#lestat.

[byjove]

I don’t want to fix him. I just want to temporarily relieve his hysteria by giving him an earth shattering orgasm.

[sixbigideas]

“failure”

[huntedprofessor]

Situation prompts | accepting

( exhausted ) : too tired to stay standing, too stubborn to lie down | @eladead

Tom knew the risk. He knew a vampire had every reason to rip his head from his shoulders just for being a hunter. Yet, even louder than self-preservation was another voice in the back of his mind. One that whispered that something as old as this vampire might have the answers he needed. Answers he'd been chasing since the day he found the shredded remains of his family in a cabin full of monsters he'd never been able to identify. Him, or any hunter he'd come across.

Was knowing what killed them worth dying for? There was every chance he might.

The history professor rubbed at his heavy, aching eyes from the driver's seat of his car. He'd been there most of the night, scouting, hoping to catch sight of this enigma of a man. How far had he driven to get there? How long had it been since he slept?

Too damn long.

If things turned ugly, he was in no shape to deal with it. Self-preservation made yet another weak attempt to turn that car around, send it back to a motel room, but Tom stayed where he was. Just waiting, watching nothing but the entrance.

[rejectory]

@petitsdieu *

❝Don’t be frightened, Pêche.❞

Alphabetically, it’s the: deathversary, he whose name nor his accomplice’s may never enter the bloodstream of this memory with Hara in the low light silhouetting it. One tear for each cast member.

Twenty-five years to the day—another Mardi Gras. The fatter the Tuesday, the worse the hangover.

It’s, equally, knowing he deserved the gift. He doesn’t believe the three of them’d had a family portrait made once.

❝I have a condition.❞

He soothes a blushed Redhaven—unlike her, fuzzy—into her cuppy palm, the one he most often finds at his mouth, a stand-in preoccupation should she not want to touch.

[bloodstainedembrace]

thank you to this one part of tale of the body thief that destroyed me just now . my god

[rejectory]

@petitsdieu *

-- Elle pourrait survivre grâce à lui seul ? Alors... sans lui ? Laisse-lui le tester. It’s a must that he does now.

How she cums—if, in fact, she does—he won’t tell. Nor which window he takes out of her palace after. The next night and the next, his hand smells iron-hot of her cunt.

Does she think of him? Does she die nightly wanting and woeing and bothered, where could he be? Inside who.

His hunts’ uptick does a thing subconsciously shapely to the local bacteria. None the privier to disappeared locals, and still, dear Barbara’s anchorwoman button-up unbuttons down strumpetly; Mike Douglas starts sitting with his balls to the viewer in pre-recordings!; babymaking is in again.

And Lestat, he obsesses. The summer tightens like so in just five days.

Earth continues its meaningless sedate twirl up until Une Ravissante Idiote holds its twice-pushed-back première to accommodate everyone’s seasonal allergies. The carpet lolls out its furry tongue, cutting even corners with precise geometry.

Tragically, Hara’s leading man is a no-show. Oh, no. What a very icky surprise.

With her one calf, candy-smooth, out of the limousine, with the dress slit at the height of her sat-down thigh, he can’t afford to blink against the camera flash blitz of typewriter snaps.

❝Are you supposed to be the idiot?❞

Per the poster. His hand awaits.

[rejectory]

@vitalphenomena: Standing over a body, “Oops.”

And the bullseye to which Claudia pins that shrug, of course, is the fattest glazed donut of status of the night, mustached from his perusals of the chocolate fountain; drain-necked from Claudia’s of him.

❝That’s the mayor.❞

Stay: the scruff of her dress chokes her back at a stammer like a wicked idiot wind-up toy.

Were he a mother, he’d smother her in kisses. For the journey. The ribbons of pain slid into the girlish braids she’s been told to sit still for by Louis. And what was it Louis said after? Oh, well?

He knuckles along the sacred space of secrets by her pear-shaped earring, coiling her forelock into an intimate complement to his ring. He yanks to the root. A Magnus anger has him.

❝Are you out of your mind?❞