SAranelSJ
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Summary
Immortality is boring. Relationships are complicated.
Daniel Molloy thought eternal life would mean art, blood, and existential torment — not Street Fighter II in a Tribeca arcade at 2 a.m.
Armand swears it’s a metaphor (and maybe a couples therapy session in disguise).
Daniel just wants to win one damn round.
A love story told in 16-bit: eternal, ridiculous, and surprisingly cathartic. -
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L’eternità non è scandita dalla sete o dal fuoco, ma dalla monotonia. Nel quieto attico di Armand, Daniel trasforma la sua più grande abilità—fare domande— in un’arma contro il vuoto. Non amore, non tragedia, ma dettagli: l’odore di un fiume, il sapore della pioggia, il suono dei secoli. Quello che inizia come un’intervista diventa qualcosa di diverso, mentre Armand scopre di non essere un riflesso, ma rifrazione.
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Eternity isn’t haunted by thirst or fire, but by monotony. In Armand’s silent penthouse, Daniel turns his last skill—asking questions—into a weapon against the void. Not love, not tragedy, but detail: the smell of rivers, the taste of rain, the sound of centuries. What begins as an interview becomes something stranger, as Armand finds himself not reflected, but refracted.
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Anatomy of a Murder by SAranelSJ for Macaron
Fandoms: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
23 Jun 2025
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A year after being turned in Dubai, Daniel Molloy returns to the San Francisco apartment where, in 1973, he first met Louis and Armand. The walls are unchanged. He is not.
The room becomes a courtroom. Armand, the defendant. Daniel, judge, witness, and executioner.
Daniel puts Armand on trial—not only for the night he took his life, but for every silence, every manipulation, every half-truth dressed as love.
In this charged confrontation, the line between justice and vengeance blurs. Old wounds are reopened, ancient fears laid bare, and what began as an execution might end as something far more dangerous: understanding. -
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Valery Legasov, brilliant and solitary scientist, lives surrounded by what is never spoken: in laboratories, in empty hallways, in thoughts left unsaid. Boris Shcherbina, hardened statesman, appears to be his opposite—loud voice, imposing presence. Yet between them, during and after Chernobyl, a quiet and unshakable bond takes root.
In a world that erases names and rewrites memory, all that remains is the trace of gestures, a voice on tape, a hammock still swaying in the wind.
A love never spoken, yet perfectly clear. A loyalty that defies time, guilt, and death.[...] “Maybe… because I know you’ll leave. Or maybe I will. Or both” Boris says quietly, like a confession. “And it scares me that the memory of you… of us, might be enough for me. More than your presence.”
Valery doesn’t answer. He looks at him. One of those looks that weighs heavy, holding back every word that wants to burst out but doesn’t dare.
“I don’t want to be a memory” he murmurs after a long pause. “But I don’t know if I know how to be anything else. Not in this world. Not in the life we’ve been given.”