𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹

𝙩𝙝𝙚 Cuntessa roleplay blog

[eladead]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤOH, WHAT A TRIP THIS IS!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLESTAT DE LIONCOURT

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCARRD || RULES || VERSES

ㅤㅤㅤTHIS BLOG IS NOT SPOILER FREE- CHECK CONTENT WARNING HERE!

[plotbunnie]

Nonverbal RP Starters

I’m finding it difficult to find memes for nonverbal characters ( be they mute, or just not fond of talking ) so I thought I’d make a few!

Neutral

☝️ Tap my muse on the shoulder

👉 Point to something for my muse to see

🤙 Bump into my muse

😊 Sit down next to my muse

🤨 Sit down across from my muse

📓 Push/Slide [an object] across a table to my muse

✍️ Pass my muse a note

🙄 Roll their eyes at my muse

🚪 Tap on a table/door/wall/chair to get my muse’s attention without speaking

Aggressive

🐺 Growl at my muse

😬 Snarl/show teeth at my muse

😠 Death Glare at my muse

🙌 Push/Shove my muse

👊 Punch my muse

👖 Kick my muse in the shin

👠 Stomp on my muse’s foot

😵 Knee my muse in the gut

💀 Knee my muse in the groin

🔪 Point a weapon at my muse

🖕 Flip my muse the bird/a similar gesture

👔 Roughly pull my muse down by the collar

💢 Bang on a door/wall/table to get my muse’s attention- angrily

Angst

👩‍⚕️ Put pressure on my muse’s wound

🌡 Push my muse down to give them medical attention

🥣 Bring my muse soup/medicine when they are sick

🤢 Hold my muse’s hair back/Rub my muse’s back while they are sick/throwing up

👐 Hold my muse when they are badly wounded/dying

👁 Wake my muse up during a nightmare

🐱 Hold my muse after a nightmare

😭 Hold my muse when they are crying

😢Touch my muse’s shoulder while they are crying in secret

💧 Wipe away my muse’s tears

💥 Try to calm my muse during an overwhelming emotional moment

⛈ Find my muse after some kind of trauma

Soft

👕 Tug on my muse’s sleeve/shirt/skirt

🐈 Lean against my muse’s side

🤝 Hold my muse’s hand

🤗 Pull my muse into a hug

🐕 Rest their head on my muse’s shoulder/knee

🐶 Nuzzle my muse with their nose [specify a location]

✋ Touch the back of my muse’s hand

🤝 Reach for my muse’s hand to hold it

👗 Fix/Straighten my muse’s clothes

😴 Stand by the bed to see if my muse will let you under the covers with them

🛌 Crawl under the covers with my muse

🥪 Set a plate/tray/bowl of food down for my muse

😚 Kiss my muse on the cheek

Playful

🌸 Put a flower in my muse’s hair

✨ Playfully shove my muse’s shoulder

💃 Pull my muse onto a dance floor/up to dance

🤞 Come up beside them and tap the shoulder opposite where they’re standing

😈 Jump out of the shadows to scare/startle my muse

😛 Stick their tongue out at my muse

😱 Make a silly face at my muse

🤭 Tickle my muse

👃 Poke my muse’s nose

💪 Pick my muse up

Sensual/Sexual

💘 Pull my muse in for a rough kiss

💕 Pull my muse in for a tender kiss

💞 Pull my muse in for a messy/desperate kiss

💖 Lean in to give my muse a sweet/chaste kiss

❤️ Lean in to give my muse a tender kiss

🔥 Pull my muse down by the collar/by their clothes - in a sexy way

😉 Pull my muse in by the hips

😲 Smack my muse’s butt

💋 Kiss my muse’s neck

👌 Push my muse down and give them a massage

👙 Pull [an article of clothing] off my muse

👀 Push my muse down on the bed

👄 Pull my muse onto the bed

[ploytofino]

🍊P L O Y T O F I N O _______________________________ private & highly-selective original character ❝GALLOWS❞, Onofrio Tosto. A consigliere to the Giovino Family, located in Portofino, Italy.

_______________CARRD; dead dove; triggering content; MDNI______________

IN PORTOFINO, THE MAFIA EXPLORES: UNYIELDING LOYALTY, UNCONDITIONAL SACRIFICE, BLOODIED LOGIC, MOTHER'S FORGOTTEN LOVE, FATHER'S DROWNING SHADOW, JOYOUS DIVORCE, AND BLACK CHAMPAGNE!

[yoursdndispatcher]

@eladead asked:

"No, no. Hold on." Lestat lifts his hand to stop his counterpart from talking. He snickers, plucking his cigarette from his lips to hear the other better. "What did you say your job was? I think I misheard." 😌💅

❝I'm.... a dispatcher?❞ Robert answers haltingly. That's not the whole truth, of course, but he does not want ANY follow up questions about his job. In fact, the last thing he wants to do for the foreseeable future is to engage in any conversation even remotely connected to work. Is it too much to ask to wind down over some scarily pricey drinks and turn his usually overactive brain off for just a night? This guy looks like a fucking prince... that much he knows. His brain might be mush, but his eyes .... and other parts of him are working JUST FINE. Like his.... ears, for one. He hears the snicker in the man's voice. He hears the faint mockery, and it makes him indignant.

❝Did I say something funny?❞

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: Lestat makes a point to lift his eyebrows when the dispatcher repeats it. No, but of course, that's exactly what the job is. Nothing more to a mortal being running around all day. To a vampire? There are layered assumptions based on the thoughts he is able to drag out of every patron currently populating the bar. It's his favorite activity between feeding and concerts. Well, there is more than that. There are the parties, the drugs, the random strangers sitting in his lap, more parties, another OD incident (for him), and the deal with other vampires suddenly pretending they can hunt down him. HIM! In a refuge of a bar that has some measured notoriety, Lestat feels out of place, and he likes it that way. Blending in is for a losers like-

"You want to be a comedian?" Lestat retorts playfully as he prickles his fingers and secretly sticks his fingers in his cosmopolitan when he lifts it to his lips. The blood swirling within masks his aversion to the human alcohol. He likes red wine, it is the only thing a vampire can stomach. Alas, he has to deal with this to find his next target. He eyes his counterpart and chases the sugary drink with another puff of his cigarette. "Like what you see?" He cants his head back, holding the mortal's eyes. "I don't think it's that kind of a bar, cher." The vampire teases, grinning as he turns to face outward with a spin in his chair, resting his arm on the bar counter while cradling his drink in another.

[poxsonmenace]

Jim hissed sharply as Lestat’s fangs found his shoulder, the fresh bite driving through the fading ache left at his throat. The hand that was no longer pinned above his head found Lestat’s nape, nails leaving behind crescent moons in flesh as he fought for purchase. The one that worked over Lestat’s cock tensing around the sensitive tip, stalling there as INTOXICATING agony momentarily consumed him.

His jaw tightened as sharp claws traced across his thigh, leaving narrow lines that burned in their wake. His muscles reacted instinctively, his leg tensing beneath the sting before relaxing just enough to invite the next exchange. Hips HUNGRILY driving upwards into the grinds that pinned him harder against the ground.

Jim was already a mess, and they had scarcely begun. Blood painted untidy streaks across pale skin, the remains of an immaculate suit torn off his body without mercy. His breathing had lost its measured cadence somewhere along the way, his heart HAMMERING in his chest in a way he knew would be a temptation for the vampire.

Yet despite that, despite his burning ache for more and the way his pupils bloomed wide when his digits were salaciously sucked on, he wasn’t one to give into a demand so easily. Particularly when it was his own submission that what was being demanded, a role he very rarely played in the bedroom, though could play it SPECTACULARLY if he wanted to. No. If Lestat wanted him to submit, he would have to earn it.

Jim purred as his hand was pushed between them both, allowing his thighs to part so Lestat to nestle closer against him, erection resting against erection, fingers dancing about his unprepped hole. Giving the illusion that he was going to do as he was told, before he RIPPED that illusion away a few seconds later. In one swift movement, he hooked his legs around the vampire’s waist as leverage. His spare hand buried itself back into that blonde mane, fingers closing firmly around strands as he wrenched hard enough to throw Lestat’s balance off.

They rolled across the stained rug in a tangle of limbs, and Jim wasted no time capitalising on the opening by straddling him, the hand that guided his own now cinched tight at the wrist and shoved beside Lestat’s head, held against the ground. The other no longer fondling his cock but wrapped tightly around that BEAUTIFULLY contoured throat, squeezing hard enough to put pressure on the windpipe.

❝Oh darling, did you really think I’d submit to you that easily?❞ He purred against BLOODSTAINED lips, rutting his hips forward in a slow tormenting grind to let their erections caress. ❝If you want me to play your whore, you'll have to earn it.❞

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: he should have known, and maybe he does, but somewhere in his frenzy, he makes the decision to keep this back and forth without prying in Jim's mind. It would make things borin, especially now that they are reduced to a collective breath that tenses their muscles with each brush and thrust. Lestat grins at the hand that slips between them, and suddenly the sight of his apartment is a collapsing circle. He gasps as Moriarty changes the course, shoving the vampire down and over to his side until he is back where the started: on his back. His heart beats in identical rhythm with the mortal's, after having a few greedy drags from his flesh. The gasp of air matches a drawn breath, and Lestat digs his heels against the carpet to keep with the brat climbing into his lap. His mouth is stretched into a dirty grin as he softly whispers Fuck.

Of course Jim isn't going to make it easy, even if for a moment, it seemed that way. It wouldn't be a proper interaction between them. Lestat's head rolls as the sore spot on his scalp pulses pleasantly from the assault. His hips answer the weight immediately, driving up to rut against the mortal. A drawn sigh from his throat is crushed by a human hand that squeezes at him. For a moment, a fire of warning sparks in Lestat's eyes, but just as easily, he lets the pyre deflate and twist back into a carnal desire. A vampire draws in a breath through the compromised windpipe to force out a wheeze bloomed into laughter. He is enticed by the game and readily welcomes in.

"No, but one can imagine." Lestat's remaining hand reaches for Moriarty's waist as he turns his head to the hovering face. Poking out his bloodied tongue, the vampire licks Moriarty's lips, curling the tip just under his top lip. He strains his seized neck a little, using his shoulders to dip forward and drawn Jim into another kiss. The hand exploring the mortal's waist draws up to the hand on his throat, capturing the wrist to forcefully pry the hand away. The left bruising dents will heal come morning, for now serving as evidence of accessorized violence. The relinquished hand is moved up to the one currently holding the rockstar's arm down. He collides their palms, threading their fingers at a somewhat awkward angle. His pinned hand squeezes to keep Moriarty in a lock, both voluntary and vampire-guided.

"I think I've earned it enough, baby. Issue is," the man whispers, leaving three limbs tangled over his head while freeing the overworked hand to slither between their stomachs. "I won't mind being here all night if it means you'll get to suffer in anticipation. Which," he palms their shafts together, pumping up against the tactful movement of their hips. "Seems to be a common goal." The vampire sighs against Jim's chin, nuzzling it. "Did you feel it?" He mutters. "When you held my throat. Did you feel our hearts as one?" A tongue drags over the drying blood, teeth nipping against a looming jawline. "I hope it haunts you." He whispers, squeezing them in his hand with a throaty grunt.

[eladead]

// good morning my sweet cherries 🍒 (and bitter ones too, cmon, you know I love you most)

[poxsonmenace]

Even now, with ADRENALINE flooding his veins and excitement clouding his senses, Jim remained observant. He noticed the way Lestat’s lip curled into a feral sneer the instant his hair was seized and his head forced back at an unforgiving angle. He caught the flash of sharpened fangs, the defiant glint in impossible blue eyes that refused to concede even an inch.

More telling still was the sound that escaped him when his teeth clamped hard upon his flesh, a low drawn out groan that seemed born as much from the clash itself as from the pain it inflicted. It confirmed what Jim had already begun to suspect over countless encounters; that Lestat didn’t merely endure pain, he WELCOMED it. Much like he did. It was only a shame he couldn’t tear into flesh like a vampire could. Oh the damage he could do.

It was as he unhinged his jaw to view the mark he made that the blade managed to slice cleanly through fabric, releasing tension that surrounded Lestat’s groin, even more excitement blooming in his gut as he felt the blade hit skin. Before he could shred the hem to pieces though, his arm was yanked out from between them and pinned above his head in one swift motion, causing a grunt to catch in his throat and his arm to flex slightly, testing the hold. ❝Put it on the tab.❞ He purred against his lips, trying to seize the lower one in a HARSH bite when a kiss was stolen from him, only it ended too quickly.

When his own trousers were sliced at, his thighs squeezed against the hips they bracketed. Under any other circumstances, the destruction of his clothing would have earned a spectacular OUTBURST. Jim’s wardrobe was curated with obsessive precision, and anyone reckless enough to ruin it would have regretted the decision almost instantly. But then, he’d already returned the favour, and with his cock already shamelessly hard, the lessened tension was a relief more than anything.

The blood that decorated his face in little droplets had him growling as he keened his head back, extending his ruined tongue to catch a few strays, tasting Lestat’s life force like a HUNGERED thing, only to receive it in abundance when kissed. His tongue collided with Lestat’s own, a shiver drawing up his spine as tastes mingled in his mouth, his cock twitching with interest between them.

❝Mm’n.. wouldn’t that be something. Me as your fledgling, bound by blood, a permanent thorn in your side,❞ he chuckled breathily, finally releasing that blonde mane to caress his body all the way from his nape to his hip. He cast a glance to the side when he heard the blade drop, about to huff at how far away it had been placed when fangs found his throat. He let out a strangled WHINE as teeth tore flesh, his back arching, his lids fluttering, his free hand scrambling to find a poignant place of purchase, which happened to be Lestat’s own cock. He squeezed it at the base, hard enough to make hips jolt, before dragging his hand all the way to the tip.

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: Lestat's devouring presence leaves Moriarty a target of every touch. Their hips grinds in tandem underneath vampire's autopilot while he is busied with the mortal's mouth. He laughs through the bloodied kiss, lifting his head to strech a bridge of bloodied saliva between them. A grotesque undertaking, only underlined by both men being deeply aroused by their uncanny behavior with one another. A sick mind seeks wickedness of its likeness. The two really found each other, or rather, found each other by orchestrated curiosity deeply ingrained in one man's fantasy. Lestat drags his tongue over Jim's cheek, nuzzling it when a particular roll of his hips inspires a pleasant warm jolt in his abdomen. His mind begins to sink into satisfactory fog, both intoxicated by blood and a carnal want. He sighs, shaking his head.

"It would be utterly awful to see you for eternity." Perhaps honest, perhaps playful, the rest of the vampire's body speaks for itself. The squeeze around his hips is rewarded by a claw sinking against exposed meat. The singer draws fine lines against Moriarty's thigh, further marking his counterpart for the days to come. To imagine such a painting stuck behind a perfect pinstripe. It rips a grunt from him as he further sinks against the man caged underneath him. To drink him in whole, the vampire doesn't spare a single bite. After he is done with Moriarty's neck, it is his shoulder Lestat assaults with bloodied fangs. The immortal's hips buck into the hand that strokes him, seeking the anticipated warmth. He groans through his bite, taking another mouthful to coat his throat with. Eventually, he has to leave the mortal to recover without ending the night early by paralyzing him entirely. It wouldn't be fun to cockblock both of them this way, although, Lestat minutely considers it with a bloody smile as he finally abandons Jim's flesh.

The singer glances at the hand working his shaft, and his breath stutters from the sight. He presses his hips down to align himself with his counterpart's cock. The vampire bucks against the target with practiced ease, sighing against the mortal's collarbone before nuzzling his neck again. He finds Moriarty's earlobe to capture between his lips, shortly before his voice pours outward. "You're going to do my a favor, alright?" Lestat whispers as his hands cup Moriarty's thighs, aiming to pry them apart and release the rockstar's hips. Blindly, he tears through the last remaining fabric with his sharp nails, first Jim's, then his own. The rags, once pants and undergarments, are tossed aside to serve as fuel of a makeshift fire, now leaving the pair sufficiently nude. Some layers still cling pathetically to their bodies, but Lestat delays the clean up. It's better this one, paints a disheveled picture of a ferocious passion.

Returning into Moriarty's embrace, Lestat plucks Jim's hand he assesses as the dominant one, lifting it to his face. There, the vampire plunges the mortal's fingers inside his mouth, coating it with shared blood and saliva while maintaining eye contact. He raises his eyebrows briefly and guides the man's hand between them. "Stretch yourself for me, darling?" Lestat smiles, showing off his other hand's crimes. "I don't want to hurt you. Not there." He leans in to press a gentler kiss against the corner of Jim's mouth, encouraging him to insert his fingers with a firm hand.

"I want to watch." The vampire confesses, lifting his head to gain proper distance for a greedy observation. He shoves his dirtied hair over his shoulders and tucks some loose strands behind his ears. One hand guides Moriarty's thighs apart while the other cups his knuckles in case he needs to seize any retreat.

[kxllerblond]

❝ I'm not angry. I'm frustrated. ❞ But he was rising regardless to make the short move to join Lestat over on his side. ❝ I hate to sound so... ugh, cliché-— but people die when I'm angry. I don't care about things when I'm angry. My anger doesn't... it's quiet, Lestat. I'm frustrated. I care. About you and the danger surrounding you and even your little bandmates. So I'm loud and I'm frustrated because caring means fixing a problem in a way that isn't just splattering it all on the wall and moving on. ❞

He let his head lean back, rubbed at his eyes with his finger and thumb. Clark exhaled a long and tired sigh. His tone had leveled again, his volume dipping to its usual smooth and dull cadence.

❝ You drag me to war. Every conversation. And I know-— it's just you. It's a part of you and I do my best to accept it and love it like the rest of you because god knows I am not a walk in the park myself. But, Lestat, I'm tired. I can't be on the defensive with you all the time. I don't want to have to brace myself or prepare for damage mitigation whenever we have a conversation that dips beneath the surface. Hell, sometimes even those turn into firebombs. I can't keep circling in this cycle with you and pretending I don't see it for what it is. I'm not built like that. ❞

The cambion did not look at or reach for the vampire. He merely leaned his head against his shoulder. ❝ I am not cool and collected. I am just as fragile as you, Lestat. You project outward, I withdraw inward. That's all. ❞

Clark reached for a hand and pulled it to rest on his leg in his own.

❝ I weather most of it, Lestat. Gladly, most days. But it wears me down to be... ❞ He made a vague gesture with his free hand, shrugged a shoulder.

❝ You carry anger and hurt brought on by others and fling it at me all the same and maybe it's selfish but I don't-— enjoy that. I don't enjoy to be indirectly likened to them, made to be their placeholders for your emotions. I don't enjoy that loss of individuality. Be angry at me for me, not because I happened to be in the same room with you after so and so said such and such. And then I'm still expected to comfort you through it. And I want to comfort you, of course. But-— ❞

He flicked both brows upward and took in a sharp inhale and by the exhale, he was through with it. That was enough of that, wasn't it? God, he might as well have been sobbing into Lestat's chest and whining about how unfair it all was. What was ever fair about an immortal life? Truly.

❝ But never mind. I apologize for raising my voice. Can we please try and troubleshoot what went wrong so it doesn't happen again? So something worse doesn't happen? ❞

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: the cushion sinks next to him and the vampire straightens to meet his beloved nearby. He is angry. Lestat's fury is a total opposite. It is loud, it is dramatic, and it can get as cruel as to isolate every bit of love offered to him. He is impossible to love when the ugliness of his inner insecurity bubbles to the top. The vampire says things that hurt in purpose, and regrets them later with gifts and kisses. Sometimes, it is easier to be abandoned then cared for, and this has been explored between the two immortals extensively. Thankfully, the Louis chapter is behind them. Now? The end of the world.

Lestat is a war. And all those whom defended, eventually died, or fought back enough to see themselves a warring enemy. Clark is on a cusp of something greater, like a tall wave that rises above the cosmos itself, ready to rush and swallow the vampire to repay all of his exhausting debts. And amid this irritating spat, the immortal thinks that Clark's peace is indifference. It is somewhat natural for Lestat to lead with such negative repose. And yet, after a climax of an argument, he is shut down harshly by a man in charge of most of his band's slinking victories. The PR, the secrets, and additional protection from vampires invading them each night. Clark is beyond exhausted, of course. The Vampire Lestat is not just an enigma to be handled by his band mates. They already have his attitude on stage. Clark has to brawl with both the rockstar and a wounded actor hiding underneath.

Lestat's glare slowly melts into an equally exhausted gape. He blinks slowly, and sometimes rapidly to regain himself. The heaving chest relaxes, rising softly. The head against his shoulder is heavier than the world itself and Lestat rolls his lips under his teeth before biting down on the lower half. He stares at Clark's knees and remains deadly quiet. Slowly, an invitation feels like the curve of Clark's thigh. A warm limb just in reach for a cold palm. A gentle gesture, filled with a minute surrender. Lestat's breath stutters and he presses his cheek atop of the cambion's temple. He is forgetting their romance. And this is cruel.

The rockstar's thumb slowly strokes Clark's thigh over his pantleg. When the manager switches the topic, it falls on deaf ears. Lestat knows it, and what he hears is an ugly reflection of the damage he has done. The phantoms are angry at him too, and he has no one to talk to it about. Instead of speeches, he offers fists and curses upon the only person who has not a single fucking clue about who any of these people are. Lestat chuckles at that. An empty, somber snicker.

He lets silence settle between them before his lips turn inward slowly to press a gentle kiss against the top of Clark's head. The singer holds his lips there for a while, feeling a pulse drumming gently at his temple. His hand squeezes Clark's thigh and moves the leg closer to the rockstar. He scoops inward to lift the limb and drape it over his lap, now hooked under the knee. His opposite warm, closest to the cambion, wraps around the cambion's lower back, pulling him closer against the vampire. "I am sorry." Lestat whispers with a pinched voice. He is teary eyed for both of them. He dips his head to kiss the other man's forehead, reaching up with his arms from his back to his short hair. "I am sorry, my heart. I've been unkind to you." Lestat continues to speak gently.

"You've done more for me than I've done for myself. And I have punished you for what others have done to me. You are right." Decades ago, such a pride would hush the vampire. But now, he is as broken as can be. Easily irritated by anything that doesn't go his way. The unfairness caught up with him and he is left a Failure.

"Violence is not our love." A confession whispered against Clark's short tresses as the vampire nuzzles the top of his head. "It is the only love I am used to, but refuse to move on from. I am sorry, I don't want to fight like this." He is honest despite his prior actions. His arms squeeze where he can wrap, seeking to fuse with his beloved so that he wouldn't have to deal with himself. "You are my better half. You are what is good in me." Lestat sighs, stroking the cambion's back. "Forgive me, I've shouted." He pauses to imbibe the scent of his counterpart. An aroma of home amid the clinging chaos. "I don't want to talk about the Kansas mistakes. I just want to hold you."

[cainevesson]

“why were they touching you?”

Lestat arrived just in time to witness Cain saying goodbye to the Winchesters. It's unusual for them to meet at a bar, but happens. A friendly pat on the shoulder from Sam must've stirred something in the vampire, however ridiculous that seems. The demon's attention shifts to Lestat as the other two exit, now to find himself subjected to a question sufficient in etching a frown across his face. Before it dissolves with a huffed counterquestion:

"Why do you care?" Cain returns to his seat, if only to finish his pint of beer sans rush— reclines in the chair and gestures toward both across from him. Whichever the vampire prefers he shall claim. "I'm surprised that you came..." Then his eyes dart toward the old clock hanging behind the counter. "An hour late." Unless the clock is broken.

JEALOUSY MEME // @eladead

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: and there really isn't much there. It is just a friendly touch. A familiarity that Lestat is foreign to, often times. A hug in his career is a secret conversation, with strings attached and many more to come much later. He reads Sam's mind, or rather the feeling of the farewell, and is stared down by his brother, who is quite a sight of sore eyes. Lifting his chin, Lestat defiantly waits for the two mortal men to depart, ensuring that they are aware that Cain is quite busy with another guest. Then, in privacy with the demon, Lestat is confronted to ponder. Why is it that it made him somewhat uneasy? A pang of jealousy twists his stomach, and before the rockstar lets his sensibility (ah-hah, sure) catch up, the blunt emotion strikes.

"Ah, nothing!" He shrugs, with widened azurites for eyes and a shimmy of his shoulders. Dismissive. Insulted, even. "You don't touch me like that." He says off-handedly. "I guess, you think I might pounce on you upon a farewell?" Immediate pivot for tease that will save his face. He leaves his shoes at the door, a staple of his desire to stay. He sits directly in front of the demon, looking up at the tick-tocking snitch. Lestat squints and grimaces, glancing back to his counterpart.

"I was busy. Giving hugs to everybody, you know? Twice the crowd." He crosses his arms, reclining to stare at the ceiling. "I don't care, really. Not at all." The vampire stretches his arms up. "Just didn't take you for a hug guy." He grins.

[limitedseries]

The Vampire Lestat— "The Failures" (1.07)

[earthslastchance]

His breath catches at the pressure of lips upon his neck, hands rising up to grab Lestat's clothes when the vampire bites. Everything in him was screaming to push him away, to try to save his life, but Ryland KNEW that if Lestat wanted to kill him, he could've a thousand times over. His fingers clench tighter on the vampire's clothing, feeling the rush of blood from his neck flood into Lestat's mouth. He briefly wondered how fast the vampire could heal him, whether he'd have blood on his clothes. His hands clench and unclench with his racing heartbeat and then DESPITE himself, he moans. "Lestat." He whispers.

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: an imposing delicious nectar of life. How does it not madden a vampire? He could be jealous over the drumming heart that meets him with tense shoulders. He feels the reluctance, a sudden prickle of adrenaline. He is close to play a role of an undead executioner with gallows for teeth. And yet, he greedily takes as much as he allows himself. Which is merely a few honorable drags. One for the taste, two for the hunger, and a third for an intimate hook of a bond. It promises that the wolf will not destroy the shivering rabbit. It is a vow to keep hims alive. When his name is whispered with a heat of a mortal emotional, he shudders a little, covering the denting hands clutching onto him. He gives Grace a soft squeeze as his mind thrusts inside the scientist's to allow his voice softly echo: Ryland. A moment later, the vampire sheathes his fangs, swirling his tongue over the punctures that will appear as bloodied dents for a short period of time. A mere moment until Doctor Grace is just that, defined. Licking his lips, Lestat celebrates the lack of a mess, aside from his chin and a hint on Grace's collar. The bite is substituted with a kiss. No apologetic: satisfied.

"Thank you, mon cher." He whispers next to the scientist's ear. "Go back to what you were saying."

[monsieurdulac]

AU: TWO VAMPIRES FOR DEAN

Paris, five star hotel, penthouse. Louis plants his camera onto the glass table before flipping his cigarette case open, lips pursed in thought trap a low hum. He plucks one of the tobacco sticks from their confines. Case tucked back into the pocket of his vest, filter pinched between his teeth— during all this time, he watches Dean. Like a predator its prey, subjecting him to an as slow as scrutinizing once-over. But Louis doesn't talk to him. Lighting the cigarette with the zippo now snapped shut with the flick of a wrist.

The first drag of smoke later, he addresses Lestat: "We're not gonna take him to any club in that lumberjack fit." To said lover, he finally sways his attention. "Didn't you always want to give someone a makeover, Les? This is your chance." That suggestion dropped, Louis approaches Dean to circle him. More inspection, in between the vampire flashes him a fleeting smile. "No offense."

@eladead & @bloodsalted 😇

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: have you seen such a thing? Have you heard of such a matter? A mortal man with thoughts of the cheapest booze in Paris. Paris! Lestat is somewhat surprised by this lingering mind before they meet with their guest. The rest is adequately wicked.

Adorned in a velvet robe with a white collar, like Snow White gliding through the field of poppies stretching across the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, Lestat enters stage left of the penthouse living room. A mouthful for a sight, he approaches his smoking companion, trailing his cold curiosity over a man named Dean. He looks like a Dean, but it is a shame Lestat cannot tell his fledgling that across telepathically channels. Such an inconvenience, and yet, the know each other all too well. There is no need for hidden thoughts. A mere touch of a traveling hand across Louis's shoulders. A greeting of a yearning lover who has waited for so long to share a room like this again.

"You give it too much credit, mon cher. That's a wardrobe of a trawlerman." He grins, reaching over Louis's shoulder to pluck the cigarette from between his knuckles. Then, pressing it to his lips, Lestat takes a drag of his beloved's kiss from the filter. "All offense." He says right after Louis, returning the cigarette. As Louis departs from his side, the former rockstar effortlessly hops over the back of the couch to land right next to his counterpart. Finally, he assesses the Winchester right then.

"I think he's a lost cause." Lestat reclines, peering up at the joins silhouettes. A smile splits his face and his nose scrunches playfully. "But fine, you," he nods at Dean. "The guest goes first. If you had taste, what would you wear?"

୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩@bloodsalted || @monsieurdulac 🥩୧ ‧₊˚

[reticent-vampire]

I saw good in you.

[eladead]

@devourcr

[eladead]

//day ruined at 5:40 PM, Lestat is sandwiched between twink felon and Walmart Soprano. Thanks @mischieflawed

[eladead]

🎸 because of course .

LESTAT'S MUSIC INBOX CALL! . -> OPEN

Dream Sweet in Sea Major by Miracle Musical

Blanket by NBSPLV

The Wolf by PHILDEL

Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge

The King by Anjimile

[eladead]

🎸

LESTAT'S MUSIC INBOX CALL! . -> OPEN

Lie Lie Lie by Metric

Sick of the Silence by Mother Mother

My Cyanide by The Flower Cartel

Tar With Salt Foam by Bragolin

House of Spirits by The Veils

[eladead]

🎸

LESTAT'S MUSIC INBOX CALL! . -> OPEN

The Fox by North Bloom

The Sticks by Mother Mother

Eat Me, Drink Me by Marilyn Manson

Murder Me by Blood Red Shoes

Terrible Things by Brick + Mortar