Understand what you see
When you see me!
“And books, they offer one hope — that a whole universe might open up from between the covers, and falling into that universe, one is saved.”
#PREACH
Tom Cruise re: Lestat, 1
“I used the books as a reference for me and, y’know, you have to read them, especially Interview with the Vampire, because it’s from Louis’s point of view, you have to read it very carefully to find the clues to who Lestat is, and y’know… his loneliness, and his, his personal… struggle. He recognizes that Louis’ a unique… being, and if he wanted… y’know it’s that whole thing, and Lestat gives him the choice – very clearly – even in the book Lestat gives Louis the choice, uh, and that’s something I felt very strongly about… and when Lestat asks Louis, "Do you still want death? Or have you tasted it enough?” He’s really asking Louis:
“Do you still wanna die? I mean, now you know, you’ve come close to death, is this what you want?”
Brad Pitt re: Louis de Pointe du Lac:
“You have a guy here who has a… he’s s’posed to do this and he’s s’posed to do that, and it doesn’t feel right for him, but yet, ahh… that’s, that’s… those are his instincts now, so… therein lies the whole dilemma.”
And the organ, the organ we don’t need, poised as if ready for what it would never again know how to do or want to do, marble, a Priapus at a gate.
QOTD
(Ok, so I just laughed my fucking arse off in the lunch room at work reading this. So their dicks are hard but the dicks don’t know what to do with themselves? Or the dicks don’t want to do anything? Really Anne? I’m pretty sure any of our beloved vamps who had reached maturity before being turned know what they are supposed to do. Or are you suggesting that vampire men are ruled with the head on their shoulders while mortal men are ruled by the head between their legs? This is the funniest passage I have read in a long time and I’m probably going to think about it for far too long. -Ginger)
#gdi Lestat #quit admiring your cock and get in the bath
(via delicatepalejules)
Selfies
Her favourite gift that Lestat had given her was not, as he might hope, the cellular mobile phone with which she might communicate with him. She carried that little device purely so that he would not rail at her upon her infrequent returns to him.
No, it was instead the gift he’d give to her for her birthday (or was it Christmas?) in 2012: the Olympus OM-D camera.
With this she had begun to document her travels, to capture images of parts of the world no mortal had ever seen. She took photo after photo, enchanted by the way in which the camera could capture light, even in darkness, and by its ability to also capture her own visage and form at play within her locales.
Perhaps it was a boon to Lestat, too—she sent him emails and books filled with photos now—not often, no, but enough that her communication with him became what he might even call constant.
Sometimes she might send a photograph of herself behind the curtain of a waterfall, taken carefully at night with the use of the quick shutter and the artful little timer. Sometimes it was the animals she encountered in the canopies of trees.
But her favourite way to tease him was to send images taken with the camera in hand, turned towards herself, whatever location she’d found herself in behind her. She might, if he was lucky, offer a small smile. He had told her that these were called “selfies,” in this modern day, a type of self-portrait. Though she failed to see the allure, she knew it tickled him to receive them.
Louis de Pointe du Lac used to get his sweaters pre-distressed by Trent Reznor. It’s a delicate process.
Louis de Pointe du Lac already described above but always fun to envisage: slender, slightly less tall then Lestat, his maker, black of hair, gaunt and white of skin, with amazingly long and delicate fingers, and feet that do not make a sound. Louis, whose green eyes are soulful, the very mirror of patient misery, soft-voiced, very human, weak, having lived only two hundred years, unable to read minds, or to levitate, or to spellbind others except inadvertently, which can be hilarious, an immortal with whom mortals fall in love. Louis, an indiscriminate killer, because he cannot satisfy his thirst without killing, though he is too weak to risk the death of the victim in his arms, and because he has no pride or vanity which would lead him to a hierarchy of intended victims, and therefore takes those who cross his path, regardless of age, physical endowments, or blessings bestowed by nature or fate. Louis, a deadly and romantic vampire, the kind of night creature who hovers in the deep shadows at the Opera House to listen to Mozart’s Queen of the Night give forth her piercing and irresistible song.
Louis, who has never vanished, who has always been known to others, who is easy to track and easy to abandon, Louis who will not make others after his tragic blunders with vampiric children, Louis who is past questing for God, for the Devil, for Truth or even love.
Sweet, dusty Louis reading Keats by the light of one candle. Louis standing in the rain on a slick deserted downtown street watching through the store window the brilliant young actor Leonardo DiCaprio as Shakespeare’s Romeo kissing his tender and lovely Juliet (Claire Danes) on a television screen.
The Vampire Armand (via viaticumforthemarquise)
amadeo-child-of-the-renaissance:
ooc: I decidet to start drawing VC-related things. So go ahead and be my muse. Ask as much as you like, I’m just getting started and I am more than willing to get even more explicit.
