1 - 20 of 168 Bookmarked Items in the things that couldn't have been if you hadn't have been
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When Thomas Lawrence came by the papal apartments that evening, he came, unsurprisingly, with a bundle of papers under his arm.
Vincent tried on and discarded four separate teasing comments about it, but didn’t get to decide on one before Thomas silently handed them over, and he realized they were newspapers, opened and refolded over the weekly comics, his favorite. Three of them, one for each week he’d been away.
Ah, he thought, with the feeling of a sudden hard deceleration in his chest, the press it put on his heart. Ah. All right then.
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(...he put his face against his neck and looked past him into the gilt marble presence of the Holy Spirit, and Vincent Benítez, crude and folkish, bared all his teeth. You may have every part of me but this, he thought. This is mine alone.)
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It took two weeks for the new pope to reinstate Janusz Wožniak as his chief of staff. In fact, Sister Agnes had to tell him about it ahead of time - hoping, presumably, that if he knew his position was safe maybe he'd stop sweating about it so much.
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(A noise came out from between Cardinal Lawrence’s teeth. It jackknifed into Janusz’s hindbrain and stuck there.)
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if you bet on a losing dog by intothewildblueyonder for snailest
Fandoms: Conclave (2024), Conclave - Robert Harris
24 Jun 2025
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Thomas clears his throat. "We have held hands. Yesterday, after Compline, he kissed me. There has not been anything else.”
“Kissed you?”
Thomas studiously tips his head upward, avoiding all eye contact. “Yes. Not for very long.”
“Was it any good?”
“Aldo!”
“Worth a shot.” Aldo grins. “You could get some real money with his admirers, you know. There’s a lot of young women out there wanting to know how the prettiest Pope to ever grace the See might kiss.”
“Well.” With a certain primness Thomas folds his hands together. “I’m afraid they would have to go through me first.”
Oh, John, Aldo thinks. Beloved, beloved.
(Aldo Bellini can do without the papacy, but he cannot do without Thomas).
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(Stop crying, he thinks, pressing the knight into his hand until it aches. Oh, you fucking sissy, you weak little pup, stop crying.)
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why did i cover up the colors stuck inside my head? (i should've let the jagged edges meet the light instead) by This_world_of_beautiful_monsters
Fandoms: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
08 Sep 2025
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How lucky he is, to have Louis to look after him, to keep an eye on his wicked little thoughts. Lucky that Louis knows how to take Armand's black heart and say there, there, you're just a little off course, petting through Armand's ribcage. They keep each other right, don't they? They always have.
__A story about love, exorcism, and "boring" as a verb.
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- English
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- 2,673
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- 1/1
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- 4
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"I should keep going," Louis pants. "Drill little holes in you everywhere, baby, let it all seep. Everything the men put in you, everything your daddy put in you. You'd like that, yeah?"
Yes. Let it all seep and stink, rot on the floor, crumple the boards. Louis could drain him dry, really dry, pick him up and fill him with something new and good. Armand wants to be tabula rasa, blank slate, scrubbed screen.
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24 items from the collection of A.M. (1974 to 1985) by volkswagonblues for rosepetalfall
Fandoms: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
13 Dec 2024
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Here, in this Parisian hospital room, Alice and Armand begin their last collaboration: Daniel’s life story. They’re putting it together; no, they’re taking it apart. Events take place, relative to other events. One damn thing after another. But that’s how all stories work.
In 1973, Daniel Molloy meets a stranger in Polynesian Mary’s.
In 1974, he meets Alice and they move to New York City together.
In 1985, he proposes to Alice, who says no. Who says yes. Who says—24 items (more or less) from the A.M. collection, spanning 1974 to 1985 (more or less). Presented with their accompanying manuscript.
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"I was asking you a question," he says. "Why do you love Daniel Molloy?"
Because of you.
“I guess I love him because he’s Danny,” she says out loud, and Armand gives her a look of sharp pity that’s not unlike Jen’s.
(She thinks— DON’T LOSE YOUR MIND: VAMPIRES CAN’T BE REAL.
She thinks—stakes, garlic, holy water, Bible verses in Latin, lines of salt, crucifixes, running streams.
She thinks—I think I’m losing my mind. I need a knife.)
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In Delusions of Increasing Grandeur by graiai for aguntoaknifefight (swirlingvoid)
Fandoms: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
29 Nov 2024
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Obviously, truth is stranger than fiction, and there’s always going to be edge cases in the real world, but for our purposes: just how realistic is Armand’s tragic backstory?
Judging by the number of retweets/reblogs on this post and others like it, fannish opinion seems to be “not very”. But honestly? It’s not that far-fetched.
Or: a fannish academic does a deep dive into the most controversial character in Daniel Molloy’s new novel.
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- English
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- 14,000
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- 8/8
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- 1
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- 202
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- 551
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other anthems for doomed youth by reedroad
Fandoms: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
08 Mar 2025
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In 1973, Louis takes up Daniel's offer to become his new Claudia and new Lestat. They discover it is not any better.
- Language:
- English
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- 222,943
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- 15/15
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- 484
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- 144
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(ARMAND
Louis. I told you—
LOUIS DU LAC
Let the boy tell it. I want to know how he remembers it.)
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5 Times Daniel Molloy Imagined Killing Marius de Romanus (+1 Time He Actually Did It) by platoapproved
Fandoms: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
06 Oct 2024
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He couldn’t let it happen. No matter what, he was not going to let that man lay a fucking finger on Armand ever again.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 55,541
- Chapters:
- 7/7
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- 762
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- 1,508
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- 361
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you want a better story, who wouldn't? by sa00harine
Fandoms: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022), Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice
08 Sep 2024
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Then, finally, because he can’t help himself— “Your book,” Daniel says, with a pocket of quiet that, for the sake of clarity on the recording, is likely a nod.
“Yes.”
“Last thing you read was about Italy, and now you’re back to Delhi. What gives?” Another pause. “Feeling nostalgic?”
Armand doesn’t speak for a stretch of time. “I thought it prudent to… revisit some memories, after Louis concluded your interview. He showed me indirectly the merits of reflection.”
“Learning from your divorce, lookit that. So you can teach an old dog new tricks.”
“Did you have something more to ask?” Armand says this sharply, as if irritated.
Series
- Part 2 of vamptember
- Language:
- English
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- 3,996
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- 1/1
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Armand puts a finger over his lips and glares. The humor dissipates after that, replaced by a wistfulness on his face. He’s looked down at a painting on page three hundred something. It depicts a woman, dark skin and wrapped in an orange sari. Armand stares for a while, his admiration turning into something mournful.
“You’re killing me, here,” Daniel tells him.
But when he looks up, it’s clear he wasn’t withholding. Armand had been caught in a reverie.
“I was thinking that for all my uncertainty being painted,” Armand murmurs. “I would not mind it now if they painted me like this. The right colors. Done with love, not greed.”
CLICK.
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deep-wounded mind, i wasn't doing anything with it anyway by exsanguinate (transjon)
Fandoms: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
07 Sep 2024
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Louis in his head. Behind his eye. In his skull. Fingers deep in the orange, splitting the membrane, fingering the juicy flesh. Spread, he says, and Arun’s mind makes room for him.
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“Maître,” Arun exhales. This is a muscle memory. Pay attention, now, Amadeo. “Please.”
Open, open, open. The absence of. The filling of. The making of. Do you like this, Amadeo?
“Yes,” he says out loud. Something else, trailing behind.
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This is bullshit. Daniel has spent two years persistently dialling Armand’s mental phone number in the vampire psychic network, and after two years of getting the equivalent of ‘the number you’re trying to reach no longer exists,’ he bumps into his maker in a dinky little repair shop. In Canada. Smelling like—this is where Daniel must be going crazy, because Armand smelled like a human in there. An unremarkable, blood-filled, regular human, with notes of stale sweat and artificial lemon detergent.
Which part of the vampiric telenovela that makes up Daniel’s life is this again?
(OR, the fic where Armand shows up again as a human, but Daniel's still a vampire, and then they do role-reversal Devil's Minion nonsense)
- Language:
- English
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- 68,035
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- 10/10
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- 394
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- 833
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- 262
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It’s pure muscle memory from his hustling days. Easy, like riding a bike: lick your mouth. Pull your shoulders back. Glance up, look down again like you’re shy about how turned on you are. Slowly rake your eyes back up again like you can’t help yourself. Look at how fucking hot the guy in front of you is, let him see you seeing him. Wet your lips. Bare your throat (bet that still works, even on an ex-vampire). Tilt your head so that the kitchen lamp shines sidelong into your eyes to show off their clear greenish-bluish hue. Dreamer’s eyes. That’s from your Armenian side, a genetic monument from the Persian empire—or was it the Ottomans? Anyways, it’s all part of the same bloody history of conquest. They’re the same colour as your mother’s and one of the only good things she left you.
Except no, wait, they’re not green anymore—
“Shh,” Armand says at Daniel’s whimper.
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Diptych of two Roman goddesses. Attributed to Marius de Romanus. Italian (Venetian). About 1490-1501. Oil on canvas, with a metal frame.
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A painting throughout the centuries.
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She wanted to scratch her face off the painting until her nails put a hole through the canvas. She wanted to go back in time and pull Aurora limb from limb and tell her shut your mouth you worthless whore as she screamed. Stop crying, bitch, you enjoyed it. Shut up, lying cunt, you know it was your choice. Take your punishment. Get over it or kill yourself.
She wanted to burn.
The painting was sold to a private collection and forgotten about.
(Don’t you ever want to hurt me? she’d asked Louise once.
That’s what you want, Louise had replied, turning over in bed so she would not face her.)
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Thralls were nothing new - and in fact, they did not seem to have changed very much in the centuries since Lestat had first made use of them, no matter how many liability waivers they came with these days.
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(You must know when to let the curtain fall.
- Armand, THE ART OF THE VAMPIRE, 2023.)
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chase away my heart and heartache by sahwen
Fandoms: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
21 Sep 2024
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With nowhere to go and an eternity ahead of him, Armand decided to work his way backwards.
Or: Armand's Tour de Divorce in six acts.
- Language:
- English
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- 29,521
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- 8/8
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- 320
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- 1,082
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- 255
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In art history, there was a difference between naked and nude. Manet’s Luncheon on the Grass, with the undressed woman and her wrinkled heap of clothes beneath the picnic basket, coupled with the two fully clothed men — this was a naked painting. Michaelangelo’s David, that incomprehensible tower of marble muscle, was nude. Nudity was a natural, idealized state of being. Nakedness was the act of undressing, evidence of a previously clothed state. It extinguished the fantasy.
Arun and Amadeo had known this. They had been taught to already be undressed before any guests entered the room.
(It didn’t happen to me, Armand thought, squeezing his eyes shut so tight that he saw bursts of color against the black. Not me. That’s not me on the boat, or in the brothel.
Lies, Arun said, can only get you so far.)
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Louis, glitteringly modern as Armand has always found him, is an excellent tourist, throwing himself into the wholehearted pursuit of the city with an almost manic zeal. Thunderingly alive in Paris, thunderingly alive in Alexandria, thunderingly alive for the rest of their lives, wherever they might be.
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“I thought you might be going home to someone else tonight,” Armand says.
“How fucking dare you.” Suddenly Louis is on him, straddling him, fingers wrapped around his throat. His eyes are glittering.
“Do you wanna say that again,” he breathes.
Armand’s heart aches.
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“What are you building towards, Daniel?”
Better to rip the band-aid off. Push the baby bird out of the nest and hope its wings aren’t too weak to carry it. Daniel opens his laptop and sets it on the bed between the two of them. “Origins comma Delhi,” he reads. “Renaissance portraiture comma MDR. I’m assuming that’s your maker. Prostitution comma Venice. I haven’t opened them, but they’re all here.”
“Where did you get these?” Armand is the coiled spring in a mousetrap; the powder in a flintlock pistol.
“Same place I got that script.”
[post-interview, Daniel and Armand go through a few more of the files on Daniel's laptop.]
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(Ask any old man and he’ll say it’s true: minds forget, bones remember. You forget how you first injured your knee but it still acts up when the weather changes. Lose the name of the three-night stand in nineteen-nineties Atlantic City, keep the way his teeth felt on your collarbone. Wake up one evening in a body that will never give you another scar, and five hundred years later you’re still paying the surcharge for blood and visible injuries. Yeah. It sticks around.)
This is what it looks like, he wants to say. It might never get better. There’s a pile of fish bones sitting somewhere in the California sewer system. There’s a room full of paintings on the first floor of the Louvre. There are ashes under the concrete in Venice, and some of them used to be the first real bed Armand ever slept in. “You don’t put it anywhere. You’ve gotta carry it.”
“He loved me,” he says again, as if saying it will lighten the load somehow.
“Yeah, he loved you.” Daniel lets his head fall back against the wall. “That motherfucker.”
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"I know what a breakup looks like," Daniel says. "The better question is, why are you coming to me about it? I'm the one who broke up your little sham."
"This is what humans do, don't they?" Armand asks, letting his voice drop. "Crashing on their friends' couches when there's a blip in their romances?"
"Except we're not friends. We're actually very much not friends." Daniel shrugs, as if it's all the same to him. "And I can't imagine the great vampire Armand deigning himself to sleep on my fucked-up sofa. That thing's been here since the nineties."
"Well," Armand only says. "I saw you have a guest bedroom."
- Language:
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- 5/5
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“Well,” Daniel says, knowing he sounds smug but also knowing he’s always enjoyed poking the bear, “someone’s still in the doghouse.”
“I did knock,” Armand replies in that airy, gentle voice of his, like smoke rising from a chimney, “but you were out.”
“I was out for five minutes,” Daniel snorts. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t flying above the streets like a giant cockroach and watching me.”
“They tell me those kinds of snacks are bad for your health,” Armand says in response and finally steps out into the light.
(“I have already,” he says again, much quieter so Daniel has to strain to hear it. “He won’t take it. Do it yourself—yes, he’d take it from you. No, I don’t know—dying on his own terms. Bodily autonomy. Daughters.” Another word thrown like a grenade in a low hiss seeping beneath the door. “I am telling the truth. What else is there?” A long stretch of silence. “Come up here and do it. Take him and be damned.”)
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It’s 2022, he’s in Dubai, and Daniel Molloy’s life is flashing before his eyes.
Mostly, he’s irritated by the goddamn cliché of it all.
The indignity not only of dying, but of having the whole of his life laid bare, his memories to be perused at the leisure of the sick psychotic fuck currently pinning him to the floor.
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Daniel thinks opera is stupid. Daniel thinks red wine is stupid. Daniel thinks brutalism might have a redeemable feature or two.
Arguing as foreplay.
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A turning point. Immediately post-s2.
- Language:
- English
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- 12,528
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- 3/4
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- 202
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- 1,440
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- 272
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Near-death situations make you florid, his editor had always said. From all the bullshit he’s heard these past few weeks, he assumes the reverse is true for vampires. Spend an immortal life over-insulated from consequence or conflict and you start to think you’re Shakespeare. You stage Beckett in the Bowery of Paris; you elevate breakfast to an art. And you never, ever kill your darlings.
“All that,” Daniel says, holding the still-warm corpse of his laptop in one hand, “and he still takes you at your word. I wish I were that fucking confident you wouldn’t drain me.”
(Less than an hour prior, Louis had looked Daniel in the eye, shaken his hand, and thanked him for blowing up his whole life. Daniel tries to broadcast the same to Armand. He doesn’t know how this mind shit works. Armand licks his collarbone clean. Daniel can barely think at all.
Armand’s tongue touches the edge of the wound; Daniel’s world twitches and whites out.)
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After a few months of saving the world, Alec Hardison returns home to New Orleans, where he is greeted with a family dinner and, once alone, a wickedly delicious round of dessert with his partners that will have more than chocolate beignets being eaten...
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- Part 12 of of hearth and home and other promises
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Oh god, how could Alec forget this: the way Eliot can kiss that just startles a person.
(Alec's lips tingle with the kicked-up pepper and salt on Eliot's lips.)