Bad Example, Terrible Warning

soooo this is the greatest thing ive ever made! i printed a bunch of stuff out and doodled all over it w/ oil pastels and other things… then took pics of each frame and edited it back together into the full vid,, it took me about a month to make this! and yes, i WILL be annoying about it, this is my BABY!

and also this was my first time making smth like this :D it was really super fun and i should do it again sometime probably

all in all, this was 47 pages, 562 frames :)

and since you’re here, here’s a couple bonus gifs!

Crowding Daniel against the wall, not touching him, but menacing, decisive. When Armand’s fist meets the wall next to Daniel's head it is expected. Daniel watches a smile flicker across his face before it settles into a painful scowl. So he’s hurt. Daniel knows this, as though they are playing poker and this is his tell.

It is his tell. 

Daniel flinches against his will. He may as well have shown Armand the flesh of his stomach, exposing the softest parts of himself in front of this predator who clearly wants to tear into him. 

“What do you know?” Armand spits, “What do you know of love? Of devotion? Of sacrifice? You pathetic little boy, you fucking child, you—”

“Step off, asshole,” Daniel cuts him off in the toughest voice he can muster, "All I did was hold up a mirror to your bullshit and you decided you didn’t like the creature that stared back at you. Oh, and neither did Louis, by the fucking way."

Armand's eyes flash and he hisses, baring his teeth at Daniel, “Tread carefully, Mr. Molloy,” Armand murmurs, “or—”

“Or what?” Daniel laughs, a hollow, joyless thing, “You gonna bite me? You gonna kill me? You don’t have the stones, babe, I can see it in your eyes.”

Daniel tries to shove at Armand's chest but his hands are shaky. It's nothing new. Armand looks suddenly terrified, quickly snatching up Daniel's wrists in a vice-like grip. 

“Our bodies betray us,” he says calmly, “Yours, mine. But death is simple. A shortcut to oblivion. A fate reserved for those that seek an ordinary end.”

Armand still holds his wrists. Steady. Surprisingly careful. 

“Yeah? And what’s so bad about ordinary? Maybe I’m ordinary,” Daniel argues, exasperated. 

Armand's eyes narrow and he tilts his head to the side, “The great Daniel Molloy? Journalist extraordinaire? Lover of cheap thrills and party tricks? Oh yes, for all the din and discord in your turbulent mind, you’ve still managed to remain so beautifully, perfectly, ordinary.”

Then something happens—the world tilts, the room turns upside down, and Daniel is on the floor. Armand was on the floor. Daniel is on the floor. Alone. Altered. Ears straining for the sound of a heartbeat that no longer exists. Holding a breath he no longer has. The smell of his own blood, cloying, like overripe fruit. 

Daniel is on the floor.

Armand is not there. Daniel knows that, what with his newly heightened senses. He swallows, tasting the remnants of Armand's blood on his tongue. His maker’s blood. Repulsive. Or is it delicious? It should be repulsive but his body doesn’t get the fucking memo, his dick now painfully hard.

So that works. Aces.

He pulls out his phone to look at himself in the camera. Disheveled, yes. And his eyes are now Armand's eyes, staring back at him. All things considered, he looks pretty fucking good for an old man. Pretty fucking great, even.

He gets a few flashes of memory—Armand’s teeth in his neck, the tender way he cradled Daniel's head as he tore into his skin, and maybe—a kiss? A blood soaked press of lips, a shock of tongue against his—one beautiful thing amidst the carnage. Then Daniel's teeth in Armand's wrist. Armand egging him on in a dulcet tone. Daniel could swear he felt his own eyes burn orange in that moment. Or maybe it never happened. Maybe Daniel is just on the floor.

Bloody, lonely, fledgling. 

He feels hunger like never before. He is hunger. Hunger has made a home inside him and it wants anything and everything. A fresh kill. A blood bag. A heady drink of Armand’s blood straight from the source—Daniel would shiver at the thought of it if he still could. 

He thinks about giving Louis a call. Like running to one parent when the other says no. When the other abandons you in Dubai without so much as a note.

Gone out to find blood, xx Armand! Stupid. Wishful.

And anyway Louis is with Lestat. His lover. His maker. Who for all his other flaws, didn’t leave Louis to endure the transition by himself. 

As with most things at the hands of The Vampire Armand, Daniel can’t yet fully recall his own turning. How had he landed on the floor? What made Armand do it? What made him break his only fully steadfast rule? Was it hate? But hate was not a strong enough motivator for betraying oneself. Love? Love was too simple. So…neither? So, both.

So, something else.  

All Daniel knows is that he couldn’t have wanted this. He'd never have asked Armand for it.

Please oh please give me undeath everlasting. Be my daddy vampire. No. Impossible. Well, not impossible, just. Unlikely. Well, not unlikely, just. Fuck, ok alright so maybe.

Maybe he does want it. Maybe he never stopped wanting it. Maybe Armand knows that. Armand fucking knows that.

Maybe Armand isn’t gone. Maybe he’s simply watching from a safe distance. Which would be completely fucking in character for him.