Send me “Zzz” and I’ll write a drabble about a dream my muse has had about yours!
I dreamt of you the other night. You were running from me, which is always infuriating in whatever form it takes, but this time you were faster than I was, so much faster, truly pushing your abilities to the limit in an effort to escape me.
I could not tell if it was a game or a dire need for escape—I knew only that I had to catch you, had to wrap my arms around you and devour you, drink you down until I knew you would never run again.
But it was you who found me. Grasping me from behind, your hands on my belly, your mouth already on my neck, your eyeteeth breaking the skin there and stealing what I will always freely give, if only to you.
You know I despise playing the victim. But for you? For you I would die every night, taken again and again, as long as it is those hands and that mouth upon me.
As long as you have stopped running.
I am writing with my burnt hand about the nature of fire.
Marius, you turned your back on me. That came as no surprise, really. You were always the teacher, the parent, the high priest. I don’t despise you for it. But Louis! My Louis, I could never deny you anything, and you turned me away!
Armand & Lestat (The Vampire Chronicles by Ane Rice) – Murder brothers
Armand by chrissydeath Lestat de Lioncourt by honey-in-the-sunshine ~ Well, after i-want-my-iwtv’s tags I had to post our partner cosplay alias the murder brothers. I also don’t want to hide the after-selfie of:
ASjjfhGLds! And my heart grew at least 3 sizes this day. It’s this scene reenacted, I assume…
♛ Ooooh I am so burned, almost as badly as when Louis does it literally! *fans self*
I throw glitter for fun. It’s unnecessary to “throw shade” at anyone when I am already centerstage, spotlighted brighter than the daylight. Overkill to push those in the shadows further into the dark, n’est-ce pas?
We were in the thick of Summer. The hot, sticky Louisiana air hung stagnant in the air, bringing with it the putrid smells of the swamps and Plantation. Though the suffocating heat did not affect us the way it did mortals, Louis and I were not impervious to it. It made me antsy. I paced about the house restlessly, picking up objects to examine them, only to put them down immediately. Louis was in the parlour, hunched over a letter he was composing to one of his fellow bourgeois, slave-driving compatriots. He was thrumming his fingers on the tabletop as he worked. Now granted, it was a very small thing and in retrospect shouldn’t have been enough to start an argument as big as it did, but he had been doing it non-stop for hours. HOURS! It was driving me crazy.
Send me “Zzz” and I’ll write a drabble about a dream my muse has had about yours!
Open doors are frightening, aren’t they? Open doors are equated with permission, often for things we did not want nor desire.
He always asked that the door be left open. “Why do you close your door against me?” There was no answer—how does one respond to that?
It would begin with the light caress of fingers, soft and deceptive on the back. Not even under the bedclothes at that point, no, merely something anyone might do to comfort a child.
When he reached the thighs you knew it was too late. There was no deterring, no turning back. Up comes the nightdress, and the caress, still soft, moves forward to darker territory.
How often before it became a habit? How often before one could close the eyes and pretend it wasn’t happening?
This is the nightmare, though, isn’t it. Not the moment of culmination, no, not the moment of union or even the little death. The beginning. The deception of soft hands, calming voice, all used to soothe.
“Last year I got a message from a beautiful girl who asked with all her courage how lovely and great my cosplay of Armand is and if I would wear it with her as Lestat on a convention. One month ago she became my girlfriend, and helps me find a way reducing my selfhate and lose the suicidal behavior. Thank you Armand, thank you Vampire Chronicles!”
I-want-my-IWTV 