Do u ever not realize how starved for affection u are till someone hugs u a bit tighter than normal and you find that you really don’t want to let go
I never thought about this scene in this context before, and I don’t know if you were going for seriousness or not, but by this point in the both the film and the novel, Lestat hadn’t had any real affection other than the baiting of the musician for some time.
Thanks! I was indeed going for serious. They have actual irreconcilable differences, but they both still desperately miss how it was in the beginning, when they could both be free to live under the delusion that this setup was in any shape or form “natural" and sustainable. It was the honey-est of honeymoons, for all of them. One happy family.
Claudia was the glue that held them all together, so when she understood the truth of it all and severed ties with Lestat, that’s around when Louis must have, to some extent, as well. In the book, he seems to pull away from both of them emotionally as her frustration and disillusionment grows.
So yes, by this point, Lestat hadn’t had any real affection (aside from the flirting w/ strangers we all know he’s so talented at) other than the baiting of the musician for some time. It appeared that the love between Lestat and the musician was a pale shadow of what he had with Louis and Claudia. That musician seemed to give him the kind of unconditional love that Lestat’s dogs had given him back in the Auvergne. An unquestioning loyalty, which is good, but love from Louis and Claudia was worth more, which is why he didn’t just leave them immediately, but rather stay and taunt them with the idea that he might turn someone else. He was challenging them to fight for his love, in threatening to replace them, he wanted them to beg him to stay. They didn’t.
Aw thank u! I kind of regret bringing it up, but the flesh is always better on the other side of the window… oui?
Real talk here, though: I love that they chose a realistic woman for Claudia to want to be, not some stick-figure blonde. Later, the lady killed on stage at the Theatre Des Vampires is more like that ideal, society’s projected perfection, but we’re not talking about her right now. This woman has kind of unusual boobs, as far as what we normally see in film, these are natural boobs, not hiked up in a bra to conform to some kind of perky ideal, and this woman has an actual tummy, maybe she’s had children, maybe she’s pregnant, either way, she appears to have FLESH THAT FUNCTIONS and is natural. “Pure Creole” as Lestat says appreciatively. And she’s kind of humming to herself, doing some kind of treatment to her body, just at peace with herself and the world, it seems. Claudia wants ALL of that.
Later, we see Claudia humming (the same tune?!) as she draws from this model trying to achieve that same inner peace. Why do artists art? One reason is they’re trying to capture an ideal and/or something ephemeral, something that brings peace when you can put it down on paper. Writing can achieve that, too, as can making music, as can all the creative arts.
That’s definitely part of why I’m an artist. It’s a burning need to capture and become something through the creative act. An evolution of sorts.
You see why I’m trapped in this fandom? It touches on everything! I can never leave.
I am aware of them! They’re on the book of Face if anyone wants to check them out. They have some merch, too. I even reached out to one of them at one point and they responded pretty fast. They seem like nice vampires and worthy of the name.
Apparently they’ve been around for awhile now:
I believe they asked AR’s permission to use the name, even though they didn’t have to.
Just beginning to drift off, there was a soft rapping at my coffin. “Louis?”
Movement was difficult. Rather just stay down. Pretended to sleep.
“Louis, are you awake?”
He wouldn’t let up. “Can this wait ‘till tomorrow?“
A brief silence, and the rustling of fabric. He was probably wringing his hands.
I rallied my strength and pushed the lid of my coffin aside a few inches. “Well, what is it?”
When I saw his face I immediately regretted my tone. Tears wobbled in his eyes, a few red trails of tears already marked his cheek. He leaned back as if to step away.
“Oh, Lestat, I’m so sorry, please, what’s wrong?” I said, opening the lid enough to sit up and reach for him. He hesitated, then knelt down, shivering a little as our hands met.
“I- I miss her. A little girl tonight… I bought her a doll… and she smiled…” He managed, shoulders folding in like a bird’s wings. I was so drained, though, the sunrise was rapidly approaching. “She had sweet little dimples just like… just like…”
“Shhh, get in, here, there’s room for you,” I tossed out a few ragged old pillows I normally used. He was shaking a little as I guided him in, and let me arrange him. I shut the lid and fell back finally as he wrapped his arms around me. “Better?” I looked deeply into his eyes.
“Better.” He nuzzled into my hair. “You smell like her.” He took a few more deep breaths.
“So do you, Lestat.” I gripped him tighter, his hair brushing my face, took in his wholesome scent, and let the darkness take us both.
This is a fun question. I grew to type everything properly in french in my texts so I’m bad at this but here is what I remember or still catch in other people’s texts.
How To (Badly) French Text 101 – The basics
MDR: Mort de rire (Dying of laughter)
SLT: Salut (Hi)
BJR: Bonjour (Hello)
DSL: Désolé(e) (Sorry)
JTM: Je t’aime (I love you)
RPZ: Représente (Represent. It’s some kind of a joke)
OKLM: Au calme (chill)
TKT: T’inquiètes pas (Don’t worry)
DTC: Dans ton cul (in your ass)
VTF: Vas te faire (go fuck yourself)
RAF: Rien à faire/foutre (I don’t care/give a fuck)
SMS: A text/message
And that’s all I could think of
I always loved “plop”, which is a common greeting in French MMOs, basically “salut”. You might enter a battleground on World of Warcraft and see a million people saying “Plop!” “PLOP” in the chat, which sounds ridiculous in English.
I remember asking “Why is everyone saying “plop” and “murder” (MDR)?”
My French friend also taught me some more:
TG: Ta guele (Shut up)
PTN: Putain (F*ck)
STP: S’il te plaît (Please)
Also: BSR: bonsoir (good evening) CAD: c’est-à-dire (that is to say) A+: à plus tard (see you later) EN+: en plus (on top of that)
I didn’t
know some of these, and there’s a lot I don’t use (in fact I only use DSL, DTC,
TG, TG, STP/SVP (s’il vous plait) and @+), but everything is correct, except
for some little mistakes here and there :
“
T’inquiètes pas” ;
“
Vas te faire” (foutre) ; and of course “ta gueule”
I also use :
c for “c’est”
CQFD : ce qu’il fallait démontrer (that which was to be demonstrated)
Qd mm :
quand même (though/still)
And a last
one, not very clever but… meh, I like it : CMB/CTB : comme ma bite/ comme
ta bite (like my dick/ your dick)
I hope you’re alive and well. Actually, undead and well, but you know what I fucking mean. I hope you’re keeping the shadows at bay and the impulse to drown in your madness in check. Remember that no matter how dark and cold the world gets, you can endure. Darkness and cold are your companions in immortality even when nothing else is. But the madness, however inviting or enticing, is not your friend.
And since I’m being extremely fucking optimistic, I hope you’re learning to forgive him more quickly. To stop clinging your stubbornness and pick up the goddamn phone. Or hell, make the trip. Make him face you and see if he can hold onto the anger when you’re right in front of him. (Spoiler alert: he can’t.)
Whatever the future holds, don’t extinguish your burning need to learn, to explore, to study, to ask, to know. That is what will get you through the centuries. Well, that and him. So cut him a little fucking slack and learn to say I’m sorry more often. And while you’re at it, cut yourself a little slack, too.
