deo

[armandrundeo]

“Am I my history I have endured? Am I the job I do not want? I do not know, anymore. No one has painted me in over 400 years.”

Welcome to my blog. This is an IWTV-inspired fan/aesthetic account. I will be making & reblogging aesthetic posts, sharing my fanfiction, & posting headcanons/character blurbs. Feel free to interact and chat. I do ask that you be 18+ if you decide to chat with me.

[alixirdevida]

he didnt need to be chosen, he needed to be nurtured

[armandrundeo]

His thumb slips into his mouth, an instinct to self-soothe as his past is pushed into his mind.

“You were twelve.”

“Poor boy.”

He notices and pulls his hand away from his face, pulling away from the acknowledgement of what happened to him and how young he was. Even though that little boy still lives inside him.

[armandrundeo]

“And you got some reason to be dark-sided, Armand.

You were sold by who you were sold by.

Sold into what you were sold into.

You and I didn't talk about it much.

With you...

'Cause I didn't want to think on my own sins.

Or picture you at 12.

At 12.

You were 12.

Scared.

Poor boy.

Arun.

You need a love that'll cradle you.

You should have that.

And I was never that for you.

And I'm sorry.”

[armandrundeo]

Armand turning Daniel after Louis divorces him because then at least one person won’t be able to leave him. He can’t escape through his mortal death and he’ll always be drawn to his maker. Someone Armand can keep.

[artseamoni]

Innocence Lost

[armandrundeo]

Louis and Armand get into a fight. Nothing drastic, not even a shouting match, just a minor argument over something small neither of them will even remember the next day. They’re sitting on the couch, Louis reprimanding Armand.

“It’s like you’re not even listening to me, Armand. Can’t you just get out of your fuckin’ head for once?” he sighed and brought his hand up, hovering for a moment between his own head and his face, settling on pinching the bridge of his nose.

This small action had startled something within Armand, already on edge from the arguing. Armand wasn’t sitting on the couch anymore, someone else had taken his place. Louis continued speaking, feeling like his words were bouncing off of a brick wall. When, in reality, they were soaking into an absorbent sponge. The person on the couch let out a soft whine, bringing his thumb to his mouth and biting on it.

“Armand! For the love of— speak to me, I’m talkin’ to you,” Louis pleaded, exasperated.

The boy, no longer Armand, simply responded with another whine. His other hand moved downwards to self soothe, hips rocking against his palm. This got Louis’ attention. He raised a confused brow. “The fuck are you doin’, ‘Mand?”

When Louis’ eyes glanced down to the movement of the boy’s hand, his face twisted in disgust as he stood, throwing up his hands. “Of course you’re gettin’ off to this! Can’t take anything serious, can you? God, I can’t believe you.”

The boy didn’t respond, silent tears rolling down his face as he sucked harder on his thumb. His hips rolled faster, a desperate need to somehow soothe welling up within him. Nothing was working, he was only growing more upset. The tears were what clued Louis in that this might be more than Armand being his arrogant self. He crept back to the couch, crouching down to be on Armand’s eye level.

“Armand?” he questioned, voice low and anger lost. When the boy’s eyes stayed unfocused and facing forward, no reaction to the name, Louis decided to try something different. “Arun?”

Two bloody, orange eyes turned onto him. Shit. Louis sighed and gently grabbed his wrist, trying to stop his “self-soothing” methods that were, without a doubt, some fucked-up learned trauma response. The boy whined and tugged his wrist out of Louis’ grip, only resuming his actions with more fervor.

Louis decided to try a different approach and sat next to Arun once more, tapping his thighs as he considered the best method to calm him down and make him a bit more present. He grabbed a tetine off the side table, gently pressing the nip against Arun’s lips. This worked, as the boy parted his lips and sucked on the tetine instead of his finger, which was bloody from where he had bitten it.

“I’m not mad at you, Arun. You’re not in trouble,” Louis consoled. He had been yelling at the boy thinking he was Armand, unaware there had been a switch. That’s probably what brought on this reaction.

Arun glanced at Louis but otherwise didn’t do anything. Louis looked around the room and spotted Armand’s ipad. He grabbed it and brought it back to Arun, carefully instructing him to hold the tablet instead of his crotch. This distraction did the job, the boy now busy pressing on the screen and flicking his eyes over different graphics.

Relief unfurled the knots in Louis’ chest and he let out a sigh. After a few minutes, he deemed it safe enough to touch the boy without startling him, so he slowly reached out a hand. Once it settled in Arun’s hair with no complaints, he allowed himself to rake his fingers over Arun’s scalp and through the attached strands. This further relaxed the boy and he ended up pressed into Louis’ side, curled into a small ball with the ipad clutched tightly.

Louis smiled to himself and ran his hand down Arun’s back. Armand was selfish and ignorant for leaving during their argument and forcing the brunt of Louis’ anger onto Arun, but Louis was content to take care of Arun for now and mend what was shattered.

[armandrundeo]

Armand was raised to be owned.

Arun knew only ships and being sold. Transfers from hand to hand, belonging to whoever paid the most. It was never much, since he was such a small, fragile boy. He quickly had to learn how to harden his delicate shell.

Amadeo knew a master. One merciful, compassionate owner who took care of him, bathed him, fed him, bed him. Yes, he had to be shared sometimes, but that was the price to pay for sanctuary. He learned long ago that everything, especially acts of kindness, came with a price. A sacrifice.

Armand knew ownership through many. He was a leader, but he no longer belonged to himself when he led. He was owned by the Children of Satan, then the Théâtre des Vampires, then to Louis. Owned by Maître, to being Maître, to making Maître.

Armand is incapable of belonging to himself anymore. He needs a master, needs to be owned. It’s the only thing he’s ever known.

[armandrundeo]

I exist as every version of myself that has ever lived, within every place I have ever been. Each facet of my personality, the masks that I wear, every fragment of my soul— it all coexists within the deepest recesses of my mind. Armand, Arun, Amadeo: one person yet also three individuals; a simultaneous existence.

- a character study on Armand

[armandrundeo]

- Armand sucking his thumb only in the sacred darkness of his coffin while the coven sleeps around him.

- Finally getting comfort from more than just closed-in walls when he meets Louis.

- Arun and Amadeo receiving attention after 400 years.

- Not just Armand being rejected and abandoned by Luis after turning Daniel, but Amadeo and Arun too.

- Going back to desperate comfort only found in the cold darkness.