Quotes

‘Are you afraid of me, Louis?’ he shouted. ‘Are you afraid? The child’s alive, Louis, you left her breathing. Shall I go back and make her a vampire? We could use her, Louis, and think of all the pretty dresses we could buy for her. Louis, wait, Louis! I’ll go back for her if you say!’ And so he ran after me all the way back to the hotel, all the way across the rooftops, where I hoped to lose him, until I leaped in the window of the parlor and turned in rage and slammed the window shut. He hit it, arms outstretched, like a bird who seeks to fly through glass, and shook the frame. I was utterly out of my mind.

ooc; Never forget that time Louis and Lestat got into a fight where Lestat chased Louis across the whole fucking city and then Lestat hit a window like a bird (via merciful-death)

#NEVER FORGET #ITS CANON BITCH

“But you love books, then,” Aunt Queen was saying. I had to listen.
“Oh, yes,” Lestat said. “Sometimes they’re the only thing that keeps me alive.”
“What a thing to say at your age,” she laughed.

“No, but one can feel desperate at any age, don’t you think? The young are eternally desperate,” he said frankly. “And books, they offer one hope-that a whole universe might open up from between the covers, and falling into that new universe, one is saved.”

Lestat (via fuckyeahlestat)
Source: m-y-g-e-r-m-s-blog

“Everyone hates Lestat,” my next album.

monsieur-le-rockstar (via merciful-death)

Track listing:

1. I’m Too Pretty for this Bullshit, Louis

2. Shut Up and Let Me Explain 

3. Shut Up and Let Me Explain (Saving the World remix)

4. Doing the Thing, in Your Face, All Night Long

5. Oops I Did it Again (Britney Spears cover)

6. Love is a Battlefield (w/ Kanye West)

7. Armand has a Crush on Me (w/ the American Boys Choir)

8. Cleaning out my Closet (Eminem cover)

9. My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up) (Fallout Boy Cover)

10. Don’t Question My Brilliance 

Source: merciful-death

I was still sitting there staring at the entrance to the tunnel when I heard fast crisp steps approaching, someone walking steadily, heavily and fast.

“Get up, Lestat.”

I turned and looked up into the face of my mother.

There she was after all these years in her old khaki safari jacket and faded jeans, her hair in a braid over her shoulder, her pale face like a porcelain mask.

“Come on, stand up!” she said, those cold blue eyes flashing in the lights of the burning building at the mouth of the tunnel.

And in that moment as love and resentment clashed with humbling fury, I was back at home hundreds of years ago, walking with her in those cold barren fields, with her haranguing me in that impatient voice. “Get up. Move. Come on.”

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” I snarled. “Slap me?”

And that’s what she did. She slapped me.

Gabrielle’s introduction in the novel Prince Lestat (Anne Rice)
Source: v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e

The first time he calls you holy,
you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
The second time,
you moan gospel around his fingers
between your teeth.
He has always surprised
you into surprising yourself.
Because he’s an angel hiding his halo
behind his back and
nothing has ever felt so filthy
as plucking the wings from his shoulders—
undressing his softness
one feather at a time.
God, if you’re out there,
if you’re listening,
he fucks like a seraphim,
and there’s no part of scripture
that ever prepared you for his hands.
Hands that map a communion
in the cradle of your hips.
Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
He confesses how long he’s looked
for a place to worship and,oh,
you put him on his knees.
When he sinks to the floor and moans
like he can’t help himself,
you wonder if the other angels
fell so sweet.
He says his prayers between your thighs
and you dig your heels into the base of his spine
until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue.
You will ruin him and he will thank you;
he will say please.
No damnation ever looked as cozy as this,
but you fit over his hips like they
were made for you.You fit, you fit, you fit.
On top of him, you are an ancient god
that only he remembers and he
offers up his skin.
And you take it.
Who knew sacrifice was so profane?
And once you’ve taught him how to hold
your throat in one hand
and your heart in the other,
you will have forgotten every other word,
except his name.

PROFANE, by Ashe Vernon (via asperitasrex)
Source: latenightcornerstore

When a vampire washes itself, rain will fall from heaven. Thus, when a drought occurs, nobles send all their men to wash, because any of them may be a vampire.

From Agnes Murgoci’s 1927 paper The Vampire In Roumania, as found in The Vampire Casebook compiled by Alan Dundes

This is so amazing to picture. Like ok men, we know PROBABLY some of you are vampires. IT HAPPENS. This is old timey Romania. That’s how it works. So hey don’t worry, no questions asked, personal business is personal business, but if EVERYONE would just go take a shower we would really appreciate it. Thanks. 

(via varlandgear)

We live in a world of accidents finally, in which only aesthetic principles have a consistency of which we can be sure. Right and wrong we will struggle with forever, striving to create and maintain an ethical balance; but the shimmer of summer rain under the street lamps or the great flashing glare of artillery against a night sky-such brutal beauty is beyond dispute.

the Vampire Lestat, Queen of the Damned

It’s an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater luster to our colors, a richer resonance to our words. That is, if it doesn’t destroy us, if it doesn’t burn away the optimism and the spirit, the capacity for visions, and the respect for simple yet indispensable things.

the Vampire Lestat, Queen of the Damned