[X] ^Also on this VC casting note, some ppl have suggested Paul Boche as Lestat and I have resisted it, but seeing him w/ Miles McMillan here, it’s very Louis & Lestat, oui?They look like they have really good chemistry and that matters more to me than looks alone w/ acting *u*
The cold seemed worse in Paris… I was never so glad of the fur-lined cape as I was then. I wrapped it around Nicolas and held him close to me when we went out together, and we walked in a tight embrace through the snow and the rain.
Cold or no cold, I can’t exaggerate the happiness of these days. Life was exactly what I thought it could be.
has anyone written the incredibly ridiculous coffeshop AU premise for Louis and Lestat yet? Like, is there a Vamp Chron Coffee Shop AU?
are they all human for this?
Like for some reason Louis is the moody neighborhood barista introvert and he probably doesn’t NEED to work the counter, probably he OWNS the damn coffee shop because his family is loaded but he just wanted a quiet place to read and an excuse to buy an industrial latte machine, but NOW he has a damn coffee shop and this OBNOXIOUS, utterly obnoxious customer who is also very blond comes in near closing all the goddamn time, and Louis hates this guy’s guts, like, so hard, and Obnoxious Blond is always trying to flirt and god he isn’t even that funny and he probably doesn’t even KNOW HOW TO READ. Louis hates him. So much. So, so much. Louis hates him and his stupid pretty eyes. Why does he come here? WHY WON’T HE LEAVE?
And then Lestat makes his move and then they make out wildly and probably break furniture, the end.
i’m cry! I love it when the fandom collabs like this *u*
Okay but like Brett Scallions for Lestat, and let me tell you that this man can SING, and he has unbelievable stage presence. Also, intensely hot.
I saw him in 1996 (I think?). He was/is the lead singer for Fuel, and they were opening for 3 Doors Down, and he was WAY more of a performer than the entirety of 3DD. He CLIMBED THE SCAFFOLDING TO TAKE A SELFIE WITH SOMEONE ON THE BALCONY. Very #Lestatuesque thing to do.
In the beginning of the show he warned the audience: “I spit alot, I’ll try not to spit on you, but just so you know, first rows are splash zone.” I was further back, near the middle of the audience. For the most part he turned to the side to spit, but occasionally, did spit on the audience. They seemed to like it.
You have blond hair, he has brown hair. You always have blond hair, he always has brown hair. You dye your hair brown, but suddenly his hair is blond, and you feel as though maybe you are him, and he is you, and you have blond hair again, and he has brown hair.
His gaze is impossibly fond, his eyes are impossibly blue, he pulls you impossibly closer, your heart beats impossibly fast, the bulge in his pants is impossibly hard, he should maybe get that checked out.
You don’t remember ever working out and yet you look down and see you have a six pack. When you next see yourself in the mirror you have an eight pack. When he takes of your shirt you have ten, twelve abs. You’re scared to look again in case there are more.
His eyes change colour depending on his moods. At first you thought it was a trick of the light, but now you’re not so sure. They switch between blue, green and grey. Once you thought you saw a flicker of red. You make sure to kiss with your eyes closed now.
You’re white, and so is he. Sometimes he’s your enemy, but you still love him, don’t you? Of course, it makes sense. You’re not sure what you like about him, exactly, but there must be something, right? There’s this intangible thing between you, isn’t there? You feel like you may have more chemistry with your non-white friend, but that can’t be right.
You don’t remember taking your clothes off but you’re naked now. Well, all you remember is toeing out of your shoes. You always toe out of them, although you don’t quite know what that means.
Your pronouns mix into a blur and you no longer know where you end and he begins… You reach out your hand to his hand on his arm… your arm… his… You are sitting and he straddles you but is facing away… There are hands everywhere…
THE ACCURACY HURTS.
You smell like sandlewood. You don’t know what sandlewood even IS.
Once your shoes are off, you pad everywhere. You try to walk, but you can’t, your feet don’t comply. Your only option if you want to get from room to room is to pad.
Your tongues battle for dominance. There can be only one victor. One tongue is not walking away from this battle. Will it be yours?
He tastes like smoke and wine, whatever he had for dinner, and something distinctly him. You don’t know what that taste is or where it comes from… only that it is distinctly…him…
Is he The Smaller Man? Or The Larger Man? Are you The Pale Man? Are you The Slender Man? The Blond Man? You no longer have a name… you are just an epithet.
You thought you were about the same size, but, the clothes come off… and he’s The Larger Man. So large. He’s got six inches on you. You can tuck your head under his chin. Ten inches now… is he growing? Are you shrinking?
It’s weeping. OH GOD WHY IS IT WEEPING?
he’s on his knees before you, engulfing you, so you must grip his hair. not to guide him, never to guide, only to hold steady. only to remind, reassure, remain for eternity. you will never let go, even when it’s over. your hand stays, always.
Everything between you and him is electric. It’s sizzles and sparks. Is there a short circuit? Maybe you should check the breakers.
You find out you have incredibly sensitive nipples. So does he. Is that common? Why are they always pebbled?
Your orgasm is violent. It threatened your family. Your orgasm is actually the antagonist.
Inexplicably, your semen is made of ribbons and ropes. It can paint, but only in splatters and stripes. Very Jackson Pollock.
The whole time I read this I read it in Cecil Palmers voice and it made this 10x funnier
I-want-my-IWTV 