#tvc kin

[devilsinstrument]

begging the world.... are there any iwtv/tvc fictionfolk servers.... anywhere...... please..... that are still active....... begging everyone......

[theatredesvampires]

My gut feels like it’s being twisted by human hands every time I think of him. His beautiful eyes and even more beautiful hair. The way he gets emotional over the sound of music, his optimistic out look on life, his everything. Leaving for Paris was the best and the worst thing we could have done. Maybe we could have grown old together. Maybe we could have become famous together. Who know, but either way, I miss him. Oh how I miss him.

[ohmercifuldeath]

Ah, I am sleepy, and just a little tipsy and now I am sad... I closed my eyes for a moment and could almost feel the phantom brush of cold lips on my forehead, Lestat’s hair brushing against my face before leaving for his nightly exploits. As I prepare to lay down far too early as I fix my sleep schedule I can’t help but flex my hand, thinking of Claudia’s delicate fingers weaving together with mine and leading me to my coffin just a little early so we could cuddle.

I ache for my loved ones deeply right now.

[devilsinstrument]

nicki,,, is there any instrument (besides the violin you little freak /aff) that you enjoy or wish you could play

oh yes hello lestat i see you. i’m very very partial to the accordion. lovely instrument. wind instruments as well — flutes are great. and of course the hurdy gurdy. my best friend. my estranged lover.

[devilsinstrument]

it’s going to be very very funny seeing the world hate me (more) just for … having existed and loved lestat. in s3.

[devilsinstrument]

“only the impossible can do the impossible.”

…or whatever it is I said that one time.

call me Nicolas. Nicki works as well, but I don’t know you people well enough to really establish any of that. 200-something-year-old former vampire, thankfully returned to a human form. formerly a disgruntled French man. unfortunately American now.

as you may have guessed, I’m fictionkin of nicolas de lenfent from anne rice’s vampire chronicles series, with some aspects of the show mixed in.

expect oddly-timed harangues and needless ramblings. misplaced and misguided anger towards those who I have perceived to have wronged me. too much love for a man who may not have deserved it, but who I loved and still love today.

asks are always open and I’m willing to talk to any sourcemates. it’s important to note that i’m 18 years old, so that may color your decision on whether or not to reach out.

stuff like that. my main blog is @cecilthecowardly + i also kin armand and that blog is over at @armandsromanus

tag system:

— #special thanks // : credits for whatever things i use here or feature.

— #tragicomedy // : most of my deeply mentally ill thoughts go here. feel free to block the tag.

— #stagedoor // : ask responses.

— #melomania // : music-related posts. lyrics, music theory, song reviews, etc. might also be used for other media such as film.

— #libretto // : text posts of various lengths.

these tags will be used in conjunction with others, i assume, since I’m nuanced like that.

[devilsinstrument]

currently experiencing the evil guilt that kills me. what is that thing that people say these days, "i'm just a girl?" wishing i had that mindset. (lestat was very much that mindset. i think he would do numbers on coquette tumblr or whatever that group is called, the ones that post lana del ray lyrics with the lacy dividers and seem to really, really like older men.)

it's an odd thing, this new age, these new ideas. not to say it's new by any means---god no. the teenage urge to seem or be older than you really are has existed throughout the years without fail. it's helped and harmed, wounded and aided. children--and that's what they really are, teenagers, they're children--forced into circumstances that require them to be older than they are. especially in my time when 16 was the age where noblemen would send their daughters off to another continent or, if they're lucky, neighboring country, to wed someone they'll resent for the rest of their brief life. even as a teenager enters young adulthood, there's still that reminder: young adulthood. naive and capable of many mistakes, only now they have the extra gift of perpetuating that violent, viscious cycle they were once part of---suddenly they're the one wedding a 16 year old, or they're looking down on their younger sibling for their perceived failings when they themselves were the one bullied in their youth.

when you're 21, the world is both for and against you. family still weighs heavy on your back and breaks your legs when you walk away from them. this goes doubly in small townships, small villages governed by one force, not the bourgeouis but damn close. wealthy, still, and old money---not a merchant's son, but a wolfkiller. imagine making a name for yourself that young. i never really got that, not in the way that my choice of career or lifestyle would warrant. mozart grew in fame at fourteen. proteges are always young, often in the single digits in age, and i, having barely escaped my teenage years intact, was bound to fall without having flown at all. but my icarus, the one with the wolf cloak?

lord, he soared.

there are constants in the people who exist on earth for any length of time. there will always be people who perpetuate cycles, who harm while having been harmed; likewise, people break the cycle. i have seen few who manage this, but it's possible. there will be people who can never be helped, people who help too much, people who are oh so wrong and people who are right in every way.

and, damn it. he fit so many of these tropes, these archetypes of humanity that are oftentimes more cynical than uplifting. he was never a cynic. he was hopeful, joyful, never allowing anyone to see the extent of his countless agonies. i read his book, though it was, for me, postmortem and post-resurrection, as i call this rememberence of my self. he hurt for years. he continues to hurt, each of the versions of him i stumble upon and witness destroy themselves again, again, and again. not unlike myself in this regard, the death of the self and perpetuity of it all.

perhaps he and i are constants ourselves. again, what is the phrase people use these days? in every universe? lifetimes and lifetimes will pass and we will continue to be, and we will continue to meet and love and fall apart. i think of victor hugo, les miserables, enjolras and grantaire and the tragedy of it all. a death hand in hand, a peaceful death i was never granted. it will always be this way, in every universe, but that at least means that there will always be that time, that period just after we move to paris, new york, san francisco, tokyo, anywhere but the inn in a village we could hardly call home. we will always have that golden moment, the revelation, the joy, the music, the theater. it will end, because all things end, don't they?

but he and i will have existed again for at least some period of time. and that thought is comfort to me no matter how fleeting it may be.

[findinyourkin]

Hello! I’m a fiction-kin of Daniel Molloy from IWTV AND TVC. Looking for sourcemates especially Armand whom I have romantic memories of. I’m 24 so no minors please! Feel free to message me!

!!!!!!!!