#* sangore .

[monstroum]

[ possessive ]  your muse resting their hand on mine’s leg or the small of their back while they’re sitting beside each other .  / Louis!

it was the fifth time that week louis heard the jazz band's set list . by now he had it all memorised : the lyrics , the piano solos , the breakdowns ... the melodies his patrons applauded had left louis feeling dull and empty . but perhaps the music wasn't to blame for his hollowing ㅤ─ ㅤ he eyed the lead singer from head to toe and felt his brow furrow ; antoniette ruined all of the new orleans' classics with her nasally voice . her audience had only been persuaded into thinking she was a good singer due to her absolutely average beauty . louis pinched the bridge of his nose ㅤ─ ㅤ he was ashamed to find out just how JEALOUS HE COULD BE . never before had his vision been distorted by envy . and yet , there he was , wishing antoniette would fail miserably just so he could have a good reason to fire her , banish her ... not kill though . never kill .

lestat had opened up their relationship and , though his reasoning had made sense , louis could not bring himself to feel indifferent towards the other's romantic escapades ( specially with her , always her , every evening ) . AM I NOT ENOUGH ? ㅤ─ ㅤ louis shifted in his seat , turning his head in an attempt to escape the ugliness growing inside him . it was then that he spotted another audience member ; a large man with a thick neck and a thicker head of hair . his beauty wasn't immediately obvious , but the more louis stared , the more he came to appreciate the shape of his nose which had , at some point of his life , been broken . how much his small eyes shined in the candlelight , the wide white smile ... their gazes met then and louis felt emboldened to get up and introduce himself . BUT ONLY FOR A MOMENT .

before he could will himself to get up , a hand was placed atop of his thigh . louis' gaze travelled from the ringed fingers , up the forearm , until he was face to face with lestat . the chair his lover was currently on had been empty just moments ago . " you alright there , mon cher ? " louis asked teasingly . he had always read about how love strengthens , how love saves , how it teaches people to do better . but no one had ever told him about HOW MONSTROUS IT COULD BE . no one told him about the possessiveness , the doubt , the anger ... louis eyed lestat up and down .

" thought you were enjoying the show . "

[monstroum]

wiping away your lover’s tears as you kiss them . / Louis :’)

pressing his face to lestat's neck had been the closest thing to home louis had felt in years . as he embraced the other vampire , his fingers sunk into the fabric of his robe , greedily clinging onto him lest that too be a hallucination that might fade away with the incoming storm . but he was there , as real as he and alive and mourning ! the sadness and beauty of it all overwhelmed louis ㅤ─ ㅤ he sniffled as he clung to his first love ( the only one he'd ever bother to tell anyone about ) and wished he could stay there , in the darkness that was the valley between lestat's neck and shoulder , fully immersed in him .

but louis would force himself to pull away so that he could face him . DID YOU HURT YOURSELF ? ㅤ─ that question alone had nearly broken him ( when had it been the last time anyone had cried for louis' misery besides himself ? ) and louis was sure he'd forever be haunted by the pain which struck lestat's angelic features at that moment . he moved a hand to carefilly tug blonde locks behind the other's ear . louis left his hand there , pressed against lestat's face as his thumb gently stroked the curve of his cheek . he was wiping away crimson tears while pressing small chaste kisses against his face , his nose , the corner of his mouth , his chin , his lips ... small offerings of affection that couldn't heal the wounds lestat wore but that would hopefully show how willing louis was to try .

" i was tired of thinkin' how to survive through eternity without her ㅤ─ ㅤ without you . i couldn't see myself ... in the world ... " broken sentences were clumsily stitched together . looking at lestat's face made these small confessions more difficult to admit to . but louis had to , FOR HIS SAKE ... FOR LESTAT'S ... " i stepped out into the sun and i was ㅤ─ ㅤ i was ready to let go . to slip into whatever hidden layer of the universe she's waiting in and , as i burned , i prayed that , wherever i went , there'd be no more pain or guilt or fuckin' shame ... so i closed my eyes and , " louis' voice shakes . and when he speaks again , it's hardly more than a whisper . " i was back at the altar . "

[monstroum]

[ tears ]  your muse wiping away mine’s tears . / Louis!

he's not there . not really . louis is fully aware of this and yet , his eyes cannot help but shift across his features , filled with both guilt and longing . lestat de lioncourt was but a ghost , haunting his evenings with words which he could not be speaking , brushing over his shoulders , two hands that could not be in paris ㅤ─ ㅤ whispering into his ears with lips that had long turned cold .

louis exhales smoke . he IS alone on that balcony . but he can still feel lestat's presence right there next to him ... waiting . just like he was . " i murdered you . " he finally said , as if this was any secret to the likes of them . " not just once ; over and over again . and not with a blade to the neck either , but ㅤ─ ㅤ " louis cannot finish the thought . he's not satisfied to find how much pain it brings him to THINK OF HIS TIME WITH LESTAT ; not due to his deceased lover's wrongdoings but due to louis' own . this was a door he had not dared open ( lest something monstrous reveal itself ) . but with lestat by his side again , even if just as a mirage , the louisiana man might will himself into speaking his thoughts ㅤ─ ㅤHIS REAL THOUGHTS .

" i think of all the ways in which i killed you , nightly . it robs me of sleep to remember how i killed parts of you which did not even deserve it ! parts of you which were soft and kind and trying and i ㅤ─ ㅤ" green eyes struggle to meet lestat's ghost . they focus instead on the cigarette burning between his fingers . " i now realise that , this whole time , this whole fuckin' time , i've been calling you a devil and a monster and ... " the vampire swallowed hard , fearing that his voice might waver . " it was me . " louis concluded , both hands pressing against his chest , a trail of blood dripping down the curve of his cheek . he could almost feel them thereㅤ─ ㅤlestat's hands reaching out to comfort him , to wipe away the tears . almost .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" all the horror ... was because of me . "

[monstroum]

[ rest ]  your muse resting their arm over mine’s shoulder / s . / Louis !

louis lifts his gaze from his little black book momentarily to glance at lestat with a playful half-smile . though he acted nonchalantly ( always , always ) there was a joy which struggled to be contained within his ribcage whenever the other vampire reached out to touch him ; it all came so naturally to lestat , these small gestures of affection . he expressed his tenderness so easily . and though louis received these touches ㅤ( the fingers running through his hair , the thumb brushing against his cheek , the head resting against his chest )ㅤ as if they had always been there , the fact of the matter was it left him drunk with what he thought could only be one thing ... and yet , louis , with all of his bravado and wit , just couldn't bring himself to say THAT WORD . not like lestat did ㅤ─ ㅤ had . over and over again .

instead he leans into the touch , welcomes it , hopes his silence is somehow enough . and sometimes , he reads to his lover passages out loud ; ㅤ" how could i accept the fact that , after having been conquered by this irrevocable , indissoluble and martyrizing love , i would have to immediately give it up ? "ㅤ louis was awfully aware of lestat's fingers which hung loosely over his arm , slender and pale and sharp . he thought of reaching out to hold them , fill in the empty spaces between them with his own ... but the public setting of the park keeps his hands and eyes glued to his book .

" madness ! this love was a part of me , like my own flesh ; it had taken the place of my blood and marrow ; it possessed me entirely , " reading THAT WORD to lestat had always felt easier than conjuring it for him . it felt safer that way ㅤ─ ㅤ when someone else had written it down . when it wasn't him risking being cut open and stared at . how dangerous it was to offer your heart up and hope that the person does not think it a sacrifice but something to be protected . louis turned his head then to look at lestat . and even though he smiled a dazzling smile when he continued to quote octave mirebeau , louis , deep down , felt awfully cowardly .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" it was i . "

@sangore

[monstroum]

“ the things i said to you before  …  i was wrong to say them . “ + louis!

ㅤ" yeah , no shit , lestat . " ㅤdespite being quiet , the exasperation in his voice is obvious . louis struggled with his cravat as they walked into their home , tossing it on the floor once he finally managed to undo the knot . the last few evenings had been hellish ㅤ─ ㅤ he had been forced to sit quietly and ignore lestat's affair with , what he now believed to be , a subpar singer . it wouldn't have been so difficult had he not seen the other vampire's face , buried in curls as blonde as is own , staring louis straight in the eye while a trail of kisses and whispers were left upon her skin . whispers which were not for louis to ever hear . kisses that he'd gift him with the same nonchalance and affection ... he felt something ugly crawling up his throat .

jealousy . it tasted acidic and hot ㅤ─ ㅤ especially now that he had been informed that he wouldn't be allowed the same transgressions without some form of punishment ; a saxophone player with pretty green eyes had been slaughtered before louis ever made it through the door of his apartment . his blood was coagulating under his lover's nails as they spoke .ㅤ " ain't my fault you're unhappy with our arrangement . an arrangement that you came up with 'cause you wanted to get your dick wet ! " ㅤlouis raised his voice , pointing one accusatory finger at lestat . he was an unwilling spectator to his lover's betrayals but was forbidden from ever enjoying the same distractions ... how was that fair ? how was that beautiful ? how was that love ?

" i didn't even want to be part of this fuckin' thing ㅤ─ ㅤ " the most maddening part was this simple admission ; lestat would have been enough . if it had been just the two of them , louis would have been happy to put all of his love there . let lestat gloat in it ㅤ─ ㅤ hell , let him keep it in his pocket and tell no one else . let it be their secret . but could he ever conjure that word when their love brought such humiliations onto their doorstep ?

[monstroum]

“ poets have silly notions . “ + louis !

he cannot help but scoff when hearing lestat's little comment . louis had recently fallen in love with the works of william blake and had abdicated of many nights of hunting and excess with his lover in order to spend a few hours alone with the poet's writings . he should have been more understanding of lestat's needs ( he knew , after all , how his desire for attention surpassed all other sins ) but louis enjoyed these moments of quiet ; he treasured being left alone with his books and newspapers . it gave him momentum to leap back into the death life he had chosen to share with lestat head first .

ㅤㅤ" ─ says you ! " ㅤlouis chuckled , flashing a short-lived smile at the vampire across the room . he set the small green book down on his chest , making sure it remained open on the pages he had been so abruptly pulled away from . he wasn't quite ready to depart from the garden of love just yet . ㅤ" poets are damned , lestat . but they see the world through the eyes of angels . to be able to turn all that sorrow into beauty ─ " ㅤlouis trailed off , seemingly lost in the memories of past poems . everyone in the world was capable of MELANCHOLY but only a true poet could leap into its' darkest depths and find light .

ㅤㅤㅤhe thought of lestat then . he wondered how many men had been made into poets after meeting his maker . wondered how many had crowned him as their muse ( their ghost perhaps , for to love lestat is to be haunted by him ) and suffered for it . louis' sighed deeply as he met the other vampire's piercing pale gaze . WOULD HIS SUFFERING TOO BE REDUCED TO PRETTY WORDS ON A PIECE OF PAPER ? ㅤ" i mean , i dunno ... maybe there's a thing or two we could learn from them . "

[ethicsbutcher]

❛   sit .  gesture  for  my  muse  to  sit  down .

america was such a strange land ; ancient yet new , wild but puritan , democratic and lawless , a symphony of contradictions . there were so many gods which had been brought there from the old country , hannibal lecter could not help but be fascinated by the abundance of miracles which plagued every inch of that country . he had hunted through the snow valleys up north , walked through the corn fields of illinois and , now , he had reached the southㅤ --- ㅤmiracles and misery walked hand in hand there . he could smell it in the air ; sugar and sweat and dusty still waters tightly intertwined like a snake nest into one sickening perfume .

all of those aromas had led the good doctor to a small casino . there he found dozens of men , red cheeked and chain smoking their way through a game of blackjack . hannibal had been perfectly content watching the game from a safe distance ㅤ--- ㅤ𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚃𝙷 𝙱𝙴 𝚃𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂 𝙳𝙸𝙳 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙵𝙾𝙲𝚄𝚂 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙳𝚂 . instead they travelled along the curves of the men's exposed jugulars . some had veins as thick as tree roots travelling from the back of their hands and up their arms ... most were not young but life tasted better when it was well-lived .

suddenly , someone amidst the group noticed him . a handsome man with the most unusual pale blue eyes , gestured with his hand towards the empty chair beside him ( hannibal had sworn a large pink man had sat there just a second ago ) . he gladly accepted the invitation . " blackjack's first known written reference is by miguel de cervantes . the very same author who would write about don quixote's misadventures fighting windmills was a voracious gambler . " the good doctor explained as he was dealt a hand .

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ" a man who believes in luck's charms should never set foot within a casino , lest his faith be destroyed . the house never loses . " dark eyes finally locked with the stranger's . " does it ? "