#bereftofmeaning, an independent adaptation of the vampire armand.
EXPLORING CONCEPTS OF: the first thing sacrificed to survive was oneself ; contempt turned inward ; existential awe and awfulness ; the ways and means of the modern monster ; dishonesty with oneself above all others ; staunching the wound again and again ; come closer but stay away ; the dawning clarity of being not known but seen.
rules of engagement
I. Probably the most important thing to keep in mind is that this blog is for adults 18 or older due both to my age and themes of the genre. If you’re here to feel out a romance, that bumps up to 21+. If you’re expecting there might be smut, 25+. Again, due to my own real age and personal comfort.
II. On the subject of romance, I don’t auto-ship or pre-plan anything. I like to see how we actually mesh as writers under IC circumstances and chat a bit OOC here and there. Nothing major. It just helps me get a feel on things.
III. On the subject of smut, I don’t post it on the dash. I’d much rather my writing not get taken down by this hellsite’s terms of service. That’s a Discord or messages thing for me. Similar to how I deal with romance, I’d prefer our characters have had some meaningful interactions and built up a decent rapport, we’ve talked some OOC, and it’s appropriate for the moment we’re writing.
IV. Prose posts are generally for mutual followers only, i.e. I follow you and you follow me. Asks can be sent by anyone, and I will do my best to answer them when I’m around. I check in a couple times a week. My posts usually come out by queue. Please be patient.
V. Duplicates are more than welcome as are OCs. I have no mains or exclusives at present, but I'd consider it down the line after some development.
VI. Canon and headcanons here are a blend of AMC IWTV and the books. I’m more familiar with and own the original books but have done research on the revised releases. I’m critical of characterizations in S3 and happy to work out different variations instead. I say all that to say, we got options. So many options.
VII. My health is in the toilet with chronic illness. For my own ease of access, I’m focusing on writing over going too hard on icons, graphics, googledocs, etc. Don’t let that deter you from expressing yourself just because I’m living the minimalist life.
VIII. If you’re aware of Armand’s story, you’re aware of the applicable warnings. That having been said, they will always be tagged so you can filter them out, usually as SA CW. It will only ever feature as backstory/background. I do not engage with or write out SA scenes. I ask that if you do, don’t follow me.
IX. As for who’s running this thing, I’m Lune, 35+, they/them. Let’s make cool stuff together.
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❝ Suffering is like anything else. Live with it long enough, you learn to like the taste. ❞
@divineviclinist // prompt // accepting
"You argue it as simple inevitability."
He bears neither question nor acceptance, tasting the weight of it, measuring its accuracy against its lacking. Armand's gaze, a weight all its own, deals in appraisal as it travels the length of Nicolas' form, attempting to decipher the storms that lie in his peaks and valleys, the portents hidden on his horizons. The shelter of his thoughts would undoubtedly sift out the missing piece, but Armand refrains, tending to his own reservations by omission.
There are moments, as precious little as he entertains them, where he can see something of himself in Nicolas. That mirror, his mirror, is best left veiled and darkened.
"We are our ends, not our means, Nicolas. You would do well to remember that."
❝ You are weak because you are afraid of others seeing your weakness. You are letting shame decide who you are. ❞
@evilanew // prompt // accepting
The facade of an amenable evening is stripped of him in increments, measures. Armand feels as an overturned hourglass might, each grain cascading over the next to leave the remnants vacant. He feels himself go with it. The stillness, the presence of him made statuesque and looming. For this thing, this feeling, to be armor, he would have to know its purpose. And he never has.
As his focus tears away from his own folded hands and rounds on Lestat, there is a brightening flash behind his eyes, widening and boundless. Armand's jaw angles, tightens, locks. He does not look away. Could not look away, whether by ruin or affection or necessity.
His incandescence extracts it by force, more breath than sound. "No. You won't be the one to lecture me on weakness and shame. You, who know only how to wear them as baubles and finery."
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"Then we must ask ourselves this: how should a monster appear?" An unfurled hand, all long fingers, gestures his invitation. She knows something of his nature. Armand would hear of hers in turn. "And when should they appear this way? At the first sign of their great evil? Later, perhaps, when the tethers of all that came before unbind?"
In all his wanderings, he has found one constant truth. Monstrous deeds, in conventional thought, are invariably a mortal origin. They were in his youth. They are now. This world is fit to devour itself, with or without his aid. "I find myself intrigued, Ms. Bennett. Some time has passed since I've dabbled in philosophy."
❝ I would have come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I’d crawl to you. ❞
❝ We never stop fighting. ❞
❝ You don’t ask for forgiveness. You earn it. ❞
❝ When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway. ❞
❝ Fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return. ❞
❝ Let’s not say things we don’t mean, my love. ❞
❝ And that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have. ❞
❝ Meeting you was a disaster. ❞
❝ You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming. ❞
❝ How many times have you told me you’re a monster? So be a monster. ❞
❝ I don’t hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. ❞
❝ You don’t look like a monster. ❞
❝ Suffering is like anything else. Live with it long enough, you learn to like the taste. ❞
❝ I have been made to protect you. Even in death, I will find a way. ❞
❝ You’re weak because you’re afraid of people seeing your weakness. You’re letting shame decide who you are. ❞
❝ You probably bartered your way out of the womb. ❞
❝ You can only sharpen a blade so far. In the end, it comes down to the quality of the metal. ❞
❝ They don’t know who we are. Not really. ❞
❝ Let’s go show them they picked the wrong damn fight. ❞
❝ Sometimes, the only way to get justice is to take it for yourself. ❞
❝ But if you couldn’t open a door, you just had to make a new one. ❞
❝ I’ve been nothing but kind to you. ❞
❝ How about I push you in the canal and we see if you know how to swim? ❞
❝ Before you finish that sentence, I want you to think about what a promise from me costs and what you’re willing to pay for it. ❞
❝ No matter the height of the mountain, the climbing is the same. ❞
❝ We can endure all kinds of pain. It’s shame that eats men whole. ❞
❝ I think you’d flirt with a date palm if it would pay you any attention. ❞
❝ When fear arrives, something is about to happen. ❞
❝ I just don’t get it. I’ve spent my whole life hiding the things I can’t do. Why run from the amazing things you can do? ❞
❝ How many rules have you broken since you met me? How many laws? ❞
❝ You don’t win by running one game. ❞
❝ You take the action where you find it. ❞
❝ We learn to hold our heads as if we wear crowns. We learn to wring magic from the ordinary. ❞
❝ What you want and what the world needs are not always in accord. ❞
❝ I suppose you’ve got your future all figured out? ❞
❝ I am with you because you let me be with you. ❞
cruel and ungentle string of air that tenses along , it is felt against skin as it creates goosebumps along the arm of the journalist , earning a jumble of compiled thoughts in their mind as the sounds of boots clattering along the floor sends shivers down their spine - a contemplative moment before their interest is piqued , then eyes center on the immortal being himself . daniel's throat is enclosed as if there were barbed wire against their neck , incapable of letting out a thought .
a deep breath is caught out , finally : as they're feeling the tensed feeling once again , daniel's face is forming this almost unreadable expression . " you mean you enjoy breaking and entering , " a sarcastic thought , comment - one might say , but it welcomes a laugh out from their lips , merely studying the man in their view , arms crossed - like they were showing off some defense . " and what may we speak about , hm ? i believe we've said all we could say to one another or am i wrong ? "
Satisfaction. It curls in Armand's chest, a great, languid thing with teeth and intention. Daniel does not disappoint. Sharp and ruthless. Bright and burning. He thinks he might seek them less were they not so. 'I entered,' the thought flutters, offered, a bird-wing brush of his mind to theirs. A brazen reminder Daniel's inner-workings are ever among his favorite literature. 'I didn't break.'
With the rise of a wrist, a flex of artful bone and sinew, the window makes its quiet descent, secured as it was before, and the lamp winks into luminance. Armand takes the overstuffed armchair, settles into it as all deliberately posed lines. And it is then the full weight of his attention comes to rest, openly, where it has been since his arrival: on them. "Do not play at coyness, Daniel. It only does you a disservice."
She snags on his peripheral senses, a thorn in the weave. He knows her by scent first, even over the spectre shapes carved out by his cigarette smoke, and by thought second, a pressing of admiration he can pluck like so much ripe fruit. It is not for him but for creations infinitely older.
It is enough to draw his attention to the night's canopy in turn, a tip of his sculptured jaw, a mercurial slant of his mouth. The vastness of the heavens has long since held a kindred knowing for him.
Flushed with stolen vitality, his truest nature is tempered against the facade afforded to Armand in the blood, concealed in silk and linen. Let them be two strangers. Let them be of no consequence.
"They do." And then: "They are."
For one is not the same as the other. He knows that best of all.
"Is it a professional interest?"
He imagines her, briefly, as a student of the sciences, places her among the early dawn of fumbling scholars before her time. The idea does not frame her how it should. And what does that make her, if not a mystery to be plucked and spun?
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you do not want this. this is the voice in your head that says, you do not want him. this is that space in your bed that says, bet I could fuck him. isn't it lonely? these are the standards to which you could hold me. think that you know me. you think that you could if you hold me. think you could try to console me. but i do not know me. no, i do not know me. 'cause i, 'cause i... sabotage the things i love the most. camouflage so i can feed the lie that i'm composed. [x]
The city's cries pierce the silence of the suite with renewed fervor. The unmuffled rumble of a failing engine as it chokes its way past. The melodic traces of a flavor of the month tune. The crowing laughter of strangers flocked together. The persistent chime of an unanswered call. These are the only indications that the window, once bolted against the coming chill of night, is now open.
As soundless a thing he has been, Armand makes a concession in the form of a boot heel falling against the polished floors. He gathers himself in the room's remaining shadows, a silhouette of elegant angles and crowned curls, his hands resting in tailored pockets. He does not appear to regard anything in particular, save for his self-made entrance, where the ease of it has softened his eyes ( refracting, reflecting, by dim light ) into something approaching bemusement.
"I find doors to be a suggestion." It is not an explanation. His arrival, as it often is, remains inevitable. "Sit. We will speak."
#bereftofmeaning, an independent adaptation of the vampire armand.
EXPLORING CONCEPTS OF: the first thing sacrificed to survive was oneself ; contempt turned inward ; existential awe and awfulness ; the ways and means of the modern monster ; dishonesty with oneself above all others ; staunching the wound again and again ; come closer but stay away ; the dawning clarity of being not known but seen.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
