seen from China
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daniel: haha you guys shared a boyfriend this is great lol
armand: yeah sure whatever but more importantly, have i ever mentioned that i also fucked santiago? santiago with the gray hair? the wrinkled skin? hey did you know i fucked santiago?? blinks out in morse code: i like them geriatric too daniel i want you daniel also i fucked santiago and i will fuck you as well look at my slutty unbuttoned collar did i mention that i fucked santiago
i'll know amcs iwtv is for the people when we get a 30 min uninterrupted bdsm scene
bonus points if it's devil's minion
every time i close my eyes i see subboy molloy. i see armand making him lick blood from wooden floors, and i see him getting splinters on his tongue. i need to see them in s3 so bad it's not even funny anymore like i am NOT joking
Daniel post turning, alone in the penthouse, finds Armand’s man-cave and gets a whole different side of him.
didn't mean for this to be so long oops!
Louis didn’t do vampiric birth enough justice. In his defense, Daniel doesn’t think he could either, if he tried. It’s impossible to describe–the pain of dying, of reanimating, of every sense being fine tuned until everything is everything. Being loaded beyond articulation is the best summary he can manage, so maybe the two of them weren’t too far off after all.
The emptiness of the penthouse feels vast. The silence reverberates, and there’s a certain hollowness he’s never felt before. A wrongness that feels biological, a taut string that starts in his chest and vanishes into distant mist. He knows what it is, but he doesn’t want to think it. Putting it into words would make it real.
He doesn’t want this feeling to be him. His murderer, his maker. The bond that he had figured was just Louis spouting bullshit, that loosely defined tether which tugs at him now.
It tugs him out of the living room, across the penthouse. He wonders how far Armand is, by now. If the dismal state of the bond serves as any indicator, he must be miles away. It’s infuriating. Daniel wants to gouge the bite in his throat open, force his blood to pour back out. Bleed the feeling from its source.
The thing is, he almost feels incredible. There’s the gnawing of hunger, but that’s easy enough to dismiss. Daniel knows a thing or two about ignoring bone-deep cravings. He’d feel elated, reborn, high off unlife if it weren’t for the irritating sense that something crucial is missing. That it’s getting further, with every second.
He turns into a hall with a mirror on his left. This is a part of the penthouse he’s never been in, a tall corridor with one lone door at the end.
Daniel catches his own reflection. He can see the details of his own pores, now. Each wrinkle, each blemish, each fleck of blood dried around his mouth.
And his eyes, also. A deep amber, like the most striking sunset he’s ever seen, and–huh. Guess he won’t be seeing many of those anymore, will he?
He thinks he may break the mirror if he stares for much longer. Or worse, start crying, or laughing, or something. Vampirism makes every emotion feel intensified, dialed up to its maximum intensity. It’s difficult to sort through what he’s feeling, exactly. He only knows that if he keeps looking, something will happen.
So he continues down the hall. The door at the end is locked, but with just a little force it flies off its hinges. That wasn’t the intended effect, but hey. Whatever works.
For a moment after stepping inside, Daniel isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at. Organized chaos is the first word that comes to mind.
It seems to be a lab of some sort, with rows and rows of shelves packed with jars. Each is filled with various colored liquids, bones, and body parts trapped in preservatives. Daniel feels a chill as he observes them.
There’s no doubt who this room belongs to. The tables ridden with equipment, the open, half-filled notebooks, the tubes and vials and microscopes. It all screams Armand.
Tucked into a far corner of the room is what seems to be a little art station. There’s a canvas perched on an easel. An unfinished charcoal portrait, with a small stand next to it brimming with supplies. Daniel spots a few closed books on the floor. Sketchbooks, presumably.
His eyes move back to the canvas. It takes him a moment to process what exactly is on it. He’s struck first with deja vu, and then vague recognition, and then a horrific realization.
It’s like looking in a mirror, only if he were 50 years younger, and if his features were unrefined, like he were looking at himself through crossed eyes.
It’s him. The him from the 70s, with that open, curious expression he wore like a second skin. It’s him down to the exact shape of his lips, the exact thickness in his brows.
Daniel doesn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t know what to make of any of this. The drawing is painstakingly detailed, even half-finished. It looks like it was done with a level of care and attention that doesn’t make any sense. Why would Armand make this?
He grabs it before he can think about what he’s doing. Charcoal smudges where he accidentally brushes his thumb over its corner.
He doesn’t know what he intends to do with it. He only knows that he needs to find his maker. To grab him by his shoulders, shake him until answers rattle from his lips like a maraca.
The bond aches. Daniel leaves the room with the canvas, and tries to pretend he didn’t spot an entire human heart in one of those jars.
i want online wars between vampire truthers & vampire fakeclaimers as meta s3 promo
i want r/arevampiresreal? with hundreds of crack theories, photographic evidence (85% of it is lestat, 10% is daniel, 5% is actual historical evidence), with vampire antis downvoting every single post in masses.
i want there to be youtube conspiracy theorists going down rabbit holes.
i want people on twt getting doxxed for their theories.
i want to see people slowing down lestat's concert videos to 0.05 speed and trying to explain how his fangs coming out is just really advanced cosmetic dentistry.
i want people zooming in on daniel's sunglasses in interviews and screenshotting frames where his head is tilted, and then putting it next to old pictures of his eye color. bonus points if they can catch his eye color actively changing.
iwtv rupaul's drag race au hcs
- old daniel molloy = rupaul
- claudia and the vampire sam are his guest judges
- lestat is already a successful drag queen. he doesn't need the money or the exposure, he just wants to win a competition
- louis is a choreographer, and he eats up every single dance challenge
- santiago is a comedy queen. he eats up every single acting challenge.
- young daniel is also somehow there. he can't sew. he ends up in the bottom 2 on the first episode, but what he lacks in skill he makes up for with enthusiasm.
- armand starts off very stoic. most of the other girls dismiss him as an instagram beauty queen. he comes out of his shell halfway through the season after lipsyncing 4 times.
- madeline is a guest star that hosts one of the fashion design challenges.
- gabrielle is a nonbinary transmasc drag queen. lestat didn't even know they were gonna be there. they almost exclusively use earth tones with their outfits (old daniel critiques them for not being versatile).
- gabrielle is disqualified for disappearing 5 episodes in.
- armand and lestat would've been in the top 3, but were both disqualified for sabotaging the other queens.
- armand tries to teach young daniel how to sew and then gives up. he instead teaches him how to hot glue a dress together.
- louis and lestat perform a dance challenge together. the choreography includes WAY too much grinding and intense eye contact. claudia leaves halfway through.
- young daniel somehow ends up winning. old daniel may have been a bit biased.
listening to punish demo ii - ethel cain on repeat and thinking abt armand. every ethel cain song was written for him i swear to god
you're not rid of me (i'll make you lick my injuries)
He sees himself as the boy sees him. Blurry, at first. Indistinguishable shapes, separated only by the glow of his eyes. And then like a veil lifting, he comes into focus. He becomes resplendent. He becomes ghastly. For some unknown reason, those two things merge into one concept. This boy thinks he’s never seen something more aweing. Armand, who kicked him until he cried. Who choked him until his vision went black. Who lifted him in the air, earlier, and threw him to the floor. Again, and again. It’s baffling. “A complete lack of self-preservation. A perversion towards that which harms you; is that what makes you fascinating?”
Alternatively: Armand serves six days of penance. Daniel spends six days realizing just how fucked up he really is.
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