Gift of the Heart
Last thing of Armand's sickness
In the darkness of his room, a light knock against the wooden door was heard. Sjekjlep peeked in, allowing for a strip of light to spread and pool across the floor as he stepped in. He had on a pair of shorts, a bloody t-shirt still stained with the blood of his death. In his hands was a small, fluffy white teddy bear with a heart stomach. He placed it down on Armand's night desk.
He stood over his bed, staring worriedly at Armand's disheveled state. His stomach rose and fell slowly, his eyes closed gently, looking too heavy to even raise for him. The floor around him was covered in a sea of tissues.
"Lumil brought this in." Sjekjlep gestured to the teddy bear but Armand didn't look. The room was silent, only the sound of the others playing and laughing outside heard. Sjekjlep sighed.
"Is your ice pack warm yet? Do you need me to change it?" Sjekjlep questioned, earning a weak nod from Armand who raised his head slightly off his pillow. Sjekjlep took the ice pack and rubbed a gentle thumb over Armand's forehead as he breathed slowly. He took another glance at him before leaving the room.
Armand rolled his head over slowly, opening his eyes to look at the stuffed toy that was brought for him. He reached an arm out and brought it to his bed, grimacing at the way his stomach turned and his head whirled at the movement.
He laid the stuffed bear beside him just under his arm, both staring up at the ceiling tiredly, in pain, hungry with no appetite or stomach to eat. He gently closed his eyes once more, enjoying the plush feel of softness against his side.
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I literally cannot stop thinking about how insane it is that assad zaman didn’t know he was auditioning for Armand like u are a relatively unknown actor and u go try out to be the vampires butler in a foundational piece of vampire IP, only to be actually cast as the oldest, most powerful vampire in the entire work and u inhabit that character so well that everyone watching cannot imagine this role going to anyone else, who else could capture that half blank half apocalyptic look?? How the fuck could he have ever just been rashid
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it's still blowing my mind that i thought we'd be getting something close to cartoon villain lestat at the trial and instead we got... this weeping broken thing who can't help but stop in the middle of it all to give louis a genuine, heartfelt apology for the monstrous thing he did to him. who refused to go along with the narrative that he didn't think he would be hurting louis when he did it. whose shame and love are overwhelming him in equal measure and to such a degree that he can't perform. he can barely stand...
and it actually feels like... the closest thing we've gotten to ~real~ lestat so far in this show? even though it's still just a memory, louis is remembering the sincerity of him even if he claims he wasn't moved by it. he's sitting there and he's...
he's remembering. even as he circles right back around to the narrative that lestat was only there because he wanted them dead. it was just more lestat insanity, of course. a moment of realness in the middle of his revenge to meant disorient, nothing more. with armand being ever-helpful and chiming in to confirm that lestat is the one who does this. lestat is the one who wants to leave you with no sense of what is or what is not. yes. that's right. it's LESTAT...
but louis is almost there. louis is remembering...
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Bad Dream..
Tw: R4pe, drowning, suffocation, strange themes
Sitting in the warm embrace of my room, I stared at my phone, expression numb, body tired. I can feel my throat clamping up and my heart pounding inside my chest as the cold of the air begins to form behind me. Black, crippled, skinny hands slowly wrap around my torso, hugging and squeezing at my body, scratching at my sensitive skin.
They slowly pulled themselves up my body, the rough surface of its palm leaving red marks over my stomach and breasts as it cups my breasts, groping me, harassing and assaulting my body. One hand will reach up to my face eventually, covering my mouth as if I was to scream with the other beginning to pierce its fingernails into my chest.
Before it could reach my heart, I feel my body be roughly pulled through my bed and into what I could only assume to be an infinite source of water. My ankles were anchored with wrapped seaweed, keeping me from swimming away.
I flailed my limbs within the water, shutting my eyes tightly as the salt of the water burned them. I could feel more hands covering my body, ripping my clothes and groping my body, scratching and tearing my skin as they reached down.
I felt two hands target my throat, especially, holding onto my throat and squeezing me, draining the air from my lungs and making me suffocate within the water. The seaweed formed into a disgusting, inky muck that tied itself around my upper arms and my knees as I tried to tear myself from it.
My body was slowly forced deeper into the water, hands moving between my legs and inside. I tugged at the muck that had taken over my arms, pulling against them for even a bit of resistance as my head became light, the hands tightening around my throat.
I felt like a puppet being cut and ripped apart as I kept trying for escape, the strain on my arms becoming unbearable until I heard a crack.
Blood immediately gushed out but I snapped back awake in my office. There were no hands. There wasn't any water. There was no black muck. Just me and my work. I sighed in relief, touching my hand to my bare chest. I didn't need those memories anymore.
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