introducing: the cunty glasses club 😎

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@bratboymolloy
introducing: the cunty glasses club 😎
of course armand thinks he’s hurt daniel the most. armand has never made a fledgling before because it disgusts him. he thinks of it as the worst possible thing he could ever do to another being and he did it. to daniel. yeah he’s done fucked shit to a lot of other characters but this is about what armand thinks is the worst thing, not anyone else.
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Don’t tell my dinner guests that I’m drawing devils minion before they come over
i’m sorry since when was it gonna be dm week?? was there a post about this?!! why have i not been informed?!
traveling today, can y’all do me a favor and lmk your favorite devil’s minion longish fics?? :)
Devil's Minion as Hades and Persephone AU except Daniel is trying to swallow a whole pomegranate while Armand is trying to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him
I thought I wouldn’t finish it today but you know what I tried something new so I finished it quicker🫠
every description of devil’s minion in the books: the Preternatural Angel beautiful magnificent armand wluld carefully wash off his lover aka the FILTHY MAN and carefully choose from his FILTHY FUCKING CLOTHES gross because he was BROKE BROKE BROKE AND sleeping on BENCHES did i mention he was DRUNK
and then they KISS, the beautiful magnificent giant bug monster beautiful Armand and his lover, the SLIGHTLY MOIST MAN he found in a DUMPSTER. because they're in LOVE this gorgeous ethereal armand creature and the WET FILTHY TRASHBAG he found in a gross landfill and decided to anoint into the SUGAR BABY OF ALL TIME. also a cuck chair situation. and then they join the mile high club together. unprovoked use of the word "my firstborn". firstborn (wet trashbag garbage dumpster man) remains SO DRUNK, is probably WANDERING INTO TRAFFIC as we speak
of course the real gag is that that chapter is from daniel’s pov. he’s the one who has dictated it to lestat to be put into the book (we know because it stays in his head and we can only guess what armand is thinking throughout.) so daniel is the one who sees himself as filthy and gross and worthless, especially in comparison to the beautiful bug monster who picked him up. any time someone else’s chapters mention daniel, they’re perfectly nice. lestat himself thinks of him as “pretty daniel”, so we can assume he wasn’t editorializing in the daniel chapters.
Yes, and -- is "filthy, gross, worthless" a self-worth problem or is this just a Kink Thing for Local Monsterfucker Daniel Molloy? I feel like there is an argument to be made that it is a Kink Thing. "Oooh he is soooo beautiful and terrifying and evil and sexy like a giant bug, and I am but a wet garbage bag of a man, and HE IS GOING TO EAT ME, he is going to defile himself by EATING OUT OF THE TRASH....... i have dragged him down to my level as much as he is lifting me up to his, this is the most romantic anyone has ever been in history. Go us."
Daniel Molloy: YOU MADE ME LIKE THIS! YOU GOT ME ALL HOPPED UP ON YOUR BLOOD! I CAN'T HELP THAT ALL I CAN DO IS THINK OF YOU 24/7 😭😠
Also Daniel Molloy: *Wakes up crying because Armand isn't with him and falls ass over tits because of the way Armand laughs, before they've ever shared a drop of blood*
maybe i could cheer you up? 📼
HUSBANDS
going on an airplane tomorrow and all i can think about is how our boy daniel molloy got turned on an airplane
My full final piece for the Blood & Brocade IWTV zine by the incredible @thevelvetcompote! Thank you so much for having me 🖤🩸
You can buy the digital zine here!
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Being able to draw older people as attractive without reducing or erasing the visual signs of aging, and in fact showing that they're attractive because of those signs, is an artistic skill that should be valued so much more. Honestly, it should earn you an immediate fortune because holy fuck is it a rare commodity. There are so many artists who seem to think attractiveness and aging exist in opposition to each other, so they smooth every wrinkle, erase every crease, and de-age the character until they're basically thirty with silver hair. But when an artist can look at crow's feet, smile lines, weathered skin, deep-set wrinkles, and all the little traces of a life well lived and say, "No, that's what makes them beautiful," that's a level of artistic observation and care I wish we celebrated more often.
daniel molloy was a solid child. he didn’t cry for skinned knees or stubbed toes. he held it in, and held it in, until it would burst—a barely contained puddle of sadness. even as a teenager, he remained stony faced in most situations. and then somewhere along the way, near the end of his twenties, it changed. as though a melancholy bud had blossomed inside him overnight and turned him into the cry baby flower he probably always was. there was no rhyme or reason. he cried the first time he did coke again after his 29th birthday. he cried seeing a man on the subway with sharp manicured nails. he cried at tv commercials, whenever he didn’t get enough rest, when he bit his lip so hard he drew blood, while reading dracula alone in his room one night, at music, at other people’s tears, at love, at death, at loss. at normal things. at strange things. his sadness wasn’t picky. it just was.