tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

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Lestat de Lioncourt. Handsome devil, trouble- maker extraordinaire, and centuries old vampire. Oh yes,you better believe it, darling. And read my books while you're at it. ((Independent rp blog for Lestat de Lioncourt from The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice. All fandoms welcome. Mun and Muse 18+ nsfw content is to be expected))

One must wonder where and with whom Lestat has spent his time as of late.

Curious, are you? I've been here and there. Mostly there. *irksome grin* I've met many splendid mortals on my travels  this time around, made some very good friends. Oh-- not to worry, darling, nothing to detract my attentions from you for more than several months. But without getting into specifics, I daresay, they were particularly engaging.

He won’t even really respond to me, and you know that means it’s gotten bad.

-stares at her, deeply troubled- 


Ah- yes, so it would seem…


…Did you not miss me?

Lestat shook himself. Still even now it was bewildering to see her in front of him so tangible. He must always remind himself she was no mere apparition. Were he to reach out, his hands would meet the solidity of her marble flesh, the softness of her golden, goose-down hair. No tricks of the mind here.  Though surely that made her  no less of a ghost. A walking, talking phantom from his past dressed in pastel come to haunt him.

Resigned, he beckoned her into his arms, "Of course, my little love. You were dearly missed."

Anonymous asked:

Louis has been sleeping on the floor for weeks, not in his coffin, and just staying on the floor all night while waiting for your return. He won't even take a hug from anyone else, except Harriet the kitty. Ok, maybe not literally, but metaphorically. Please go give him a cuddle!

Quite right?

Ha! No doubt he has been using my absence as an excuse to wallow in his self-pity. No matter, far be it from me to prolong his  undue suffering.

Yes, I will pay him a visit.

Anonymous asked:

Lestat! Where are you? Louis misses you.

Hush, darling,  I’m here. No need to panic.

And miss me, does he?  I know it,  but sadly you will be the only one I hear that from, Anon. He’s too damn proud.

Anonymous asked:

If there were anything you could say to Louis, without repercussions, what would it be?

"You will never know how deep your betrayals cut. There is much that I blame you for."

Anonymous asked:

*Is hurt because another anon is sending MUCH better gifts than me*

Not to worry, anon! Any and all gifts are greatly  encouraged appreciated.

Ah ma cher , how I love the look on your face when you hunt...


Lestat frowns at her jarring  comment. This was the first she had ever said such a thing to him.   “Ma petite, you should not be watching my face,” he chided. “You should have your eyes on your own prey.”


"Yes but my prey is finished so can’t I admire you?" She questioned gentle. "My maker, Lestat." She cued as she neared him. "It’s just a compliment."

He gathered her in his arms as he considered her question. "A compliment, yes, ma cherie. But there is such a thing as privacy, non?" He winked at her, tapping her nose fondly with his gloved finger. It was not so much the question that bothered him as it was the implications of it. It was easy to forget  that this baby-doll he held was nearing the age of womanhood. He saw it hinted at in other ways, in the way she carried herself, the looks that would cross her face. But what he had not anticipated was a woman's sensuality, and he was cursing himself for it. "If you watch it is because you want to learn how to kill with abandon, a skill you seem to have mastered."

If there was a way I could send you love letters I would, I just... My feelings for you are just a giant tangled mess of emotion that translates to LOVE in capital letters and to try to put them on paper is to stare at the blank page for an hour trying to sort everything out before inevitably giving up.


He watched her carefully as she spoke, smiling knowingly. "I'm touched. But you needn't give me love letters,  Rae." How true it was. He was all too aware of her hopeless devotion to him  without such vapid admissions put to paper. It was terribly endearing. "Even if I couldn't read your mind, I would see it plainly in the conflicting emotions that play across your face."

Anonymous asked:

Send him a vial of blood along with a note. 'From your secret admirer'

Lestat's curiosity is stoked by the appearance of this unexpected gift. Unable to resist, he cracks open the vial and spills the contents over his tongue. It becomes clear right away that it is not Louis' as he half expected  it to be, though Louis would never have done something  so blatantly romantic.

He rolled the vial in his palms, thoughtfully. Who are you?

Armand strolled into the villa home on the Night Island, shutting the door securely behind himself and locking it, a pleasant little melody on his lips. The elder had come to the grand but lately empty home for a bit of time to himself, a vacation as it were. Ever since the bygone days in the eighties when the whole little coven used to gather here the massive villa home had sat largely unoccupied, but for the mortal staff hired to keep the place up of course. The teen wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, so he didn’t do an overly careful sweep with his mind, more or less relaxed already and quite certain no one had the gall to come near his home uninvited. At least not without a death wish.

Really it wasn’t until he came into the already lit common living room that the elder knew he wasn’t as alone as he thought. In addition to apparently every damn fixture burning brightly, his amber eyes traipsed across a pair of kicked off boots by the sofa, and a leather jacket over one of the arms. The cherubic youth felt a frown crease his brows, a pout forming on his lips as he glanced around. I know you’re here Lestat. You’re about as subtle as a cat in heat, so why don’t you show yourself? Armand sent out silently, now actively seeking the other. Unfortunately it seemed as though the fiend was intent on staying hidden, for while the elder vampire knew he was the owner of both boots and jacket, he’d no clue where he was now… until he noticed more lights from the arched doorway leading to the kitchen.

Arching one brow while his mouth twisted irritably Armand strode with purpose in that direction. Of course this place was technically still open to any and all of them, which included his brother in darkness, but seeing as he’d obviously taken up residence first himself it might’ve been nice if Lestat had bothered to at least call him to tell him he was here too. Clearly the brat prince preferred to just let him figure it out himself while playing hide and seek; because when he entered the doorway of the large and now well lit kitchen he found… nothing. I don’t know what you are playing at you arrogant devil, the auburn haired vampire sent as he snapped off the lights with his mind and spun back on his heel, but if you don’t come out RIGHT NOW I swear to God I will break your damn nose when I find you. We aren’t children! What is this, hide and-!!

Armand’s little volley of silent threats and jabs was cut off abruptly as he was re-entering the living area, only to be caught roughly in his chest and flung back into the nearest wall. He hit with a hard and jarring thud, fighting on instinct to shove away the one on top of him, towering over him, but couldn’t! His cold white hands and fists were colliding with the solid physique of one of his own kind, larger and obviously stronger. He only got a glimpse of golden blond wavy hair as he bared his fangs… only to feel another set pierce his own delicate neck. Amber eyes went wide in shock at that sting, right before anger and fear took over and the lithe little teen started kicking and bucking again. “Lestat get the hell off!!” He snarled, one hand grabbing at the other immortals crotch and getting a rough grip to hopefully shock him away.


Lestat wasn’t sure when the idea had struck him, or if he had even planned any of it at all. He had arrived at Night Island only to find no one home, which did not surprise him in the least. Very often he’d come spend a few nights here by himself, they all did on occasion. Night Island was their “home base,” their “headquarters.” Sometimes his path crossed with others, other times it did not. He thought perhaps he was facing another night of solitude, until he felt the approach of a familiar presence.

God only knows what possessed him to hide, but he did, ignoring the mental calls and throwing up his own  shields to cloak his presence.  He waited patiently, the predator lying in wait, as an unexpected excitement rose in his chest. A malicious grin danced on his lips in response to Armand’s palpable irritation.  But he didn’t know what he was going to do before he did it.

As Armand rounded the corner, he pounced. The force of the blow knocked him into the wall, the small hands pushing desperately but uselessly at his chest only further fueled the thrill of it and the fiend in him could not resist taking it one step further. He loved a struggle. He stooped to pierce the marble white of Armand’s throat with his fangs, reveling in the victory as the blood bubbled into his mouth.  He ignored the other’s initial pleas to be released, until a hand shot out towards his crotch. At which point, he jerked backwards in surprise, chuckling with genuine mirth, before leaning in once more.

“Are you trying to get frisky with me, mon frère?” he whispered into Armand’s ear, the amusement evident in his voice. He ran his tongue over the wound and watched it close up again. “I’m only playing, you know.”

Do you know any good bedtime stories, Lestat?


I know a great deal from my nights spent amusing Claudia. I loved reading her  Shakespeare and Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales and when she was still very young she adored the classics: Grimm's fairy tales and Aesop's fables. Are you looking for specifics?