plays on a completely different level than the rest of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Andor leaves all of Star Wars in its dust. If Rogue One was the attempt to tell a different kind of story in the same universe, Andor is the attempt at a different level of depth.

And this, more than Rogue One, makes it clear why they fight.

Watch it if you can.

And sorry if I horrified you.

#andor #andor series #cassian andor #rogue one #star wars

[indelibleevidence]

Since a friend has just been given a suspected ME/CFS diagnosis, I'm going to try to list the most useful things I've learned about coping with the disease. If it helps other people too, then yay! I assume long COVID sufferers will also be able to apply a lot of it.

Feel free to save/reblog/tattoo on your arms/whatever. :)

Keep baths/showers closer to lukewarm than hot. It sucks, but keeping your body temperature from spiking helps lessen the inevitable post-bathing crash.

Shower chairs. Kitchen chairs. Garden chairs. Chairs, chairs, chairs.

Electric toothbrushes = less arm movement when brushing your teeth.

Don't lift your arms over your head unless absolutely necessary. Even when shampooing your hair, it's better to lower your head to your hands (keeping your elbows down) than the other way around. If you want to stretch your arms over your head as a gentle exercise to help your mobility, do it when you're lying down flat.

Baby wipes and dry shampoo are good for hygiene when showers are a nope.

Food packages you can eat in bed are important to have around for crash days. Croissants, pain au chocolat, crackers, corn/ricecakes, etc.

Sugar and music will get you through the exhausting stuff that you can't cancel or delegate (please disregard this advice if you're diabetic/have hearing issues or noise sensitivity).

YMMV, but sometimes you will have more mental fatigue than physical, but you might mistake it for physical if you're not thinking about it. Those days are good for getting brainless tasks within your energy envelope done (like the dishes).

Leave a task half-finished and come back to it after resting, if you're finding yourself overreaching. (This is the advice I absolutely can not make myself take, because 'I've started, so I might as well finish' is seductive. But it IS good advice.)

My personal stop sign for 'lie down before you fall down' is tingling pinkie fingers, for some reason. Figure out what yours is, and listen to it.

Resting feels like a waste of time, especially if it's done all the damn time... but it's not a waste, it's necessary. Forgiving yourself for having to do it will make things more mentally tolerable.

There will always be people you interact with who insinuate that if you just tried harder...(insert toxic positivity here). They will seem like they have a point, because your inner ableist guilt-tripper will agree with them, but they don't know what it's like to have your symptoms. Screw what they think.

I could probably add more, but my brain is tired, and there are a lot of words for brain fog sufferers already. But I hope this can help a few people. 🙂

#me/cfs #long covid #disability #ymmv

[queer-lemons]

ok SO. Last semester I had a kinesiology and applied physics (KAAP) professor who was kind of a dick. He was very self important, his lectures were mostly him rambling and not in a very helpful way. I tried to look past this, but then he also caused issues with my disability accomodations.

I can't take exams on the computer bc of Issues™, so I have to take my exams on paper. I'm pretty much always the only student in classes of 100+ with this accomodation-- meaning that the prof only has to manually grade one 2-3 page test. I'm not saying it's nothing, but it's pretty damn close considering all other assignments are computer graded.

So this professor would administer the quiz on a Wednesday, and then two days later on Friday he would go over the entire test, explain the questions and answers to us, and answer questions about it. That was the entire 80min of class. But here's the fun thing. I didn't have access to my exam during the review classes, much less a graded version that would tell me what I struggled with. And he used a question bank, which basically means I couldn't just remember "oh yeah x question I chose y answer" because everyone got different types of questions.

So I was fucking screwed. Because the most constructive learning we got, I was nixed out of because he couldn't either grade my test faster, or wait to do the review sessions. But don't worry, it gets worse.

So we had 3 big exams and then a final. Exam 3 was about 3-4 weeks before the final exam, and you needed to be able to study exam 3 for the final. But even though all of my classmates got their exams back within a day of taking them, I didn't get mine back for weeks. I emailed him once or twice asking and I just got blown off. And the only disability advisor I knew didn't even reply to my email.

He actually got covid but was only sick for less than a week. Ok so it's a few days before the final, and I still don't have my test to study (my classmates have all had theirs for weeks). It's a class of at least 100 students. I decide I have to do something. So I raise my hand, and in front of the whole class I say (loudly, bc i'm a theatre nerd): "Hi, I'm a disabilities student, and you still haven't given me back our last exam from a few weeks ago. Can I get that so I can study for the final?" He fully froze for a solid five seconds, before saying "How?" as if he hadn't sent me two tests before this. Anyway, he ended up stumbling around a bit and saying "well I haven't been to the office because of covid" even though everyone knows well that he was in person teaching both before and after the covid *after* the test. Long story short, he was shitting himself and it was so obvious.

Anyway, you know what the punch line is? The class average on the final was a 71%, and I got an 88%. He emailed me privately saying he was impressed, that I was clearly a good learner. I replied thanking him briefly and then listing ways in which his class could be made easily accessible. He never replied.

So yeah, you can try to leave your disabled students behind, but they might turn out to be your outlying successes in the class. Oh and even if they still get F's, that's no excuse to not put your all into their education. And if you can advocate for yourself at all, please do it, because you will be so fucking proud of yourself and it will be a very good foundation for the struggles you'll face in the rest of academia.

[strangerthings4theories]

Honestly, I truly believe, amongst all the other batshit theories that everyone has made about Season 4, that there was supposed to be more about the Russian prison in Kamchatka but for some reason, whether COVID-19 related or not, they couldn't do it.

You pointed out that the part of that prison we see in Season 3 doesn't match & never matches with the ones we see in see in Season 4.

All of this never comes back & there is no explanation why. And what we saw in Season 4 & what it made it out to be was so small compared to what we see here... I even find it hard to believe that even with the amount of power the Upside Down has, including it's creatures, it was able to take down an entire facility of that size especially since it seemed like the creatures where locked only in a specific place. (And again, given the rules of ST, there should have been a gate open in Russia for a long period of time, for what they were doing to work but this is never brought up at any point...)

Hopper couldn't have possibly been the American because we saw in Season 4 that he was somewhere else before getting to this specific base & he never goes to that specific part of the prison. It wouldn't make sense for him to be there, go somewhere else then come back. Plus we don't get any real reason why he wasn't given to the Demogorgon during that Season 3 scene.

Whether it was Billy or someone else, this just doesn't make any sense that there wasn't supposed to be more to it.

I'm choosing to be optimistic here but since we barely know how the Russians know about the UD & what they want to do with it, including the logistics of how they were able to pull off what they pulled off in S3, I'm thinking that we are going to go back to it in Season 5 because if not, this is the weirdest & most incoherent side plot in history.

No no you're totally right though. And I'm glad someone else feels this way.

The Russia plotline still doesn't make sense to me. Not in the slightest. I'd go so far as to say I'm not sure why the story even went to Russia. Absolutely nothing happened there to justify the setting. Hopper didn't need a Big Damn Hero moment because he's already had several, and everyone knew Hopper and Joyce would get together. There were no surprises, no revelations that made me think, "Omg this is why the story took us here." It was actually... um... pretty boring???

As someone who's gone over S1-3 with a fine toothed comb, that was a genuinely shocking thing to see. With every other plotline in the show, I've been able to say, "Oh this is what they were trying to accomplish with that." Not so with Russia. It's a mess that doesn't really achieve anything narratively or thematically.

And it just happens to be the plotline that, up until the last two episodes of S4, seemed to be prepping us for Billy's return.

Hell, even episode 8 went in that direction at first. When Hopper found the adolescent Demogorgon writhing in pain on an operating table, I legit freaked out! It was the perfect foreshadowing for him finding Billy - the teenage boy who's been written off as a monster, but actually deserves our compassion. Seriously, I couldn't have written it better.

And then we got... nothing? Nothing at all?

Lol nahhhhhh. Shit ain't right. I'd sooner believe they got screwed over because the pandemic took away their access to Dacre.

#billy hargrove #chief jim hopper #kamchatka #stranger things theory #stranger things analysis #stranger things 4 #billy hargrove is alive #billy hargrove is the american #answering your mail

[angelbambisworld]

Only in Ohio

So in July of this year I moved to Ohio and then in like August or September I started coming down with chest colds. I haven't been sick in years since I was a kid,mind you.

Everyday was hell.I had to do all these deep breaths and turn my head and move my jaw in certain ways just to get a breath in.It sucked major ass.

I thought it was just cold and flu season screwing with me.Also I'm originally from the South so I'm not really used to northern temperatures and whatnot.

Eventually it got so bad I had to get an inhaler just to get my damn lungs to do their job. Inevitably I got better and life went on.

Then I got COVID and was back in my Asthmatic Hot Girl era™️.Fun!

I got better tho.

I'm still having trouble with breathing every now and then.I'm still wondering if maybe my body still isn't used to Ohio weather yet or if maybe I've got asthma now(Respiratory issues run in my family)and should probably go see a doctor about it.

Idk. Had anyone else gotten constantly ill after moving to a new state?

#thanks ohio #ohio #only in ohio #asthmatic hot girl #chronic illness #illness #asthma #is this normal #has this happened to anyone else

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 42 Pt 1: It’s All In Your Head

Every week with long covid is like a new batch of symptoms. Last month’s symptom, among other things, was “words no work no good,” and so we just uh...didn’t do an update. I probably needed to chill and nap anyway. Not that I’m fully better yet, today I did laundry and pulled out a blue shirt that I clearly own and bought with my own money--but I have no memory of it. Zilch.

The brain is amazing, that with this brain fog, I can’t remember my blue t-shirt, but I can remember Yugioh. Weird, right? So anyway, thanks for your patience in this weird time of my life, glad to have a blog to write about anime in that is so chill with our very long breaks.

Also, I finally went through my old caps to toss old pictures so that way I can make new stuff, and guess what I just realized?

Kisara is not a dragon!

Seto’s girlfriend isn’t a dragon! She’s just on top of the dragon, I can’t...I just can’t believe this.

Truly a crime that this season, the final ultimate season of Yugioh, is what I’m doing while on Long Covid fruitloops, so I can miss every damn point that this show fires at me. But, at least, I hope it’s funny to read. It is like every single update where I realize I was wrong about the obvious, and don’t worry, it’s gonna happen again in like 4 seconds. My borked brain.

Anyway, Yugi and Co have walked all the way to the palace. Because we’re still on S4 time and space conventions where Death Valley, the Grand Canyon, and San Fransisco are all next to each other. Like Yami fell in the Nile in a fight that was just outside of the city--but I assumed he got pulled way out there. Either way, it’s a kid’s show, never think about geography.

(read more under the cut)

Yugi can conveniently walk through doors now, and after a quick shoutout to his homie Yami, they phase through.

Including Tristan who is...

Well,

APPARENTLY TRISTAN WAS POSSESSED.

Freakin, my brain is a bunch of salad dressing, lmaoooo even last episode I was like “wow Tristan is drawn kinda evil and I don’t really get why” and it was RIGHT THERE. He’s been possessed probably since Bakura grabbed him by the neck right in front of me. I somehow missed this!

And like, I figure, if I try and wait out long covid it may take a whole other year, so like this is just me now. I started this blog as like a competent analysis (ish), and now I get to the end of S5 giving you just an incoherent rorschach. It’s kind of fitting for this show really, everyone has to end up at least a little bit of a mess. Keeps you humble. Even me. I also have to become the mess.

Anyway, speaking of becoming a babbling incoherent mess, we go back to Bakura, who has fully lost his game in Battle Basement of a 7 vs 1 game.

Only in Yugioh would they make a 7 vs 1 game feel evenly sided.

And as I wonder if I’ve already made that joke four months back and have forgotten, they all watch Bakura do a mad dash to screw them over one last time.

And while they stood there and just allowed Bakura to fumble around with the doom rocks made of human souls, from no where, Aknadin stumbles through the door all day drunk like freakin Kramer.

And no, in the show he did not reveal here that he was Seto’s dad, but he does in like 2 minutes so I didn’t really care about where I put it. The big thing is that Aknadin’s gone full-tilt cray and not even he can fully explain his motive anymore.

That’s when they realize Aknadin’s babysitter, Shada, has been punk’d on the bottom of skull tablet basement. Which like, Imagine the day that Shada’s been having. I guess Aknadin just left him at the base of like 10000 human skulls then, hahaha.

I have checked my notes and I decided that 2000 people died in Kul Elna a few months back but eh I don’t feel like changing this cap. Overall, I have no freakin idea how many people lived in this freakin town and they can’t tell us because 4Kids would never allow it.

Which is when Bakura decided to teleport his bean into another bean because this bean is broke.

Which is when we met this guy, a guy we’ve only met for like 4 seconds of the show so far. Hello there, Original Bakura.

Straight up, he wasn’t on screen long enough for me to over-analyze his accent before he was a small mound of dust on the floor.

Ah the death count! Oh damn it, I write these notes on the caps sometimes, expecting I’ll put an actual number there later but lets be real, I just need to publish this episode, so let me open the Google doc...

7,805,847,572

Yeah that’s how many people have died in this kids show so far. We’re right on track. Thanks Bakura, for another death, but no you have not caught up with Dartz. Although I will hand it to him, Dartz didn’t end up killing himself nearly as many times as Bakura has.

Speaking of dying and being dead on a kid’s show, in enters Shada.

So lets go see what Yugi’s up to hm? The four have decided to separate in this Egyptian palace to each find Yami’s name. Mind you...there’s some flaws with this plan.

The flaw being that none of them have graduated high school or know freakin anything about Egypt, other than they hang out with an Ex patriot Egyptian. (2 ex-patriots if you count Yugi’s Grandfather. Although honestly, are you an ex-pat if you are reborn in a kid’s body on the other side of the world? You are, right? You are). But, whether or not Yami can or can’t read Egyptian in Canonical Yugioh, we know that Yugi apparently super can’t when Yami isn’t in his bean.

And Joey just can’t focus for the life of him, which, damn, relatable. But, he did find a room full of women.

He also went to the only room with like lots of water. Real pissed focused mind here, and no the piss plotline will not be resolved.

Tea, still GOAT.

This castle, man. I love the complete disregard for interiors that this animation team has. Like...what even is the purpose of this weird maze room with masssssive stone tiles, Yugioh? Like...what is this even supposed to be? Why are the tiles so SHINY?

Anyway, lets go back to Shada and hear his excuse for what the hell happened last episode.

Which is when Aknadin decided to just start cursing everyone, which he would have done earlier if he wasn’t constantly in a sick bed this season.

This very well might be a yugioh card effect that turns you into a rainbow filter, but it also looks like a complete mess of artistic directions on the screen.

Which like, after that cutesy filter, lets pull our eyes out.

Which is when Yami makes the biggest logical leap known to man.

That’s right! Yami has figured out that this entire time, this entire arc, he’s been sleeping at this RPG table that Bakura’s built in his mom’s basement Yami’s Puzzle Necklace.

In fact, when Yami wakes up to all of this, wearing his normal ass school clothes, and Bakura sitting across from him in his popped collar duster jacket, Bakura says something on the line of “bout time you woke up.”

the fic shippers must have had a FIELD DAY with one.

Anyway, everything is a lie, Bakura is controlling people like puzzle pieces, which not only explains why Aknadin’s motives went a 180, but can lead us to believe that Yami also COULD control everyone else, but just chooses not to. Just like he does in real life.

I think, overall, you just have to go with it. We’re playing D+D, except it’s about your embarrassing past. Like if you made D+D about your middle school experience and you can’t remember your first name.

What a way to die, really. What a weird ass way for Yami to almost die.

Anyway, here’s a link for those new here to read these from the beginning. I have the 2nd part already drafted up, should be up in a few days and not an entire month, haha. Hope your 2023 is looking up!

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#yugioh #Yu-Gi-Oh #Yami Yugi #S5 #ep 42 #Bakura #Yugi Muto #Joey Wheeler #recap #photo recap #tea gardner #tristan taylor #seto kaiba

[beoneofus]

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜?

fandom: the lost boys

poly! lost boys x gender neutral! reader ( and oc's/friends )

length: semi long

warnings: swearing, time travel, non-sense, the boys being introduced to phones, covid mention, attempted comedy, perhaps triggering jokes so caution ahead, just absolute chaos. bill and ted vibes.

a/n: came up with the idea of the boys having/being in a groupchat. I figured they'd have to be somewhere in the future, which is why it'll take place in mid-late 2021. i might write more parts to this, it depends. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway. :) / ps. sorry for any errors made, not proof read. /

( unedited, 5.27.22 )

part two

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when the four vampire bikers of santa carla first woke up from their twelve hours of sleep, they did not expect to see the pitch blackness of the night sky above them... nor dingy, low watt quality, orange glowing lightbulbs that were loosely screwed into wall lights.. and were the frames shaped like cubes? what the fuck? the fact that red, bricked walls surrounded them and the quiet chirps of crickets sounded off, didn't help either. by the smell of the rotted food, and low whiff of sewage water around the outside space, they instantly could tell it was an alleyway they were in.

obviously, they wanted to know how the fuck they got into an alleyway, and where it was located at. the place smelled nothing like santa carla, and definitely didn't sound much like the boardwalk they were so used to being on. that leaves rhe question, where are we?, to ring in the fours' mind.

“ who the actual hell would be stupid enough to dump us somewhere, man? ” paul started, as he, along with his three coven brothers, slowly got up from the place on the murky ground, they had laid upon. looking around, turning his head to and fro, the blonde's lips parted in confusion. “ — where even is somewhere? I've never seen this alleyway near the 'walk. ”

“ the real question is, who was dumb enough to come into the cave in the first place...? ” marko mumbled his own thoughts, while looking around just as confused; brows furrowed together in slight frustration, seeing as he can't pinpoint where they are.

“ .. or why they would just drop us off in a random alleyway? ” dwayne threw out, his thumb and index loosely gripping at his chin as he tried to come up with any theories as to why they were in this predicament. “ anyone that's come after us before, usually would take the chance to attack us when we're off guard.. this whole situation makes no sense. ”

david, who pulled a single cigarette from his pack that seemed to be running low, pinched his own brows together in question. “ we would've woken up if anyone trespassed, ” closing the flap on the rectangular box, he pocketed it before placing the filtered end of the cancer stick, to his lips. “ which leaves me to think no one brought us here in the first place. ”

all three of the other males whirled their heads around to look at him. when he looked back at them, after lighting his smoke, paul voiced his thoughts. “ what the hell does that even mean? ” he questioned, even more confused than previously. “ y'don't think we just magically ended up here, do you? ” marko asked right after, a rather blank look on his visage. “ how else would we end up in an alleyway, other than someone putting us in this damn place? ”

“ well, we're real.. ” the blondes looked over at dwayne as he spoke, a distant look to his chocolate hues as he stared at the ground. “ who's to say other supernatural beings aren't? or that.. something else, isn't? ” when he lifted his head, he met the eyes of paul, who looked dumbfounded. “ think about it - we would have waken up. after what happened with those disgusting frogs, we've been on higher alert. chloroform can't effect us, so there's no way we could've been forced to sleep. and if it were hunters, they would've wasted no time in killing us. ” the usual quiet male, snapped his fingers while a thoughtful look of curiosity sprouted. “ that's why I'm wondering, what if this was a supernatural doing? ”

david, marko and paul all exchanged looks with each other. while dwayne did have a point, what exactly could've caused such a thing to happen? and they still don't know where they are.

“ I've never heard you speak so much, let alone so... ” paul drew his eyebrows together in a thinking manner, as he looked off elsewhere. “ excitedly? is that the word I'm looking for? ” he juggled between looking at both marko and david, but didn't even wait for a reply, before switching his gaze back onto the brunette. “ whatever, man. I just know you're making a lot of sense, and that's scary. ”

marko nodded his head. “ paul's right. but, we should really find out whe— ”

bzz, bzz!

all of the males froze. david, who usually took charge of everything, shared a look with the three others. all of their eyes were widened in alarm. they never got scared, nor really panicked, but due to the situation, they had a reason to be a bit jumpy. since they've never heard such a sound before, either, it concerned them. “ what was that? ” paul whispered in a hushed tone, slight curiosity, but mainly fright, flashing through his orbs.

“ it better not be a bomb.. ” marko mumbled, a little too nervous to move, in case it actually is a bomb. he didn't want to get blown to smithereens. “ I'll kill the whole fucking town if there's a bomb by us- ”

“ will you shut. up. ” david butted in, gaze hard as he spoke through gritted teeth. clearly, none of them were used to being so paranoid. “ I highly doubt it's a bomb. It doesn't sound like one - besides, why would there be a bomb in an alley? ”

“ I don't know, david! ” marko whisper shouted, irritation clear in his tone; eyes holding impatience and fear. “ why are there a lot of things in a lot of things?! why are we in an alley?! ” he was doing small, barely noticeable yet harsh, hand movements. “ a lot of shit doesn't make sense right now! ”

dwayne was growing annoyed, now. although he was incredibly confused himself, and a bit spooked just like they were, at least he wasn't acting like a dumbass. “ will you all calm down? ” he spoke lowly, but his deep tone was enough to grab marko and david's attention. “ I don't think it's a bomb.. they don't make buzzing noises - only clicks and tics. ” he sailed his tongue over his bottom lip in thought. “ 'sides, a bomb would destroy more than just us. unless someone wanted to blow up the whole neighborhood, possibly more, I don't think there's a bomb in this alleyway. ”

“ oh, it's definitely not a bomb! ” the two blondes, and brunette, all looked at each other when they heard paul's holler. they all then turned their gaze onto the spot where he was, only to see it empty.

immediately, marko turned around and looked towards the other end of the alley. david followed his gaze, along with dwayne, only to see him by a dark corner. his back was turned to them, but seemed to be holding something - a bag, a black satchel, seemed to be resting by his feet.

“ it's not a bomb, ” paul said once more, while slowly turning around. “ but, uh.. I have no clue what the hell these are. ” the stoner stated, lifting his head and looking up at his coven brothers, while out stretching his hands. two black rectangles were in accompanied in his palms, with what looked to be apple-like imprints on the back. “ there's two more in that bag, ” he tilted his head over his shoulder, referring to the dark satchel on the cement. “ but one is red, and one is white. ”

“ the hell... ” marko muttered, walking forward and approaching paul; hand outstretched. he curiously took one of the... things, and began examining it. turning it over, and looking at it, he let out a confused noise. “ what is this thing? ”

“ I have no clue, bud. ” paul leaned forward, looking over it as well. he could've just looked at the one in his own hand, but of course he didn't think of that. “ that— ” he stopped marko's moving hand, and pointed to a small rectangle on the narrow side of.. whatever the thing was. “ — 's that a button? ” brows furrowed, him and marko share a look; paul's pale blue irises holding confusion. “ it looks like one. ”

“ don't press anything, ” david said, while walking closer to get a look himself. as he peered over marko's shoulder, he studied the thing. “ you have no clue what this is or what it can do. ”

“ there's only one way to find out! ” paul grinned, completely ignoring the ‘ no! ’ from marko, and ‘ stop, idiot! ’ from david as he pressed his thumb down onto the button. they all braced themselves to explode, or for something crazy to happen, but... nothing did.

peeking an eye open, that marko unexpectedly closed, the curly haired male eyed the rectangular item warily. “ nothing happened..? ” david stared at it as well, confused, but quiet. “ wait, there's another button— ” paul pressed the button on the other side, and this time something did happen. the front, that seemed to be a screen, lit up, causing marko to yell and throw the device.

“ mark, you fuckin' dip! ” paul scowled, jumping to catch the device. thankfully for them, he had fast reflexes and managed to catch it with a single hand. “ can't just go throwin' shit, man. ”

“ I didn't know it was gonna' light up like that! ” marko hissed in return, narrowing his eyes in a nettled manner. “ can't blame me for jumpin' at something I didn expect to happen! ” marko was right on the matter. he didn't know what the device was, or what it did, so being frightened by an expected occurrence was an appropriate response. that's exactly why david shook his head, and broke it up between the two men.

“ knock it off, numbskulls. ” the bleach blonde sighed, only to reach forward and rip the object from paul's raised hand, which had lifted in exaggerated anger due to marko's harsh tone. “ we don't have time to yammer back and forth, we gotta' found out where we are, and what this is. ”

not going unnoticed by david, marko and paul shot a glare at each other. of course he said nothing, for it wouldn't do much but cause marko to complain about paul, and paul to point fingers and blame the other blonde over something absolutely stupid. he rather not hear it, so he let it be, all while clicking the item in his hand, back on.

“ slide to unlock.. ” david mumbled to himself, as he reads the glistening words on the screen. he had no clue how words could look like that on a screen, or whatever kind of thing this was, but he listened anyway; taking his index finger and swiping right. he was amazed when the white, button looking.. white thing on the glass, followed his movements, only for a new setting to appear right before his eyes.

“ what the hell? ” he voiced, tone rough with perplexity. the vampire had no clue what just happened, how it happened, nor if he actually witnessed that. maybe somehow, someway, he just hallucinated. “ wicked... ” paul awed from over the others' forearm, which he was leaning over. “ how'd you do that? ”

“ so, I'm not going crazy? ” although it was a rhetorical question, and david's sudden blank expression made that clear, paul mumbled out a ‘ no ’ that was absentmindedly said. he was far too fascinated to even comprehend that he just spoke. “ this is fucking odd.. ” david mumbled, while reading over the next words that were on the screen, now. “ type in a passcode? th'hell is this? I don't know what the passcode is. ”

“ why would there be a passcode? ” marko asked, brows raised curiously as he now, also looked at the lit screen. “ maybe this is like, some top secret stuff we're not supposed to have? ” paul questioned in return, only to share a look with the other blonde right after. It was like there were saying ‘ oh shit, we just discovered some rad, top secret fbi stuff ’, with their eyes.

“ will you two be quiet? ” dwayne was now behind david, peaking over his shoulder at the screen. he ignored the two knuckleheads as they protested, and instead, focused on thinking of what the code could possibly be. “ usually people make dates or important numbers as pass codes... like an address, or a burial plot. ”

“ what about the address to max' house? ” the three males looked at marko as if he was stupid upon throwing out that particular question, leaving him to roll his eyes. “ it was just a thought.. ”

paul scoffed. “ a stupid one, man. as if we know the address to max' house. ” the blonde looked back at the bright screen, now trying to think himself. “ uh.. what about that broad's birthday - the one max was into. michael's mom. ” he raised his eyes to look at the others. “ what was her name.. loni? ”

“ I think lacy. ” marko butted in.

“ it was lucy, you idiots. ” david exhaled through his nose, already fed up. “ even if it was her birthday, I don't know it, and neither do any of you. ”

dwayne hummed. “ maybe the address of the emerson house? ”

david paused for a moment, and thought it out. it could be... but he doesn't really recall what exactly the address was. they knew the house by memory and good travel documentation, but not by memory of the address itself. “ I don't remember the fucking numbers.. ” he grumbled, ready to just chuck the fucking thing.

“ well shit.. ” paul huffed, now stumped. what else could it be?

after a moment of silence, marko lifted his fallen head and snapped his fingers. “ what about the year? that has to count for something. ”

david stared at him for a good minute, before shrugging. looking at the screen, he raised his index finger and began typing in the numbers. once 1-9-8-7 displayed on the screen, and the lock successfully broke, gaining them access to the device, the three vampires all grinned at their coven brother. “ nice work, marko. ”

“ yeah, bud - nice one. ” paul congratulated, smiling widely.

“ you did alright. ” dwayne chuckled, lifting a hand to pat the curly haired male's shoulder.

shrugging, smug look now imprinted onto his face, marko smirked to himself. “ hey, no big deal - I'm not called smart for nothing. ”

the other's, including paul, could beg to differ, but they decided on saying nothing. marko wasn't stupid, but he wasn't exactly a genius like he claimed to be either. so they didn't deflate his ego, and instead, focused back onto the device at hand.

bzz bzz!

david nearly dropped the object when the buzz rang through, casting something to flash across the top of the screen. thank god he didn't, and instead settled on glaring at the screen out of annoyance.

he decided to reach forward and click on the box up top. this caused the screen to go white for a minute, before the setting switched once again, to a new background that made the four males confused.

“ what the fuck is happening? ” paul asked, as his light orbs read over the words that popped up in bubble-like boxes, in whatever it was that they were suddenly in. “ I wanna know that too.. ” marko pitched, voice quiet and full of loss. he didn't know what to make of this.

“ I think whoever is putting.. these words.. into the screen.. is communicating with these other people that are doing that, too. ” dwayne spoke, reading over the chat himself. “ that's what I'm chalking this up to, based on what's being said.. ”

david raised a brow at this. a lot of the shit being said made no sense, and seemed to be some kind of inside communication that none of them knew about. he also wondered if this was someone else's talking device, that they just so happened to discover, which is why they were in the big, red screen room.

without speaking out loud, he began to press his fingers on the letters that popped up, after he clicked the bar at the bottom that said chat. david didn't know what he was doing, or if he was doing it right, but he had an instinct to just go with it.

*

*

*

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

*

*

*

bzz bzz!

...

bzz bzz!

...

bzz bzz! bzz bzz!

“ oh for fuck sake! ” a tuff of tousled bed head sprouted out from a black and dark blue duvet, leaving the owner of the knotted mess to huff in annoyance due to the fact that their (long/semi-long)/medium) vision was blocked out by their own hair. jutting their head back, just enough for some of their hair to move out of eye view, the person in question grabbed for their phone on their bedside table and snatched it up.

after unplugging the charging cord, they clicked their phone on and unlocked it, typing in (your pet's birthday/favorite music artist's birth year) as your passcode. squinting at the screen, their annoyance filled hues read over the groupchat messages that seemed to be flying in faster than stray plastic walmart bags. you could only make out two messages before the chat, in your notifications, cuts off.

with an eye roll, you go onto messenger, the fucking culprit, and enter the chat to read what exactly was going on. it better be good.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

THE CUNT SCOUTS

.

.

.

(jessie wallace) daphne blake: I don't believe whoever this is lmfao there's no way you just found a phone laying in a bag, in an alleyway, and are now typing on it - sent at 8:23 pm

(bryce jetts) queer thor: not to mention, how'd this mysterious phone have access to our groupchat? - sent at 8:24 pm

(ricky brooks) weed cadet: shit seems kinda sus - sent at 8:25 pm

(jessie wallace) daphne blake: and they said they didn't know how to use a phone. AND called it a " thing ". this sounds like an old pervert that's being a nosey prick - sent at 8:25 pm

unknown: this is a phone? shit looks nothing like a phone you've got to be fuckin with me - sent at 8:27 pm

(bryce jetts) gay thor: LMAO didn't deny being an old pervert, I smell some truth behind that - sent at 8:28 pm

(y/n l/n) royal cunt the third: what the fuck is going on & why was I woke up? - sent at 8:29 pm

(ricky brooks) weed cadet: some old dicktip somehow got into the groupchat n is now claiming not to know what a phone is - sent at 8:30 pm

(y/l l/n) royal cunt the third: sounds like your pedo ass dad lmfaoo - sent at 8:30 pm

unknown: I'm not old - sent at 8:31 pm

unknown: and did you just call me a dicktip? - sent at 8:33 pm

(jessie wallace) daphne blake: ricky if this is your ugly ass dad I'm literally booting you from the group - sent at 8:34 pm

(ricky brooks) weed cadet: my sperm donor is literally in fucking jail, you know this - sent at 8:35 pm

(y/n l/n) royal cunt the third: mmm phones can be snuck into prison these days tho - sent at 8:35 pm

(bryce jetts) gay thor: exactly. so how do we know this isn't your dad? - sent at 8:36 pm

unknown: you all sound like fucking kids - sent at 8:37 pm

(y/n l/n) royal cunt the third: and you sound like an ancient dick sucker from 1823, what about it? - sent at 8:38 pm

(jessie wallace) daphne blake: LMFAO omg - sent at 8:39 pm

(ricky brooks) weed cadet: lmaoo damn bro - sent at 8:39 pm

unknown: so you're a kid then - sent at 8:40 pm

(y/n l/n) royal cunt the third: no but yes. I'm mentally 6 and physically 19 - sent at 8:41 pm

(bryce jetts) gay thor: felt. physically 20 and mentally 8 with a degree in immaturity. - sent at 8:43 pm

(ricky brooks) weed cadet: physically 18 and mentally gone - sent at 8:44 pm

(jesse wallace) daphne blake: physically 20 and mentally ginger - sent at 8:45 pm

unknown: how in the fuck are we in the same age range - sent at 8:47 pm

unknown: and you're right about being mentally younger you all sound stupid as hell - sent at 8:49 pm

(y/n l/n) royal cunt the third: okay anon from reddit dot com that probably drinks 4locos, whatever you say - sent at 8:50 pm

(bryce jetts) gay thor: LMAO y/n you didn't have to bury him, jesus - sent at 8:51 pm

(y/n l/n) royal cunt the third: jesus? don't know her x - sent at 8:52 pm

(ricky brooks) weed cadet: so.. bad news, think I got covid - sent at 8:54 pm

(jessie wallace) daphne blake: bitch what - sent at 8:55 pm

(y/n l/n) royal cunt the third: damn.. this is why I stay inside and away from disgusting flesh bags - sent at 8:56 pm

unknown: the hell is covid? - sent at 8:58 pm

(y/n l/n) royal cunt the third: and this where I go back to sleep. night - sent at 9:00 pm

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #tlb 1987 #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader #reader insert #gender nuetral reader #chat fic imagine #oc insert

[emmashouldbewriting]

Swearing off social media and not getting invites to/attending celebrity events has been a huge mistake for the Sussexes. Brand partnerships and merching gigs can be good sources of income, but how can they get any big ones when they don't make appearances? I don't know if they thought that royal events would be enough? But they then screwed that pooch too. What would you advise them to do now?

i completely agree, social media was their biggest one. meghan was hugely hurt when they weren't allowed to make off with their official IG account and IG refused to port over their followers. especially when covid hit and they couldn't use the popularity they had at that point to steal invites to award shows (bc yes, i 100% think they'd have gotten them in for the 2020 award season)

i really don't know what they can do. they seem to have burnt literally every single bridge they have, leaving them seemingly no options. realistically, meghan has to recognise that harry is the one people care about and let him do military/conservation stuff like he was once known for, but i don't think she can. she's so obsessed with her brand but she has no idea how to build it, because she needs a brand that's true to who she is to make it sellable, but she doesn't seem to have much of a personality... and what she does have isn't sellable in the slightest. you have to be likable or be very good at pretending to be, but she's just not likable and she can't fake it, either

and harry's real issue is that his own identity is wrapped up in being Prince Harry. not The Duke of Sussex. Prince Harry. like that's who he is and sorry, but people don't give a shit about him outside of the royals

all that is to say i don't think there's a damn thing they can do about it

[laufire]

Sorry for sending this message twice but I was still groggy from my sleep meds when I sent the first message and I’m worried that I might have been incoherent. I love your response to that “neurotypical feminism post”. Like the way they positioned experiences with street harassment as some privileged thing only non-disabled women deal with was disgusting. I’m an autistic woman (I do identify as nonbinary but I’m afab and femme presenting) and while I’ve only experienced street harassment once that one time was extremely traumatic and I just can’t believe anyone would frame that as a form of privilege (or imply disabled women don’t experience harassment because what???)

Don't worry, it was perfectly coherent ^-^ (I'll reply to this one since you say some of the same, with additional information).

First of all, I'm sorry that happened to you. It can leave you feeling so furious and so powerless. That's what makes it so despicable to me.

That part of the post in particular was SO DAMN ENRAGING. If I cared to be generous I'd guess OP (or the bnf with the anxiety comment, for that matter) was saying something on the vein of, "we need to understand different women might experience different brands of misogyny, because women are different and misogyny has one (1) goal: screwing us all; and in order to get that, it adapts!"

But she used the term "hit on". That immediately put me on edge and I wasn't feeling too generous xDD

I've suffered various forms of street harassment in my life and the idea that not being on the receiving end of it could be a bad thing... gtfo of here lmao. Like I mentioned in that reply it's been a while since I've received the most "conventional" form (it hasn't saved me from the others!). But you know when it was that it happened last?

It was about three winters ago, right Before Covid TM. I had my unwashed hair all underneath a hat, baggy pants that are (and look!) over a decade old, and a bulky coat that goes down to my knees as I went to the grocery store for a snack. Oh, and get this: it was from the time my knee was really fucking me up. SO I WAS OUT WITH A FUCKING CANE, LOOKING LIKE A BALD BLACK BLOB WITH A STICK THAT VERY MUCH MADE ME "VISIBLY DISABLED". Did that stop the drunk 40+yo man from telling me exactly how he wanted to fuck me? Sure as fuck didn't. At least I had something at hand to beat him with if he'd decided to cross the line (+ I had pepper spray in my pocket. That purchase has given me a lot of peace of mind ngl).

I also remember the first time I was on the receiving end of street harassment. I was with two friends I stopped hanging out with not much later, so I must have been 9, 10yo at most. My friends were one year older than me, very blonde and very tall. My boobs had come early and they were not small. Apparently, these things meant these two 20yo guys from my hometown just HAD to follow us and comment on our bodies and just how bitchy all of us were for not meekly or graciously accepting their "compliments". The only reason I didn't leave this experience terrified is because of the circumstances (not being alone, small town where Someone Is Always Watching and you all know each other AND each other's family, which makes these men a tad more accountable than That Rando whistling at you in the city, ime).

Basically: street harassment is NOT ABOUT ATTRACTION. It's NOT a "compliment" about a woman's physical beauty. It's harassment. It's designed to terrorise you, plain and simple. Men will do it to children, like I was. They will do it to old women, to ugly women, to butch women, to Muslim women covered from head to toe... How you look can be the weapon used against you but it's not the point. They don't want to flirt with you or start a relationship with you or what have you. They want you scared and to "know your place". That's it.

This was never clearer to me than after covid's lockdown, btw. Here in Spain there was suddenly this fucking epidemic of harassment against women walking alone on the street, at any hour of the day. Masked, dressed plainly to do some basic errands, whatever. I guess confinement had left a lot of these men without the opportunity to terrorise women in this way and they were really itching for it rme (probably accompanied by a new progressive government implementing some laws they didn't like, I'm sure).

#non rebloggable because it got personal. couldn't help it #it FEELS personal ffs #talking to the void #street harassment mention #replies #daenerysthevampireslayerr

[honeysucklepink]

Covid Day 3 (apparently? What happened to the other days? I’ll tell you under a cut cause damn I’m long-wimdy):

Day 0: Thursday, when I started having symptoms (scratchy throat, sinus congestion, achy joints though to be fair one of those is a jammed up finger from my fall two months ago, and a temp of 99, which for me is actually a bit high). Went to work anyway LIKE A MORON, but stayed closed up in my office. About noon, when no one showed up to my online workshop (one person tried to login on mobile twice then gave up) and I realized I could barely get through it anyway, I took a Covid test I keep in my desk drawer--negative. Okay, so maybe the flu? Even though I had my flu and covid booster a few weeks ago, maybe it’s a strain they didn’t catch? I went to student health. Did I tell you my campus has declared we are “post-covid” and they aren’t even doing masks? And now you need an appointment, my primary doc had the week off, and the lady said “oh it’s probably just this bad cold that’s been going around anyway” *GGGRRR* I say fuck it, call it a day, run to Walmart to grab some meds and soup and decide I’m taking Friday off too.

Day 1: Friday. Still feel like crud, though the cough is starting to be productive at least, the temp is up and down but mainly in the upper 98-99 range. Sit in virtually on a faculty meeting, then a phone meeting with the estate attorney re: Dad’s will. Hubby is in a tree stand all day so I take care of myself. Fix some veggie beef soup and a roll for lunch, PBJ for a snack, and some stir-fry Hubs made the night before for dinner. Plus LOADS of ginger tea with honey and lemon. Hope I’m improving by Saturday because a work friend is having her “Birthday/Halloween/Breast Cancer in Remission” party tomorrow night and my Coach Beard costume is on POINT.

Day 2: Saturday. Fuck me. I wake up SWEATING, burning up. My temperature is now 100.0 (Allie Brosh gif “no, I wanted the opposite of this”) and I decide “fuck it, I’m taking another Covid test.” Well screw me sideways, for the first time since March 2020 when all this shit started it finally got to me. I text Hubs “DON’T COME IN HERE” and he texts back “LET ME GET THE FLAME THROWER” (haha very funny). Instead he brings me coffee, toast, and eggs. Then I ask him three separate texts for 1) apple butter for my toast 2) Crystal hot sauce for my eggs and 3) a glass of orange juice. Hey it’s the least he can do after the flame thrower quip. Fortunately there is an urgent care open until 4 pm down the road, so I go there, follow protocols, they don’t give me another test (apparently the home test positives are pretty accurate, they are more likely to give you false negatives). Interestingly they do not recommend paxlovid at this clinic, especially with my high blood pressure. They give me a shot to start my antibiotic/steroid boost, I run pick up a bunch of meds and some McDonalds, and hunker down in my isolation chamber and proceed to watch my Ole Miss Rebels end their seven-game winning streak. Joy. Hubby brings me soup and a roll and some gatorade.

So that makes today (Sunday) Day 3. According to CDC guidelines, I should isolate 5 days from the start of my symptoms, then so long as I’m feeling better after Day 5 and my temp has been normal for 24 hours, I can go back to work wearing a mask for at least five more days (though I will probably wear a mask for the rest of my life. I’ve realized I don’t like my lower face; my teeth are crooked, my lips are oddly scarred from years of cold sores, I’ve developed a complete lack of a chin which now blends into my neck...yeah I’ll wear a mask forever. Which would be easier if I didn’t also have to wear glasses)

#covid-19 #now back to my regular shitposting

[the-real-zhora-salome]

She really basically said she’s not worried about herself but screw everyone else. Who cares if they are laid up for 3 weeks, I’m fine. Damn woman. My respect for her just evaporated. How self centered can you get?

First and foremost she is grossly uninformed.

After several SARS-CoV-2 infections and at least one bout of Long Covid, she is not fine. She is just not bedridden anymore.

The damage that all these infections have done to her body will probably have sheared off a couple of years from her life expectancy. She may develop dementia in a few years. Or suffer a sudden heart attack in a year, even though she thinks she is "healthy". She will be prone to all kinds of other infections. A bout of pneumonia may kill her.

If she wants to do this to herself, fine, whatever. But she is putting everybody around her at the same risk, and that's not okay.

#wouldn't surprise me if she's unvaccinated too

[weregreatatcrime]

You know one of the worst things about my health rn is that when I check back in to stuff I've done in the past, whether it's art or writing or role-playing, I just. "Wow! This is awesome. I don't remember half of this." Or when I had things going on and paused partway through..... I don't remember hardly ANY of the plans I had for fics. And while I've tried, I just. Genuinely Do Not Have the brainpower to be creative anymore. Literally just getting through the day without letting my malfunctioning flesh prison collapse to the ground takes up so much energy that the very concept of CREATING has just been impossible. And it fucking sucks because not only do I know other people miss my work, but *I* miss my work too. I miss being able to think about things without having to worry I'll be braindead the rest of the day. I miss having fun writing and making things, collaboration with others, and just having a blast writing self-indulgence nonsense.

Doesn't help that I keep getting people on ao3 asking me if I'm updating soon or, in one memorable case, some dude who thought it was appropriate to ask if "the covid got me". Like I've never much cared to force myself to update schedules but now I can't do anything at all about it and idk what to tell ppl. "Hey sorry I haven't updated in ages, the last year has been nothing but neurological bs screwing my body and mind around until I was literally incapable of working because collapses and an absolutely inability to focus. I zone out midsentence sometimes or forget LANGUAGE and things that I've known since toddlerhood. Memory blanks and just straight up memory loss have impacted my everyday life.... and lets not even BRING UP the hand tremors and muscle spasms that make it hard to use my own damned hands. Sorry about all that! IDK when the next updates will be because I'm at risk of dropping from a stroke at the ripe old age of 22" Like. I can't even talk to friends online as much as I want to because *having conversations* requires energy and focus and I cannot guarantee either

#venting #tw #idk what to tag this as just. don't read if you're in a bad spot #i don't have anyone to really vent to #other than my caretakers #and i do that enough as it is

[nerdykeith]

Damn this is so screwed up! I'm so over hearing about these employers who have no concept of a work-life balance and have no respect for their employees health and wellbeing. Have these managers never heard the expression "a happy worker is a productive worker".

We need to stop putting a taboo on employees who NEED to call in sick for legitimate reasons.

And honestly if one person calling in sick causes "major damage" this company is not being managed effectively. Needs a better constructed operation in all honesty. What did they do during the pandemic? Just let people come in to work with covid?

#karens #violation of human rights #employment rights

[uozlulu]

IwtV AMC fic. The Mortal and the Vampires. PG-13.

Character(s)/Relationship(s) Armand, Daniel, Louis; Armand/Daniel, Armand/Louis, Louis/Daniel, Armand/Louis/Daniel Genre Fairytale/Fantasy/Slash/Vampire Rating PG-13 Word Count 11,315 Disclaimer As this is fanfiction, I do not hold copyright to the source material(s) nor do I claim that I do. This is for free entertainment purposes only. Summary A mortal met two vampires in a gay bar in San Francisco one night fifty years ago. If they were kind, the vampires would have screwed him and left him be, but Armand and Louis chose Daniel, and that was at times as much of a curse as the dark gift Daniel once sought. A kind of modern fairytale set within the universe of the AMC show. Warning(s) spoilers up through season 1 episode 7, spoilers for the remaining events in Interview with the Vampire, inspired by spoilers for The Queen of the Damned, inspired by spoilers for The Vampire Armand, mention of spoilers for The Vampire Armand, set during the AIDS epidemic, set during the COVID-19 pandemic, chronic illness, consensual blood drinking, toxic relationship, addiction, food consumption, alcoholism, nausea, blood-fueled eating disorder, mention of taking illicit drugs, language, mind manipulation, brief hospital setting and paraphernalia, medical distress, mention of sex but no explicit descriptions, mention of vampire attacks, major character undeath Notes I read a fic a while back that made me liken Armand/Daniel to the fairytale “Beauty and the Beast.” After a few days of that thought rattling around in my brain, I created this fic, which eventually went in more of a poly than pairing direction. This isn’t a straight up 1:1 “Beauty and the Beast” AU, but more like a kind of fairytale that exists within the world of the AMC show that incorporates a few plot points reminiscent of the fairytale.

I’ve seen the television show and read the original IwtV almost twenty years ago. Every spoiler I’ve learned for the rest of the series I’ve learned through my friends, book synopsis, cultural osmosis, and being a part of the fandom since starting the TV show. That’s why this fic is based on spoilers even though I don’t know all spoilers, so apologies if this is a bit of a telephone game via my swiss cheesy memory that’s probably forgotten things. Luckily, the show is an AU, so this is a bit of a free real estate situation anyway.

AO3 link

  The Mortal and the Vampires     

Once, long ago on a cold fall night, a mortal met two vampires in a gay bar in San Francisco. Daniel was high and looking for booze. Yet, his mind was still inquisitive and drew Louis to him. It was Louis’ turn to choose whom to bring back to his apartment and Armand had no objections.

If they were kind, the vampires would have just fucked Daniel within an inch of his life and left him be. Yet, Louis needed to talk about his life and Daniel kept asking questions and kept changing the mini-cassette tapes in his recorder. When the interview ended in violence, Armand threw Daniel at the door and the boy fled.

Louis pocketed the mini cassettes. “He didn’t even listen.”

“He’s mortal. He just heard be young and fuck forever.” Armand watched Daniel run through the alley from the window. He could not look away until the boy disappeared from sight.

Louis looked around his apartment. The paper peeled from the walls. The table laid in ruins. His life replayed through his mind. “What am I doing?”

“Instilling the fear he lacks.” Armand stepped away from the window. He knelt down by the remnants of the table and picked through the pieces and then he stood straight. “He has the tapes.”

“Let the boy keep them.” Louis licked his lips and let his mind wander to places far away from his pockets. “That boy is going to run all the way to New Orleans.” He sighed and then held Armand’s gaze. “You know, I’m not over it. Over thirty years and I’m not over it.”

“You don’t have to be over it,” Armand said.

“I need to make peace with it – with all of it,” Louis said. “I need some time to myself.” He left swiftly.

The faucet in the kitchen dripped steadily. Music played loudly from another unit barely muffled by the thin walls. Armand took to the streets. He rose on the breeze between buildings like a kite. He finally settled down in front of Daniel who managed to run farther than Armand thought someone who reeked of that much vice could.

Daniel looked up at Armand, noting how Armand’s eyes glowed in the darkness of the alley. Daniel swallowed and could not find his voice.

“I need your tapes,” Armand said.

“Then turn me,” Daniel said.

“This isn’t a negotiation.” Armand hauled Daniel to his feet effortlessly and reached into his jacket pockets. There were only a few condoms. Jeans pockets turned up a wallet and a wrinkled handkerchief. “Where are they?”

Daniel checked his own pockets and cursed under his breath. “On the table. Fuck.” He needed those tapes. “My recorder too.” He did not have enough money to replace that.

Armand let him go. Daniel managed to find his footing and looked off in the direction of Louis’ apartment. He sighed and started walking.

“They aren’t at the apartment anymore.” Armand followed.

Daniel stopped walking. “I need my shit. I’ve got work to do.”

“Louis has them,” Armand said. “He’s left the city.”

Daniel slowed. “Then I’ll go to New Orleans and research it myself.”

“So you can run to Lestat with your collar open and beg him to turn you?” Armand stopped at Daniel’s side. “If you become a vampire, you’ll never feel the sun again.”

“Fewer sunburns,” Daniel said.

“One day you’ll wake and everyone you hold dear will be dead. No one will remember what it was like when you called this place home. You’ll tell a tale of how a vampire stole your mini-cassette recorder and everyone will stare with a blank look of pure ignorance.” Armand held Daniel’s gaze.

“My family disowned me, and my friends are either dead or gone.” Daniel did not look away. “I already have no one.”

Armand ran his tongue along his teeth. He studied Daniel a long moment. He could not explain it, but he did not want to be rid of the boy. Not yet.  “Then I’ll show you what you seek. You will become my shadow. You will live with me, hunt with me, and observe this life you crave for what it is.”

“And if I still want it?” Daniel asked.

“Then I’ll kill you,” Armand said. His fangs caught the nearby streetlight.

Daniel’s heart quickened and then immediately calmed. “Better than dying in a jungle.”

Armand led them to the airport where he arranged a private flight away from San Francisco and to new horrors.

~

Time passed, Armand showed Daniel nights full of violence and passion. Daniel spent his days trying to chase stories and deadlines. When Armand woke one day, he found Daniel in the bedroom neither of them slept in at the desk in front of an open window asleep amid his notes and manuscript for an upcoming newspaper article. A small breeze played with Daniel’s curls and a strip of sunlight from the barely parted curtains illuminated each strand it touched.

Armand kept his distance, but his gaze lingered on Daniel for a long time. Somewhere deep down inside of him, he almost remembered the heat of the sun amidst a field of wheat, plentiful and tall. He could almost smell it drying in the sun. Almost touch them. He slipped deeper into the condo away from the sun and the wind. He curled up in the corner of the sofa and turned on the television.

When Daniel woke, the sun was low but not setting yet. He stared at his typewriter and sighed. He had half a paragraph and a bunch of smashed keys. He pulled the paper from the typewriter and put it in a pile of other scrap paper in similar states. A muffled murmur from another room caught his attention. Daniel stretched and followed it.

It was not unusual for Daniel to find Armand awake before sunset. Some days he found Armand making absolutely vile concoctions in the kitchen, reveling in the bright colors they created. Oher days, like today, Armand gazed at the world through the television while sitting curled up on the sofa. A series of wood ducklings jumped out of a tall stump and splashed down into the water below one by one while a soft voice narrated. Armand pulled his legs close to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. The only light in the room came from the television.

“You’re going to ruin your eyes watching TV in the dark.” Daniel settled down in the opposite corner of the sofa.

Armand’s eyes remained fixed on the screen as it transitioned to a majestic view of the sky across the clearing in a forest. “I can sleep off any damage.”

The documentary continued to play. Traffic rumbled outside. The sun would not set for a long while. Daniel’s gaze settled on Armand. Armand kept watching the nature program. Finally, the program ended and a donation pleas began. Armand started flipping channels.

“I’ve been wondering,” Daniel said, “if you drank my blood after I dropped acid, would you also get high?”

Armand stopped flipping the channels when the donation drive ended and a new program began. “I’ve never gotten high or drunk from blood.”

Daniel watched the camera pan across a long, majestic mountain range. He looked at a clock nearby. They still had a long wait for sunset. “Maybe your body heals too fast for it.” He paused. “If you took something and I drank your blood, would I get high even if you didn’t?”

Armand blinked and glanced at Daniel. His brain already seemed to turn behind his eyes. “Do you want to drink my blood?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question,” Daniel said. “Can you get high?”

“I’ve never tried,” Armand said. “Do you want to drink my blood?”

The television continued to flicker. Traffic continued to rumble.

Daniel licked his lips. “Will it turn me?”

“No, but I’ve heard sometimes mortals become ill.” Armand uncurled his legs and set his feet on the floor but remained sitting on the sofa. He turned off the television. He never let a mortal drink his blood before, and he wanted to know what would happen. The plague was now inconsequential and modern medicine had a cure for so many things. Armand doubted an incurable disease would be an issue and even if it was, it might be fascinating to watch someone succumb to it.

“I have a strong stomach,” Daniel said. He licked his lips and leaned closer, letting the tips of his fingers slide along Armand’s neck. His skin was smooth and firm. Daniel’s bitten nails definitely would not pierce it. Cutting Armand open with his pocketknife like a package seemed weird. “I don’t have fangs.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Armand said. He pierced his vein with his nails. Blood gushed forth, sliding down his neck and across his collarbone. His heart beat quickened in anticipation.

Daniel leaned forward and licked the trail with his tongue. Armand’s blood was viscous and florally sweet. Daniel followed the path up to the puncture marks and drank eagerly. His hand gripped Armand’s shoulder, keeping him pinned against the corner of the sofa.

Daniel came up for air and a series of blood streaked kisses. Clothing found its way to the floor. A light turned on seemingly by itself. The sunlight faded from the sky and night arrived. The walls absorbed their moans.

~

It was closer to dawn than midnight. Daniel’s heart pounded in his ears. He tried to join the crowd moving along the sidewalks as nonchalantly as possible, but everyone kept looking at him. He took a few deep breaths and almost jumped when he saw a set of familiar glowing eyes watching him from the shadows not far away. “Mr. de Pointe du Lac.”

Louis smiled slightly. “I could hear your heart and mind approaching. You can call me Louis now that the interview is over.” He looked past Daniel a moment but saw no signs of Armand.

Daniel tried to get his breathing and heart rate to go back to normal. He could not stop thinking about the person Armand killed. He did not want to go back to the condo. He did not know where he should go.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Louis asked.

“Not tonight,” Daniel said.

“Come with me,” Louis said, “but if you demand to be turned, I will throw you out or kill you myself.”

Daniel nodded. He followed Louis through a series of alleyways to some of the cheapest housing in the city. Louis’ studio apartment had barely enough room for two bookshelves, a coffin, a radio, a love seat, and a small table with four chairs. Louis pulled a heavy curtain over the window.

“I can only offer water,” Louis said and gestured for Daniel to sit at the table. “I’d let you cook one of the rats from this building, but they feast on poison.”

Daniel sat on one of the chairs. “So you can drink their blood even if they’ve been poisoned?”

“I’m already dead. As long as the blood I consume isn’t also dead, I can drink all I like.” Louis set the water on the table.

“So only veins? No blood bags?” Daniel asked.

“If it’s not expired, a blood bag will work, but it tastes like the bag,” Louis said.

One of the neighbors woke and their radio began to play loudly through the walls. Daniel’s stomach rumbled. If he went home, there would be coffee and maybe a left over bagel. He could also drink Armand’s blood. Daniel’s thoughts paused. He probably should not want to do that again. It started as a sex thing and then it slowly became a daily thing. He had not had any of Armand’s blood since early yesterday morning after they returned from a hunt.

Louis frowned at the imagery and thoughts Daniel’s mind projected. It was a year since the interview. He wondered why Daniel’s name had not appeared in publication in all that time. Now he suspected why. “When was the last time you submitted an article?”

Daniel finished his water. His heart and lungs were calm now, but his mind kept hopping between Armand’s blood and the hunt tonight. “I don’t know…” He thought a long moment. “February? Maybe? The one about someone going around draining cows of blood. I had to pretend I don’t know vampires exist.” He fidgeted a little on his chair to distract his brain. “I keep coming up with stories but my typing must not be good anymore because they keep getting rejected.” He needed to stop drinking before he wrote, but alcohol filled the void Armand’s blood left behind especially when Daniel would try to leave like tonight.

Neither Louis nor Daniel spoke for a long time. The radio continued to play from the other unit. Someone pounded loudly on the floor above them trying to silence the noise. Daniel’s fingers slid along the glass. He watched the fingerprints appear and disappear. “Armand ate a kid today. I mean not a kid-kid, but some high schooler I think.” He frowned. “I mean there are so many terrible people out there….” Although if Armand ate the wrong bad guy that could just start city-wide violence.

“Do you think farmers stop to contemplate who the lamb they slaughter was in life?” Louis asked.

“I dunno… I would,” Daniel said. His gaze shifted to Louis. “They have to choose which sheep get to make more sheep, don’t they?” He stifled a yawn. “So they should choose wisely.”

Birds began to make noise outside, already looking for scraps of food left behind on the streets. Louis leaned back in his chair. “We can share the coffin. I’ll keep the lid open today.”

“Is it safe for you if it’s open?” Daniel asked.

“If I close it, you’ll suffocate in your sleep,” Louis said.

Daniel nodded and followed Louis to the coffin. Louis got in first and Daniel got in second. There was barely room for both of them, but somehow they fit with some adjustment. Louis’ body was cold but seemed to warm slightly the longer they laid together. Daniel’s eyes closed. He did not register falling asleep.

~

Coffins made for decent beds and kinky little sex closets upon waking. Daniel left Louis’ apartment satiated but also starving. He returned to Armand and began another year of breaking up and making up spanning many cities. Daniel slept at odd hours and in odd places. Meals became a blur of cigarettes, coffee, and whatever strange concoction Armand placed in front of him. Daniel could still taste the warmed greens with rat’s blood Armand gave him before Daniel stormed out of the apartment.

The rat’s blood should have been Armand’s blood. Daniel drank it more than once a day when they were together now. Everything else tasted terrible in comparison.

Daniel leaned against a payphone in Paris debating if he should page Armand and go home. Daniel’s wallet and stomach were empty. His mini-cassette tapes were full, but his deadlines long overdue. He could not remember the last time he ate, the last time he wrote, or the last time he published. Somehow, the best thing he ever wrote was still his piece on the pollution of the rivers that he did a few months before he met the vampires three years ago.

Daniel slowly unhooked the pay phone. He put the francs he found abandoned on the street into the machine. He felt eyes on him and dropped the phone when he spotted Louis standing beside him. Daniel cursed under his breath and pulled the phone up by its cord. “Hey.”

Louis studied Daniel a moment. Daniel’s hands trembled and he seemed unable to stop shivering despite his leather jacket, which was too large for him now. Louis looked around at the buildings nearby, eyeing the one he knew Armand liked best. ‘I’m taking our boy to that place,’ he thought deliberately at Armand. He turned to Daniel. “Get your coins back. Let’s go to a café.”

Daniel opened his mouth to decline but changed his mind. He pressed a button on the pay phone and his francs returned. “I’m not really hungry.”

“You just think you aren’t,” Louis put a hand across his shoulders for a few steps and then led them the same café Armand took Daniel the first time they visited Paris two years ago. Louis and Daniel took a small table with four chairs. The waiter arrived promptly, exchanged greetings, and left them with menus.

Daniel glanced through the menu. Everything sounded bland or dull compared to Armand’s blood. His stomach rumbled at the thought. He ran a hand through his hair and then froze. His attention immediately latched onto Armand as Armand headed over to them and sat in one of the empty chairs between Louis and Daniel.

“You should have just let him page me,” Armand said.

“He needs to eat actual food,” Louis said.

Daniel’s eyes did not leave Armand. “When do I drink?”

The waiter returned, checked to see if they were ready to order, and brought Armand a menu. Without any orders ready, the waiter left for other tables.

Armand watched Daniel. Under the strings of lights, Daniel’s eyes cast shadows and the skin seemed taut against his cheeks. His clothing hung off him strangely, and he kept shivering despite the hot evening. “You can drink later,” Armand said. “Eat something first.”

Daniel eyed him and sighed. “You know this isn’t what I’m hungry for,’ he thought very strongly.

“Later,” Armand said.

When the waiter returned, Daniel ordered the same strawberry dessert he had with Armand the first time they came to this café. Louis ordered a sandwich and Armand ordered coffee. While they waited for the orders, Louis glanced at Armand and thought, ‘He’s dying.’

‘I know,’ Armand thought in a hiss.

Music played nearby. Daniel focused on it to avoid thinking about the void in his stomach or the blood in Armand’s veins.

‘What are you going to do when he catches that disease?’ Louis asked.

Armand frowned. He heard the whispers through vampire telepathy recently. He thought he could escape the disease in France, but many mentioned it starting to spread here too. Another plague was coming in the next few years, this time borne on blood and easily passed from vampires to mortals if a mortal drank vampire blood.

‘You’ve turned him into a vampire without actually turning him,’ Louis thought.

Armand hissed quietly in warning.

Daniel looked at them curiously. Before he could ask, the food arrived. Louis and Armand pushed their dishes towards Daniel’s section of the table.

Daniel stared at the food unmoving. The sandwich was fresh. The coffee smelled fragrant. The dessert looked perfect. He knew that he should want to eat the desert the most. He liked it back when he joked about the first Paris trip feeling like some kind of honeymoon. Now he could barely remember how the dessert should taste.

“I’m not hungry for this.” Daniel’s stomach remained decidedly silent at the thought of anything but Armand’s blood.

“You will be when you eat it,” Louis said and set a spoon down on the plate with the dessert.

‘Maybe if I had some blood, I could,’ Daniel thought as loud as he could.

Armand held his gaze. ‘Later. Eat.’

Daniel eyed Armand and scooped up a strawberry with his spoon. He put it entirely in his mouth and chewed. It was fresh and sweet. It was floral and somewhat enticing. Daniel ate a few more bites of the dessert and then his stomach lurched. His grip tightened on his spoon. He looked up at the lights. He managed to keep the food down and not vomit. He sighed and drank a good portion of the coffee in front of him. That managed to settle his stomach barely.

Armand tensed. This was not the first time he saw Daniel react to food like this. This was the first time he saw it happen with food that Armand had not tried to make. “Daniel –”

“I’m fine,” Daniel said. The lights seemed to make him paler and gaunter. “I’m just not hungry.”

Armand’s thumb stroked his other hand. He pried into Daniel’s mind, but every other thought was blood instead of the next new article or curiosities about the people sitting nearby. Armand’s jaw tensed. “Let’s go home.” He made eye contact with their waiter, obtained the bill, and left cash on the tray when it arrived.

The vampires rose from their chairs. Daniel sighed and followed. Once they were away from eavesdroppers, Louis bid them goodbye. He was still on his personal journey. Armand and Daniel continued to the apartment Armand rented near the cafe. As they walked, a vampire thought so loudly Armand could not tune them out.

‘My mortal lover is gone,’ the vampire mourned. ‘Even the mortals know nothing. They ween to the hospital and never returned.’

‘It took a family not long ago, the same symptoms,’ another said.

‘We aren’t dying from it, so I don’t fucking care!’ someone growled. ‘Shut up about it already or think quieter!’

Armand licked his lips and entered the apartment. He slipped off his shoes and they rested neatly near the door. Daniel kicked his off haphazardly. With a thought, Armand moved them with his mind into place.

���Is it later now?” Daniel asked.

“Almost,” Armand said. He led the way to the bedroom. Choices swirled in his mind.

Daniel pulled his shirt over his head and cast it to the floor. It shot off towards the hamper within seconds.

Armand could see Daniel’s ribs against his flesh. He could map out tendons and bone throughout Daniel’s body. Daniel did not stop shivering. His stomach rumbled loudly. Armand reached out and pressed his fingers to Daniel’s forehead as a formality more than a necessary gesture. “Sleep.” Daniel’s eyes closed and his body fell forward into Armand’s arms. Armand held him tight. Daniel still shivered even in his sleep. His heart did not beat as strongly as it should. His stomach kept rumbling.

If Armand turned Daniel, he would no longer be able to listen to Daniel’s thoughts. If Armand did not turn him, how long would it take the new plague to kill Daniel? Or, would Daniel starve to death before that? How long until Daniel’s mind ceased to exist on Earth? Could vampire blood even sustain him any longer?

Blood fell from one of Armand’s eyes, creating a trail down his cheek. He looked at an undetermined point across the room. He should turn Daniel. He could do it right here and now. He could suffer the silence but see Daniel thrive. Or, Armand could keep feeding Daniel, tethering Daniel to his side, and always be one-step away from a death Armand might be too far away to prevent when it finally happened. He hated it. All of it.

Armand peered into Daniel’s dreams, finding a room where blood oozed from the ceiling and walls and saturated a carpet that squished with every step. Daniel stood naked in the dream room, unable to touch or drink, wasting away in agony.

Armand left the dream. His grip on Daniel tightened. A terrible but doable horrible third option surfaced in his mind. Armand licked his lips and ran his fingers through Daniel’s curls. His eyes glowed in the darkness. He imagined barriers strong as steel and tall as cliffs setting up in Daniel’s mind, wrapping around all of Daniel’s memories of Armand, his blood, Louis, and the vampire life. Armand reinforced the barrier with concrete and wire, creating a terrible capsule and envisioned it tucked away in the furthest recesses of Daniel’s mind where no light could reach.

Armand held his breath and peered into Daniel’s dreams again. There was no more blood. Daniel drifted down the Seine on a small boat, staring up at the stars just as Daniel and Armand did the first time they visited Paris together. A woman sat beside Daniel, her hair a strange mix of colors, a figment of Daniel’s imagination.

Armand’s mind slipped out of Daniels’ dream and his fingers out of Daniel’s hair. He adjusted Daniel in his arms so he could carry him. There was a hospital not far away. He could leave Daniel there and when Daniel woke, the doctors would know what to do.

Once Daniel was in a room and started to undergo treatment for dehydration, Armand fled into the night.

~

When Daniel woke in the hospital days later, he was almost too sick to speak let alone think. His brain could not focus. He could barely understand when people spoke to him no matter their language or accent. After two weeks, his mind cleared, his health improved, and after another week, he could finally leave the hospital. The staff told him a beautiful young man brought him there one night and paid for his bill. The description matched no one Daniel could remember.

Daniel found a pay phone and dialed the only number he had memorized. He waited for them to call him back. When the pay phone rang, he was surprised when a man answered. “I’m trying to call,” Daniel paused and his brain seemed to shudder to a halt, “my wife…?” He paused. “Her name is Alice.” Even as he said it, a part of him did not feel confident about a single word he said.

Far away in another country, Armand did not speak immediately. He peeked at Daniel’s mind finding dissonant chaos as if Daniel’s mind was trying to patch over what Armand sealed away in the box. Armand finally spoke, “I represent her.”

Daniel blinked. “For what?”

“Legal matters,” Armand said, improvising as he went, “for your divorce.”

“What?” Daniel looked around, but there were no answers in the buildings, traffic, birds, and people nearby.

“You’re divorced,” Armand’s voice seemed to echo in Daniel’s mind. “You must have gotten so wasted after you signed the papers that you went to Paris afterwards.”

A cold sensation dripped in Daniel’s brain and sent a shudder down his spine to his toes. “I see,” he murmured, barely a whisper.

Armand licked his lips and continued in the same echoey voice, “You will never contact her again. You will find,” he paused, “someone else.”

Daniel felt another shudder. He nodded and then realized Armand could not see him. “Okay. Alright.” He paused, uncertain why he lingered on the line.

Armand hated this. He managed a whisper, “Goodbye, Daniel.”

“Bye,” Daniel said. He hung up the pay phone. It spit out his change. It was not enough to call his editor if his editor would even speak to him again. Daniel sighed and shuffled off down the street.

Half the world away, Armand stared at his phone a long moment as the dial tone echoed. He was alone. He had half a mind to fling himself into the sunlight in the morning.

~

Years passed. Lestat became a rock star and all whispers and rumors of Louis’ interview in the vampire community ceased. Armand tuned into Daniel’s thoughts regularly and spied on him whenever he was near. Daniel got married, had children, and hit every deadline on time. He published in respected magazines and journals. He appeared on news programs. Armand grew dusty and listless. He flung himself into the sunlight one afternoon and only ended up dooming the mortals he met that day to vampirism later.

Years later, Armand stood in front of a wall of televisions at a mall department store clutching a new video camera in a bag. All of the televisions displayed the same news network where Daniel explained his latest investigation to a reporter. Daniel’s eyes and hair shone in the studio lights. His skin no longer stretched taut across his bone and his hands were steady and strong. It was fifteen years since Daniel almost died in Paris.

“Our boy has gone places,” Louis said, seemingly materializing at Armand’s side.

The segment ended and Armand’s gaze turned to Louis. Slowly the televisions in the display turned off one by one as a voice over intercom system announced the store would close in ten minutes.

Louis smiled slightly. “I did a lot of thinking. I figured some things out. I think I know what I want from this eternity, at least for now.”

“What?” Armand asked as if he could not read Louis’ thoughts easily. He wanted to hear Louis say it aloud.

Louis smiled slightly and stepped closer. He put his fingers on Armand’s face and kissed him in the empty display room. “You.”

They hunted together that night, rekindling their partnership and reaffirming their bond. The decades passed and they secured a building in Dubai and took up residence in its penthouse with all but one window treated to block the sun’s UV rays. They took on mortals as servants who swore allegiance in the hopes of a dark gift that would never come.

One morning just as the sun pierced the horizon, Louis set his e-reader in his lap and said, “I want to invite our boy here.”

Armand paused, his finger hovering over the video editing software controls on his iPad screen. “It’s a global plague year.”

“I know,” Louis gazed at the memoir open on his e-reader a moment, “but our boy is dying. You know this. You already hacked his medical files and consulted one of the foremost authorities on Parkinson’s disease.”

Armand’s iPad screen timed out. He did not look away from Louis. “You want to turn him.”

“He begged me to when we met and I think he’s earned it,” Louis said. “The word would be emptier without him in it. That’s why you saved him, isn’t it,” Louis paused, “‘Alice?’”

Armand’s thumb stroked the edge of his iPad. He did not know why Daniel’s brain reorganized their time blood drinking into getting high together or where that concept of some hideous two-toned eyebrow came from. The next time Armand sealed someone’s memories away, he would influence the story their brain told afterwards. “Daniel was dying.”

“And you couldn’t let go of his mind or curse him.” Louis set his e-reader aside. “I know your heart as screwed up and needy as it can be.” He paused in thought. “I’ll have to ask for no third parties so his editor won’t pry.”

Armand set his iPad down and stood. He stepped into the center of the sitting room and observed it, his eyes following the flow of the room from the floor to the bookshelves on the ceiling. He needed a way to spy and participate in the interview. “We could make this place your hermitage. You already almost treat it as such. No e-readers where Daniel can see, no trips outside when he can know about them. We will all wear black.”

Louis’ attention stayed on Armand as Armand moved about the room as he spoke.

“I will become one of the servants and remain in the room, bringing food and other necessities, always waiting to return the tray so my presence won’t be questioned. I’ll disguise myself with brown contacts and gloves.” Armand paused. “I wonder how long it will take him to realize I’m not mortal.”

Louis’ lips quirked into a smile. “Until you snap and visit your bookshelves.”

Armand’s face relaxed into a placid expression and he spoke with reverence, “As you say, Mr. de Pointe du Lac.”

Louis snorted and then changed his demeanor to match, letting his voice become more even, more authoritative, drawing from his life long ago in New Orleans. “As I say,” he paused.

“Rashid,” Armand said.

“As I say, Rashid,” Louis said. He got up from the sofa.

They headed to their rom still plotting their charade.

~

One afternoon almost fifty years since the gay bar in San Francisco, Daniel retrieved a package he received from Dubai that he let sit out with other mail for a few days. It was the first package he received that was not something he ordered since the pandemic and his retirement began. He skimmed the enclosed letter and then removed a mini-cassette player and a few mini-cassette tapes from the box. The shorthand on the tapes read vampire. The date and sequence of the tapes used his own personal system. It looked like his handwriting. There were eight tapes.

Daniel took the contents to the living room and settled into his chair. He placed the first tape into the player and pressed play.

“This is Monday, October 2, 1972,” Daniel’s voice spoke on the tape. “I’m in San Francisco with Louis de Pointe du Lac. This is tape A.” There was a pause. “When you’re ready, Mr. de Pointe du Lac.”

A soft southern voice began a tale of vampire romance at the turn of the previous century. Daniel stared up at the ceiling and tried to attach what he heard to any stray memory of the encounter. 1972 was two years after he graduated high school and at least three years into his substance abuse. As the tapes played, sometimes he remembered peeling wallpaper and lights that kept everything dim and sensual, but he could not place a face to the man claiming to be a vampire.

Daniel’s voice returned to the recording, his questions ill thought, leading, and asked slowly with too many pauses. He definitely did this interview high, but as each tape played, his voice started to sound more sober, though his questions were still absolute shit.

Daniel reached the final tape. Louis’ tale ended. Music played from another unit, the song barely recognizable. A car honked outside somewhere, crackling in the speaker.

“I want to become a vampire,” Daniel said on the tape.

In his chair, Daniel froze. He frowned and turned the volume up one notch even though he could hear it just fine.

“Please, Mr. de Pointe du Lac!” Daniel said earnestly on the tape, his words in a sudden rush, formality a hope for reward.

“No!” Louis’ voice rose. “Didn’t you listen to my story?! Didn’t you understand what I told you?!”

“I did!” Daniel replied, still an excited rush. “But I can’t think of anything better!”

There was a horrible hissing sound and the sound of a table smashing to pieces. The recorder hit the floor with the tapes. A door burst open and then a body landed on the ground with a horrible thump away from the recorder. “Run!” a new voice shouted.

The recording ended. Daniel rewound it a small amount and pressed play again. He ignored his own pleas, focusing instead on the scuffle and the voice at the very end. Certainly in his drug and alcohol-addled, Parkinson’s muddled brain, he would remember a vampire attacking him or even someone saving him from such an attack.

Yet, Daniel could only remember tiny details of the room. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the clock beside the television. The interview spanned barely four hours. He reread the letter, already deciding to take this vampire up on his offer and head to Dubai.

~

The myth about vampires being unable to use mirrors persisted even after most mirrors stopped using silver s backing. Armand finished placing his contacts and checked himself in the mirror in the bedroom where Louis and he kept their coffins. His collar was open and inviting, though he would not let Daniel drink his blood this time or at least not during the course of the interview. His hair was immaculate and styled perfectly. His gloves fit snugly with no hint of long nails. His contacts were a good, natural dark brown.

Armand could not look away from the brown eyes in the mirror. His mind recalled a field of sunflowers stretching well into the distance and winters that were long, cold, and full of snow. When the snow melted, puddles scattered across the land and dirt roads. He remembered a very young face staring at him in a puddle with the same dark eyes that stared at him in the mirror. It was the child before the church stole him from his parents, before the traders stole him from the church, before Marius bought him. Armand’s jaw tensed and he willed these memories far away. He left the mirror and prepared for his performance.

The performance almost did not matter. Armand could have stood naked or worn the ugliest paper bag and Daniel would have barely spared him a glance. Armand slept sporadically. He stood in the glory of the sun’s rays protected by the treated windows. He performed cell phone conversations. He prayed, unsurprised when Daniel interrupted. He imagined the box he constructed in Daniel’s mind slowly disintegrating, letting memories leak one by one as it disappeared. He saw no signs of knowing in Daniel’s eyes. Daniel’s brain had to do the rest. It was frustrating and agonizingly slow.

One evening, Armand watched the sunset spread out across the windows in the sitting room. The sky became increasingly orange. He heard Daniel’s shuffled steps and felt as much as heard all the interview questions and quandaries projecting from Daniel’s mind before Daniel even entered the room.

The thoughts dissipated when Daniel looked at Armand. “You’re watching the sunset again,” Daniel observed, his mind immediately trying to figure out why this seemed significant only to come up with no answers.

Armand smiled. “I enjoy it.” He angled his body to invite Daniel to stand beside him, though there was ample room around him for Daniel to stand wherever he wanted.

Daniel kept a professional distance but did choose the side Armand opened to him. Daniel’s eyes followed the clouds as the colors and brightness continued to intensify. “You’re the only person who appreciates this view. All of the other servants seem to be trying to transition to vampirism early.”

Armand’s eyes moved from the water to the sky to the buildings. “They don’t know what they will miss. I already know.”

Daniel’s gaze shifted to Armand, studying how dark Armand’s eyes were and how his gloves fit his fingers. He watched the sunlight illuminate the lighter strands in Armand’s hair. For some reason, his mind looked for vampirism but found no signs. “Louis seems to trust you a lot.”

“I like to think he does,” Armand said. The colors of the sunset began to lose their intensity.

Daniel’s attention returned to the sunset. Darkness began to encroach. Several ways he could say what he wanted to say played through his mind. All of them sounded too much like he was talking to one of his daughters.

“You’re worrying I’m wasting my life here,” Armand said, trying to sound like a lucky guess.

“When people with power over you give you a lot of trust, it can be alluring,” Daniel said. “One day you’re running through the streets of San Francisco and the next, you wake up in a hospital feeling like you don’t know your life anymore.”

The colors left the clouds, but daylight still barely lingered. The lights in the room were still off, allowing them to continue watching without reflections.

“If you know what you’ll miss, maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t be here,” Daniel said. “I used to think I wanted to be a vampire. I even begged Louis to turn me like an asshole.” He paused and watched the last of the light disappear. “I’m glad he didn’t do it.”

Armand held his breath a moment and then nodded. They remained in darkness, the only lights coming from the city. “I know Mr. de Pointe du Lac has never turned any of his servants. I still wish to serve him.” The lights in the room turned on seemingly by themselves. Armand found Daniel’s gaze. “I still wish to protect him.”

“From what?” Daniel did not look away.

“Himself,” Armand said.

Daniel stared a long moment. He was not sure how a mortal could do that. He still could not remember how the first interview ended but he heard enough of it on the tape to surmise there was no way a mortal could stop Louis once he was angry enough. Daniel rubbed his face and reminded himself to keep his professional distance. If this kid wanted to ruin his life, then Daniel had no say in it. He was not sure why he even thought he might.

“Mr. de Pointe du Lac will wake soon,” Armand said. “Do you require anything, Mr. Molloy?”

Daniel shook his head. “Nothing you probably won’t already bring.”

Armand nodded and left the room. He heard one of the servants scurrying away towards another part of the penthouse when he entered the hallway that lead to the kitchen. It was not a surprise. He could hear their heart beating beside the doorway the entire time. Armand began plotting the servant’s demise.

~

Sleep plagued and eluded Daniel. He would struggle to fall asleep when he should, wake up shortly after, and repeat until he gave up on sleeping in bed entirely. Inevitable if he was comfortable and the interview lulled as early morning headed towards dawn, he would inevitably fall asleep wherever he sat. It was embarrassing, unprofessional, and one of the many reasons he retired.

When Daniel did manage to sleep, his dreams became increasingly strange and more like memories. At first, mist, fog, and shadow obscured portions of the memories as details and events changed with each sleep. Instead of Alice getting high with him on the kitchen floor, he drank blood greedily from a figure he could not identify on the floor of the same kitchen. Instead of running through Paris nights holding hands and admiring the lights, he helped lure humans away from prying eyes and into waiting jaws. One time he dreamt of a room where blood seeped from the walls, ceiling, and made the carpet squish under his bare feet. It should have a smell to it, a taste to it, but there were none. He almost wanted to believe that this was his brain processing the story Louis wanted to tell, but another part of Daniel knew better. Even now as he drifted to sleep in the silence and warmth of the sofa, his brain already seemed to know it was another memory even before he saw Louis’ face at the gay bar clearly in his mind.

In the penthouse, Armand brought a blanket and settled it across Daniel’s body. He lingered, observing Daniel’s face in slumber, and then retrieved his iPad and took a photo.

“He’s going to see you do that someday,” Louis said quietly but not without amusement.

“I’ll airdrop him the photo when that happens.” Armand saved the photo onto the device with many other photos he secretly took of Daniel when Daniel was unaware.

Louis went over to the windows, observing the early morning before dawn. “Have you decided if you want to turn him?”

Armand joined Louis at the window. The waxing moon drew closer to the horizon. Armand did not want to damn Daniel. He did not want to stop hearing Daniel’s thoughts. He did not want Daniel to stop existing. He did not want to curse Daniel. He wanted to be the only vampire to curse Daniel. None of these wants could coexist. “No.”

“If he consents to my offer, I will turn him,” Louis said. “Maybe that’s the best option. You won’t have to lose his thoughts.”

Armand stiffened. He remembered the mortals he met decades ago when he ran into the sunlight. He gripped his iPad tighter and hissed, “You sound like Marius.”

“I don’t,” Louis hissed back. “I’m not doing this for myself. I’m not doing this for you. I am doing this for Daniel but only if he wants me to. He asked me to turn him and I can’t think of a reason not to do it now.”

“He’s mine.” Armand’s feet hovered off the ground slightly, allowing him to tower over Louis even more than he normally did. “I didn’t spare him so someone could claim that right.”

“But even if he says yes, you might not do it.” Louis did not look away. “It will still be about what you want. So, which of thee two of us really sounds like Marius?”

Armand hissed loudly. Daniel’s breathing changed. Armand’s feet almost silently touched the floor. Both vampires turned towards the sofa.

Daniel’s eyes fluttered open. He groaned in annoyance and rubbed his face. Slowly he looked towards Armand and Louis. “Sorry,” he said, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

“It doesn’t offend me,” Louis said, his tone once again even and firm. “I know it’s a possibility.” He stepped away from Armand. “We were at a good stopping point for the morning. We should end this session.” He turned to Armand. “See to it that our guest makes it to his room, Rashid.”

“I will, Mr. de Pointe du Lac,” Armand said, his voice barely level.

Louis bid them good morning and left. He wanted to sit outside where Daniel could not see in the short time before dawn.

Daniel pulled the blanket off his body and let it pool in the seat beside him. He stretched his hands and then began putting his interview equipment away.

Armand walked over and folded the blanket easily, placing it neatly in the unoccupied seat. He huffed under his breath.

Daniel slowly stood and shouldered his bag. “You don’t have to see me to my room.”

“I do what Mr. de Pointe du Lac asks of me,” Armand said, his voice more under control now.

“And it seems to consistently piss you off,” Daniel said as they walked. “Maybe you need a night out or a different cult.”

“I could go to a gay bar and get fined or put in jail,” Armand murmured.

“Only if you stay in Dubai.” Daniel paused at his door.

“Do you go around encouraging all of Mr. de Pointe du Lac’s staff to leave him?” Armand asked.

“No. You’re the only one who talks to me.” Daniel bid Armand good morning and disappeared into his room.

Armand lingered a moment and then took his time heading to the kitchen. He was in no mood to sleep yet.

~

The thought that Rashid was a vampire was always there in the back of Daniels’ mind, but he kept reasoning the thought away. Tonight, he could not rationalize it any longer as he watched Armand ascend to the bookshelves on the ceiling and toss a book down to Daniel’s feet. Daniel picked the book up and listened to Louis proclaim Armand the love of his life. But Louis’ voice sounded very far away as Daniel’s mind began to flood with memories. There was no Rashid and no Alice, only Armand. The fights, the sex, the feeding, the quiet moments curled up in front of the television, the film cameras, the kitchen gadgets – everything struck Daniel’s mind with such clarity and force the only thing he could manage was a whispered, “Fuck this,” much weaker than he wanted to say it.

The book dropped from Daniel’s hands. His knees hit the carpet. His mind seemed to spin more than the room. His heart climbed into his ears. He could not take a full breath. His forehead burned. His body chilled. Nausea threatened. He could hear Armand talking from somewhere up above but he could not understand the words even though they were in English.

Louis knelt beside Daniel and pressed his hands to Daniel’s face. Daniel was hot and his skin was red.

Armand took no notice. He was back in the air, enjoying the freedom of hovering off the ground and drifting about the room. “You were so quick to dismiss me that you couldn’t see what was in front of you. Well, what do you think now?”

“Armand –” Louis said.

“I’ve returned everything,” Armand continued. “There’s nothing left to forget.” His gaze returned to the floor below.

“Armand, do something,” Louis held his gaze, “or our boy’s going to die.”

Armand’s triumphant grin faltered as he became aware of how Daniel’s heart raced and how his breath wheezed. He peered into Daniel’s mind and watched as memory after memory flew from its containment until several memories seemingly occupied the same space at the same time. Armand’s feet touched the floor noiselessly. He knelt and pressed his fingers to Daniel’s forehead though the gesture was unnecessary. “Sleep.”

Daniel slumped against Louis, his heart immediately beginning to calm, though his brain continued in chaos.

“Is that really going to work?” Louis asked. When he listened to Daniel’s mind, he heard multiple conversations happening simultaneously.

“It will give his brain time,” Armand said, though he could not be sure. He picked the book off the floor and sent it to its place on the shelf by itself. He lifted Daniel easily and took him to his room.

Louis followed. Questions swirled through his mind, but he suspected that neither of them knew the answers yet. He pulled the bed covers out of the way and helped Armand divest Daniel of his shoes and belt. They settled the blankets over Daniel.

“How long will he sleep?” Louis asked.

“A few hours or a few days,” Armand said. “It’s different every time.” He sent the medical team an urgent text on his phone.

“I read that people with brain damage have trouble under anesthesia and with comas.” Louis watched Daniel’s chest move with each breath. “When he wakes, he might not be the same.”

Armand did not say anything in response. The building seemed to groan. His phone buzzed with the medical team’s confirmation they would arrive shortly.

~

When Daniel woke, sunlight streamed into his room. Machines kept track of his pulse and body. He stared up at the ceiling. He never stopped to notice before how his real memories always had smell and taste, how the air had weight or movement. Whenever he remembered Alice, the world seemed sterile, more like a dream. For everything he thought was a memory of her, he now had a memory of Armand arranged slightly to the left with more blood, sex, and violence. His eyebrows drew together and he sat up slowly. He knew better than to try to release himself from these machines. He knew that much even in Paris when he woke up in a hospital only to find himself “divorced,” francless, and alone. At least this time he was not nauseous.

The medical team told Daniel that he slept twelve hours but it was not a coma. They cleared him but advised he take a night off from the interview and recuperate. By the time, Daniel emerged from the bathroom, the medical equipment was gone from his room and someone changed the bedding.

Daniel should pack everything up and leave, but the medical team was correct, He could tell he had to rest even if he spent most the day asleep. He retrieved his recordings and notes. As much as he wanted to leave, if he did stay he did not want to have to kick his own ass for shirking his work. He scanned his notes and paused. He did not finish his time stamped notes for the end of his recording from two nights ago. He knew he fell asleep at the end of that session, but he always made certain to listen to the end of his recordings just in case.

Daniel accessed the recording and moved the time marker to his last time stamped note. He pressed play. There was a long pause and the inevitable sound of Daniel sleeping. He sighed. Voices spoke quietly, a blanket rustled near the computer. Then there was an argument, almost too quiet for the computer to record at first, but Louis and Armand’s voices grew louder as it escalated.

One of the servants brought Daniel breakfast and left it in its usual spot. Daniel murmured thanks, his mind still on the recording. Louis’ voice sounded from the speakers, “He asked me to turn him and I can’t think of a reason not to do it now.”

The servant lingered a moment and then left the bedroom.

Daniel slid the time marker back and rewound the recording. He increased the volume and listened carefully. He poked at his breakfast and added to his notes. He moved to the recording from last night.

The sun drew lower in the sky, but not quite enough to start setting yet. A knock sounded at the door. “Come in.” Daniel looked up and Louis entered.

“Didn’t have enough fun at my expense last night?” Daniel asked. “Now you’re showing up even before the sun sets. Is the ash thing you showed me some theater trick?”

“Treated windows,” Louis said. He entered the room and stood in a sunbeam. It did nothing to his body. “All but one.”

Daniel got up from his desk and looked at the glass closely. It did not seem any darker or different from any other window. “I think that’s the most honest thing you’ve told me the entire time I’ve been here.”

Louis joined him at the window but his attention remained on Daniel instead of the view. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“You wouldn’t know this but there comes a point where your body listens to your doctors even when you don’t want to.” Daniel’s gaze averted to Louis. “I might leave tomorrow. I meant it when I said ‘Fuck this.’” He looked around. “Where’s Dr. Frank-N-Furter?”

“Armand runs the entire building,” Louis said. “He’ll arrive shortly.”

“Of course he does,” Daniel murmured and then said in a clearer voice, “I heard your argument from the other night.”

“I meant what I said about turning you,” Louis said. “I picked you in that bar because high or sober, your mind is unique. You question everything and look for things that need recognition. You deserve more time. You deserve the death you asked for all those decades ago.”

“Because I passed some bizarre initiation?” Daniel asked. The sun began to set and the room gained an orange glow.

“Because I can hear anyone’s thoughts at any time and most people’s thoughts aren’t worth listening to,” Louis said.

“And if you turn me, you won’t hear them unless you talk to me,” Daniel said.

“It’s an equivalent exchange,” Louis said. “All curses are.”

“I want to finish the book as a mortal first before I decide,” Daniel said. “If we can even get to the truth.”

Louis looked away at the sunset. The colors grew more intense. His gaze returned to Daniel. “When the first interview ended, I went back to all the places I lived and thought about everything I experienced. This is the story I chose. It’s the story that gives me peace.”

“Was it your choice? At the end of the first interview, you told me you’d recently gone back to New Orleans and saw Lestat,” Daniel said. “Now you tell me he died after Mardi Gras. I just had my memories unsealed after almost fifty years. How long have yours been sealed?”

Louis held Daniel’s gaze. His eyes caught the light from the sunset. “Memory is malleable and fallible. It only keeps us tethered to time.”

Daniel sighed silently.

“I still want you to write the memoir,” Louis said. “Even if it’s not the full truth. It’s something that should be out there, a warning to everyone. Vampires have gone too long being only creatures of fantasy.”

“Why die for a lie?” Daniel asked. “Armand said other vampires will kill you over this.”

Louis’ eyes seemed to glow increasingly bright as the light faded from the sky and the room. “I want to leave something behind. I want my death to be more than an end.”

Night spread across the sky. Lights turned on by themselves across the penthouse. Armand appeared in the doorway.

Daniel’s lips pressed into a thing line. “Here to lie to fuck with my mind again?”

“Are you going to run away?” Armand settled into the space between Daniel and Louis.

“Not tonight,” Daniel said. He made no promises about tomorrow.

The three of them lingered at the windows. Traffic passed below. Lights shone across the land and water. Armand kissed Louis. Daniel looked out the window and murmured, ‘Is this their weird way of excluding me?’ in his mind. It felt like the time Louis fed from Armand but Daniel had no salad to distract himself this time.

“No, we plan to include you this time,” Armand said.

“Stay out of my…” Daniel’s voice trailed as he realized what Armand intended. Armand placed his hands on Daniel’s face, held his gaze, and then kissed him too. Daniel returned the kiss. He kissed Louis next. Clothes found their way to the floor. Nails dug into flesh. Teeth left marks. Blood flowed. Voices echoed into the night.

~

When Daniel woke the next afternoon, he still felt satiated even though he slept just as poorly as ever. Last night things would deescalate and then escalate again. The vampires sometimes sipped his blood and drank from each other, but Daniel never drank from either of them. It was the only professional line he did not cross last night, if being professional mattered any more. Their non-disclosure agreement certainly had not the entire time.

Daniel sighed, slowly got out of bed, and got ready for the evening. He wandered from his room, but there was no sign of anyone. He found himself staring at one of the painting on display he spoke to Armand about back when Armand played Rashid. In the painting, a man, likely Jesus, reached up towards the heavens while imps tried to drag him down. Holy light shone from above and behind his head. Marius de Romanus brought up nothing in Daniel’s searches even in scholarly resources. Tintoretto was a little younger than Armand, if Armand’s quip about being five hundred and fourteen was even correct.

“It is correct,” Armand said from the shadows. “I was born in 1508.”

Daniel looked at Armand standing in the dim light. “Stay out of my head.”

“You think loudly,” Armand said. It was not a complaint.

Daniel’s gaze returned to the painting. “You painted this, didn’t you?”

Armand gazed at the piece, his eyes lingering on flaws as a writer might wrinkle their nose at word choices from past works.

Daniel could not discern any of the flaws. “Was it a commission for a lesser client? A study?”

“A middle class client saved up their money for the piece. The client died before they could collect it.” Armand’s gaze turned to Daniel. “Why do you think Marius did not paint it?”

“He sounds like a vampire. You’d be the contemporary of Tintoretto.” Daniel met Armand’s gaze. “Who’s Marius?”

Armand did not look away. His thumb rubbed against his opposite hand. The building seemed to groan almost imperceptibly. “An arbiter of fate.”

Daniel wanted to ask “Did he arbitrate your fate?” but he was not sure Armand would answer that. Instead, Daniel asked, “Why did you become a vampire?”

Armand heard both questions. His hands separated deliberately. “Why does it matter?”

“Two vampires brought me here with the mind to turn me,” Daniel said. “Louis turned into a vampire for dick. I wanted to turn into one to escape the bullshit around me. Before I make my choice this time, I just wanted to know what your motivation was.”

Armand made a conscious effort to relax his jaw. He sighed. “I didn’t choose it. I was dying and the choice was made for me.”

“Like when you sealed my memory,” Daniel said.

Armand lowered his voice into almost a hiss. “It was not the same! You lived! You still have choices!” The building groaned seemingly in agony.

Daniel opened his mouth and closed it. He wanted to believe he could have survived with his memories intact. Yet, he could still remember the feeling of death encroaching in Paris. It was heavy, smothering, but comforting, and acceptable. He only shook the feeling once he woke up in the hospital without his memories.

“Marius was my mentor, lover, warden, and keeper,” Armand said. “He taught me everything and nothing. He takes when he thinks he gives.”

“When the time comes, will it truly be my choice?” Daniel asked.

“Are you going to leave your choice to the last second?” Armand asked. . “I don’t know when the deadline is,” Daniel said.

Armand stepped away from the painting. “Come to the kitchen. I don’t want to play Rashid tonight.”

“If you feed me a rat, I will leave immediately,” Daniel said.

“I could put it in the air fryer,” Armand said. “Tonight was going to be cat. I thought it would be dramatic to bring a cat to the table for Louis to dine on. It’d be a surprise for him too.”

Daniel sighed and followed Armand. “I’m not eating a cat either.”

~

The interview resumed and the narrative traveled to Paris just before Nazi occupation. Louis supplemented his point of view amid entries from Claudia’s final diary. Armand finally appeared in the story. Louis turned a doll maker born the same year as Claudia into a companion for her. Claudia’s final entry documented vampires speaking telepathically about the looming Nazi invasion and Claudia wondered if she should wait for Louis to abandon them for Armand or if she should just take Madeleine away from this madness. “Except, the whole world is mad,” was her final line.

“We should stop there,” Louis said. He rose from his chair and looked towards the windows. The sky was already lightening. The sun would rise soon.

“Alright.” Daniel rubbed his face, marked the time and date verbally, and then shut off the recording program on his computer.

Louis bid good morning and took his leave. Armand said nothing and remained sitting in one of the chairs, his iPad still in his lap. He used his nail as a stylus to play a game.

Daniel finished packing his things in his bag and went over to the windows. The clouds reflected the sunrise just out of view. Everything became a soft red. “You’re quiet. Worried about tomorrow?”

“Why would I worry?” Armand set his iPad aside and joined Daniel at the window. His eyes lost their glow as the amount of light outside increased.

“Why indeed,” Daniel watched the boats in the water. He breathed deeply and paused. He could smell garlic. It was just barely in the air. Daniel glanced at Armand but Armand’s attention was on the view and he seemed unaffected by the smell like stories claimed vampires would be. Daniel tried to remember the acronym for the signs of a stroke.

“Face, Arms, Stability, Talking, Eyes, React,” Armand said.

Daniel rolled his eyes.

The odor of garlic grew stronger. It did not bother Armand even as it grew more pungent in the air. Garlic affecting vampires had always been more myth than truth. He watched the reflection of the sunrise fade. “You’re not having a stroke.”

“You’re not a doctor,” Daniel said. The garlic seemed to permeate the entire room now.

‘Do you smell that?’ Louis asked from elsewhere in the penthouse.

‘I’ve got it under control,’ Armand thought. He could feel killing intent draw close. He already had a plan to lure the threat in and take care of it immediately.

At that moment, a bright light lit the entire room. Daniel shielded his eyes. Armand’s flesh began to smoke and sting, but it did not turn to ash as readily as it might in direct sunlight.

One of the servants stood behind them with a sterilizing UV light in one hand like a shield and a wooden stake in the other hand. The light glistened off their protective sunglasses. “You bastards are never going to turn us! I’m not going to keep wasting my life! Revenge is mine!”

Daniel moved without thought before Armand could enact his plan. Daniel bowed his head to avoid looking directly at the light and flung himself and all his weight at it. It fell from the servant’s hand, rolled across the floor, and turned off when it hit a table leg. Daniel barely had time to regain his bearings when the stake pierced his chest and buried itself between his ribs.

Armand felt something cold grip his spine. He seized the servant before they could pull the stake from Daniel’s chest. He did not rip their arms off as he planned, but broke their spine in a series of excruciating pops. The servant fell to the floor, still alive but immobile.

Louis arrived. Everything was worse than it felt telepathically. He checked for signs of other servants’ joining the chaos, but no one else appeared.

Daniel’s chest hurt. Each breath he barely managed was agony. His heart beat in his ears. Exhaustion clung to him. He touched his chest, feeling wood and blood.

Armand knelt at Daniel’s side. Louis disabled the UV light by burning its wires from the inside. Daniel reached up, his tremoring fingers leaving streaks of blood on Armand’s face. Louis watched from a distance, not interfering with Armand’s or Daniel’s choices. Armand ran his fingers through Daniel’s hair. His tongue slid along his teeth. He hesitated.

Death settled around Daniel, heavy and suffocating, but this time there was no ease, no comfort, and no acceptance. Daniel tried to grasp at Armand but his fingers could not grip. ‘Not like this. Not now,’ he thought with all his might but it felt like barely a mental whisper.

Armand leaned down and then bit Daniel, sucking at the bite. He pulled the stake from Daniel’s chest. The suffocating heaviness grew. Daniel’s eyes closed. His hands stilled. He barely registered when Armand pulled away. His body shivered and convulsed. He died on the floor of the penthouse and rose a vampire. He devoured the paralyzed servant without much prompting and hungered for more blood.

~

Days passed. Daniel was officially dead. Louis notified Daniel’s editor who flew to Dubai to collect his ashes from Daniel’s “assistant” Rashid at night. Daniel’s older daughter wrote his obituary, but Daniel spotted little tweaks indicating his younger daughter changed and added things before publication. His daughters asked that mourners donate to Parkinson’s research. He could not remember the last time he hugged them since he would not have thought at the time to make an effort to remember it. The last time Daniel saw them, he got drunk when out to dinner before the pandemic. As with all of his relapses, his daughters gave him space until he was sober again. He was sober since February but left them alone since it was still a pandemic and they would have tried to travel to see him. He watched the sun lower in the sky and tried to ignore the ache in his arms.

Daniel’s stomach rumbled. His need for blood pulsed through his body. He was in no state to continue the interview yet. He did not know if he would finish it let alone get around to writing the book, but he had plenty of time to do it now, though he lost the element of being an outsider. He watched the sunset grow more brilliant in the sky.

“What did you think of your first week?” Louis asked.

“It’s not what I imagined,” Daniel said, but he took to it easier than he wanted to admit. “I don’t like it. I don’t hate it.”

‘For now,” Armand murmured.

The light faded from the clouds. Darkness swept the sky. The three vampires in the window disappeared into the night.

   The End  

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