- 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.
Tag Archives: headcanon
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1. When did you lose your virginity?
Already answered, asshole.
16. A song you’d listen to during hard/rough/kinky sex?
NIN “Closer”
20. If you could have sex with anyone right now, who would it be?
Alakai, oddly enough.
28. Favourite body part on the opposite sex?
Goddamnit, but I love a fine ass.
If you haven’t seen Lestat’s you need to.
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.
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.
My First Kiss with Louis
Anon,
Louis,
….this one’s for you. Enjoy.
We were in the thick of Summer. The hot, sticky Louisiana air hung stagnant in the air, bringing with it the putrid smells of the swamps and Plantation. Though the suffocating heat did not affect us the way it did mortals, Louis and I were not impervious to it. It made me antsy. I paced about the house restlessly, picking up objects to examine them, only to put them down immediately. Louis was in the parlour, hunched over a letter he was composing to one of his fellow bourgeois, slave-driving compatriots. He was thrumming his fingers on the tabletop as he worked. Now granted, it was a very small thing and in retrospect shouldn’t have been enough to start an argument as big as it did, but he had been doing it non-stop for hours. HOURS! It was driving me crazy.
thrump-thrump-thrump
I tried my best to ignore it.
thrump-thrump-thrump
Really, I did.
thrump-thrump-thrumpBut I could only take so much.
thrump-thrump-thrump
“Mon dieu, Louis! What, are you committing your entire life’s story onto paper?!” I snarled, sticking just my head over the threshold of the parlor. Louis turned in his seat, arm draped languidly over the back of it, to give me an innocently confused look.
“Is something the matter?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed.
“Yes, yes, I’ll say something’s the matter. Stop it with that infernal racket you’re making with your fingers it’s driving me up the wall! Besides such mortal fidgeting isn’t suitable for a vampire.” I turned sharply on my heels. “Come Louis!” I called from the next room over. “Come hunt with me, I’m feeling rather peckish and heaven knows how much you need to get out of the house.” I went to fetch some appropriate attire for public audience. I returned to find him back to work on his letter still doing that thing with his fingers. Just to spite me this time, I was sure of it.
“Louis,” I said testily. “Did you not hear me?”
“Oh, I heard you,” came his response without even looking up from his paper. I leant against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“And?”
“And what if I don’t wish to hunt with you?” he asked coldly.
“Louis, stop being foolish. Put the pen down and- for godsakes STOP IT WITH YOUR FINGERS!”
Louis stopped and shot upright, knocking over his chair.
“And why should I, Lestat?’ he hissed scathingly. “Why should I hunt with you? And I can make whatever sounds I please. You don’t own me.”
I snorted. “Fine, fine. Don’t come with me, then. Go out and hunt your rats in perfect solitude. I don’t care.” Now here’s the thing: when things get started like this between Louis and I, neither of us can just let it go. We can’t just throw in the towel and let the other alone. One of us always has to come back for one last, well-placed metaphorical kick. “Your hunting habits disgust me, by the way. Have I mentioned it before? Simply vile.” And that was my kick.
“It’s my choice, Lestat. A moral choice. We all have to make one. Would you rather me act like you? Zero regard for life?” And…that was his. His voice was shaking with anger.
“Louis!” I shouted exasperatedly. “No, I don’t want you to act like me. I want you to act like you. Exactly how you are now, not when you were mortal. I want you to exist as you were meant to! Do what it is in your nature to do! I don’t want you moping around for the rest of eternity, bemoaning the loss of your precious humanity!”
I wasn’t expecting Louis to charge me. Such an overt display of anger was rare for him. I easily evaded the punches he threw at me. Christ…what’s with him tonight? “I- hate- you-you monster” he grunted in between jabs. I grew tired of this and grabbed a hold of both his wrists. Furiously, he thrashed and managed to land a kick to my stomach. I growled and twisted his arms behind his back so that we were chest-to-chest.
“What on God’s green Earth has gotten into you?” I spat. He glowered at me with piercing green eyes.
“I hate you.” And to that end, he did the single most unexpected thing I could possibly think of anyone doing after having uttered that phrase: he smashed his lips against mine, capturing me in an overwhelmingly passionate kiss. Was this happening? Kissing him…it was something I’d wanted since I first saw him. Something erupted in me. Something between us had just reached a breaking point and this was the result. I closed my eyes. I felt something very akin to mortal passion as I melted into the kiss, our lips moved together seamlessly, hungrily. After a few heated moments that felt more like hours I broke away from him.
“…No you don’t,” I breathed into his ear.
“Shut up, Lestat.”
☆ – happy headcanon
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.
Folks have called you cold (especially as a mother), maybe sometimes unfairly, so I was wondering if you might share a happy memory of Lestat as a wee boy? Pretty please?
-sighs wearily-
I have shared many already, have I not? But, then, you want a happy memory. There were so few in that house.
Lestat mentioned briefly in his book that I used to show him picture books of the places where I’d travelled before I was wed to the Marquis: Rome, Paris, Madrid, Athens, etc. And I do remember doing this, when he was very, very young—his little body tucked into my lap as I sat, cross-legged, upon my bed, a large book spread open before us.
He was always very taken with the colours of the paintings in the books—he has always had a great love for colour—and his small fingers would trace the images of ships, mountains, animals, running down and over the pages as I explained to him (sometimes in French, sometimes in Italian) what each place was and what it was like there.
Can you imagine it? Are you a mother? That sweet weight of his little body against my own, the smell of babyhood still in his hair, his voice forming words that were a charming amalgamation of French and Italian as he attempted, as toddlers do, to ask questions of me. The small gasps he might elicit at certain images as the pages turned, the trills of laughter at the animals, the way his body would shift as he would lean back to look in my face, as if searching to make sure these places were truly real and not some fairy tale I was constructing.
Very few of his companions are aware, I think, that that child still exists. That child is ever-present, hidden just behind the eyes of the man, waiting to be thrilled or wounded. I’d hazard to surmise that the few who see it are the ones who tend to stay by his side, despite his failings.
What is your favorite type of animal to kill and why?
Bears. And jungle cats.
With creatures like that (especially the former), the struggle is formidable, not to mention that the process of stalking with the latter is quite enjoyable.
Cats know when they are being hunted, and they do not like it.
I’m curious about how Gabrielle seems to go back and forth between being your lover and your mother. How does that play out in everyday life? It was must get kinda awkward sometimes.
Ah, and here we are. I just knew this would come up eventually.
What you must understand is, as a vampire your relationships to others are not so clean-cut as they might have once been as a mortal. There are nuances and subtleties that exist beyond the human scope. You stop seeing things as being taboo or immoral. You simply love a being for what they have to offer you.
Yes, Gabrielle is my biological mother, but when I turned her she became something else to me as well. She was less of a caregiver and more of a companion. I can see how you might misconstrue our relationship as potentially awkward if you are thinking of us as a mortal mother and son. Yes, that would indeed be strange. But that is not the case let me assure you.
And no part of our relationship affects me day-to-day. This is mostly because I see her only every several decades.
Ever considered murdering your husband and making it look like an accident? if so, how would you have ended his life?
Yes.
Belladonna. Then, in his death throws, removing his manhood with a stiletto. I would feed it to him, but really, who has the time?
What are your favorite vampire chronicles headcanons?
Mon DIEU I have tons. TONS. I went through my own archive and dug up some gems for ya:
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧
- BUT GUYS, VAMPIRES ACTING LIKE CATS
- vampire masturbation is a vampire drinking from their own wrist.
- drunk/drugged vampires is possible. AND FUN.
- Lestat loves Armand and respects him, but Lestat never for a moment imagines he’s entirely safe with Armand ;]
- Nicolas was Lestat’s first real boyfriend and they totally f**cked in ‘Stat’s room in the castle. And backstage at Renaud’s (´ε｀ )♡
- Daniel Molloy is a really good juggler.
- Armand likes to sleep in nothing but Daniel’s shirts ❤
- Gabrielle only really felt like a mother when Lestat was born *u*
- Gabrielle’s story of how she chose Lestat’s name. ^u^
- Lestat chose Louis bc he was irretrievably in love with Louis ❤
- Lestat was caught cheating on Nicolas at Renauds. Hilarity did not ensue… But he did apologize very well!
- Louis would be the most pretentious hipster in modern times.
- Little things Louis does that make Lestat’s heart break (b/c they are so sweet) ❤
- Harriet the cat is as real as Mojo the dog.
- Lestat is not just a manwhore.
You want more?! Go to my iwantmyiwtvheadcanon, vampire physiology, headcanon accepted, and damn you and your perfect headcanon perfection tags ;]
I-want-my-IWTV 