merciful-death:

ooc; I put the scene where Louis became a vampire in Gizoogle

Omfg

Read More

Highlights:

  • “there was no time in Lestatz plan fo’ anythang but his thugged-out lil’ plan.” – is there /ever/ any time in Lestat’s plan for anythang but his thugged-out lil’ plan?
  • “…he pressed his bangin right fingers against mah lips n’ holla’d, ‘Be still. I be goin ta drain you now ta the very threshold of dirtnap, n’ I want you ta be on tha fuckin’ down-low,…’ ”
  • “ ‘Well shiiiit, it is your consciousness, yo’ will, which must keep you kickin it.’ ” – This is excellent life advice, really.
  • “ ‘Has you done eva lost a pimped out amount of blood, biatch?’ axed tha vampire.  ‘Do you know tha feeling, biatch?’ – Well, do ya, Daniel? DO YA, PUNK?
  • “ ‘How tha fuck pathetic it is ta describe these thangs which can’t truly be busted lyrics about..’ ” – Indeed.
  • “I opened my eyes n’ checked mah dirty ass up in a moment of reachin fo’ his wrist, befo’ grabbin it, forcin it back ta mah grill at all costs; I checked mah dirty ass because I realized dat tha drum was mah ass, n’ tha second drum had been his.” – Drum asses. How romantic.
  • ” ‘Quit lookin at mah buttons,’ Lestat holla’d.“ – His buttons are mesmerizing.

theheadgirl:

The Vampire Lestat (1985)

I kept glancing at him and away from him, as if his green eyes were hurting me. In modern parlance he was a laser beam. Deadly and delicate he seemed. His victims had always loved him.
And I had always loved him, hadn’t I, no matter what happened, and how strong could love grow if you had eternity to nourish it, and it took only these few moments in time to renew its momentum, its heat?

The Queen of the Damned (1988)

Stupidly I stared at him. How perfect he seemed to me as he stood there waiting with such kindness and such patience. And then, like a fool, I came out with it.
“Do you love me now?” I asked.
He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. “Yes,” he said.

Prince Lestat (2014)

I kissed him. I pressed my lips to his and I held this kiss for a long silent moment. And then I gave in to a silent wave of feeling, and I took him in my arms. I held him tight against me. I felt his unmistakable silken skin, his soft shining black hair. I heard the blood throbbing in him, and time dissolved, and it seemed I was in some old and secret place, some warm tropical grotto we’d once shared, ours alone in some way, with the scent of sweet olive blossoms and the whisper of moist breeze. “I love you,” I whispered.
In a low intimate voice, he answered: “My heart is yours.”

louis + lestat. die young. love forever.

Gallery

Lestat “This is my design” de Lioncourt [X]

Thinking about it now, I get how someone could get that impression. After all, I do only wear black. ;)

“…it was [Claudia’s] pleading that forced me to give up my rusty black for dandy jackets and silk ties and soft gray coats and gloves and black capes. Lestat thought the best color at all times for vampires was black, possibly the only aesthetic principle he steadfastly maintained, but he wasn’t opposed to anything which smacked of style and excess.”

– Louis de Pointe du Lac, Interview with the Vampire

Thinking that “someone who wears all black = goth” was an older sorta view of goth. Now there’s pastel goth, and steampunk goth, and all these crazy variations.

See, when people try to label me, I know what’s really happening, they’re trying to categorize, trying to assign words to something to better understand it… Maybe in the way that when people ask “Where are you from?” And you say, “New Jersey,” or “Portland,” or wherever, they are adding to their knowledge base of “People from New Jersey are ______“ or "People from Portland are ______”.  When in fact you really can’t compare one New Jersian or a Portlandian so simply. If I meet a nice person from Portland, are they ALL nice people there? Pfffft. Nope. 

When an older person says, “Wearing all black makes you look goth,” sometimes I feel like that’s a veiled kind of criticism, what they’re really saying is: “Other people who do not know you like I do might think that you are goth and make assumptions about you because you are dressed like one.”

Maybe they’re trying to help, like, if I had smtg on my face I would want someone to say, “Hey, are you okay, there’s alot of blood dripping down your chin there…”

Just proper etiquette!

I felt a sudden sagging, a complete exhaustion, and a despair.

Typical.

I rolled over on my face and tucked my arm under my head and started crying like a child. I was perishing from exhaustion. I was worn and miserable and I loved crying. I couldn’t do anything else. I gave in to it fully. I felt that profound release of the utterly grief-stricken. I didn’t give a damn who saw or heard. I cried and cried.

Do you know what I think about crying? I think some people have to learn to do it. But once you learn, once you know how to really cry, there’s nothing quite like it. I feel sorry for those who don’t know the trick. It’s like whistling or singing.

Whatever the case, I was too miserable to take much consolation just from feeling good for a moment in a welter of shudders and salted, bloodstained tears.

Lestat de Lioncourt, Memnoch the Devil

Willow saw her opportunity. Lestat was at his desk writing with the quill pens he so loved to use. ‘ Annoy Lestat scene one.’ She walked up to his desk and stared at him. When he paid her no mind she immediately decided to stretch on the side of his leg, claws unsheathed. It was her favorite way to start annoying the blonde and usually led to her hitting the ground running or sending a silent plea to Danny to be saved. Sometimes she would have to opt for Louis if Daniel wasn’t close.

tickedtabbyflower:

i-want-my-iwtv:

tickedtabbyflower:

i-want-my-iwtv:

♛ Lestat was in the middle of signing a stack of checks, making sure each one had his perfect flourish of a signature. Of course, normally, Louis would handle these financial details, but Lestat meant to keep these purchases secret – at least for now – and, as if sent on a mission, Louis’ little minion was here! Lestat could smell Louis’s scent on the animal, she must have enjoyed a recent cuddle. Infuriating.

“Lucky for you that I don’t snack in the house anymore… You mewling quim!” He smirked at himself, pleased at the little pop culture reference that only Daniel, had he been within earshot, would’ve truly appreciated. Lestat merely glanced at her with an arched brow… he rarely attempted to pet Willow. She would toy with him, letting him reach for her, before jumping away. Why did Louis insist on keeping these creatures that clawed at furniture, knocked over porcelain and glassware, and incessantly whined to be let out, only moments later to be heard crying out pitifully at the door begging for reentry??! Their habits were confounding. How Louis drew any love from the little beasts was similarly puzzling. Dogs were simply lovable, cats were an enigma at best. He grunted and attempted to ignore her.

 Willow stared at Lestat for a moment more. ‘Alright, you asked for it.’ She jumped up on the desk, spilling the ink on whatever he’d been writing on. Louis could be heard from the other room. ‘Good. Salvation is close by. Wonder if Harriet is as well?’ The other cat had seemed friendly enough. Willow hadn’t really set a time to pester Lestat; it just happened she was walking by. The blonde vampire looked about to explode at the orange ball staring straight at him now. ‘Do I have your attention?’ she purred.

♛ Ink splashed across all of the checks, effectively ruining them. And the sleeves of his violet Versace shirt. Staring at fingers slicked with black, and sprinkled with cat hair – as if tarred-and-feathered – Lestat trembled with the beginnings of a rage. Oh, this was too much. That conceited little creature… sitting there on the edge of the desk, absently licking her paw and swiping it across her own ear. Was she purposely making eye contact?! It seemed so. 

Willow. You’ve been a very – very – naughty little girl.” Lestat growled, fixing her with a death glare. What to do? Could there be a way to kill her and get away with it? He quickly scanned his memory of the episodes he’d seen of Forensic Files. No animal murders covered. Perhaps he could arrange an accident… for now, he gathered up the ruined papers and stripped his shirt off, balling the whole mess into the bin, contemplating his next move.

The orange tabby watched in glee as Lestat fumed. She loved this game. The stare off had begun and so, in typical cat fashion, she began to bat at the quill pen he’d been using. ’ You don’t need this anymore, do you?’ She thought mischievously, keeping her eyes on him as she knocked it to the floor. Willow was certain that if Lestat wouldn’t anger Louis and Danny by offing her she’d already be on fire. No, he was trying to think of a way to make it look like an accident. His fuse was running short and she could feel it. ‘Your move.’ She wondered if he’d chase her out of the house tonight.

♛Of course she would find the floor a more fitting place for his favorite pen. Of course. It was a gauntlet thrown down; this little orange fluff knew exactly what she was doing and to whom she was doing it to. At that very moment Lestat remembered Daniel’s gift of a spray bottle, to train cats. Lestat had labeled it “Holy Water” and added a number of crosses just for good measure, and potency.

“Get thee behind me, Satan!” Scooping the weapon up gracefully from a side-table, he aimed and fired at will with a gleeful smile of his own.

a-misunderstanding-my-love:

“‘All a misunderstanding, my love,’ he said. Acid on the tongue. ‘It was to hurt others, don’t you see, the violin playing, to anger them, to secure for me an island where they could not rule. They would watch my ruin, unable to do anything about it.’” – Nicolas de Lenfent, The Vampire Lestat

 

Gallery

Are you drunk enough to be any fun yet?

Yeah I guess…

[X]