you know when you read a piece of writing so effortless, so graceful and unpretentious that you are both a) thrilled to the point that you have to put it down and walk in a quick circle to make it last longer but also b) PHYSICALLY INCAPACITATED with snarling jealousy and rage
Lestat: *Artfully draped over a velveteen chaise lounge wearing nothing but a deep blue silk robe, he holds a Swarovski crystal glass full of blood in one hand and throws the other over his eyes* I’m not being dramatic.
ok but imagine louis strutting around saying lestat had it coming when he set him on fire, Chicago, Cell Block Tango style, imagine that interview no wonder daniel was so sweaty