Tag Archives: HEADCANON ACCEPTED

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anaryawe:

Sometime last autumn I read a post where one of the Lestat role-players of the site answered a question/prompt about crossdressing with L’s fond reminiscence of a lady with whom they sometimes swapped clothes.  So I sketched this on my 14 min morning train to school. Found the sketch yesterday and finished it, but now can’t find the original post or remember who was the writer. Anyway Lestat enjoying a corset (and yes that corset has a weird double lacing or smth) 

Anon: What was the most arousing moment you’ve ever experienced Lestat?

Mortcharmant: “My— What an intrusive question,  étranger gris. But I shall humour you none the less… I would have to say it was the night I allowed a delightful mademoiselle to put her corset on me. How it tightened and constricted was glorious and suffocating. I looked like ‘pure sex’ according to her as she added more to my “ensemble”. By the end of it I was dressed up more like a tart than she and it was exhilarating. I let her live after that moment and frequented her regularly for those games of ours. It’s a pity she died three months later at the hands of a violent pick pocket.”

[X]

You’ve been around tons of animals, which is your favorite to snuggle and breathe in the scent of? Also did you ever wear perfume when you were mortal?

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viaticumforthemarquise:

Since memories triggered by scent are the strongest...

Send my muse a scent and see how they’ll react to it.

I do not “snuggle” animals. 

But I enjoy the scent of dogs, actually. Dogs smell like they understand you. 

And yes, I wore perfume. Santa Maria Novella, from the Officina Profumo Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella. You can still buy it today in the original store in Firenze, Italia. 

Once, on a ‘vacation’ of sorts after his time on the chapel floor, I took Lestat there and told him to smell the signature scent. I was quite shocked at his reaction—he broke down weeping at the smell. 

What’s the best thing about being a vampire? The worst?

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the-gentleman-chronicler:

from-fiction-into-legend:

the-gentleman-chronicler:

The best thing about being a vampire, in my humble opinion, is the fearlessness.  There’s a sense of freedom as an immortal that I never felt even in passing as a living man.  I can see why so many young vampires behave recklessly when given this new lease upon their existence; consequences are marginal if one can manage to relinquish all traces of their morality as a fresh born killer.  I lived in and with many fears towards the end of my life.  The reality of becoming a man constructed of fragile bones and weakened organs made it immensely difficult for me to fully enjoy myself without being preoccupied by these concerns.  Now I experience no fear — with certain exceptions.

The worst thing about being a vampire, which is also specific to perhaps only myself, is not just the need to seek blood.  That remains an issue for me that I need to work through.  What bothers me more is the inconvenience of daytime sleep.  It’s forced narcolepsy.  I cannot wait for the passage of time where I am finally able to remain awake without the sun dragging me into slumber.  Thus far I’ve managed to pass out over my desk, inside the foyer, and halfway upon my bed.  It’s not graceful or with any kind of dignity.  And since someone (Lestat) thinks it’s entertaining to leave me in such awkward positions, I tend to dread the time leading up to dawn for just that reason.

Oh, my dear David.  It’s your reaction waking up the next night that is utterly entertaining to behold.  Start sensing when it’s time to sleep, quit reading or entertaining your company, here or at home,fast enough and you might save some dignity by falling into slumber on a bed rather a desk chair, floor, or other various ways I’ve found you..

Should I list them completely?

I’m sure your visitors would love to imagine the awkwardness of it all.

Don’t you dare or I shall never speak a word to you again.

Why did you cut off Nicolas’ hands, really?

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damnitarmand:

Nicolas could not contain what was occurring within him, and often his deterioration became destructive and difficult to conceal from mortals. Despite the fact that I did not directly claim leadership in an official capacity, I had a position to maintain and I had already protected him on numerous occasions, whether he realised such or not, as had Eleni. I had to prove that the threats that I made were not just threats if someone stepped out of line, or be seen as ineffective and suffer further challenges. I could not exclude Nicolas from that.

On the occasion where I took his hands, it was take his hands or take his life; based on the transgressions involved, it could have seriously compromised our position in Paris had it not been corrected swiftly. He was so far gone that others began to talk of precisely that, and I could not allow it. Taking his hands limited him in a way that imprisonment could not possibly have achieved; he had escaped imprisonment before when it was imposed upon him. Imprisonment meant nothing to him because the true oubliette existed in his mind, and that was inescapable. It gave me control over him enough that he could not possibly leave and potentially worsen the situation. It also proved that I was willing to back up my threats and that I would not respond with inaction if I was questioned.

The choice that I made meant that he lived. It does not necessarily follow that it was a choice I made gladly, regardless.

How did you react when you found out Armand had gone into the sun?

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vagabonddaniel-recordedarchives:

How do you think? I broke apart. Whatever small pieces of my brain were clinging to sanity lost their grip in a flood of grief and loss so profound that it made the sound rush out of the world. The air was sucked from the atmosphere. Everything stopped and I was sure, so sure, it would never start again. And worse, part of me didn’t want it to. 

When it did, I ran. Not from anything – there was nothing but ash to run from. And not to anything – there was nothing but ash to run toward. So I ran aimlessly across the globe as if I could escape the grief, but it was inside me, clawing at my bones, scraping at my soul. Tearing down whatever shreds of lucidity were left in me until I was a hollow, wandering thing, useless and doomed. 

Some quick fun facts on Lestat pt. 1

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gorgeous-fiend:

  • Lestat can be the jealous sort, though he would never admit it. He’ll do subtle, but harmless, things to keep his lovers close and away from potential threats. He’ll wrap them to him a little tighter, kiss them a little longer- for the benefit of anyone who might be watching. He’s quite territorial.
  • At the same time, Lestat is a major flirt. So while he wishes for his lovers to remain faithful to him, he’s not above having flings with random admirers- he revels in attention and gushing admiration, afterall. These brief encounters are all meaningless, however. What he really wants is someone to be close and intimate with, someone he can climb into bed with at dawn and whisper loving musings to.
  • Lestat is obsessed with slang.
  • Lestat doesn’t like to look at other vampires while they sleep. The lifelessness of it disturbs him.
  • Lestat talks to himself out loud. All the time. Full-fledged coversations- often heated.
  • He’s very preoccupied with how he smells. He’s forever in search of his signature scent. He has a collection of cologne hidden in his closet.
  • Lestat’s taste in music varies astronomically. Everything from Shubert to Vivaldi to Celine Dion to hevy metal to angsty alternative bands to One Direction. Yes, One Direction. Did I mention Lestat has a boy-band obsession?
  • Lestat has a fascination with mythology and loves Joseph Campbell’s idea of the monomyth, or the hero’s journey.
  • Lestat loves Louis’s hair so much that you’d think he had  fetishized it. Lestat loves playing with hair. In turn, he loves it when people play with his hair. For him, it’s one of the most sensuous experiences.

“The chapel in the de Lioncourt’s chateau in the Auvergne.” Where exactly in the chapel, if u don’t mind? Inquiring minds need to know. For science <3

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a-misunderstanding-my-love:

As edited, the confessional. 

Quite one of my crowning moments. It was my hope that Lestat would be forced to live in that memory every time he went to confession from then on out. Hardly would he be embarrassed, for sure, as he is Lestat, but I felt quite triumphant when he imparted to me later that all he could think of whilst praying to the Father were my cries as he came within me. 

What do you enjoy doing with lovers in bed, anything kinky or romantic? I’m just curious about what the tightly wrapped Talamascan is like in a more intimate setting.

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the-gentleman-chronicler:

There are a few major mysteries in this world.  Easter Island, Stonehenge, the Pyramids of Giza, chupacabra.

Another is what the vampire known as David Talbot gets up to in the privacy of his bedroom.  Only a few individuals have discovered it.  None of those three are Lestat.

So let’s not give him any hints.  For his own sake.

☆ – happy headcanon

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viaticumforthemarquise:

Lestat came earlier than he should have, born in November, a full month and a half before he’d come to term. Her body, exhausted after so many fully realised and failed births, simply could not carry him any longer. 

Convinced that the babe would not survive, like so many others, the Marquis left the castle on what he loosely termed ‘business,’ leaving her alone with the priest, the midwife, and the pain. 

He was born at night. Tiny, wailing, the priest advised they baptize him immediately, in case he did not make it until morning. 

For the first time, she found herself in a unique position: this child would be named by her, claimed by her, perfectly clean of her husband’s touch or thought. 

She named him Lestat. It seemed to suit him—his birth had been urgent, and so then might his name. 

Later, the Marquis, furious that the child, both male and living, had not been named by him, went to the village priest and had the names “Christophe” and “Marie” added to the birth record. 

But it didn’t matter. Lestat she had named him, and Lestat he remained. Hers. 

And that had never changed.