#operahouses

[kidfrommodesto]

plotting call starter for @operahouses

At 71 years old, Daniel Molloy wasn't expecting to have any real "firsts," in his life.

He had lived his life, married and divorced twice, had two daughters that didn't speak with him (though to be fair, he didn't blame them for that), had a pulitzer for his journalism work, for most, this would be their twilight years. Move to Florida, live out the clock in some humid climate. But now, after Dubai, Daniel was looking to a future with no end, and his maker had left him high and dry to figure it all out.

Thank fuck for Louis, who had lined him up with some help to get things ready for his new life in the city. He had figured New York was just as good for him as a Vampire as it had been as a human. With modifications to his apartment, he was able to transition to night life as well as he could. But hell, it was a lot to do.

From what Louis had told him, he was going to New Orleans last time they spoke, probably to find Lestat, he honestly felt it was better not to ask for his own sanity. Daniel needed time to go through his old life, and get ready for the future.

Cleaning out his medicine cabinet he was sitting on the floor of his apartment going through all the medications and things he'd no longer need. Christ at the amount of pills he had. Listening to an old Bowie album in some sleep pants and an old Stones shirt. He hadn't been expecting anyone when he heard a knock on his door.

Hopping up from the floor, he walked over to the door and peeked through the hole, had his heart still beat, it would've been pounding in his chest. It was Louis.

Opening the door, Daniel said, "well shit, look what the cat dragged in."

[petitsdieu]

𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒇𝒐𝒓: 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒖 𝑳𝒂𝒄. @operahouses ༊ ‧₊˚

Louis' lookbook takes in consideration the show's expert story-telling through fashion. Especially the most recent timeline. Dubai-era Louis was stripped down in a muted expression to blend into the brutal minimalism style of the apartment. One could mistaken this choice for his current, modern style. However, when he's on his own in the tail-end of the last episode in season two, you can see his truer modern style peek through in the last few outfits. Namely the very last one when he's seen in, attached below.

Louis had always played with expression of self through colors, textures, and patterns. Like the last outfit, especially the brown and yellow patterned cardigan, I would bring back it all. With a modern twists and retro silhouette. He looks good in high waisted things. Sometimes loose but always well tailored. I love the idea of greens, reds, browns, and navy blues. Bejeweled tones for a gem of a Man.

[neverburied]

❛   YA LOOK PALE , DADDY LOU. ❜ perhaps it's because his daughter is dripping blood from her chin ! the mangled body on the floor of her bedroom is anything but refreshing to come home to. but at least it's on the carpet ! ❛   OH , DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT. uncle les said it's bett'a to keep it in the house , so i did. this one followed me home. ❜ a middle aged man , almost completely lifeless -- his fingers are still twitching , as if he's beseeching louis to help. ❛   do you think uncle les'll forgive me f' ruinin' this nice new dress ? ❜ bloodied fingers tug at the yellow fabric of her sleeve , brows knitting over crimson eyes. she's young -- fifteen now ! les still gets to dress her as a doll without her minding. the man on the floor groans , arm outstretching now towards @operahouses. it makes claudia downright giggle. ❛   think he's offerin' you his wrist. ya wouldn't wanna be rude , would ya ? ❜

[hechose]

❛ missed my touch that much, did you? ❜ // @operahouses //

there's something... deeply feral that unlocks within armand at louis' words. something harsh that wants to snarl and bite back and-- he does, he squirms beneath louis' touch and meets him with ferocity in his eyes-- a sharpness of nails digging deep into skin. but it's not to push louis away, no, never that. if anything, it's to keep him close, to ensure this lasted longer. to give louis something to remember him by. he thinks about leaning up, about biting, sinking fangs into skin.

instead, he bites down hard on his own lip in spite of the way his body continues to betray him. chases, arches, hungry for louis' touch in the same way he craves to feel louis beneath his own fingertips.

but he won't say it. won't admit it out loud, no, if louis wants that then he has to work for it.

"maybe." the shared thought it as much as he'll give, for now, even as he rolls his hips upwards-- a jolting kind of grind that has another gasping moan stuttering out of armand's lips, that has him desperate, ravenous for more. it comes with a flush to skin that has him turning his head, pressing into the pillow and he sort of wishes they'd maybe gone straight to that position. face down, he wouldn't have to feel louis' eyes on him, relishing in every reaction he draws out of the vampire.

"too many words. i can think of a far better job for that pretty mouth."

[vienamoi]

𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ------- beautiful , musical , full of life. more than that ? HUMID. it makes things smell awful at times , from the sweaty humans to the piss they don't seem to mind coating cobblestone. sweat changes the taste of blood -- adds far too much salt. the heat itself does nothing to bother an immortal -- lestat's skin is as it always was &* would ever be ; not quite as warm as a mortal's , but not quite as cold as death. 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 -- it is something he is grateful for here in the south of america.

❛ 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽. i could sleep inside the cold of you. ❜ / @operahouses

human's words draw blue eyes away from the fourth of july celebration happening on the street below , a fond smile curling his lips as he sees louis there. 𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖓𝖊𝖆𝖗 -- smelled cologne , felt their hearts sync the moment louis entered the foyer. louis was a most welcome guest in lestat's home. it had become quite frequent that he visited. nothing in particular happened outside of talking -------- 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 even his words now are spoken as if they are not flirtation. just a joke ; a plea to combat the blistering heat that still pulses from the stone below , long after sunset. but there is a hint there in his mind ----- not quite an invitation , but the idea of one ; would tonight be the night louis gave in to the urge ?

❛ i'd welcome you in , louis.   ❜ 𝐨𝐡 , 𝐢𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 , 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭 then again , the man radiates sensual in nature. hands are pocketed as lestat takes a few steps away from the window towards the other. they're currently in the guest room ----- what would be considered lestat's bedroom to anyone who wandered here , given the coffin room is hidden. ❛   you were not kidding when you warned me of the heat of all of the people on this holiday. i haven't seen so many out &* about like this since i came here. but the fireworks ? those are a treat. i have quite the view from up here. 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 ? ❜

[lamourt]

@operahouses liked for a starter !

the second louis is over the threshold, lestat is springing from his place on the couch. "louis–– it's nearly dawn," lestat says, desperation coloring his voice even as he fights to remain composed. "i would have thought you learned from the last time that you cannot take risks when it comes to the sun. if you're caught far enough away from home there is no way to guarantee your safety." terror courses in his veins, equal to the relief. that louis has come back home isn't enough to soothe him, not yet. not when he's spent the last two hours picturing that first morning when he'd allowed louis to wander out into the sun and burn. pain is an excellent teacher–– lestat knows that perhaps better than most–– but he won't let louis fall to it a second time. "louis!"

[bitterdeathtoswallow]

Missing Molloy

@operahouses

Things had been great between he and his father since his father had become a vampire. Originally, the man had been pulling away since his Parkinson's diagnosis. Now that he was immortal? His dad wanted to do things with him again. They went to concerts. They went to museums. They did all the things that Derek loved. And in return; Derek was now his father's assistant. He made sure that his father was never stuck out in the sunlight.

But his father was missing.

Had been for days.

Derek was starting to panic. Luckily, a list of numbers had been left behind with him in case of an emergency. The numbers belonged to various connections that his father had in the 'new' world he was part of. The first on the list was for Louis de Pont du Lac. When the phone answered, he spoke quickly.

"Please don't hang up. My name is Derek. My father is Daniel Molloy. He's missing."

[premleague]

blood,   sender cleans blood off of receiver.

There's a rapidly darkening crimson stain on his brand new Armani button-up. One would think he'd learn to avoid white clothing in his line of work – this is not the first time this has happened, and he's certain it won't be the last. Unfortunately for his wardrobe, style comes before practicality, and here Theo finds himself, in this mess again. He chuckles at the assistance, reaching up to unbutton his shirt, to take it off; easier to clean things up without that barrier getting in the way of things, keeping the mess in place. "Who knew you were such a gentleman," his voice is a low drawl, accompanied by a smirk that just tugs at the corners of his lips. "Should I just sit still and let you work, then...?"

@operahouses for theo from here !