LESTAT DE LIONCOURT FROM AMC'S INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE ... BY JACKKNIFE, EST. MAY 2024.
ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤRULES. ㅤ PROMPTS. ㅤPROMO. ㅤSIDEBLOG.

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@lechroniques
LESTAT DE LIONCOURT FROM AMC'S INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE ... BY JACKKNIFE, EST. MAY 2024.
ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤRULES. ㅤ PROMPTS. ㅤPROMO. ㅤSIDEBLOG.

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Also, just as an activity update, I am currently in the middle of finishing up my big projects and have some exams coming up but I am graduating in about two and a half weeks so expect some more consistent activity after June 18th!
She's here, she's real, and she is in my possession, serving cunt.
LAMOURSTRE : ( one. love is a monster. )
two. all that matters is you want to hurt me. all that matters is that you want me. say the word , and I’ll burn for ten days. ―
INDEPENDENT, SELECTIVE & MUTUALLY PRIVATE PORTRAYAL OF : the vampire armand based primarily in amc's interview with the vampire ( 2022 - 2026 onward ) show verse with flavor while retaining themes from the vampire chronicles ( devil's minion, the vampire armand ) interviewed by : pamola. credit / PSD credit. carrd. please peruse rules / carrd before interacting.
We have to duet on this track. For the single. Can you manage that?
VELVET AND VINYL, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING LESTAT DE LIONCOURT & JULIAN DEVEREAUX.
𝓛estat didn’t always play well with others. Quite notoriously so, as if it were a compulsion, he seemed to revolt against every command, rule, or mere suggestion he’d ever been given. A true rebel at heart, he’d heard … though, typically, this resulted in him being a pain in the ass to work with. His own bandmates thought it a complete miracle that he’d even bothered to show up to this session — their frustration evident, though they dare not voice it out of fear of whatever rage simmered and lurked beneath the surface of the vampire’s skin.
When he had so sloppily waltzed into the room, decked out in the finest silks and leather that money could buy, lips soaked in the aftermath of a feeding frenzy, Lestat appeared to be a man on the edge. Drunken from the blood, disorderly, mere moments away from a crash out and held together by only the most threadbare of seams. Thick framed sunglasses sat perched on the bridge of his nose, obscuring half of his vibrant blue eyes. Everything in his demeanor screamed chaotic boredom — like a madman fixing for some kind of stimulus, something to soak up the dullness of eternity.
❛ Oh, can I manage that? Can I manage that? ❜ The words carry their own level of bite behind them, making a vibrant mockery of the question at hand. ❛ Why don’t you ask the multiple platinum records with my name on them if I can manage that? Or maybe! We just get this over with before the end of this century, please. ❜

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There are a lot of scenes from The Vampire Lestat that I hope transfer over into the new season, but this one is definitely up there for me.
There's something so fucking terrifying and heartbreaking about stumbling into a cell filled with rotting corpses who look exactly like you and you realize how many people had to fucking die a slow, painful death for you to come into this "gift" you still aren't quite sure you want because you don't understand it and there is no one to explain any of it because you've been abandoned time and time again and the whole ordeal just reinforces how completely and utterly alone you are in this world.
There's just something about this scene that I feel reveals so much about Lestat's past and definitely has shaped him in irreparable ways, for better or worse.
(flirting) I wanna haunt your narrative
#Humanstat
𝗤: WHAT TRAGIC LOVE STORY ARE YOU ? | | | [ THE ANSWER IS ... ] LOUIS & LESTAT.
You crave love that consumes you, even when it leaves scars. You're torn between gentleness and chaos, always drawn back into what hurts because the thought of loneliness feels worse. You're magnetic, haunted, and impossible to resist, living in a cycle of obsession and devotion. Even when it destroys you, you stay because some loves are too intoxicating to ever let go.
Thank you, @hoodred, for tagging me! Just for funsies, I am tagging ... @lamourstre @venompyr @okoden @umbrafiel @undeyth and @bledsaint.
( protect ) : for SENDER to shield RECEIVER from another vampire.
VAMPIRE PROMPTS, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING LESTAT DE LIONCOURT & THE VAMPIRE ARMAND.
𝓘t was always the ignorance and arrogance of the youth that got them into trouble. The young vampires, clad in black and indescribable beauty, feeling the surge of immense power for the very first time. Busy forming fang gangs and feeling as if they were on top of the world where nothing could touch them. It was hardly anything compared to that of the ancients … the ones who had walked this plane of existence for quite some time, built up brick by brick by those who wielded true power. The blood of Akasha that flowed through his veins would tear any one of them to shreds, driven ᴹᴬᴰ by the flame - like ichor that trickled beneath his skin. Unaware of who, or what, stood in front of them, these pathetic excuses for fledglings had still tried it … oh, how much they had to learn about this new world!
Mere fractions of a second passed before Armand wedged himself between, acting as a shield. He appeared as something fierce and wild in that moment, on full display before this crowd of the ᵁᴺᴰᴱᴬᴰ despite Lestat’s ability to defend himself. Who this spectacle of raw force and horror was really for, he couldn’t tell. But surely, if he had a heart, it might have skipped a beat at the mere sight. There was something breathtaking about watching the facade crumble, to see the beast that lurked beneath the surface … and right now, it was all for him. That sinister, dreadful little part of him that craved disorder took over as his hand curled around Armand’s bicep and he uttered those two little words of encouragement.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Do it.”

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i only drink enough to keep my hands steady.
VAMPIRE PROMPTS, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING LESTAT DE LIONCOURT & BIANCA SOLDERINI.
𝓣he pleasure of the feast, the pain of starvation, and everything in between … he had known others who denied themselves the sheer hedonistic bliss of the hunt; of human blood, even. Those who would rather restrict themselves than bear witness to the darker parts of their true nature. It infuriated him. Immortal creatures capable of so much, and yet so many seemed content to wither away into nothingness. Why should they not take indiscriminately, as God did? Why should he be anything other than exactly what he was? If she wanted to deprive herself, to stoop to such low levels, to cave in to a moral code that didn’t apply to them, these creatures of the night … so be it.
“Mm. How sad.” Lestat speaks plainly and monotonously, bored gaze obscured behind thick rimmed sunglasses. The pointed end of his glass-like talon is wedged between the ridges of his teeth, where he picks out a small chunk of flesh — fresh blood dripped down his chin, soaking the leather and gossamer of his outfit. He almost felt drunk off of it, the bodies piled high around him after a post-concert frenzy.
“Let me guess, was it Armand who told you that you had to be such a puritan, or did you come up with that all on your own?”
licks his cheek
Licks his entire face. Happy birthday.
"We fought it out in the middle region of the air"
Tony Johannot (1803–1852), Devils Fighting
illustration from Alain-René Lesage's "Le diable boiteux", 1840
forgive me father for i have sinned in all the most intricate, exquisite and aesthetically pleasing ways i was capable of
ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ╱ @lechroniques said : do you trust me, or are you just out of options?
HE SIMPLY STARES FOR A MOMENT. like he's weighing the words. shadows shift at his feet; subtle & restless. a quiet exhale through his nose comes. ❝ trust? ❞ he repeats, low, almost amused. but there is no warmth to it. ❝ that's a generous word to put in my mouth. ❞ dark gaze lifts, steady, settling on the other with a kind of calm that feels measured & earned.
❝ I'VE KNOWN PEOPLE LIKE YOU MY WHOLE LIFE. ❞ words continue, voice even. ❝ i know what you do when you're bored. when you're curious. when you decide something might be interesting. ❞ his sire was much the same. a faint tilt of his head, gaze studying the other . . . not impressed. ❝ and i know men like you don't ask for trust. you just take it. ❞ a slight shift in his stance, weight settling like a blade finding its balance. ❝ so, no. i don't trust you. ❞ words are plain. a beat passes before the corner of his mouth pulls. not quite a smile, something drier. ❝ call it necessity, if it makes you feel better. i call it simply choosing the devil i can see. ❞
𝓞h, if only he knew … if only he knew how much he had given, and how much he had lost because of it. How much had been ᵀᴬᴷᴱᴺ from him, as if even the smallest comforts were things he could never afford. But if it was a villain Elías wanted, it was a villain he would get. Lestat knew how to play this role … how to convincingly placate to whatever version of himself suited others best. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last. To be loved is to be seen, is what they said, wasn't it? He supposed that in this sense, he’d never truly been loved — only idealized, in whatever shape suited their narrative of the ᵁᴺᴿᴱᴸᴵᴬᴮᴸᴱ narrator. Lies built the masquerade; it set the stage, and oh, what an actor he was! The devil would be his stock character, rich with improvisation, standing in for whoever it was Elías truly despised — it was a far cry from Lélio, the always merry lover he’d played in his younger days, but it would simply have to do. After all, it was better than being alone.
It was then that the giggles began to bubble in his chest, the corners of his lips twitching with every accusation ᵀᴴᴿᴼᵂᴺ until it could no longer be contained. Lestat was nearly bursting at the seams up until the smile flooded his face, laughter that was hearty and just plain mean following suit. It takes mere moments for the vampire to pull himself together, dabbing the corner of his eye in an ᴬᵀᵀᴱᴹᴾᵀ to stifle his own amusement.
“Oh, really? Please, tell me something else about myself — I’m dying to know.” Lestat says with an exaggerated gesticulation, almost begging the other to keep the slings and arrows of outrageous allegation coming.
“And while you’re at it with this entertaining little monologue of yours, make sure to keep it interesting — otherwise you’ll find out what really happens when I’m bored.”

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the crisp night breeze ruffles some of julian's dark curls, heavy boots stepping onto fallen leaves. wings cloaked for the time being, he exhales a small plume of smoke and flicks the ash from his cigarette as they walk, rolling his eyes at @lechroniques's question. an immediate response is on the tip of his tongue, smirk preceding his quick wit.
❝ oh, you mean other than you? ❞
𝓗e wonders in that moment what God would have to say about this rendezvous ... one of his precious guardian angels taking a midnight stroll through outer Paris with an absolute devil — a devil endowed with a dark gift that defied every ᴺᴬᵀᵁᴿᴬᴸ law, all that was good and moral. The thought amused him more than anything else … maybe now, God could begin to understand even just a fraction of the betrayal and ᵀᴼᴿᴹᴱᴺᵀ he experienced in the time he’d been plagued with sifting through Earth’s savage garden.
The light of the moon streaks delicately through the trees, highlighting the curls of smoke that fall between both their lips. The clouded ᴾᴸᵁᴹᴱ thickens as Lestat huffs out something akin to soft laughter. Though he might have been the apex predator of every room he walked into, he was most certainly not the only evil beast that prowled through shadows in the dead of night.
“Well, I don’t live here anymore,” Lestat teases lightly as the green, lush lungs that encapsulated the edges of Paris engulfed them entirely. “But it wasn’t far from here that I had buried myself in the dirt for nearly a century.”
He wondered if one could qualify that as living ... hiding from the world, because he simply couldn't bear the complete and utter despair that had nearly ripped his unbeating heart from his chest. It was about half a step away from being well and truly dead.
i don't turn people lightly.
VAMPIRE PROMPTS, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING LESTAT DE LIONCOURT & THE VAMPIRE ARMAND.
𝓣he specter of despair is the engine of intimacy. There was no love without the fear of loss, the anticipation of grief haunting the very halls in which he had tried to build a home. The search for an ᴱᵀᴱᴿᴺᴬᴸ companion had, time and time again, proven to be as fruitless as a barren tree with its gnarled, rotten roots. The burden of loneliness was his to bear once more — the true mark of the Dark Gift. To have loved and lost was the vampire’s real curse, death and monstrous decay be damned. The ache within him ebbed and flowed like a wild coursing river, stronger now than it had ever been. Armand prodded his ᵂᴼᵁᴺᴰ like a vulture shredding the skin of its prey … with all the precision and intimacy of someone who had known him for far too long. It only stoked the fires that burned within Lestat, remnants of his father’s temper flaring at the blatant sting of disrespect.
They never satisfy you, the ones you make. In silence the estrangement and the resentment only grow. The words from oh, so many years ago rang in his head. He’d never admit that maybe Armand had been ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ all along … about this, and a startling litany of other half-truths uttered like prayers in the quiet dark.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“And that’s why you’ll always be alone, isn’t it?”