#he’s just looking at Lestat same as always

[mysewingadventures]

Making the ✨Lioncourt Gown✨ (Part 1/?)

Shoot, it's been like two years since I last posted, apologies! I’ve been incredibly busy with uni and life in general, taking care of my mental health, it’s just been a very stressful time lately. I haven't really worked on anything worthy of posting in the meantime, only minor things and one dress I rushed and it didn't turn out well anyway. But, since Halloween is coming up and I don’t feel like wearing the same thing for the third time in a row, I thought it was the perfect excuse to try and make something new and the other day at 2am I fell down a rabbit hole and came up with an idea I’m completely obsessed with.

So recently, (in case you couldn't tell by the title haha) I’ve been really into Interview with the Vampire (the TV show), and there’s this one costume that’s so iconic it immediately caught my attention: This Lestat outfit.

I feel like since this blog isn't fandom related I need to explain myself to those of you who are just semi-familiar with IWTV. Maybe you know Lestat as essentially the villain of the story and are wondering why on earth I'd want to make an outfit inspired by him. The answer is quite simple and not actually deep at all: I just thought it'd be a fun project. I'm very well aware of his personality and would not want to be in the same room as him in real life haha. But he's such an interesting character to watch on screen (they all are, in my opinion). Anyways-

This outfit is from a scene that takes place in the 1790s and now, I’m unfortunately not too versed in men’s fashion so I can’t quite comment on its historical accuracy (and also it’s worn in the context of a theater performance so it’s bound to be more flashy than what people would have worn on the streets), but the way the lapel is shaped just screams redingote to me, and since I've always wanted to make a redingote I'm going to make a redingote version of the costume!

For reference, here's what a c. 1790 redingote looks like:

This one has a normal button closure but redingotes were also often double-breasted (which is what I'm going for), taking inspiration from men's fashion. These were often worn to ride in - hence the name, redingote - riding coat.

Maybe this is the point where I should mention that I'm not going for perfect historical accuracy for this project. It really is just a fun project to try to approximate something as seen on a show to an actual historical piece of clothing.

Here’s a super quick sketch I drew to check if the colors looked good together, and I have to say, I’m sold 1000%.

I am so excited to wear this when it’s done, but also a bit anxious because for starters, I’ve never made a redingote before, and the dresses that I have made all have issues with the sleeves because apparently, I can’t sew sleeves correctly. So this time, I really want to make sure it all fits properly before I sew it and take my time with it to make sure it ends up being something that I love as much as I love the idea of it.

This time, I tried something a little different with my mockup - usually, I’ll draft a pattern on paper, then cut out my mockup and sew it, but this time I decided to make the mockup by draping the fabric directly on the mannequin that I dressed in my stays and a bumroll, making sure I had the correct measurments, and it was a complete gamechanger. It fit right away with minimal adjustments, and I was also immediately able to check how the fabric falls, if it needed to be on the bias or not, etc. I ended up doing everything on straight grain which is technically not 100% correct as the front piece needs to be on a slight bias but it seems to work for this piece so let’s hope the fabric doesn’t wrinkle! I’ll also be adding boning so I’m hoping that’ll additionally keep it all straight and even in the front.

Once the mockup was completed, I went on the search for the right fabrics and got these (the skirt fabric, the buttons and the tape I ordered online and they've yet to arrive!):

The black base fabric and the blue one are cotton, as will be the skirt. The details are satin! I spent a long time at the fabric store trying to think of the best way to do this and it does look like the details on Lestat's outfit are maybe velvet, but I was afraid it would look a little too costume-y and cheap, so I ended up going with satin in the end.

I pinned the fabric mock-up onto the lining fabric (just a white Ikea bedsheet), added 1,5cm seam allowances where needed cut out the lining first, then placed the lining onto the black base fabric and cut that out as well.

I needed to lay the pieces down this way because I bought 2,5 meters, and I'll need 2m for the outer skirt alone so there's not a lot of space left, as I'll also have to cut out the sleeves from that fabric. I then sewed everything together.

And then I noticed I'd made a mistake - the lining for the front panel was supposed to be blue. Welp, now it's white, and I also realized I didn't have enough blue fabric to do the collar AND the lining, so I went for a fake lining for which I cut out two blue triangles to be slightly bigger than the lapel

and stitched them to the lining layer so the seams wouldn't be visible on the black outer layer. This was the result:

Pretty happy with it! Next up, even though I don't have the beige tape yet, I decided to cut out the color panels in the front and already pin them down. After some trial and error, I decided to go for 15x4,5cm triangles and calculated the size needed for the shorter ones (9x7,5cm), cut them out of the satin (which, let me tell you, was so finicky it ended up being the most difficult part of it all) laid them down and fastened with pins.

This is what I have so far:

Looking at it in the picture, I'm worried that the color panels take up too much space in the front. It looks like that in the original picture, but in my sketch I made everything a little narrower. But I was also scared of pulling on it too much because the panels are just pinned to the fabric. Some parts are sticking out over the black base layer which maybe also makes it look wider than it really is, I'll cut it to shape once I have the tape and have a better visual understanding of what it's going to look like.

Next up will be the collar/yoke and the dreaded sleeves and possibly the boning. I should do the boning before I attach the beige tape. I am realizing as I’m writing this that I should’ve done the boning before pinning down the colored panels as they’re supposed to cover it. Oh well. It’s fine. Either way, I think it already looks super cool and I can't wait to see the finished product!

[wendyliddel]

IWTV references in Queen of the Damned

I was reading the part of Queen of the Damned where Jesse is researching the events of Interview with the Vampire, and there were a few things in particular that caught my attention.

First when describing Louis and Lestat, Jesse says

"Lestat was the villain of the piece, and the leader. Louis, his anguished subordinate, was the hero, and the one telling the tale."

I literally laughed out loud at this, because so many people who have only watched the show, or only read the first book, have said almost the same exact thing, and it is just not true. (In Jesse's defense, she has also only read the first book, since this is a flashback, and there only was one book in her universe at the time.)

Then the is an entry from Claudia's diary, where she describes Lestat giving her yet another doll, and when he finally seems to understand that Claudia no longer wants the dolls, Claudia describes his reaction like this

"The expression on his face is so dark suddenly, I think, this cannot be my Lestat"

Claudia referring to him as "my Lestat" was striking enough, but then she goes on to describe her feelings for him and Louis.

"I wish that I could hate him. I wish that I could hate them both. But they defeat me not with their strength, but with their weakness. They are so loving! And so pleasing to look at."

So, clearly, those people who think that Lestat was always horrible to Claudia should hear from Claudia herself.

There is also a line where Jesse states that the coven destroyed Claudia on Armand's orders, so, apparently Jesse thinks Armand could have prevented it.

[hey-its-sybarite]

Um… this is a completely valid world view actually

[nandorsrelentless]

there seems to be far too many fans who can't seem to wrap their head around the fact that no relationship in the Vampire Chronicles is healthy. every relationship includes an element of abuse/power imbalance by normal standards. literally every single one.

they are all monsters who are no longer constrained by societal rules. so I don't think it's too crazy to expect them to do mosntorus things. the genre is Gothic HORROR. the show really prioritizes the HORROR element more so than other adaptaions, which i love.

i don't need louis to be a liar to enjoy lestat. if louis lied or misremebered things about the fight in episode 5, i literally do not care because it's never gonna make me hate louis. the baseline of what constitutes "evil" or "bad" is so different in iwtv because of the fact that they are NOT HUMAN. Claudia is literally a serial killer and she's still mother to me. ykwim?

the nature of vampirism is they have to kill to survive. so it would be really cool if people could accept louis, armand, and claudia as complex characters who are fundamentally not good people (because they aren't people!) without being racist about it. THEY ARE ALL KILLERS

im more interested in this exploration of the complexities of memory and seeing how the show integrates the other books into this story in a way that hasn't been done before than I am in discoursing about whether louis is a liar or not. who gives a shit???? grow up and realize that there are no good guys here and that's OKAY

[lgbtiwtv]

one of my favorite hobbies is in fact making fun of lestat because let’s be honest he does deserve it 99% of the time but then i start rereading tvl and suddenly I’m like….man he really went through so much, huh? he was really traumatized and taken advantage of over and over by both strangers and people he loved….like man he really was stalked, kidnapped, and forcefully made into a vampire against his will….he faced years of abuse from his father and brothers…..he witnessed the death of his only lover and before that his resentment and eventual madness….he really cries every other page and has 10 existential crises before he even becomes a vampire but he wants to be good he wants to be happy he tried to run away to the church he tried to run away with the theatre troupe he just wanted to act and love and be loved and at every turn he was done wrong and hurt and abandoned and nobody ever really helped him and I—

[13eyond13]

One of the main things I dislike about book 2 Lestat vs book 1 Lestat is it just takes away a lot of the interesting mystery about his character in the first book to have him definitively answer everything like: "oh actually I WAS hiding a bunch of secrets of the vampire universe and rules and hierarchy and history from you the entire time, and actually I WAS also filthy rich secretly the entire time due to a treasure left to me by my maker and didn't actually need you for your money at all, and also I wasn't a bit insecure about my lower class upbringing and poorer education and trying to compensate for that by being both showy and secretive about myself I was actually a noble, and also I CAN do a bunch of other vampire things that I never taught you to do or did in front of you even though we lived together in the same house as a family for like 70 years, and yes I DO hate following rules and doing what I'm told and keeping secrets but I did it because Marius said your fragile minds couldn't handle the truth if I DID tell you anything else, and also I DIDN'T want any revenge on Claudia or blame her for attempting to murder me or think I maybe should undo what I did by making her one bit, I was just being forced by the even EVILLER vampire to have her condemned to death, and also almost everything questionable or problematic or cruel that I did within the first book was either a lie told by Louis or secretly actually a kind and heroic thing I did because I cared about someone other than myself, IN FACT I SECRETLY THE ENTIRE TIME HAD A STRICT MORAL CODE I WAS FOLLOWING every time I casually killed an innocent npc in the first book, and whenever you watched on in horror at my cruelty and toying with my victims I was actually only killing scummy evildoers and Louis was just too dumb and romanticizing of humans to ever see it etc..." like FINE WHATEVER, I GUESS hahaha but I actually kind of liked you better when you were a bit meaner and a bit petty and a bit imperfect and a bit lame

[ghouldump]

more loustat x chill/unbothered/oblivious fem reader PLEASE!!

maybe she's like been a part of their relationship for a while, and she like the fledgling of some other vampire, her and her maker were like chill and totally platonic he dipped at some point before she met loustat, and she like the sane one between them and unfortunately gets ignored/left out unfortunately

something like the scene from season 1 where Louis swims across the Mississippi river to get to Lestat, and like reader is there too cause she went w Louis and loustat being there dramatic selves while she's just like trying to talk it out like adults, and then it spirals into argument about her wanting to visit her maker because Lestat, and tbh Louis too, is petty like that

Also your iwtv fics are my life line omg!!🎀

L'amour De Ma Vie | Lestat x Reader x Louis

ෆ while you love your companions, it is no secret that they oftentimes exclude you, and it isn't until you leave that they go into panic mode.

I love this idea, I hope you don't mind me changing it a little bit 🩷

“Louis, Y/n, you’re both soaking wet,” Lestat sat up from the bed.

Glancing at Louis, you could tell he was seconds away from slapping the smirk from Lestat’s face. The woman, Antoinette, wrapped one of the many sheets around her body, awkwardly staring at the two of you.

“Leave,” he told her, and just like that, she was up, running out of the bedroom.

“What are you two doing here?”

“Looking for you, and we…found you,” you answered. Louis remained silent, staring at Lestat, his mind all over the place from his companion's betrayal.

You understood where he was coming from, but at the same time, you didn't. Your maker, Lucius, lives a polyamorous lifestyle. From the moment he turned you, becoming his daughter, you saw the plethora of women and men come and go. Eternity was too long for him to stay with one person, he'd jokingly say, leaving a trail of broken hearts.

“You put your lover on the song, and expect us to come running back to you,” Louis screamed at him.

“I wanted a clear voice, to get the-

“I don’t give a fuck,” Louis interrupted.

“Louis, we agreed that we would just talk it out,” you told him, watching as he was fuming, but he ignored your words.

“You two swam to Mississippi to find me,” Lestat kept the same expression, eyeing the both of you lustfully.

“I swim faster than I drive,” Louis said, his fangs coming out.

“We don’t have to fight like this, we can find a middle ground-

“No, why are you acting unbothered by him stepping out on both of us?” Louis asked.

“I’m not, polyamory isn’t a deal breaker for me, so I feel like-

“He cheated Y/n, whatever bullshit you were exposed to by your maker, doesn’t apply in this relationship,” he told you, catching you off guard.

“That isn’t what I’m saying, we came here because of the song but also because we’ve agreed to make things work”

“So why are you acting like you’re on his side?”

“Louis, what are you talking about? Just because I’m not as angry as you, doesn’t mean I am against you, Lucius has always said anger is-

“Do you always have to bring him up?” Lestat asked a slight frown in place.

“Lucius, Lucius, Lucius, are you with us, or Lucius?” He raised his voice. Furrowing your eyebrows, you were extremely confused, about how the conversation went from Lestat’s infidelity to your relationship with your maker.

“I’m beginning to question the same thing,” you said, backing away.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” Louis shook his head, mentally criticizing himself for his choice of words.

“It’s okay,” you smiled at him, before leaving, due to your small age difference in your makers, you were faster than Louis, going back home.

You hated this feeling, this emotion, how your mind made you think of things that never bothered you too much before, but now did. From the moment you joined their companionship, you were constantly unintentionally excluded. Even in public, you cringed at times you were assumed to be nothing more than a friend of the two.

Entering the home you had grown to love, you went upstairs, packing some clothing in a bag. You were thankful that Claudia was out hunting, knowing your departure wouldn’t be so smooth if she’d been home. Leaving the bedroom, the family portrait caught your eye, making you pout.

Claudia sat on the sofa, while you, stood next to Louis and Lestat, who leaned against the sofa. You had been hesitant to take the photos, but they all insisted. As the photographer went to snap the photo, Lestat glanced at you.

“Come closer,” he said, pulling you between him and Louis.

His hand on your waist, while Louis held your hand, you all looked like a happy family.

Wiping the tear from your eye, you thought of how despite the occasional exclusion, they did so much more that made you overlook the habit. Maybe you could just get away for a little while, before coming back home.

Glamouring your way from state to state, for well over 24 hours, before you arrived in Los Angeles. Lucius fit into the bright city where stars and beauty resided. As you drained the shipment driver, you felt your blood pumping, an adrenaline rush of excitement coursing through your veins. Lifting from the man, you looked around, sensing the familiar presence near.

“I knew it was you I was sensing,” you heard, smiling brightly, you climbed out of the truck, running into Lucius' arms. His expensive scent filled your nose, as you wiped your mouth.

“What are you wearing, my love, is this what they wear down in New Orleans?” he asked, staring at your outfit. Beige trousers, along with a light pink blouse, he shook his head in disapproval. He considered himself to have impeccable taste in clothing, but he also was old-fashioned in some ways.

“I couldn't have traveled practically in a dress,” you said.

“I am more than glad that you are here, but why so sudden? I mean, no letter or postcard”

“I just wanted to get away from home for a while”

“Those two aren't treating you right? They are easily replaceable, what have I always told you, an eternity is-

“too long to be stuck with the same person, and I should always explore my taste, I know, and Louis and Lestat are fine, I just wanted to get away, I was hoping I could stay with you, for some time, if that's alright”

“Of course, you are always welcome,” he said, walking you to his car.

He didn't live too far away, in an expensive neighborhood, his villa home, the most extravagant. Stepping out, you immediately noticed the woman, peaking from the window.

“You have company?”

“Yes, Sonya, she wants to be an actor”

“You said that weirdly, is she special, maybe a potential companion?” you asked him, grinning.

“She has very sweet blood and an equally cute face, so I keep her around”

“You were just talking about me being with the same people-

“My love, this is different, she has grown on me, yes, but I think we both know I’ll eventually crave something new,” he smirked, as he wrapped his arm around you, leading you into the house.

“Shameless,” you laughed.

“It's true, and the best part of all, when the sex is wonderful they always come running back, come on, I have an extra coffin, you can sleep in”

“I went all the way to Metairie, and nothing, what about you?” Louis announced, walking back into the house. Pacing the floor, while Lestat sat at the piano, staring off into space.

“Why is he back here, I thought we weren’t talking to him right now? And where’s Y/n?” Claudia asked.

“Not now Clau-

“She’s gone, she took some clothes and left,” Lestat finally spoke.

“She can’t be too far, we can still find her and-

“I’ve been all over Mississippi, searching, nothing, not a trace, I can’t think of where she could be and I’m not her m-” Stopping in his speech, he put his head down, clenching his jaw. His leg shook lightly, trying to contain his anger.

“What is it?” Louis asked as he and Claudia stared confusedly at him.

“She’s with her maker,” he managed to get out.

His eyes reddened as he grew angrier, Lestat couldn’t help that he was inherently jealous, unrighteously possessive, especially towards those he loved, and that was very few. You were the most relaxed, forgiving vampire he'd ever met. Extremely oblivious and doting, you'd brag to whoever would listen about how great he was.

While he and Louis held all of the attention, he could hear you bragging to some mortal how well-dressed Louis was, or how Lestat was the greatest musician to grace your ears. You would go on and on, stroking their egos, willingly accepting and loving their baggage Claudia, you were a precious gem, adored by them both.

Your personality was much calmer than theirs, while they regularly clashed, you'd be bringing up calming methods, or ignoring them, chatting with Claudia.

“You have the power over your anger, Lucius was once a cruel angry vampire until he realized it was pointless, if the situation can be fixed, then do it, but if not, leave it in the past,” you'd quote.

Lucius, Lestat hated the man greatly, despite never coming across him before. Suppose his hate began from the respect you held for the man. He was around the same age as Lestat, from Italy, and was very handsome, he'd heard you say before.

He wished he could undo time so that he could become your maker. His blood in your veins, your heart in sync with his own, his fully, bound by more than your vow of companionship. While Louis only hated the man for the weird lifestyle habits he passed along to you, Lestat loathed the idea of another being nearly as perfect as he was to you.

“Lucius speaks French too, although he's more fluent in Italian”

“Lucius is also into fashion, he used to dress me all the time”

“Lucius was once a part of an opera, but he ended up causing a bit of drama because he slept with nearly everyone who worked there”

“Lucius…”

“Lucius…”

Lestat sat frozen seething at the thought of the man. He wanted nothing more than to kill him for making his way into your heart, he couldn't care less about the kind of relationship you'd shared with him.

“Uncle Les,” Claudia called out, exchanging a look with Louis.

“We can still get her to come home, he has sent her mail before,” looking around, he sent to the pile of mail, looking through and seeing the ripped-open envelope.

“Los Angeles, she's in Los Angeles, we can find her,” Louis approached Lestat, showing him the mail.

“She's gone, she's gone back to him and left us,” Lestat mumbled to himself, already crying.

“Hey, we’re gonna find her and she'll hear out, she’ll come back home,” Louis told Lestat, also trying to convince himself, as tears dropped from his eyes.

“I’m going to bed,” Lestat sulked.

“So you can cry all night? Do you want Y/n to come back or not, I sure as hell got used to some peace around here, we have the address, we can easily find a way out there, stop being so dramatic,” Claudia screamed at him.

“I preferred her quiet,” he said, sniffling.

“We can get her back home, you know how she is, she'll want to talk it out before we're back on the road”

“The insufferable therapy sessions,” he chimed in, as he wiped his eyes.

“Exactly, we can start planning right now,” Louis said, his companion nodded in agreement.

“How much do I need to pack?” Claudia asked.

“What makes you think you could come?” Lestat asked her, crossing his legs.

“Because I care about Y/n too”

“We won't be gone for long Claudia, we're just trying to get her to come back home,” Louis said to her, watching as she stepped away.

“If Y/n was here, she would not be okay with you just leaving me here,” she said, stomping upstairs.

“Where should we start?”

“Why don’t you turn Sonya? It’s so obvious that you care about her?” You asked Lucius as you danced to the classical record, in the considerably large living room. Wearing the custom gown he'd gifted you, both of your mouths were covered in blood from the guest of the orgy he'd hosted.

It had been nearly a week of spending time with him, and you were enjoying every moment of the easygoing, carefree life.

“None of this music is as good as it once was, going to see Paganini, I had never heard an instrument played so beautifully,” he shook his head, ignoring your question.

“Lucius,” you called his name knowingly, forcing him to look at you.

“I can't turn her, I…I love her,” he admitted, dipping you.

“If you love her, you'd turn her, and you both can have eternity together,” you told him, but he smiled, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“If I love her, then I'll let her live, have children of her own, and pass on as a pretty little elderly woman,” he said.

“Very noble of you,” you joked.

“I guess, but I’ll hold on until that time comes, I have another two years, and she’ll be twenty-seven”

“Aw, Lucius, are you sure you don't want me to do it?” you asked, as he continued to dance.

“Love looks different for everyone, my love, you, of all people, understand that,” he chuckled.

“I guess you're right”

“I suppose that is why your lovers are about to burst into my home,” he said with a smile, as he held you close.

“Yeah, probably, wait, wh-

Just then, the front door burst open, Lestat and Louis storming it, although, they had different targets, rushing over. Louis stood in front of you, pulling you away, into his arms, already pleading that you forgive him for how he spoke and his recent habit of exclusion.

While Lestat instantly had Lucius against the wall, his hand to his throat. Your maker only laughed, you truly learned well, both of these men wrapped completely around your finger, and you didn't even realize it.

“Lestat, don't,” you told him, hearing his chaotic thoughts, he wanted Lucius dead.

“You leave without a word, in the middle of the night. Countless arguments, and the moment he comes up, you up and leave me, leave us,” he screamed.

“We can talk about it, but I need you to let him go, I don't want to see you two fighting, so please, just release him,” you said, exhaling a breath of air, as he let go, growling at Lucius, who nonchalantly walked to you.

“You've done so well, my love, they're like your two little dogs,” he laughed, turning off the music.

“Lucius,” you warned lightly, as he pulled you close to whisper into your ear.

“I’ll give you a bit of privacy, I presume you won't be here when am back, I want you to reach out more often, it has been fun since you've been back home”

“I will,” you nodded.

“Wonderful, I love you”

“I love you too,” you said, watching as he went outside, flying into the air in an instant.

“What are you two doing here?” you asked them, wiping your mouth.

“What are we doing here? Did you forget that you have companions, or did you not care?” Lestat asked angrily.

“You up and left, you didn't even leave a note,” Louis said.

“Did you not care when you were in Mississippi, did you care when you brought up upbringing as if it was an insult?” the words shut them up, the guilt evident, in their eyes.

“Do you love him more, you went back to your maker because you want him more, we haven't been enough for you,” Lestat spoke.

“I'm sorry for what I said to you, I was angry and I misdirected my anger and I didn't mean to do that, especially to you,” Louis apologized.

“Apologizing is pointless, you love him more than any of us, I just need to hear you say it, perhaps that will give me the closure I need, say Lestat, I never loved you-

Bursting out laughing, you covered your mouth, waving your hand apologetically at the two.

“I'm sorry, but you two are drama queens,” you laughed.

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn't even take all of my clothes, or my coffin if I was leaving, I would be taking that because it’s custom,” you told them.

“Why didn't you say that in a letter?” Louis asked you.

“Because I thought about leaving for good, but then I considered how much I love you both, yes, I am oftentimes left out, but when I'm not, I feel like I'm on top of the world, and as you said, we have gotten into countless of arguments, why would I just because you brought up Lucius?”

“You're always bringing him up, comparing-

“I’m not comparing the two of you, you have a few things in common, it has only been a handful of times, but you only like the attention on you, you get so jealous at the thought of me talking about another man,” you laughed.

“Don't be ridiculous, and he's not nearly as good-looking as me,” he said.

“See, I never compared your looks, I know who looks better, Lucius doesn't come close”

“You too, Louis, jealous, worried that I wouldn't think that our relationship is enough and I’d go back to Lucius to practice his lifestyle, it's cute really, you both came scrambling out here, to win me back, I am touched and a few other things,” you continued as they approached you.

Immediately, Lestat was kissing your lips, holding you close, scared to let you slip away. Pushing away from him, you pulled Louis near, slipping your tongue into his mouth. Lestat stood behind you, kissing your neck, and tearing the dress.

“Where’s Claudia?” you asked through your moans, as each article of clothing was peeled away. Stopping, the two slowly stared at each other, before looking at you.

“She’s in New Orleans”

“You left her in New Orleans, by herself? We need to leave now, why would you do that?” you yelled, going to pack your things.

“Wait, can we finish what we started?” Louis asked his hand over the painfully stiff sensation between his legs.

“No, we need to get back to her”

“I hate when the brat is right”

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Chapter One - Secret admirer

Music fills the room as you press the keys with a loving touch. Your eyes are closed, no longer needing to follow the notes on the page for you have played this piece a hundred times over until you perfected it. Music burns in your soul and you will honor every note in every song. Playing music was as easy as breathing for you. Natural. Those who listened to you would agree.

As the song came to an end you let the final note linger slightly, holding onto the bliss and happiness playing the piano brought to you. You had almost forgotten you were not alone. Applause shakes you from your momentary peace and you turn your eyes to your audience. The theater was full of adoring fans of yours, all standing up to give you praise for your music. You smile and stand, taking your bow. Playing your music for these people was a delight, but playing music in general was your pleasure.

Not wishing to linger, you give one final bow and exit the stage, your section for the night is done. You make your way down to your dressing room, other performers patting you on the back or applauding you as you pass them by. The itch to return to your solitary room never felt greater.

They do this every week. Congratulate you. Every time you perform on that stage, always a Friday night, they make a fuss over you. Music was your passion, not the glory after. Of course performing for people would always be special to you, but you were more prideful in the music than the performance. You didn't want people to make a fuss over you, only the music.

That didn't mean you didn't appreciate the small gestures.

As you get back to your dressing room, Amelie is waiting for you. She's a dancer from France. She came to America having been promised a big break, but what she found instead was very different. Now she performs in the theater with her heart full of wishes. She could be worse off as things go, but she certainly wanted more. Perhaps the world as her stage.

“You have more gifts.” She smiles as she opens the door for you. You roll your eyes knowing exactly what she refers to. Your secret admirer.

“Please, Amelie, no need to get so excited.”

“But they're from him!”

“Of course they are. They're always from him.”

You walk over to your dressing table to see a bouquet of flowers, different from the week before, and a small box sitting underneath them. You pluck the card from the flowers and look at the beautiful handwritten note.

‘When your music plays, my heart sings.’

“He's so romantic.” Amelie fans herself dramatically, letting out a small high. She's clearly teasing you.

“He is very kind.”

“What's in the box?” She asks.

You pull the box closer and open it carefully. Inside is a very expensive looking ruby teardrop necklace. This is the first time your mystery admirer has gifted you jewelry. You can't help staring at the jewel. It's beautifully rich.

Amelie stares at it in awe. Her eyes sparkle. “A necklace? He must really love your music.

You barely take note of Amelie as you stare at it. You close the book softly and put it down. “I need to get ready to go home.”

Amelie stares at you as if you had grown a second head. “Just like that?”

“Yes,” you say, standing from the table. You take her arm and usher her out gently “Don't wait up.” You close the door behind her and gather your things.

The manager at the theatre shows you out. He, like all the others, congratulates you on your performance. He reminds you that he looks forward to hearing you perform again next week. You just smile politely and try to make your exit as painless as possible as you leave.

The walk back to the little shed-like house you call home isn't a short one. Like most evenings, you decide to cut through the park to get back. Luckily, New Orleans was very much awake after dark. The streets were always full of people and clubs were open to anyone passing by. You felt safe enough walking home. There's a bench you always walk past cutting through the park. Tonight there was only one gentleman on it. He watched you walk by, but didn't say anything. That was the only interaction you got from anyone tonight.

It's Friday again. Your turn to perform was coming up soon. You were in your dressing room with Amelie getting ready. As you look at your make up in the mirror, Amelie leans on close over your shoulder and looks at you through your reflection. “You should wear the necklace.”

You meet her eyes through the looking glass. “Why?”

“So he will see it.” Her smile was so telling. Since the first gift from your admirer arrived she had been on the case. She was obsessed with the thought of you and this stranger. Amelie found it romantic.

“I don't know.”

“Oh, you have to! Maybe he will come see you after the show.”

You stand quickly from the table and look at her. “Please, Amelie. We don't know who this is. The gifts are welcome and I adore the thought, but I can't feed into this.”

Amelie pouts. “Please wear it. You know we'll never let anything happen to you.”

You sigh softly and eye the box on the table. It had been kept in your dressing room all week. The manager had seen to it that it was looked after.

You reach out and open the box, ignoring Amelie's squeal behind you as you gently lift the necklace from its safety cushion.

“Let me help.”

You let Amelie take the necklace. She places it around your neck and connects the clasp. You gently touch the ruby teardrop hanging comfortably around your neck. It really does look expensive.

“It's beautiful,” Amelie whispers.

You agree with her.

Your name is called and you know your time for dawdling is over. Amelie leaves in a hurry and you take a moment to summon your confidence to go out there. Despite doing this every week, performing with an audience never felt any easier.

You took a deep breath and walked out onto the stage. The room filled with applause as you approached the piano. You faced the audience and took a bow, but kept your gaze low. You couldn't bring yourself to actually look out at them, especially knowing your admirer was among them. You took your seat at the bench and focused on the keys. They were calling to you, begging you to touch them and play your wonderful music.

A few beats of silence fill the air as your fingers rest upon the keys. You feel them under your fingertips. A welcome feeling. Then you begin. Music flows freely from your fingers and your magic takes hold of the hearts in the room. Your music lures your audience into a silence so they can hear every note.

The man in the box leans forward in his seat. His eyes are trained on you with desire and fascination. His angel has blessed his night with her music once more. You had no idea the power you held over him. He longs to hear you play for the rest of time. Your music is your gift.

For the next half hour you fill the room with your music. As usual you blank out the people listening, not even letting their applause break you out of your zone this time. It's just you and your piano. Your dearest and oldest friend.

As you near the end of the song, you nearly want to make it never end. You could simply keep going just to enjoy the magic a little longer. Except, you can't. Your time is up and you have to end the show. You finish the piece and get barely any time to lift your fingers from the keys before the room is flooded with applause. You lift your gaze and see everyone on their feet. You take a deep breath and stand, bowing to the crowd before taking your leave.

Your admirer watches you go with keen eyes. The glitter of red around your neck brings his lips into a satisfied grin.

When you return to your dressing room Amelie squeals and pulls you into a hug. You smile and give in, returning the gesture. On the dressing table you notice more flowers. As Amelie gushes on about your performance, you walk over to the flowers and take a look at the note. It's written in the familiar handwriting of your admirer.

‘A star like you deserves to sparkle.’

You smile softly. Subconsciously, you reach for the necklace around your neck. Amelie is still talking behind you as you take a seat at your dressing table. However, she's cut off when someone knocks on your door. You turn and call for them to enter. The theater manager enters and smiles at you.

“There's a young man here wishing to meet you.”

You stand and look at him curiously. “Who?”

The manager steps aside and in walks a handsome young man. There is a smile on his face as he comes to stand before you. He reaches for your hand and brings it to his lips. You find yourself enamoured by him as he looks at you with those fascinating blue eyes.

“Bonjour.’

The air from your lungs feels like it's all gone with that one simple greeting.

“Hello.”

His smile seems to widen, if that were possible. He's tall, has blond hair that reaches his shoulders, and those eyes… He chuckles which breaks you out of your staring at him. You drop your gaze, slightly embarrassed at being caught.

“It's alright, you can look.”

You feel even more embarrassed now.

The moment is broken when Amelie comes closer with a grin on her face. You turn to her slowly and narrow your eyes slightly. You're silently asking her what she was doing, but she wasn't even paying you any attention. Her focus was solely on the man who was still grasping your hand. The realization that your hand was still in his has you pulling away. The man doesn't seem to mind, he simply smiles as he watches you.

“You came to see us?” Amelie asks.

“Ah, well, not quite.” He focuses on you. “I came to see you.”

Amelie looks between you both and then gasps. You both look at her, him with amusement, you with confusion.

“He's your admirer!”

The man chuckles and turns back to you with his sharp eyes. “I am indeed.” He reaches out and lifts the ruby up from your chest. You glance down and notice his long nails trailing along the jewel. You lift your gaze back to his eyes.

“You?”

“Oui.” He seems incredibly proud to admit it, but you suppose he would be. He had been sending you gifts for weeks without so much as his name tied to them.

“Who are you?”

“I am Lestat De Lioncourt.” He grins. “I know who you are.”

For some reason, him saying that sent shivers down your spine. You're unsure if you like it or not.

Amelie stands there and realizes there is no room for her at this moment. She feels a little hurt you haven't even introduced her to this mystery man. She's been invested in this exchange since the gifts first started coming. Amelie receives the message and slinks out of the room unnoticed.

Lestat makes himself comfortable nearby on the stool at your dressing table. At first he looks at his reflection and then he turns to look at you. “Disappointed?”

“Huh?”

“Are you disappointed?”

“By you? I don't quite understand why I would be. I really appreciate the gifts.”

Lestat is pleased by what you have said. “I have admired you since I first came here. From the moment I discovered you.”

“I'm… honoured.”

His lip twitches with a grin. He's amused. “Honoured? Not… flattered or charmed?”

His words send a little tingle through you.

“Well, yes, I suppose. Those too. I don't have many admirers.”

“Non? I find that hard to believe.” There's a slight purr to his words. He's speaking smoothly and it tickles your brain in just the right way. His accent is beautiful.

“You're French?”

“Oui.” He grins. It makes you smile.

“What brought you to New Orleans?” 

“You could say… the people.”

You can't help smiling and turning your gaze away. You've been in the room with him for a whole five minutes and he already has such a huge effect on you.

“Why the gifts?”

His strange blue eyes seem to brighten when you ask that. He leans forward slightly with a grin. “To express my admiration for your talent.”

You smile. “Do you like the piano?”

“Very much. I play too.”

“You do?”

He nods his head. “I would be honored if you accepted my invitation to come play for me in private at my home.”

You stare at him with surprise. That had been an unexpected invitation.

“I don't usually…”

“You are free to decline, but I would be delighted to host you.”

“I… I'd be very happy to.”

The smile on his face seems to grow as he stands from the stool. He takes a couple of steps toward you and reaches for your hand. You watch, unable to look away, as he kisses your hand gently.

“I shall send details soon.” With that, he leaves. You spend a good couple of minutes staring at the door after he's gone, only to be broken out of your trance by Amelie coming in.

“Well?” 

You smile. “I think… I have a date.”

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop

[thedailydescent]

When they're fighting, Louis and Armand know exactly where to hurt each other the most. They can jab at each other about multiple painful memories the other carries, that's fine, but there's one thing that crumples each of them and they both use it here. For Armand, you can see it when he looks genuinely hurt and cuts off the moment Louis says "dull nights, dull months, dull decades" (aka their entire relationship never stood a chance when compared to what Louis and Lestat had), that his entire being is nothing (he's the void, after all), which then moves to a murderous expression when Louis says that a 20 year-old human can provide more entertainment than he ever could, which then moves to barely holding back tears when Louis asks, "Is it the gremlin or the good nurse tonight?"

For Louis, though, it's Claudia. And it will always be Claudia. Louis could hold his own right up until the moment Armand masterfully threw out the "and you threw out her name just for cover but it always circled back to him", and, "but she didn't love you, not like I do!" (the latter being classic abuser language), and it's enough to make Louis spiral into a psychotic episode that leads him to try and commit suicide. Louis knows Armand's largest weak points, but Armand can still recover. Louis, however, cannot. Because while Armand's greatest insecurity is himself, he's never loved and failed another like Louis did, because he, as someone long since detached from humanity, supposedly can no longer make that type of connection with anyone.

And while Louis is blindly running towards "Claudia's voice", Armand pauses, looking deeply ashamed of using that against him, but still pauses all the same. One has to wonder, was the pause out of shock at being that cruel, or was it from needing a moment to nurse those lingering feelings of anger from the things Louis said to him? Or, was it because he knew by waiting, Louis would get injured, and would have no choice but to depend on him again?

[pirateshelly]

One thing that really fascinates me about interview with the vampire (the show) is this sort of tension between power and powerlessness in all of the characters. Because it doesn't present becoming a vampire as something that just gives you power and magically makes you completely detached from all human concerns and struggles.

And that seems to be something Lestat does very much want to believe, and he's in enough of a position of privilege that he's able to convince himself it's true, and it's a fundamental area where he just cannot understand Louis because Louis CAN'T pretend even if he wants to. (And of course Lestat cannot ACTUALLY separate himself from "human troubles" the way he likes to think he can, he just has an easier time pretending than most). Because as much as becoming a vampire grants these characters supernatural power it doesn't just magically take away the very tangible human ways that they were previously vulnerable or powerless.

Becoming a vampire doesn't negate Louis' struggles with racism; in some ways it amplifies them with how he is alienated from his own family and community; his closest connection becomes Lestat. He loses his economic independence and becomes socially dependent on Lestat in a way he wasn't to anyone as a human because in some ways becoming a vampire made him MORE vulnerable, despite granting him physical strength/speed/etc. The promise of freedom in vampirism Lestat presents to Louis (that I do think he does genuinely mean, but "freedom" means very different things to Louis than it does to Lestat) is never fulfilled.

Likewise Claudia learns the hard way with Bruce and later with the coven that she may be a vampire but the world still looks at her and sees a vulnerable young black girl and that will always put her in danger.

Claudia rescues Madeleine then turns her into a vampire, but rather than protect her from future harm the "crime" of turning her becomes the very thing that gets her killed by yet another angry mob.

And 514 years as a vampire will never be enough for Armand to truly trust or believe in his own power. Because the first 200 or so years of his life he was literally never once allowed any agency at all over his own identity or his own body (child slave sold to a brothel, sold to an abusive master, captured and violently indoctrinated into a vampire cult for centuries). No amount of material strength and power is going to undo the psychological effects of that. (And I know some people like to read his frequently passive demeanor as simply manipulation and a way of catching people off guard (because how could someone so old and powerful possibly feel a genuine sense of fear/vulnerability/etc 🙄) but to me that's an incredibly disingenuous reading of him. But that's a different rant for another time!). Being a vampire does not save him from being horrifically abused, nor does it save him from the lasting emotional effects of that abuse.

And I think there's something interesting to be said about the way that, in order to survive safely, they have to feed on the most vulnerable members of society (people undesirable and therefore least likely to arouse suspicion) in order to go unnoticed. If they want to live they have to prey on those vulnerable in possibly the same ways they themselves once were (and in many ways still are).

There's a frequent argument I dislike that we shouldn't be viewing any of these characters through too human of a lense because they're literal monsters (to be honest it's an argument I see most often made when people simply don't want to talk about the show's complex depiction of racism/misogyny/abuse/etc and used to dismiss those as issues "too human" to be relevant to a story about a bunch of monsters with a supposedly alien sense of morality), but I think the show itself makes a huge argument that for these characters there is no escaping or separating themselves from the very human struggles and vulnerabilities that marked them before they ever became vampires. It's like a sort deconstructed power fantasy.

[ariaste]

listen i've had a 100 degree fever for four days and i have not been able to string any thoughts together except for gently rotating Devil's Minion in my brain and the bleary conclusion i have come to is this:

we know armand is a control freak

we know armand has spooky psychic powers of imposing his desired reality on top of other people's lived realities

the interview is happening despite armand supposedly claiming that he thinks it's a bad idea

Armand gives in to participating in the interview awfully quick. including a theatrical reveal of his true self at exactly the right moment for maximum Drama.

therefore, stay with me here, I will argue that armand DOES ACTUALLY want the interview to be happening. Who else is going to be pushing for it? Louis??? If Louis pushed for something Armand didn't want, Armand would simply wipe it from Louis' mind and move on with his day. He has that power, and yet he didn't USE IT in this case. So that means that the little tissue paper objections are mostly for show and to camouflage his true intentions (see also, though: the scene in Paris where Louis comes in and is playing maitre and Armand offers just a teeny resistance of "oooh but i'm looking at Sam's new pages", so it's a documented behavior pattern). There is one exception, but we'll come back to that in a sec.

So then the questions are: Why does he want it to be happening now as opposed to any other time? What is his motivation for having it happen again at all? What changed between 1973 and now that caused this?

(the rest under a cut bc this is gonna get long and i don't wanna clutter people's dashes too much)

my wild fever hallucination theory rn is that armand (my canceled wife who i stand with) is manipulative and psychopathic enough that he may have looked at daniel at some point in the 1970s and said to himself "you know what, the one thing that I would change about him is if he was like 40 years older, because i'm kinda into that, and also maybe he hates me a little bit, because i'm kinda into that as well" and then set Daniel on the back burner to basically finish cooking into the Perfect Daddy Boyfriend.

so why is he doing this whole charade again? Because the first time Daniel had the interview, the end result was "omg omg omg make me a vampire PLEAAASE", right? So Armand's insane little brain is like "ok, so we do it again, and replicate the same results :) and this time i will win and get everything i want, just like always :))))"

Going back to the tissue-paper objections i mentioned above, the one exception that strikes true for me is when Armand tells Louis that he's lost control of the interview. What control? What control, babygirl? what are you trying to control about this interview? what is the goal that isn't being achieved rn? Are you worried that Daniel seems Jaded and Cynical and Unimpressed nowadays? Are you worried that Louis does not seem to be selling the Allure Of Being A Vampire as effectively as he did back then and that Daniel is not going to beg for it like he used to? Armand is so used to being around people who NEVER EVER CHANGE in hundreds of years and so maybe he has forgotten that mortals do change actually. Oh no. Science experiment cannot be replicated. Results are going awry. PANIC.

this would also explain why he keeps explaining himself to Daniel, censoring the diaries, and lying about his involvement in things. could it be that he thinks Daniel won't play along with what he's supposed to be doing (ie: being deeply into him) if he knows upfront that Armand is Fucknuts Crazy?

that is where he is wrong tho. Daniel thinks fucknuts crazy is irresistibly hot. Daniel "I want BOTH [to survive AND the book] >:\" Molloy, aka Daniel "YOU BOTH FUCKED LESTAT? :DDD" Molloy aka Daniel "Fascinating Boy" Molloy loves mess. he loves mess. he's an investigative journalist who interviews KGB agents and the most dangerous people in the world because he's an adrenaline junkie who sincerely loves the thrill of hanging out with people who might kill him. He has been chasing that high since 1973 (and I use that phrasing intentionally). Every time Armand tries to control the narrative and woobify himself and act like he's not absolutely insane bc actually he's innocent and blameless, he is shooting himself in the foot re: the pursuit of his endgame goals. And that's extremely funny to me. Bc Daniel's love language is "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU [enraptured, intrigued, captivated, fascinated]"

and in conclusion, that's why they're the ship of all time, ur honor. defense rests.

(will this make coherent sense once i'm not sick anymore? idk.)

[dxxtruction]

An analysis of the painting, 'Adoration of the Shepard with Donor' by Palma Vecchio in episode 2x04 of Interview With The Vampire.

Spoilers ahead

We have here the depiction of the story of the birth of Christ. Along with symbolism of rebirth through the lark in the background. I read these two things in the show interchangeably as Armand’s ‘past’ and ‘future’.

It isn’t really Armand, not as much as his past is in the idyllic way of being in everyone else’s service. The features are whitewashed, you’d never identify him as the same boy in the painting. But that is his body, as he tells it. Only his body, used. And anymore he’s nothing but a figurehead, playing his part in this whole production - the coven leader. This is how he paints himself, how others paint him, but that isn’t himself entirely. Painted on but not the one painted there.

Ultimately, he really doesn’t know much of who he is.

We can see some of this contention expressed in the painting. He looks longingly, almost sad, upon the holy family, and directly behind him is a dog symbolizing loyalty and obedience. Amadeo worships passionately but heavy-hearted. Arun, Amadeo then, Armand now, feels trapped in this same conflictedness, different circumstances, but he knows nothing else. He just goes on kneeling to it, stuck in this position. And he's done it so much, so long, that much like this figures pants, he's worn through.

As of present; leading the falteringly obedient without much will too? Without much will for even his own obedience to it? There are certainly cracks in this painting someone has to be up close to know of.

“I’m not sure I can keep obedience any longer.”

But in other words, Armand has always been in this state of looking on at all his life has been, much as he’s able to recall of it, and finds himself burdened by it. Emotionally, physically. He confides in this, and while their pasts counter each other in some ways, I’m sure Louis relates all to well. His past physically haunting him while Armand is telling his own.

I would say the showing of this painting to Louis marked a distinct ‘rebirth’ in both of them. Setting up for a future together. After this, they no longer look on at their old worships, their pasts, the same.

They no longer feel that obedience and hold to them as it once was. Recognizing what they need now is a lark. An amusement. Adventure. Each other - painted new. Painted for themselves.

This is why Louis was able to let Lestat go. This is why Armand so willingly bends to Louis suggestions. Or at least one of the reasons why.

They sit side by side, like the Madonna and Joseph - equals, as this takes place. Armand doesn’t need to kneel anymore. Louis' going to make sure he doesn't have to.

[m0chisenpai]

Hey 👋 Can you do a Louis fic where after he and Armand break up, he doesn’t get back with Lestat and moves on or tries for a better healthier relationship with her/reader?

seal the cracks

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader

in which Louis begins to fill the neglected cracks of his relationships

As Louis stares into the crack of the wall, he find your eyes in the debri. he sees the same brokeness as the eyes that stared at him. Broken and beautiful.

Not even Armand's words could convince you to say after the carnage that Louis caused.

He needed to find you. He needed to apologize.

His eyes fall shut and his mind opens to the voices.

"This is the vampire Louis De Pointe Du Lac, searching for the vampire Y/N L/N."

Conversation contiues to overlap, until one voice alls to him. It is hoarse, "she is a ghost. By night she comes out, slaughtering dozens. Then she seals herself away till the hunger can not be bared ny longer."

"No!" a feminine voice hisses, "she fled to Russia! There is a coven there that speaks of her briefly."

More rumors fill him with dead end leads til he hisses, "enough." silencing the voics he sits on the couch. Elbows on his knees, hands in his face.

You could be anywhere. you could be dead. That thought makes ice fill his veins. But one of his workers tell him his ride is here. Ready to take him to the meeting place.

When Louis steps out of the car, he is met with the owner, happily telling him of all his establishment has to offer. But it’s like a fly in his ear as he enters the elevator. Twenty floors felt like a lifetime until he reaches the rooftop which would be filled any other night. But thanks to his financial pull, it is completely empty. Save for the one body sitting at a seatette overlooking the city.

Your body is still, and Louis takes his time to approach slowly, he sees the gleam off your bare shoulders. Admires how the olive little cocktail dress accentuates your body. What should he say? He can feel the rage, the grief. All of the dark murkyfeelings roll over him. As much as you hate him, he is your maker. And he feels you deeply and completely.

He dares to take the seat beside you, giving you the space you deserve. Your head moves just enough to look him in the eye. Your eyes are gray, nearly so light you looked like your eyes were blank white. But the faint streaks of blue make them pop.

“Hello.”

Louis echoes back, “hello.”

“I trust the flight here went well?”

“It did,” you experienced first class in all its beauty and comforts. Not the first time, but from the moment you left your home to landing in Dubai every little thing was covered for you. At first in your pettiness you intended to waste every bit of his money.

Buying obscene five star meals that you tossed. Glasses of champagne, an entire new wardrobe. You waited for him to chew you out as he did all those years ago. But not once did he respond.

“I want to talk about San Francisco.”

“Ah yes,” you pick up a golden case, pulling a cigarette out to settle between your lips. “Do you mind?” He shakes his head. Focusing on the cigarette and it flickers a little. You take a slow drag, tilting your head to blow it into the night air.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

You look to him, “always have. You just never noticed.”

Louis can recall the first time he and Armand met you. You were a bartender in the city trying to make ends meet to make it to New York. You wanted to perform on the big stage. But until then you were stuck mopping puke, taking tips stuffed in your bra and ignoring the perverted glances of customers.

When the two men sat down, they ordered two shots on the rocks which they barely touched throughout the night. Sticking to their cigarettes instead.

“You work here long?” Louis asked as you wiped along the table top.

“Started three months ago.”

“Long term?”

“Hardly, Next year you’re gonna see my name up in big lights in the city,” your smile was giddy. It stirred something in him. Armand hatred how easily you could pull such a smile.

"Is that so?"

"Indeed sir, though I need to start workin' on my accent" Louis feigns surprise. But truth is he could hear the southern twang in your voice the moment he entered.

"What brings a southern girl like you up here?"

"Well, I would have to tell you another night." A drunk waves you down stealing you away from Louis.

A crisp twenty brightens your night beneath his cup. And he and Armand kill the man who took your attention.

Every evening he comes to sit in that same spot, some times with the brooding partner of his, others without him. Some nights he's philosophical, others he's cynical. There are nights where he never utters a word. Just his eyes following your every movement.

You would become his second and final fledgling that following year. Your final night of humanity was spent in New York Armand accepted it, but even though he was hundreds of years older, wiser. The boyish desires to have ones things all to themself remained.

That night Louis took you to a Broadway production, putting you in the best box seats. Though he promised you for the rest of your days you could sit here, you declared tonight to be the very best.

Following afterwards you ate your final meal. Soul food from an old mom and pop shop and half glass of champagne which led you to where you sat now. He held you in his arms one final time.

"Will this truly be the last time you hear my mind?" your voice is hoarse from the silence as you soaked in your final sunrise.

"It is," he sees every memory one last time. He relishes in those big brown eyes, that gap in your teeth, the freckles from being out in the sun all day. He remembers that day so well, and you replay in your mind, wondering if days like that will ever return.

When the sun has completely gone and all that is left is the inky blackness of the night, something in Louis eyes tells you, "it' time."

You wonder what his final thoughts are. aHe wishes he were stronger, because he would project them to you. so instead he bgins to tell you. "I'm thinkin' about you. How I'm gonna miss the way your hert skips a beat at your favorite song, how you ear them bright sweaters int hat grungy bar...."

He empties his entire mind, his entire heart to you. Not even Armand had this kind of access to Louis. At midnight, you give him one last kiss as a human, and make love with him for the final time as well. And by the next nightfall you wake up something new, something beautifully cursed to stalk the night by his side.

Nightmares and terrors filly our nights. All from Armand. Only he would have lived enough to see such grotesque horrors. You see boys packed together on a boat weeping covered in their filth and sitting in their own sick.

Another night you are doused in rats and sealed shut in a coffin unable to scream as the giant rodents work to eat you apart in this giant tin box.

But the worst ones are the ones of those who are set on fire. Lying across a pyre and burnt slowly to a chard crisp. At first Louis brushes your worries aside, holding you in his arms in his coffin. But then Louis starts entering your dreams, beaten and bruised fried from the sun in some theatre while an audences thundering laughs rattle you as they cackle at the bloody tears puring from your eyes.

That's when the fight happens.

as soona s you are awake you pounce on Armand and Louis has to pull you off from him, cursing and hissing.

"I know its you!! You monster!! Just cause he won't screw you anymore!!" You thrash at Armand who was tossing into a hole into the wall of the apartment you three reside in.

"What were you thinking?" Louis hisses at you holding you at arms length like some child.

"You're being reckless! Now we gota get the hell out fore' the neighbors start calling the cops!" He hisses rubbing his hand across his face.

"That's what your worried about? What about your boy keeping me up fpr nearly a fucking YEAR!" ypur screams rattle the walls and Louis is quick to clamp his hand over your mouth.

"You just haven't gptten used to the change yet," your eyes go wide. He was dfending him. The one who has been torturing you.

You nod stepping out his grasp.

"It's either me or him."

"Love..."

"Don't call me that," you stp up chest pressed aginst his and whisper once more, "it's either gon' be me, or him."

Silence fills the apartment. But te look in his eyess break your heart. You nod stoeming into your shared room. He and Armand handle the police that arrive, but when he goes back to your room it's emmpty and torn into pieces.

The memory ends there as you finish your cigarette which you stub out in front of you. You look into his eyes, see the pain, watch as a bloody tear slips down the curve of his nose.

"I should've picked you..." his voice is hoarse.

"I know."

"He...he just..."

"Was a rebound. For Lestat right? Out of spite. I figured, Daniel sent me an adanced reader," you read it ten times. It was lying on the night stand of your hotel room now. "Was I a rebound too?"

"No" Louis immediately shakes his hand. "I'm done makin' exscuses for myself. But I know for a fact I fell in love with you and all your singing and dancing till the sun rose and"

"You would tell me 'cher get in here before the sun burns you'" you finished wistfully.

"I came to every performance of yours. When you were in the background and then you got your first main role in rent and you glowed on stage." You remember that opening night, seeing him sitting in the front. His eyes never leaving you once, but not once did you return his gaze.

You hate how much you love him right now. How much you miss him, but he will always be your Louis. Your maker, your lover, your companion.

"If I return," hope for a moment glimmers in his eyes, "and he is there. I will set him and you on fire. And spread your ashes to the four corners of the earth."

"Anything for you my love" he goes to reach your hands which you quickly pull back pointing one finger up.

"And no more of that dull black and gray macarbe stuff. I need color in my life Louis. Stop living like the dead, for me. Please" You scoot closer, gazing up into his eyes.

His gaze warms your cold heaet, as he stares down at you like you've hung the very moon and stars.

"Of course, cher. For you."

[prettykittycastle]

He Could Never Understand

Summary: Louis would never understand, Lestat thought. He would not get how addictive you are.

(The reader is gender-neutral. The ethnicity/race is preferably of color.)

(Content Warning: missionary, some French talk, P in V)

French Translation:

Mon Amour - My love

Tu m'appartiens. Et seulement à moi - You belong to me. And only me.

Ange - Angel

Louis could never know, Lestat reminded himself as he lowered his head between your legs, his light eyes glued to your growing wetness. He had barely touched you and you were already beginning to drip onto your bedsheets. All day he had been thinking about tasting your sweetness again, and finally he was going to.

Louis mustn't know, he told himself, leaning forward and slowly running his tongue up your center, savoring the juice that was flowing from you. Groaning at the taste, he closed eyes before closing his lips around your clit, already swollen from just being looked at, and lightly sucked on the pleasure bud.

"Lestat," you moaned lightly, gripping the bedsheets.

Opening his eyes, he brought a finger to your entrance, inserting it in with no trouble and quickly curled it, knowing it would make you moan louder.

"Oh," you let out, before letting go of the bedsheet and placing your hand over your mouth.

Pushing another finger in, he sucked harder on your bud, moaning at the feel of your juices beginning to run down his hand.

Louis would never understand, he told himself, curling his fingers harder inside you, rubbing against that spongy spot that he knew would have you rolling your eyes and crying out in need.

"Lestat," you whispered, your voice sounding weak behind your hand, hoping to not wake anyone in your home. "Please."

"I want it," he told you as he's told you every night before this one and will tell you every night after.

"Okay," you said, as you have said every night before this one and will say every night after. You opened your legs wider for him, eager to feel him inside you again.

At your agreeance, he placed a soft loving kiss on your clit, like he'd done every other night, and slowly pulled his fingers from inside you, a small rumble going through him at the sight of your slick on his fingers. He quickly brought them to his mouth to suck on then undid his pants, sliding them down to the floor, before crawling onto the bed, over your body till you and him were eye to eye.

"Will it always be mine," Lestat asked you, lowering his head closer to yours, your lips almost touching each other. You could feel him positioning his member at your entrance, the head lightly teasing you.

He asked you this every time he came to visit you, and like every other time, your answer was the same: "Always yours and only yours." And with that, he entered you, your cunt welcoming him in with little resistance. As usual, he didn't care whether or not your family came into the room and moaned loudly at the feel of your walls wrapped around him, while you tried to keep your hardest to keep your voice down. Even though it had only been a few days, since last time he was in you, it felt like it had been ages since he last felt the sweet warmth of your inner walls squeezing his cock. Louis would never get it, he told himself, sinking himself deeper into you, until he finally bottomed out.

"Mon amour," He moaned, closing his eyes, enjoying the way you clenched around him at the endearment, more wetness flooding around him. You both knew he didn't mean it and that his actual 'amour' was between your legs.

As usual he waited a second, making sure you were comfortable before he slowly pulled out, then thrust back in, forcing a loud moan to escape your mouth.

You both knew this was wrong and you knew it shouldn't go on any longer (shouldn't have even begun in the first place), but there was something that kept pulling yourselves to one another. Louis and Claudia thought that Antoinette was his only mistress, but he also had you. He didn't consider you a mistress though, more like a secret love of his that unlike Antoinette, he would never get tired of.

To you, Lestat was the toxic evil thing that your family had warned you to stay away from. The type of company that they feared would corrupt you, and they had been right. They had arranged many suitors for you, ready to marry you off, but each one, you turned down. They didn't know that at night, the real suitor, the one who eagerly came through your bedroom window to talk and regularly rearrange your guts, was the reason for your refusals. You tried to explain to him that at some point you will have to accept an offer, but Lestat had told you that if you did, you would still belong to him, and you would not be allowed to have sex with whoever you chose.

I'm not fond of sharing, he had told you.

Even as he fucks you into the bed, his cock plunging deep within you over and over, you could see a certain type of fondness mixed with possessiveness in his eyes. He even fucked you like he was staking some claim on you. With every gasp and squeak he fucked out of you, his cock grazed that same spongy spot inside you, making the already burning fire inside you get hotter and hotter.

"Tu m'appartiens. Et seulement à moi." He repeated that same phrase with every thrust the closer he got. You've asked him before what it meant, but he told you that it wasn't important.

"Oh God, Lestat," You whimpered, spreading your legs wider and raising them higher till they sat on his shoulders so he could fuck you harder, which he quickly did. You didn't have to look down to know that you were beginning to make more of a mess on the sheets, even with your human ears, you could hear it clearly. Looking up at him, you saw one side of his mouth curl up in a type of snarl and you knew that he could hear it too, probably even smell it.

"Let go for me, ange," he demanded of you, lowering his head to place a kiss between your eyes, the action being a deep contrast with how roughly he was fucking you. "Let go for me."

Closing your eyes, you felt his cock hit your spot one more time, triggering a wave of euphoria going through your body so strong that you couldn't help the loud cry that you let out. So loud was your cry that even Lestat had to place his hand over yours help to muffle you. You knew that he didn't care about being too loud, but he only did it for your sake.

"Good, ange, good," he told you, still continuing to fuck you through your orgasm, his eyes almost closing at the wonderful fluttering of your walls around his cock, your juices flooding him.

It was something about you, he thought, speeding up his thrusts, your wetness and tightness finally bringing him to his orgasm. Something about you was so incredibly addictive that he couldn't let go of it, of you. At least not until he made you cum at least three more times and he came inside you a couple of more times as well.

[v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e]

Lestat/Armand + Moments that makes me feel Insane

If there had been a summons, I never heard it. If there was a greeting, I didn't sense it now. He was merely looking at me, a radiant creature in jewels and scalloped lace. And it was Cinderella revealed at the ball, this vision, Sleeping Beauty opening her eyes under a mesh of cobwebs and wiping them all away with one sweep of her warm hand. The sheer pitch of incarnate beauty made me gasp. Yes, perfect mortal raiment, and yet he seemed all the more supernatural, his face too dazzling, his dark eyes fathomless and just for a split second glinting as if they were windows to the fires of hell. And when his voice came it was low and almost teasing, forcing me to concentrate to hear it: All night you've been searching for me, he said, and here I am, waiting for you. I have been waiting for you all along. - The Vampire Lestat

He looked to Gabrielle, who stood near the fire, and then to me. And silently, he said, Love me. You have destroyed everything! But if you love me, it can all be restored in a new form. Love me. This silent entreaty had an eloquence, however, that I can't put into words. "What can I do to make you love me?" he whispered. "What can I give? The knowledge of all I have witnessed, the secrets of our powers, the mystery of what I am?" It seemed blasphemous to answer. And as I had on the battlements, I found myself on the edge of tears. For all the purity of his silent communications, his voice gave a lovely resonance to his sentiments when he actually spoke. - The Vampire Lestat

"It wasn't that I wanted vengeance," he whispered. His face was stricken, his heart broken. He said. "But you came to be healed, and you did not want me! A century I had waited, and you did not want me!" And I knew, as I had all along really, that my restoration was illusion, that I was the same skeleton in rags, of course. And the house was still a ruin. And in the preternatural being who held me was the power that could give me back the sky and the wind. "Love me and the blood is yours," he said. "This blood that I have never given to another." I felt his lips against my face. "I can't deceive you," I answered. "I can't love you. What are you to me that I should love you? A dead thing that hungers for the power and the passion of others? The embodiment of thirst itself?" [...] Yet memory plays its tricks. Maybe I imagined it, his last invitation, and the anguish after. The weeping. I do know that as the months passed he was out there again. I heard him from time to time just walking those old Garden District streets. And I wanted to call to him, to tell him that it was a lie I'd spoken to him, that I did love him. I did. - The Vampire Lestat

In a way, he made me think of a child doll, with brilliant faintly red-brown glass eyes—a doll that had been found in an attic. I wanted to polish him with kisses, clean him up, make him even more radiant than he was. “That’s what you always want,” he said softly. His voice shocked me. If he had any French or Italian accent left, I couldn’t hear it. His tone was melancholy and had no meanness in it at all. “When you found me under Les Innocents,” he said, “you wanted to bathe me with perfume and dress me in velvet with great embroidered sleeves.” “Yes,” I said, “and comb your hair, your beautiful russet hair.” My tone was angry. “You look good to me, you damnable little devil, good to embrace and good to love.” We eyed each other for a moment. And then he surprised me, rising and coming towards me just as I moved to take him in my arms. His gesture wasn’t tentative, but it was extremely gentle. I could have backed away. I didn’t. We held each other tight for a moment. The cold embracing the cold. The hard embracing the hard. - Memnoch

Lestat, not a bad friend to have, and one for whom I would lay down my immortal life, one for whose love and companionship I have ofttimes begged, one whom I find maddening and fascinating and intolerably annoying, one without whom I cannot exist. - The Vampire Armand

I wanted to take him in my arms. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him wherever he'd gone and whatever had taken place, he was now safe again with us, but nothing could quiet him. A deep exhaustion saved us all from the inevitable tale. We had to seek our dark corners away from the prying sun, we had to wait until the following night when he would come out to us and tell us what had happened. Still clutching the bundle, refusing all help, he closeted himself up with his wound. I had no choice but to leave him. As I sank down that morning into my own resting place, secure in clean modern darkness, I cried and cried like a child on account of the sight of him. Oh, why had I come to his aid? Why must I see him brought low like this when it had taken so many painful decades to cement my love for him forever? - The Vampire Armand

Two hundred years ago he stripped me of illusions, lies, excuses, and thrust me on the Paris pavements naked to find my way back to a glory in the starlight that I had once known and too painfully lost. But as we waited finally in the handsome high-rise apartment above St. Patrick's Cathedral, I had no idea how much more he could strip from me, and I hate him only because I cannot imagine my soul without him now, and, owing him all that I am and know, I can do nothing to make him wake from his frigid sleep. - The Vampire Armand

Of course I knew the very moment that he left this world. I felt it. I was in New York already, very near to him and aware that you were there as well. Neither of us meant to let him out of our sight if at all possible. Then came the moment when he vanished in the blizzard, when he was sucked out of the earthly atmosphere as if he'd never been there. Being his fledgling you couldn't hear the perfect silence that descended when he vanished. You couldn't know how completely he'd been withdrawn from all things minuscule yet material which had once echoed with the beating of his heart. - The Vampire Armand

“Armand,” I said. “Please.” I dropped down on my knees in front of him, looking up into his face. All the emotion he had held back was printed there now. He was in a rage. “Is your heart totally turned against me?” I asked. “Do you have no faith in what we seek to build here?” “Fool,” he said again. His voice was roughened now by emotion he couldn’t suppress. “I have always loved you,” he said. “I have loved you more than any being in all the world whom I’ve ever loved. I have loved you more than Louis. I have loved you more even than Marius. And you have never given me your love. I would be your most faithful counselor, if you allowed it. But you don’t. Your eyes pass over me as if I don’t exist. And so they always have.” - Blood Communion

“I love you still,” he said. “Yes, even now, I love you, as they all love you, your minions seeking just a smile or a nod or a quick touch of your hand. I love you like all those throughout this palace who are dreaming of drinking just a drop of your blood. Well, you can leave me now. I’m not going anywhere. Where is there to go? I’ll be here if you want me. And grant me my wish for the moment, you and your august friends. Go and leave me alone.” - Blood Communion

Armand suddenly began to weep. “Don’t do it, don’t trust him,” he said. “Lestat, he’ll just destroy you. And if you are gone—.” Ah, such sweet words from one who only hours ago had been cursing me with his every breath. - Blood Communion

The only thought in my mind, the only image, the only idea, was of Armand, and how Armand would feel when he too could hold Marius like this and know that Marius lived, that Marius had been restored, that all of them were safe and secure, and using my strongest power I sent the word to him. I sent the news. And I sent my love to Armand with it. - Blood Communion

[gallierhouse]

Some thoughts on Louis and Lestat’s reunion in New Orleans.

First, I don’t think it makes Lestat look better, nor does it redeem him. He still did literally everything he was accused of; he was just sad about it after, and we still see him mistreating a fledgling he presumably made for the sole purpose of being his personal DoorDasher. He mostly looks pathetic, which can be charming, but it’s still pathetic.

Second, I don’t think Louis is forgiving Lestat so much as he’s allowing himself to move on. He’s been punishing himself by keeping himself away from Lestat because he couldn’t forgive Lestat for his role in Claudia’s death. When he finds out that Armand orchestrated the trial, nothing about Lestat’s role in Claudia’s death truly changes. He was still at the trial, he still said all those things, he still failed to save Claudia. It’s just that Louis has someone else to blame instead. He loves Lestat, he always has. This is his out. This is him getting the freedom to love Lestat again without feeling guilty. This is him getting the freedom to see Lestat without betraying the memory of their daughter. This isn’t Louis forgiving Lestat, this is Louis pretending Lestat never did anything worth forgiving, and this is Louis finally allowing himself to let go of all the resentment and remember the love.

Third, when Louis thanks Lestat for the gift of vampirism, and when he tells Lestat it’s not his fault, and he comforts Lestat and whispers sweet nothings to him, it’s not him retroactively erasing the abuse or the pain or the arguments or the fights or any of that. It’s him finally being able to see their marriage from Lestat’s perspective. For the first time in a century he’s able to see that Lestat did so much out of love — and made mistakes out of the same love — and he’s able to be grateful for that, and to see their marriage from a new place. He’s able to see that his turning wasn’t just Lestat cursing him, or trying to isolate him from his family, or trying to have him for himself, it was also love. Something being love doesn’t negate it also being possession, or spite, or a million other things, but I think that scene is Louis being able to see the love in Lestat’s actions, along with the possessiveness, and the spite, and the resentment, and all the pain he’s told Daniel about in the span of two interviews. It doesn’t mean Lestat didn’t abuse him, it doesn’t mean Lestat was a good husband or a good father, all it means is that Louis is seeing everything in a new light, without the burden of having to blame Lestat for their daughter’s death. Is it accurate for him to exonerate Lestat from the role he played in Claudia’s death? That’s up to the audience. But it’s easy to understand why that would be such a relief for Louis.

Fourth, Louis is finally getting to grieve Claudia with the only other person in the world who loved her. Her father. Her maker. The man who bought her dolls and took her to the theatre and taught her to hunt. The only other person in the whole world who raised her, the only other person in the world who still loves her, the only other person in the world who could even begin to understand how much Louis loved her. Don’t you think that’s a relief? He’s been alone in his grief for so long. More than half a century of sitting alone with his grief, unable to even talk to anyone else about her, thinking that only other person who walks the Earth who remembers her as a daughter murdered her. If you lost a child, and you couldn’t save her, and you couldn’t bring her back, wouldn’t you want to remember her with the only other person who loved her the way you did? The only other person who would remember her as a daughter, and not as a killer, or an employee, or an interloper? Wouldn’t you want to grieve with the only person left who loves her? Even if he fucked up, even if he failed her, even if he failed both of you, he’s still the only person left who remembers her and who loves her. He’s the only person left you could mourn with. For the first time, Louis isn’t alone in his grief. Don’t you think that’s a relief that cuts through the resentment and the regret? There’s someone who understands his pain. There’s someone who remembers his daughter. There’s someone who misses his daughter. Their daughter. The daughter they made, the daughter they failed, the daughter they couldn’t save. Their daughter.

I think Louis’ actions make sense. Louis isn’t the audience surrogate, nor is he the measure of morality in the show. He’s just Louis. He finally gets to grieve his daughter with the only other person who still loves her. He finally gets to see the man he loved and still loves without having to blame him for killing her. Of course he’s emotional, of course he’s forgiving. He never really wanted to hate Lestat, but he had to for Claudia. Now he doesn’t have to anymore. It’s a relief. It’s forgiveness. It’s finally getting to mourn and move on.